MORE THAN NOTHING

I’m finally feeling like myself again! This past weekend, we staged three performances of Kechi’s one-woman show, PERVIRGIN in LSU’s Hopkins Black Box Theater. Our run was originally supposed to go from Wednesday through Sunday, but the insane snowstorm made that impossible. I don’t like snowy weather. I don’t miss it from living in the DMV, but if I’m behind honest, I desperately needed that blizzard.

I had been coasting along the edge of my endurance for a long time. Working on DEAD END BOYS, running myself ragged with weightlifting and exercise, the burden of grief, and a sudden family emergency that preempted New Years Eve were all hard on me. I flew out of the city the night of the brutal and pointless attack in the French Quarter, and one of the only positive things about hanging out in the ICU for several days was that the visceral fear for my loved one pulled focus away from the death and destruction going on back home and the drama surrounding my housing situation. I was only home for maybe four days before I had to fly out to Maine for the Stonecoast residency. I always enjoy teaching workshops and seminars at the U of Southern Maine, but even half the residency is a marathon that takes a physical and emotional toll. I was exhausted, and I’d begun to feel it was taking a toll on my personality. Having our entire region paralyzed under eight to eleven inches of snow so soon after I returned forced me to catch up on sleep, spend hours and hours cuddling with my wife and our dog, to enjoy my own bed in a way I hadn’t since before Thanksgiving.

My intention isn’t to complain. I love the life Kechi and I are building together. I love the way my body has changed since my illness, the way I’ve renegotiated my relationships with food, with my health, with myself and the world around me. Sure, some of the things that are out of my hands are unfortunate, but many are not. Once the snow melted, we got it together and went back to work on the show. Kechi’s first performance was Friday night, and it was fascinating to watch. The audience was used to seeing more directly educational fare in that space, and they weren’t always sure they had permission to just let go and laugh. One Freshman, in particular, was dialed all the way in, signifying and talking back to Kechi the entire time. This wasn’t the same thing as heckling—this kid was excited to see himself and a perspective he could deeply relate to. He felt seen, he told us later, because he understood what it was like to be raised by strict parents, to feel like, in some ways, romance has passed him by.

The next night, at least three audience members confessed that they, too, were supervirgins, never even having been kissed. They laughed, they gasped, they hooted and hollered, they cheered Kechi on as she and her alter ego danced their asses off with pompoms to The Pussycat Dolls. The third and final show was a matinee, and the audience seemed a little more subdued than they might have been at night. That’s not to say they didn’t engage, and make their enjoyment clear. Each of the audiences was bursting with excitement, even if they weren’t always sure how vocal they were allowed to be. At the end of the run, we brought Kochi’s full-sized character posters home, and we’re going to frame them and mount them in the hall that leads from the living room to the dining room.

I’m not writing about all this as a commercial for Kechi’s show when we mount it again—or not only for that—but because this has been an uncommon experience for me. One of the things I love so much about Kechi is that she does excellent, engaging work on several fronts—as a comic, as a photographer, and as an educator, and helping her formulate and work toward her creative goals feels like an exquisite privilege. She does the same for me.

Co-writing and co-directing a theatrical production is something I haven’t done in my adult life, and I’d love to do more of it. Being forced to stop and rest by the snowstorm wasn’t the only thing that revitalized me. Supporting Kechi and working on her show, taking long walks once the world thawed out, and interacting with my Stonecoast students have all made me feel renewed—even against the backdrop of genuinely frightening events in our country.

As far as DEAD END BOYS goes, I’m chipping away at it every day. I don’t know how it will be received, but I’ll tell you there’s nothing else like it on the stands—never has been—and I cannot wait for people to see it. Heh heh heh….

It’s already been such a long year—a long winter—and January isn’t over. When I am uncertain and afraid, I try to hold on to the things I do know, the things I do understand. One of those things is that I get to create and help others create. It’s not a magic wand to dispel all shadows, but it’s more than nothing….