For the past few weeks, I've been doing a deep dive into Spalding
Gray.
I'm sure at some point in college I saw Swimming to
Cambodia. I was too young when it hit the theaters to have seen it at the time.
And I'm sure it didn't make a big enough splash in San Antonio, Texas for 8th
graders to be begging their parents to go see it. 1987 was the year I saw Three
Men and a Baby and The Secret of My Success. I saw Mannequin - probably my
favorite movie that year - in the theaters several times. Eventually, Spalding
Gray made it onto my radar, but it wasn't in 1987.
I saw his show Morning, Noon and Night live at the Alex
Theater in Glendale, CA, April 16, 2000 as a birthday present. My godfather
knew who he was and went with me to the show. Tickets to see Spalding Gray were
a present I wanted in my early 20s. I don't recall a single story from it. I remember
the tone. The storytelling technique. Spalding sitting behind his signature
desk just talking.
All of his monologues carry the listener on an emotional
ride with moments of levity and moments of deep emotion. He was a flawed person
and for me that was something I could connect with, as a flawed person.
I didn't know a lot about him and hadn't seen much of his
work when he took his life several years later. I enjoyed what I had seen and felt
the loss that there wouldn't be more. And then time seemed to forget him.
I've been writing a monologue, thinking of him as the guru
of monologues, revisiting his work. When people ask what I'm working on, I say,
"something like Spalding Gray," and almost no one knows what I'm
talking about. "Who is that?" "Show me his picture, maybe I'll
recognize him." "Sounds boring."
I'm surprised by how niche he is. You should go watch
something of his. YouTube has a lot of material available.
