I don't understand us.

First of all, I'm still depressed. I've been depressed all week. Really depressed, as in I don't want to do anything except stay home. And thus, I've been staying home as much as possible.

Last night N texted me: Stephen Colbert on Conan!

I guess he likes to tell me what's on TV. Earlier in the week he wrote to me: Kiefer on Letterman.

Anyway, it was 12:56 am. So, I wrote back: Is it starting late? Putting it on...

No reply.

This morning I am, again, depressed. I lay in bed for a long time. I called him. I got his machine.

"Hi, it's me," I said. "Just thought I'd see what you're up to."

I paused.

"It's gray and dreary outside and looks like a movie day today," I said. "So... Well.... I guess I wanted to know if you wanted to go see a movie with me or something..."

I paused again.

"It's about 10:00 am now. So, um... well, I guess just give me a call whenever. I mean... Just let me know. Okay? Well... Um... okay... bye."

Since then, I've been playing piano all morning. I think I'm going to audition for a Cabaret class on Monday night-- song interpretation and repertoire building. I've decided I'm going to sing "Misty." So, that's what I've been singing all morning. "Misty" and jazz piano. Misty, Misty, Misty... Good for a gray day like today.

And then the strangest thing happened.

He called me back.

We spoke for about half an hour.

He told me he was going to play Prince of Persia all day today. He mentioned that Placido Domingo is singing Cyrano today. I told him that Placido won't be singing. He cancelled all of his upcoming performances due to tracheitis...He even cancelled Samson too. Everything through March 2nd. He told me that yesterday he saw a Soderbergh movie called Bubble and that it was awful.

"It's minimalism for the movies," he said. "White canvas, blue dot kind of stuff."

I sighed and agreed that such a movie must be a travesty.

I asked him why he thought of me when he read The Life of Pi.

"Because it's about religion...faith," he said.

"And?"

"Well, you have faith. You know... I mean, I know it. Right? Religion... Stories more beautiful than the reality. It doesn't matter if it's true; it doesn't matter if the story really happened. The higher, more beautiful truth is in the story. You're like that."

I wasn't sure what to say.

"My heart, you mean?"

This felt strange, so I went on.

"So you think the story in the book wasn't supposed to be true?"

"Of course it wasn't true! A boy can't survive with a tiger!"

"But, Narc! But, I-- I mean, why not? I thought it was explained very well."

"Hyde..."

He sounded exasperated in an affectionate sort of way.

"No, really! I thought it was true. I thought that the second version was just made up because it's what people want to hear. People are too cynical for miracles."

"Hyde! There WAS NO TIGER!"

"But... But I loved the tiger."

"There wasn't a tiger."

"I thought the author left it ambiguous...for the reader to decide."

"No."

"Well, you have your interpretation and I have mine," I concluded.

"I just finished Shogun again," he said. "I'll have to give it to you to read next."

"I'm reading a book about an alcoholic woman right now," I told him. "A memoir. Kind of depressing. I want to finish it fast."

"Well, Shogun will be very entertaining."

He went on and told me about a bunch of science fiction books he had just ordered from Amazon. I told him about my hellish day of teaching yesterday and about my evening last night with NDN. I told him that I was auditioning for a cabaret class.

"Cabaret? Like with fishnets and a boa and high leg kicks?" he asked.

"No!" I laughed. "It's not the Moulin Rouge! Narc, could you really see me doing that? It's just jazz songs and standards...torch songs... building repertoire, song interpretation and stuff. I think it'll help me be less shy when I perform. And besides, I'm not entirely immersed in that genre, so I think I can learn a lot from this class."

We spoke for a while longer. Then he said he had to go get some work done.

"I thought you were playing Prince of Persia all day today," I said.

"No. I have work to do," he replied.

"What are you working on?"

"Well, I have a lot in front of me. And a lot of script ideas."

"Like what?"

He told me about a novel he wants to adapt into a screenplay-- The Romance of a Poor Young Man by Octave Feuillet. He told me the story of when and where he discovered the book. It was a day or two after his breakup with ModelChick a few years back.

"Okay, then... Well, good luck with your work."

"Yeah. And if you go see a movie today, don't go see Bubble."

"I don't think I'm going to go to the movies. I've been kind of depressed lately, in the mood to stay home."

"Okay."

"I mean... I've been singing all morning... the movie mood has passed. I think I'll just shower and reset and then see what the day brings."

"Alright, then."

"So, see you soon."

"Yeah, talk to you in a bit."

"Bye."


I don't understand.