Been Away Too Long
In the past five days, I've seen Cats three times.
Well, two and a half, but that's another story.
My show, The Tower, finally opened, and then closed just as quickly, as school shows do. To say I was relieved is an understatement perhaps, but that too is a story for another time, and perhaps another place as well. But, as you might expect from me (and I'd expect nothing else either), I was desperate to see Cats as soon as I was done. My first time in the junkyard after being absent for a few weeks was exhilarating. I think it always feels a bit like my first time again, each time I return after being away for a while. There's just something about it that fills me with so much more joy than I can really express.
I think that's why upon [certain performance that shall not be named], I'm going to take such a hit. After all, if I can hardly handle a few weeks without the show, how should I expect to handle the rest of my life?
A friend of mine likes to remind me that it's going on tour, it's not like I'll never see Cats again, it won't be gone forever, etc. But how do you explain that it isn't just the show itself-- it's the atmosphere, the theatre, the ushers, the stage doorman Rich, and of course this particular cast, who over the fifteen months have captured my heart? Cats-- as a compilation of song and dance and lycra unitards-- truly is now and forever, and I would be very surprised if any stretch of time goes by without a production of it somewhere in the world. But as a certain cast member has said on more than one occasion, this Cats is only now and through the end of December.
All in all, that's a little overwhelming.
The Cats Broadway social media has gotten into a habit of posting a countdown at the start of every week, which is unsettling and strange and overall greatly unappreciated because yes, we know there's only eight weeks left, no need to remind us...! But under each facebook post, there's always a chain of comments of people tagging their friends and saying how they need to try and get to New York before December 30th, or how they wish they could've gotten here to see it. And it warms my heart to see that there really are people out there who appreciate the show the way my friends and I do. They might not show it in the same way. But there's a universal love for Cats that's obvious to anyone who takes the time to look for it.
There's a line from Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812 that gets stuck in my head on a fairly regular basis, which has lent itself to the title of this post. And strangely, I think it applies to my absence from the Neil Simon just as much as it will apply to the show once it's been closed for some time. Hell, being closed for one day is too long for me. But I digress.
I fear these posts are becoming more melancholy as they stretch on, and while I think that's warranted and understandable, when I look back on this blog years down the line, I don't want to be reminded of the sad. I want to remember all the happiness Cats brought me. I can't promise there won't be a fair share of sad posts between now and December 30th, but instead I offer a compromise. I'll post more often, maybe twice a week or so, and try to have at least half of them be all good things. Because while I would be lying if I said it's all been happy for me, I wouldn't be feeling the pain of it now if there wasn't more than a fair share.
I know I can guarantee at least one more not so happy post before closing, having to do with the approaching holiday season, but that'll be a few weeks down the line. For now, I'll leave you with these pictures from BCEFA collecting season. We could all use some smiles right now.
Well, two and a half, but that's another story.
My show, The Tower, finally opened, and then closed just as quickly, as school shows do. To say I was relieved is an understatement perhaps, but that too is a story for another time, and perhaps another place as well. But, as you might expect from me (and I'd expect nothing else either), I was desperate to see Cats as soon as I was done. My first time in the junkyard after being absent for a few weeks was exhilarating. I think it always feels a bit like my first time again, each time I return after being away for a while. There's just something about it that fills me with so much more joy than I can really express.
I think that's why upon [certain performance that shall not be named], I'm going to take such a hit. After all, if I can hardly handle a few weeks without the show, how should I expect to handle the rest of my life?
A friend of mine likes to remind me that it's going on tour, it's not like I'll never see Cats again, it won't be gone forever, etc. But how do you explain that it isn't just the show itself-- it's the atmosphere, the theatre, the ushers, the stage doorman Rich, and of course this particular cast, who over the fifteen months have captured my heart? Cats-- as a compilation of song and dance and lycra unitards-- truly is now and forever, and I would be very surprised if any stretch of time goes by without a production of it somewhere in the world. But as a certain cast member has said on more than one occasion, this Cats is only now and through the end of December.
All in all, that's a little overwhelming.
The Cats Broadway social media has gotten into a habit of posting a countdown at the start of every week, which is unsettling and strange and overall greatly unappreciated because yes, we know there's only eight weeks left, no need to remind us...! But under each facebook post, there's always a chain of comments of people tagging their friends and saying how they need to try and get to New York before December 30th, or how they wish they could've gotten here to see it. And it warms my heart to see that there really are people out there who appreciate the show the way my friends and I do. They might not show it in the same way. But there's a universal love for Cats that's obvious to anyone who takes the time to look for it.
There's a line from Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812 that gets stuck in my head on a fairly regular basis, which has lent itself to the title of this post. And strangely, I think it applies to my absence from the Neil Simon just as much as it will apply to the show once it's been closed for some time. Hell, being closed for one day is too long for me. But I digress.
I fear these posts are becoming more melancholy as they stretch on, and while I think that's warranted and understandable, when I look back on this blog years down the line, I don't want to be reminded of the sad. I want to remember all the happiness Cats brought me. I can't promise there won't be a fair share of sad posts between now and December 30th, but instead I offer a compromise. I'll post more often, maybe twice a week or so, and try to have at least half of them be all good things. Because while I would be lying if I said it's all been happy for me, I wouldn't be feeling the pain of it now if there wasn't more than a fair share.
I know I can guarantee at least one more not so happy post before closing, having to do with the approaching holiday season, but that'll be a few weeks down the line. For now, I'll leave you with these pictures from BCEFA collecting season. We could all use some smiles right now.
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| Colin Cunliffe |
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| Zach Jones |
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| Aaron Albano |
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