We Die A Little Every Day

     I'm watching the breathing, shallow, harsh, faint and delicate.  Just sitting there, watching the breathing.  In, stop, out, stop, in, stop, out, stop.  Stop, stop, stop, cough, cough, in, stop, out for hours.  Fascinating.

      I put myself in the same position and watched my own breathing.  Slowed it down, sped it up, played with it like Sifu Ibrao used to say, 'come on, play with the motion.'  I was in Hong Kong the first time I saw someone play with the motion.  Right down the street from the Shangri La Hotel on a Sunday afternoon, walking with the maids who fill the streets on their day off.

Yes, this is Sifu Ibrao

     I guess I felt it first, before I saw it, white silks, thin shoes, short hair.  There he was, standing by the water, playing with the motion.  Everyone thinks of Tai Chi as some passive art.  That's bullshit.  Out of that peace came a lot of chaos.  A lot of asses got kicked from the roots of Tai Chi.  Anyway, this guy is breathing and going through the movements of Southern Style Tai Chi, long form, no stopping, no peace, no rest, no doubts.  What was amazing was not the number of people who were watching, but the number of people who weren't watching.

      I stood back and admired his precise movements and careful anger as he practiced.  He moved everything around him.  I could feel the wind moving around him -wind caused by his movements- and I watched his breathing.  I watched and noticed that the same way years later that my old friend died; that this young master was dying too.  He was on his way out and I could see it.  Owed the wrong somebody money, had a disease, was depressed over some girl who didn't think Tai Chi was as cool as he did.  Who knows?  Who cares?  Didn't matter, he was on his way out.

      Last week, a young actor was in my office working on a project and I watched the actor die a little. Screwed up the lines, got lost in the words, held the breath a little too long and then forgot to take another one.  I could have jumped in and helped but like I said, we're all dying a little every day.  Nobody in a Bay Watch outfit coming to save me.  I'm on my own -and  I'm no lifeguard- so, so was the actor.  Besides I wasn't really interested, more pressing issues at hand.  Not worth it, not for this.  Too trite, too pedestrian, too stupid.

Neither of these actors are the actor from my story

      So, back to the old guy.  He squirmed every once in a while.  He was remembering his life just as it was leaving him.  Bittersweet; like a fat girl with a pretty face.  What do you do?  Nothing you can do.  Carry on soldier, didn't you see her smile?  You live and he was living - as much as he could.  Funny to watch someone pass without realizing and wondering about who is watching you tick down your own private clock.

     It's dark in the room, just a sliver of light from a window with a crack in the curtains.  Reminded me of the thin lights on the floor of a theater which reminded me of the actors who choke on their lines and the actresses who can't remember their marks and the producers who throw money into bloated productions that will never make their money back.  If you listen close enough, you can hear their breathing too, in, stop, out, stop, in, out, in, out, stop....

     I've been paying a lot more attention to everything lately.  Everything.  A lot of stuff is slipping through the cracks, fading away, finding its way into my own little obscurity trap.  It's a personal place full of things, people, memories and efforts that weren't worth a damn.  What's left though is pretty exciting.  There's the new movie, the new documentary, the new book another show and the people associated with them.  Now, those things are worth fighting for.  Worth breathing deep for and worth playing with the motion to make sure they succeed.

     Today I got a coffee for Joe Pesci, actually it was a decaf caramel macchiato - decaf - easy caramel.   I could have sent someone else but I wanted to do it.  Not because it was for Pesci but because it was raining and and I wanted to get wet like I used to when I walked home from school with no umbrella.  Each drop of rain that hit me was more important than most of the crap that I used to think was important just a few years, months, weeks and even days ago.  I'm watching my own breathing now, listening to it and paying attention as well.  Maybe no one else is watching but I am and I'm realizing that we all die a little every day.

    As usual, all photos in this blog are the property of their owners.  To me, an actor can be male or female.

     Joe Pesci is a pretty cool guy, cooler than he seems in the movies.

     Oscar De La Hoya is a gentleman who helped a kid out whom he'll never meet.

     Dwight Hicks was the best free safety in the history of the NFL and very talented creation made by hand by God himself.  Dwight is on the left. The old man and the young master are both dead.

It's Christmas time.
Yeah baby!  D.