Since early November I've written 2 separate drafts about one of the best nights of my life, and have gone back to both numerous times to edit, add and tweak. Countless times. None of those behind-the-scenes efforts have been good enough to capture what it was like for me-- the magnitude of it all-- and I didn't want to publish something that was in any way less than what that night deserved. Because of that, they have both remained in draft form. I wanted it to be perfect, to give that night and the person responsible for it proper due. I thought in finding my words though finger taps on a keyboard, I'd be able to express my feelings in a letter or post-event conversation with the friend who made it all happen.
I've failed on such an epic level that there aren't graphs capable of representing it accurately.
I've apologized personally and now I'm apologizing publicly, with the sincere hopes that I'm not doing further damage. I realize in holding back on showing my gratitude (most importantly in real life, but also online) until I was able to find the exact words to describe what is STILL an indescribable night is a losing battle I'll never win. Trying to express something that defies expression is, by definition, futile. I should've understood that sooner.
I'm going to abandon those 2 drafts and post photos from that night instead.
Just imagine how you'd feel if you were the most excited you've ever felt about anything, thinking you could quite possibly be having either a heart attack or an out of body experience. Or both. Then triple that excitement. Then, double that triple. Got it? Now, hold onto that adrenaline for 3 hours straight from the 4th row in your favorite city in the world while sitting next to your favorite people in the world, and you'll feel a fraction of what I was feeling the evening of November 7, 2008.
Speed-the-Plow on Broadway, starring my husband Jeremy Piven
From the Speed-the-Plow Wikipedia entry:
In an interview in The Chicago Tribune writer David Mamet explained the title as follows: "I remembered the saying that you see on a lot of old plates and mugs: 'Industry produces wealth, God speed the plow.' This, I knew, was a play about work and about the end of the world, so 'Speed-the-Plow' was perfect because not only did it mean work, it meant having to plow under and start over again."
If you take the polar opposite of all that indescribable emotion and heightened adrenaline, you'll understand how sorry I am that I didn't say any of this sooner than yesterday, directly to the person I should've said it to.
I still don't think I got it right, and there aren't words to accurately describe the depths of those feelings either. I could try to pull the perfect mea culpa out of myself for another six weeks, but I like to think I can learn from my mistakes:
I'm so sorry D, and thank you for everything. All of it, from the day we met in 1996.
