milkynips's Blog

I keep thinking about the Idaho Shakespeare Festival, and the funny pre-show warm up guys.  About their sketch which parodied Spartacus.  I do so love silly comedy.

And yet, when I took the comedy writing workshop, I felt like a big flop.  Maybe it's because I was not feeling the love from the lady who works on the Daily Show.  Or maybe it was because they put me in a group of one since I was a strong writer.  But I want to be part of a team sometimes.  Like Sally Rogers in the Dick Van Dyke Show.  Me and Buddy and Rob, working together to put out a great show each week.  Or something.

Gah.  What am I even saying?  It's just that writing a novel by oneself is a bit lonely.  And writing a screenplay is also lonely.  I want a partner.  No, I don't.  Yes, I do.  Gah.  I don't know what I want.

I have a zillion partners.  All the men who are allowing me to put their stuff into my novels and screenplay.  But I am still lonely.  The man with whom I sleep is a fine man, a kind man, a man who has made great strides in overcoming weakness and getting his life back on track.  Yet I cannot help wishing for a partner who had my sense of humour.  Who could play off me and engage in the witty repartee of Tracy and Hepburn, of WIllis and Shepard, of other great couples whose names I can't recall because I'm so fecking tired.

Is it so much to ask for?  To have someone who is as lewd as me, as prone to double entendres, as comfortable with talking about sex....?

That Idaho sketch slayed me.  When people kept popping up from the audience screaming "I am Smarty Pants" ala the whole dramatic scene in which slaves protect the real Smarty Pants, I thought I'd die laughing.  I want to be part of that kind of writing some day.

Had a lovely chat with a lovely man today.  We spoke of so many things - the death penalty, health care reform, visits to California and the Grand Canyon, sex chat opportunities, flirtation techniques, the Antiques Roadshow,...

In the midst of it all, he quoted John Donne's poem to me:

“All mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated...As therefore the bell that rings to a sermon, calls not upon the preacher only, but upon the congregation to come: so this bell calls us all: but how much more me, who am brought so near the door by this sickness....No man is an island, entire of itself...any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

I love that.  I love that I can sit in a cozy chair in my home next to the fireplace and talk to a man thousands of miles away about so many different things.  That we can enjoy each other's company and share talk of many things and  literature that, ultimately, is about love.  Admittedly, it's not the kind of wild monkey loving I might sometimes enjoy, this love for one's fellow man sort of thing.


But, really, any love is good stuff.  I feel blessed to have this man as a friend.  And I hope to heck he finds some nice lady - some flesh and blood lady - who can give him some hot monkey loving.  Because any guy who can quote Donne ought to get some physical affection.

After all, no man is an island, y'know.