I went to the Emmy's! And a year has slid by

At a pace that seems absurd and appropriate to the speed at which my mac-addled iphoto loaded my "smart-phone" photos in a 30 second slideshow. I'm not trying to be ironic, nor am I trying to be poetic or hipster. Holy fuck. I haven't written, bloggety style, since February. Again, not for lack of wanting to write, or having things to write about. Perhaps for having things upon which to follow through. To take a time of respite, as my dear, peace resting Jason Francis used to encourage me to do when we were actors in our 20's, trying to figure the world out. I had flashes of recognition and pride in the significant montage that began so simply so I could have some photos for this entry. And, now... I'm trying to write... After a a long respite. Pardon my rust.

I went to the 63rd Emmy awards as proud arm candy for my sweet boy. This was his second nomination with American Idol, and they were poised to win, after a season unlike any other in a long while. Reality television is a red-headed stepchild in the Emmy's, and I understand why in the awards show circuit. Hell, I'm a performance artist rooted in theatre and spectacle. I haven't paid attention to the Emmy's, Oscars, Golden Globes,or any of it, unless Sarah Parker is throwing her fantastic party. And only Sarah Parker. In Chicago. With her homemade buckeyes, fantastic lifelong friends, and specificity to the event that ends up in the Gilder, and a cab ride home. Girl puts on an event that rivals the reality. and wins. That's Chicago. That's Sarah Parker. She watches the Emmy's, maybe, but she holds her fire for the Oscars. In any accolade situation, you adhere to what you hold most dear. That's nature. How funny to be out here, one week to the year that I arrived in Los Angeles, at the Emmy's, an esteemed punctuation to Sarah's passion, and to do so as a guest of a wonderful and deserved nominee. I would take this time to gush about him and his work, but I will refrain for the simple respect I hold for him. American Idol had a great season. again, they were poised to win. I know he was terrified and excited. I was arm candy, and happy to play with costumes and humor. There were two things I openly wanted from the evening: 1) That he'd win his statue and have the acnowledgement of his tireless work 2)to hang out with Martha Plimpton. Because I think she's she's awesome, and recognize her tireless work.

I'll be honest, I had no doubt the American Idol would win this year, simply because they actually had a great and honest show(until Casey was eliminated, but that's my own artist geeking out to see a young adult so ridiculously skilled in a competition like that), and actually took risks by employing young artists who have burgeoning backgrounds in their genre, while still young kids, and all shared the desire to go further and grow together.That was a difference that was familiar to my own background of theatre. That was the difference between this year, and other nuggets of years I've clenched my teeth through. After having spent the past 10 + years working artistically with kids and adults to focus on, explore, and expand their specific desires and disciplines into a place that is tangible and pliable, a show like American Idol has been useful in saying, "hey, look, lots of kids try it, but not like you do, let's focus on your voice." which is an easy assessment and encouragement to make, while working with performance in schools, and preparing kids for investment, not in being an Idol, but in exploring their desires,strengths and the relationships that coincide naturally, and the integrity that lies within. It is a real shame that American Idol did not win this year. For an artist like me, and the millions of others who encourage artists to grow, it was a real shame. This was their year. Just not for the Emmy. Theo has a different, valid argument.It's all technical, and he is right on. I just go from what I know... and I've not seen a reality show competition engage young talent from varying circumstance and genre as I did this year on American Idol. I also didn't watch the Amazing Race. So, I may have missed something. I did not miss the rare connections and mutual growth that happened on American Idol this year. I have missed it in the past, which is why it always seemed an insufferable formula to me. But I digress...And insufferable formula is still the hue of accolade in reality television, and so it is. It is still the accolade of all awards, in many ways. The true reward in any venture explored is the ensemble that builds. Nothing, neither statue nor accolade, rewards the growth and process of discovery and identification.

And nothing touts that more than being on the red carpet! What a weird, hilarious thing! It is so not different than being at a punk show in Cleveland in the 90's, aside from the costume! It's all hilarious, a cavalcade of folks in formal wear being channeled into various annals of movement, this time with cameras snapping as a teenage you would want them to do. But no one is a teenager. No one is either excited to be there, as you might(or I might) have been at a punk show in Cleveland. I thin one of my favorite moments occurred after the Governor's ball, when everyone was either too drunk or too sober, and had to wait on the corner of Figueroa for the cavalcade of limos and and private cars, with no lead other than people screaming numbers into a megaphone. Theo and I laughed, in our mutual histories, as we watched people freak out and realign themselves in the cattle call of the elite.I realize that I may seem bitter about it, but it was not bitterness, at all that I felt. It was hilarity and... something else. I've seen this scene a million and ten times. I've been an actor, artist, activist, restaurant manager, writer, observer, waitress, drunk... and I've seen this scene of chaos. It was somehow comforting and hilarious and completely absurd.

We found our driver, Vidat, not through a megaphone, but through the luck of having an awesome guy who looked out for us as we looked for him. We didn't have to wait nearly as long as those yelling in their phones, and were greeted with a triumphant wave, halfway down the sea of black car traffic. We were on to our "Hollywood after party." It was decked out, silly, and pretentious as the day is long, which is even funnier... but it is as it is.We grabbed the itinerant space of not giving a shit. We found our leaning space, Theo took off to schmooze for a minute, as I held our space. He was maybe gone 10 minutes. Within that 10 minutes, Martha Plimpton and her two friends came over, set her shoes on the mantle, and asked me to take a picture of the three of them together. At least one of the hopes for the evening panned out perfectly and surprisingly.

Ours did, too. Theo may not have won a deserved statue, but we had a whole lot of fun. I was able to jump into an atmosphere that beckons, with humor and raised eyebrows, and we finished it off with night-swimming at the Hollywood farm. That's pretty great. Pretty lucky, and worthy of some fantastic accolades that make the onslaught of images I had intended to post alongside this more personal than had been anticipated post(and did not, as they capture a year). Love that surprise. Theo should have won the Emmy. But the things you actually win, in taking risks, being honest and giving up the ghost, don't necessarily jibe with an academy. Sometimes it's important to exist and play within a structure, in order to bolster the strength that it promises, or mirror the weakness of blindness with a good old reflection of the sun, right? Can't beat that.