Being a writer (why do I stumble over that word?) is like being an actor. You devote years and years to perfecting your craft. Writing and waiting, writing and waiting…Waiting for that single moment in the spotlight. For the five seconds of fame. For recognition. Everyone longs for recognition. Whether it comes in the form of something as complicated as love or as simple as a thank-you. But I imagine that applause must feel particularly gratifying. In fact, it must feel fucking fantastic.
This is what I was thinking when I went and saw A Boy and his Soul, the foot tapping, “feel good”, one man show at the Vineyard Theater. I usually avoid anything that falls into the “feel good” genre. But this guy, Carmen Domingo, is so good I went twice. Not for the story. Which is slight: child in ghetto grows up gay, leaves home with dream of life and name in lights. But just to watch him, up there in the dark. A guy who’s been slogging his way through God knows how many years of doubt and rejection, of exhausting effort and depression. All for this one single euphoric moment. For the five seconds of fame. For recognition. That’s why it wasn’t just the singing and dancing that blew me away. It was seeing such stamina. Such hope. So human, so alive, defying all odds. Hope, taking a bow. This is why I went not once but twice.
