Sawing the air too much

Given the status quo, that is, the existing state of things, or the way we are all spending

Our brief lives at present

The desire for a different, better life seems perfectly human

As is the attempt to buy that different, better life

Or secure it by violence

Or treachery

Alas, this may be a category mistake

For better lives cannot be bought or sold

We all have a part, no matter how the scenery changes

Play the same part night after night, year after year

Memorize the crucial lines and learn to improvise without breaking character

Or seeming like an accidental exercise in self-parody

Or stale and tedious

Gradually, the difference between you and the character you are playing

Will shrink

And

Eventually

Van-sh

And if you are passionately committed to a role, and you understand it well enough to play it with style and grace for a very long time

And the plot of the whole narrative suddenly veers into incomprehensible mayhem

You know: a malevolent, vainglorious imposter becomes king, almost destroys the whole set

Then can’t be dragged off stage after the fifteenth standing ovation, and a plague

Which he contracts, but somehow miraculously survives?!

And he finally leaves the show

And for a while, a veteran character actor

Sort of shuffles and smiles his way through a few seasons

But the last guy didn’t even break character on the toilet

He's very active on social media

You and a few others

Whisper derisively

When the lights are low

His fans are so frothy with passion that flattering reviews are their gospel

And negative reviews, the vilest blasphemy they have ever heard

People have been hurt

So they write him back in!

No one can really believe it

But there he is

Night after night

Again

And he dabbles in mixed martial arts

Betting on fights, mind you—from box seats

It all sems very “AI Scriptwriter 6.0” to me

Then he has to face a certain amount of justified acrimony from the other actors

But persuades his delirious partisans in the audience that he is a martyr

And decides that the whole story is really about him, and his unjust suffering

And he will tweet it, or eXcrete it, or whatever, himself

What do writers know, really?

And as for you

Your part is changing in all of the wrong, foolish ways that you dreaded before

They hired a new writer and reassured you that he could read

And you had some hope that you could play this part well right into the dark

But they fired that fellow

And now most of your lines seem to have been written by ChatGPT4; you don’t really like the dialogue,

It is full of claims that you either do not believe, or can’t make any sense of

But the audience is increasingly sensitive and committed, so if you blow a line

They are ready to eat you alive

And they change the other characters’ names

Seemingly at random in one case

And if you get confused, the ratings dip

You really are trying

But sometimes they're practically rewriting your lines

In your mouth

And you do not have your own trailer any more

And you have to sneak food now and again from craft services

You’re too worried about where this story is headed

To really enjoy any of it

And the other actors seem increasingly anxious, depressed, terrified, numb or stark raving mad

And the director just keeps telling kind lies, to shield your implausibly intense feelings

And panic and despair are the crew’s nickname for you and your understudy

Remember

It’s the writing

That’s really all that matters

Is it a story you can all—not just you, tempting as that is, but everyone involved

Including craft services

Survive?

Playing roles you know well, and can live with

Without shame, or succumbing to exhaustion or despair

Because your part is worth playing

You and the audience agree on that

Most of the time

It’s a craft, really

And you want desperately to see the rest of the script

Because you know this can’t last forever

And you want, in the end, to be able to say

Someone else is better suited to this part than I am

We all fade

But a rather solid, occasionally stylish way of playing this role

Has been firmly established

And some gestures, and some jokes, and some wild ideas

Will be offered homage and parody in due course

You will have done your strutting and your fretting

In a good story

From which others will derive

Both entertainment and instruction

You can fall, smiling

With the curtain

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NB: The title is a fraction of a line from Shakespeare's Hamlet, Act III, Scene II: "Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness."