Actually, I am loathe to admit, but I also remember freshman year of Emory – and I’m so sorry to have to admit this – but there was a Domino’s Pizza in Emory Village, where I went to college, and I was ordering a pizza.
It’s 24 hours of pretty bright daylight there right now, and I always try to do something nice for my crew every trip or in every other city. So I greeted them with a midnight cruise, but it looked like two in the afternoon.
If it’s a question about stuff that matters to you personally, like favorite food, favorite piece of knowledge, favorite animal, it’s hard not to have an opinion and want to quantify things.
A kid wrote to me through Facebook because they started a team in honor of their friend who died of leukemia, and he played in the band of this very obscure team in England.
He said, “For you, it may be your 50th or 100th selfie, autograph, or whatever of the day. But for that person, it may be the first or the only time in their life that they’ve seen someone they enjoy on television. Never lose sight of that.”
The play is called Stalking The Bogeyman. It was a story on This American Life, and my former roommate is the artistic director of the New York Repertory Theater.
In the early ’90s I was floating somewhere between the Brat Pack/Andrew McCarthy/James Spader/Pretty In Pink kind of stuff and the alterna-pop look, crossed with a very distinct grunge sensibility.
