Contrary to appearance, this is not a Green Day and/or American Idiot blog, by any means. The folks at 23rd street merely happen to become a bit specifically obsessive at times. Though, it must be stated that this… blog (in it’s earliest incarnation) did start out as an experiment by a would-be/was writer trying out this blog game after one last hurrah in meth-wine-country. At this time, it was an unfocused voyage into the land that would meet at the intersection of drugs + various art/psychology/culture/hollywood/new york/whatever-avenue and all.
Currently, the folks at 23rd Street have decided to focus with the dexedrine and make this primarily a drug abuse-ish blog. However, aforementioned folks would be remiss if they didn’t mention, again; American Idiot.
I work in ‘the industry’… as cheese-tastic and sell-out-ish as that makes me. So, I know that Universal is in negotiations with Playtone and Michael Mayer is to direct with Dustin Lance Black writing. This can go many different ways. But I am hopeful rather than frightened. And don’t worry, I’m currently on my knees on the floor, picking up all the names that I’ve just dropped.
Billie fuckin’ Joe as St Jimmy kicks ass. As for other casting news, I got nothing. Original cast would be nice… the best choice. I make an exception for Lou Pucci. I love… though, I have reason to believe he cannot sing… either that or he cannot do an Irish brogue. But I digress. Or Ezra Miller. NY talent, bitches!
This has quickly become about nothing that has to do with drugs.
Well, first thing’s first. It’s been a while, but the ‘forever liar’ thing that comes alongside drug addiction has reintroduced itself into my, now, faraway (ish) existence. During this sort of transitional period, limbo, etc… I’ve been able to throw it into my layered mix as a person in a subtextual manner while creating this cocktail of my person that is, say: the author v 2.0. The crude sort of ‘I’m no longer a hardcore drug user’ goal/endpoint was to become a normal, functional person… then it was to become adult.
Ahhhh, for such a believer in the continuous to think in such a retarded discontinuous manner.
And, now, I find myself here. Relatively functional (on prescription medication)… much more confident… and having my biggest asset to anyone being that I am young and hip and cool and intelligent. Privy to all the blinking lights that is this new communicative sphere of technology while maintaining my cute techno-geek humanity, and furthermore, making older people wet with my generationally-genetic makeup of pieces of three or four mini flares of generations and how that translates into $$ that they understand can only happen moving forward.
All of this meaning that, in time, I have… grown up a bit (not enough, some say), remained focused on the reason for the (now, prescription) drug usage (to remain a functional human being), and capitalized off of the movie “The Social Network”… redefining the word ‘adult’ in a monetary/business sense.
Great.
So, one can now be young and immature but a feasible money machine… an employee… a business-person. But it’s still not really socially acceptable to be a drug addict. Thus, this returning loathing feeling of having to lie (at least in omission) for the remainder of my life.
Rewind:
Dated: 24 Jan 2002
Secrets & Lies
Sitting in physical therapy today, with my hand warming from the heat pad, I felt that my life was full of secrets and lies. Why am I in physical therapy? I injured my wrist. How? I got an infection. Oh, in your wrist? Yeah, it got septic and I had to undergo five weeks of IV antibiotics. How did you get the infection? Um…that’s where I have to start lying to people. Well, I don’t know. These things sometimes happen spontaneously. Um, I was drunk and I fell. So, no one really knows the whole truth. Then, there’s the doctor. I have a doctor’s appointment. ‘doctor’. Meaning psychiatrist. I’m on this ‘medicine’ that I’m not supposed to drink or do drugs on. I’m just going to be lying forever to everyone. That can’t be good for my karma, huh? But I guess when it comes to psychiatric assistance and intravenous drug use, it’s more efficient for me to lie. I mean, I gotta do what I gotta do, right?
This could be a million years ago, as far as I am concerned. Shortly after the IV coke and well-before the IV meth. This was a specific lie of times past. But the feeling, now, is still similar.
See, I’ve sort of stumbled upon a business ‘mentor’ of sorts whom thinks that I am the bee’s fuckin’ knees. Apparently, I have integrity and there are three things he hates… one of them being lying. But if I really were to be truthful… this would never go down, you see.
So, there’s that. Kids, if you do drugs, to this capacity and make it an integral part of ‘you’ as ‘you’, even 8+ years down the line, there will still be times that creep up on you where you feel like you… as ‘you’, again have sort of condemned (not in a god-way) yourself a liar forever.
I have a million things to say about the show. I fuckin’ love Green Day. And I appreciate them the most for being one of the only artists to create art reflecting the transitional generation that exists between X & Y…. the suburban ennui… and the fact that I can play songs with three chords on the guitar.
But for current 23rd Street purposes (drugs and all), the author, here will focus on 3 things.
1. It is a musical, so it’s on a stage. I don’t have to tell anyone that everything needs to be larger, bigger in breadth than say, a film. Details are conveyed in different ways in these two media. Though, American Idiot plays with this notion as well. The blinking boxes and the media. So, Johnny, becomes a bit of a junkie after leaving suburbia. A needle-type junkie. All good. Whatever. Our seats were pretty fuckin’ good, though. But still. But the theatre prop needle is there, as is the prop spoon and tourniquet. And the actor mimes shooting up. And all the televisions built into the backdrop project an extreme close up of sizzling powder in a metal spoon. It was what it was… but still, it gets me. My thighs, oddly enough, tingle. And possibly because I knew how much of a prop everything is, I watch closely at Johnny and his tourniquet and his needle with laser-focus intent. There’s no need to say that I love it and I hate it and I knew this was the most safe kindergarten version of the act… so, it was safe for me to stare.
2. I once had a tryst with Mr. “Leaving West Hollywood”. He liked the song “Give me Novacaine”. (That’s how it’s spelled). This was… still is, the one song that makes me feel a bit sick. Possibly because I’ve coined Mr. “Leaving West Hollywood” as his moniker in reference to the grudgingly sad alcoholism of “Leaving Las Vegas”…. which aforementioned tryst was. Marinating our livers in alcohol in an apartment in West Hollywood… I cannot really even think of it to this day without feeling bad. “Give me Novacaine” is a number in the show. I thought about Mr LWH while watching it. It makes me feel a bit sick. It also makes me, for seconds, miss him. He is a good guy. …and he is now fine, it seems. As fine as any of us can be, anyway.
3. Lastly, for now, the show has this same youth/adult discontinuous gloom as I did. Somewhere toward the end, the punk kids from the beginning come back, dress-shirts and ties… power suits… some still un-grown punks… a young amputee war veteran. Like these things are the only options. I realize then, that I used to think this, too. Youth… Adult… and never the twain shall meet.
How adorably naive was I?
And now, I give you 2 options:
option #1:
Pros: is comprehensively the better of the two.
Cons: very strobe-lighty (which affects the viewing quality quite a bit) & has stuff (faggot, fuck, etc.)*bleeeped* (ghey).
Pro or Con: a bunch of Billie Joe talking in the beginning. But if you believe this to be a con, and don’t know how to “fast-forward”, you are retarded.
option #2:
Pros: Exactly as you would see it in the show (curtain and all) & strobe doesn’t affect viewing quality at all.
Cons: Camera person is high. Focusing on all the wrong things.
& just because its my favorite:
In the end, if you can, go see it.
PS. I don’t like AFI (the band) all that much at all really, but I just found out that Davey Havok played St Jimmy (drug dealer) in the cast that I saw. eh. No Billie Joe to say the least, but atleast it wasn’t Melissa Etheridge.
This is awesome. Green Day is awesome. Musicals are awesome.
I dig. You know, Green Day was there in my laconic suburban ennui, riding around in cars to the closest 7-11 and Tower Records (to stuff as many CD’s in my cute cargo pants and walk out undetected… until I was caught, that is). Long days and apathetic nights, suicidal summers and loud local bands blasting my ear drums to oblivion.
I mean, I’m not all Urban Metropolitan New York. 😛
Contrary to appearance, this is not a Green Day and/or American Idiot blog, by any means. The folks at 23rd street merely happen to become a bit specifically obsessive at times. Though, it must be stated that this… blog (in it’s earliest incarnation) did start out as an experiment by a would-be/was writer trying out this blog game after one last hurrah in meth-wine-country. At this time, it was an unfocused voyage into the land that would meet at the intersection of drugs + various art/psychology/culture/hollywood/new york/whatever-avenue and all.
23rd Street Chronicles 