Happy Family

After that, I never looked back. Tom wanted me to be raw, unadulterated, unfiltered, relentlessly unabashed. And I was more than happy to oblige. That meant I could do whatever the fuck I wanted to do whenever the fuck I wanted. Sounded good to me!

I started going on the tours. I started being me, or at least the me Tom wanted me to be. And it fit perfectly with everyone else. I quickly found a groove with them. I traveled to Texas, to Washington, to Idaho, to Iowa. I did shows at Universities and theatre spaces for hundreds of people. And they liked me. They actually thought I was good.

Who the fuck knew that cussing like a motherfucker while talking about Dungeons and Dragons would be such a fucking smash hit?

That following year I became absorbed with the Grains of Rice Theatre Company. I didn’t talk to Corn anymore. I didn’t call Anna Lisa Kristina. And I didn’t talk to my parents or my sister. Not like I ever did, but I contacted them even less. I didn’t spend any time with anyone else except my cast-mates. They were my new friends, my new real friends. My new family. I ate with them. I lived with them. I stayed up late talking to them on the phone. I learned a lot about art from them. I discovered a whole brand new world with them.

That people were nice. That people wanted to learn more, and see more of the world, that they wanted to evolve, and that they wanted the world to change and evolve with them. They believed in the same kind of magic I used to believe in, and by surrounding myself with them, I was relearning to believe in it all over again.

The scent of wind, I could smell, because of them. The taste of breathing, I ate, because of them. The sound of love, I fell for, because of them.

I was a regular, honest to God, bohemian artist. Lover of life! Poet to the people! Believer in magic and all of it’s glories!

I spent a lot of time at Tom and Jaycie’s house. I practically lived there. I slept on the sofa or the floor, depending on what mood I was in, next to their cat, while they slept in their bedroom. Every day, a random member of the Grains of Rice would stop by to hang out. We’d cook food together, drink coffee together, read books together, write poems together, and then we’d go rehearse together. It was like that almost every day for a whole year.

It was surreal. It was a magic.

Jaycie and I became close friends. She was a goddess to me. Anything she said, I believed. If she told me the moon was her mother, I wouldn’t have doubted it. That’s how she was to me. Her bright under-bit smile, her ceaselessly supportive eyes, and her powerful while loving hugs were divinely inspirational. I could move mountains with my art just by thinking about her.

Tom and I became close friends. He was my mentor. He taught me everything I knew about art. About honest art. About real art. He challenged me to become better. He nurtured me to become better. He showed me how to become better. He was my king, my shogun, and I would’ve done anything for him. In fact, I told him that. That I would do anything for him on stage. Because I trusted him with my life. And that I believed in the magic he created with this small band of performers. I told him that I believed we could save the world and that he would be the leader to lead us.

It was one big, happy, family for a whole year.