Hi everyone.

Another update! How rare! Wow, what an honor! Yowza!

The short version, for those of you that care deeply about wasting time, is that I'm having a great time here. Fantastic. I know that might not have been clear to this point. But I think this will clear everything up a little bit.

I had fun with this one. Hope everyone's having fun with what you're doing back home.

I still got love for da streets.

~Dave
www.davemcgee.com

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The Interview.

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Q: Hello, there. Let’s get right down to business shall we?
A: Sounds good to me.

Q: So… is everything alright? I read your last update, and it seems like things aren’t going so well.
A: Are you kidding? Everything’s going fine. I'm having an amazing time here.

Q: No, I’m not kidding. Did you read what you sent out last time? That was some depressing shit. You know there's a problem when your friends are writing you, telling you they're worried about you. I mean, do you just get really drunk and then write these things?
A: Yes, of course I read what I sent out last time. And I realize that it was sort of... a downer, really. But I stand by what I said, even if, and here is the answer to the second question, I was drunk when I wrote it.

Q: I knew it.
A: However, I was not drunk when I sent it out. I edited while sober and I think we’re all better for it. I think that this cultural guilt is an important topic. It’s something I’m dealing with personally all the time, regardless of alcohol consumption. And it's unique to my situation. I wouldn't feel this way in New York, so it's a singular experience. I am still ashamed to see McDonald’s and Starbuck’s being the prime representation of my country here, not to mention our current government. But the uplifting side of it is, I’m also discovering that I really am an American. I know I have this Anglo/Celto-phile thing going on a lot, but the truth is that I am an American. That’s good to finally realize. Circumstances being what they are in my country I was beginning to lose sight of that I think. Nothing like being away to really regain focus.

Q: OK, Uncle Sam. This is your third update. You’ve been gone, what, three weeks?
A: About three and a half, but sure.

Q: And yet you’re already on your third e-mail update.
A: I fail to see your point.

Q: Well, don’t you think that’s overkill? Some of the people that receive this don’t talk to you this much when you’re in the country. Don’t you think it’s… slightly pretentious?
A: You’re understating. It’s incredibly pretentious. However I’m a twenty-one year old theatre major. Not only is pretense generally accepted from people in my position, it’s actually expected.

Q: That is a weak defense.
A: Granted. But understand that the people I’m sending this to are all in the same general category. They'll understand.

Q: Let’s put aside the fact, for the moment, that it sounds like you’re making fun of your friends. When your friend Lisa went abroad, she sent out five e-mails. Total.
A: Lisa went to central Africa. It’s not exactly like she could pop down to the computer lab. I consider it an adventure when a taxi honks at me. At one point Lisa was actually pinned to the ground by a lion.(1) The circumstances are sort of different.

Q: Whatever, Proust. How about, for the first time since you left, we actually discuss what exactly the hell it is you’re doing in London. You’ve talked a lot about Greenland and world events and shit, but haven’t actually discussed anything important.
A: Whatever. And I wasn’t making fun of my friends, you misinterpreted. And that "Hey, Uncle Sam" "Hey, Proust" thing is getting annoying. Cut it out.

Q: Fine. So, what, you’re in the RADA program right?
A: No, I’m not. I’m in the Topics program.

Q: What the fuck is the Topics program?
A: Why is it that NOBODY has heard of this program?? It’s on all the same bits of paper that the RADA program is on! And it’s not just that you don’t know, none of the other students here in London have ever heard of the program. I’m surprised the administration knows what it is!

Q: You’re overreacting.
A: I’m not so sure. I swear to God, nobody knows what this program is. I would think I had imagined it, only I have found evidence of it on the internet. (2) The full name is Topics in British Literary, Visual, and Performing Arts. It’s like a survey course of… well… the arts.

Q: So what do you actually do?
A: Well, I’ll give you a typical day. This morning, I went to the Victoria & Albert museum, and was given my lesson while walking around the British Galleries. After spending the morning there, I walked through Hyde Park, around Piccadilly Circus, and ended up in Leicester Square. I ate some fish and chips on a bench, and I read Jeremy Paxman’s “The English.”

Q: How was it?
A: The book is excellent; the fish and chips were crap. Anyway, then I went to see that movie “Confidence,” and tonight I am going to see a play on the West End. There you have it: British literary (the book), visual (the museum), and performing (the movie and the play) arts. Not to mention the fine arts.

Q: “Confidence” is not a British movie. And you're seeing an Arthur Miller play tonight. He is an American playwright. You can’t count those. And what fine arts?
A: While “Confidence” may not be a British film, Rachel Weisz is in it. She is British. And she is the reason that I went to see the film. They don’t come hotter than that. So I was drawn to it because of its “Britishness.” And while Arthur Miller is an American playwright, this play is British produced. Therefore, it technically counts as British performing arts.

Q: Again, a weak-ass defense. And what about the fine arts?
A: I already told you. Rachel Weisz.

Q: That is a fucking terrible joke. I bet you thought of that on your way to the computer lab, you dork.
A: Yes I did, actually. Anyway, the great thing about nobody knowing about this program is that I’m the only one in it. That's right-- the only one! And it’s taught by the head of Tisch in London. That means that this brilliant woman is my personal tutor of British art, basically.

Q: That’s actually pretty rad.
A: I completely agree. It’s a shame it almost didn’t happen.

Q: Expand on that please.
A: Well, NYU cancelled the program. It’s a very NYU thing for them to do. They had accepted me into this program, but then didn’t want to pay for her to teach one student three days a week. So they cancelled the program.

Q: Surely they gave you some advance warning.
A: No, I was told when I arrived. Tisch London had been informed three days earlier.

Q: That’s terrible.
A: That’s NYU. However, to their credit, when the director of Tisch London called up and noted that that was an extremely unprofessional way to conduct their business, they eventually relented. Then they went out and bought the rest of the East Village.

Q: Ooh… snipe.
A: Indeed.

Q: What else is good?
A: Well, most stuff is good. Like I said, those earlier updates were poorly focused. I'm having an amazing time here, for real. I mean, for the first time in... well, since I can remember I am going to get through a semester without having had a single rehearsal. Not one! And that's pretty great. It's nice to have evenings and weekends off. Contrarily, it's also making me realize that I really do want to direct theatre. I miss it, while enjoying the break at the same time. And apart from that, I finally feel like I’m in college!

Q: The whole “spread-out-campus” thing?
A: Exactly. You’re way ahead of me on this stuff.

Q: I am in the relatively unique position of being both interviewer and subject.
A: Relatively unique?

Q: You are also in the same position.
A: (Pause). It’s a question of semantics, I guess, which I’d rather not argue right now. For the benefit of the readers that aren't me, I will say that attending NYU is not one’s typical college experience (a fact that most of you know intimately). Normal people have parties on campus. We have to go to Brooklyn. Not having a campus, or an insulated environment or, say, a smallish student body all play into the way in which our social dynamics work out. Even as a freshman, I knew maybe ten people in my building. And I certainly didn’t want to walk to Rubin, who knew what went on over there? The structure is so much different from what I would consider “normal” colleges. It got to the point that when I would visit my friends at college, I would think “Wow! I wish I went to college!” And never really notice the absurdity of the statement.

Q: Intriguing.
A: Yes, but also wonderful. I mean, part of the reason I chose to go to NYU is because it was so out of the ordinary. But now I’m getting a taste of the other side, and I’m enjoying it quite a bit. It’s fun finally being in a typical college setting. There are less than 200 of us here (significantly less, actually), and we’re all living in the same building. When I want to see my friends, I have to walk up two flights of stairs. I don’t have to take two different trains.

Q: You are going to be late for your play if you don’t leave now.
A: Oh shit.

Q: Shall we continue this later?
A: Sure, I’ll be in touch. Or whatever.

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Q: Welcome back.
A: Thank you.

Q: How was the play?
A: You were there, you tell me.

Q: The first act was great, the second act was overdone, and yet I enjoyed it anyway.
A: I completely agree.

Q: This is starting to get a little long, I think. And we've covered the basics fairly well. So I think I have just one more question.
A: Great. Fire away.

Q: You spend your days going to class and going to museums. Then you walk through an adopted city that is not your own, in much the same way that you would walk through New York. At one time New York was your adopted city, and now it is home. You miss it with every breath and every step. Each moment you realize that you love it completely, wholly. You spend absurd amounts of money on theatre and film, translating the cost into dollars and feeling guilty about wasting so much, about having the privilege to use it so carelessly. You meet people that you never would have met otherwise, and you laugh together and you enjoy yourself in crowds. How rare is that? Even last night, you met this amazing girl. Her name is Jane, and she comes from the Ukraine, and she moved to New York so that when she speaks she has this amazing Ukrainian accent except when she says "walk" or "talk" she sounds like she's been living on Long Island her whole life. And for some reason that you can't pinp
oint, that makes you smile. And the fact that it's not even about her, you don't really know her. You're just glad to meet somebody, another, and then another that interests you, that moves you. That you would want to see again and that you would like to find out about. And then you freak out, because the thought of "pursuing" anything like that is the most indimitating thing in the world so you smile because even with all the changes in your life, that's still so "you". So you just go the club. Dave, you went dancing and it was loud and your ears were ringing, and you were sweating and you moved. You just moved and it was wonderful, to release, to not be able to hear yourself think for once. Because you worry sometimes about these things. You plan these journal entries like they're important, you come up with the ideas, and you work on them for days. You worry about telling people simple things, you worry that people won't like these. So you come up with some bullshit way, s
ay, an interview format, that will enable you to tell all the stuff you're doing without being overt. And you even plan that at the end the interviewer will turn it around, and basically become the subject by spewing out a long message. The answer to which will be "Well, yeah. I guess that about sums it up." And you plan that it will turn into the first person. And I dream about Woyzeck, and I dream of New York. And I live this life here, amazed, and moved, and surrounded by life that is alien to me. I laugh at silly things-- the hats the policemen wear-- and I sit up awake at night and wonder about things that are and that might never be. And I love it, and it's so strange to think that this is it. What if I hadn't come? I am growing and learning and loving it. I am living it. I am standing on the dance floor, and it is shaking with the pulse with the rhythm and it is moving me moving me and I am moving with and I am moving in it. And my smile is for me and for everything. B
ecause I am alive, and I want to know what it means to be that way. My smile is for all of it. And it expands and releases and it flies away from me and I am lighting up the world. And in reality it is just for me on a dark floor in the middle of London, surrounded by a hundred by two hundred by three hundred bodies moving alone, moving together, moving apart and as a whole. And I breathe. And a breath. And it is silent. I mean... you know?
A:Well, yeah. I guess that about sums it up.



(1) True Story.
(2) See? I’m not making this shit up! Topics!