I’m winding down. I used to be out of the house by now. I studied the landscape...flat coast, a string of Small towns and cites between the Manasquan River and Sandy Hook. I was a bit player in many productions over five decades up and down that bit of coast.
It was not my show to get on the road. I was, as I said, just a bit player. I played Bromden opposite my father’s MacMurphy, until I got the lead. Nicholson grew up there, between Asbury Park and Manasquan, the south end of what I knew far better than he, eventually.
I’m not much for name dropping...I never met Jack, just covered the same turf for a lot longer. I’m sure that I was a fan of his RPM long before I knew he was from home.
The place was enigmatic, and brutal. Jack got out as soon as he could, and I would have done the same, but I was, as I noted, playing Bromden...Or my version of Bromden, until I unknowingly inherited the lead after the son of James died.
The producers? There were two few too count. I met them all in costume, but never knew them as an adult. The counter at Frank’s might still be the place to cast a show...American Hustle like, but in real time. The bad guys never lost for good, ever. I’m not talking, I’m writing history.
As 2020 races at us, and just us has escaped with Yossarian in his rubber raft for hills unknown, alive nonetheless, with those same sounds, but a different plot. Will those tickets sell? What’s Vegas saying?
I’m not independently anything. Who is? I don’t even speak Cantonese. The show? The show is really, really big. No animals were harmed during the pecking of this bit player, who...is not driving.