Means are the end

I was thinking about the idea of improvisation the other day when my neighbor Marx walked by. You see, Marx is an actor, old-school like, and thinks all my ideas about improv-ing on the stage and through life are nonsense. He is of the no-pain-no-gain, acting-is 99%-perspiration school, whereas I don't believe in perspiration of any sort. I am not against pain mind you, if that is your thing. I am just against pain as a means to an end.

I think the means are the end.

Whereas Marx will work on a role day and night, often becoming anxious that he is not good enough, that he is never going to make it, I sleep soundly at night, take naps whenever I want and improvise through my roles and life.

So when I saw Marx the other day with the familiar frown on his face I decided to be nice to him, cheer him up, like.

"That's a great expression you've developed there Marx," I said. "Lear or Hamlet?"

"Actually it is a comic role," mumbled Marx, "Those are the damn hardest."

How can you work to be a funny character? In my book genuinely funny people are funny because they let go and follow the pulse.

"Good luck with the role!" I said as Marx walked away. Then I went home and took a nap.

May the pulse be with you!

Abhay