Thursday, May 12, 2016

One Last Story Hour.

I had a friend whose seven-year-old kid Googled the word “naked” once. The first picture he saw was a woman with asparagus in her vagina and up her butt. That’s just too much to handle. How are we going to get him to eat his vegetables now? 

That’s a snippet from Amy Poehler’s book Yes Please. I wanted to share her unquestionable writing talent one last time, as I finished the book yesterday. (Yes, it took a while – I only have time to read on the elliptical at the gym.) It’s 327 pages, but a great book can never be long enough.

Okay, one more passage. Amy’s thoughts on being an actor. I wish I was this lucid:

Acting is the best. When things go well, you get the most credit. If you are in a great film or play everyone just assumes you did it on your own. Your face becomes a symbol for all things good and cool. Athletes nod at you. People interview you and describe in great detail how you “entered a room.” Acting lets you escape the real world and make out with people you are not married to. It lets you live in the skin of another person and run away from the person you actually are. Sometimes it heals old wounds and helps you discover something new about yourself. At its best, it’s a true form of communication, and your performance changes lives and minds and gender roles and the core temperature of Mother Earth. But here’s what no one in the biz will tell you. When you’re the actor, you have little control. You audition for parts and deal with constant rejection. On set, everyone sits behind a monitor and whispers when you don’t get it right. Your attractive yet interesting face better be shine-free and symmetrical as you try to remember your lines and blocking. Also, acting is embarrassing. It ain’t easy to get up in front of people and really go for it. Good actors make acting look easy, which means most people think they can do it. Most people can’t.

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