Category: expressed

i recently learned that my high school glee club and boys ensemble conductor/teacher/mentor passed away. it’s been so long since i last interacted with him that he’s more legend in my mind than reality. how can a legend ever die? in Mr. Somary’s case, his legend and legacy can’t.

Mr. Somary — Johannes to those who were close to him — was a frankenstein of a man. he was tall, slightly hunchbacked, with a long face and a large smile. his bushy head of grey hair would remain as a perfect puff, even through his grand gesturing during concerts, movements that were akin to a rocker’s head bang. i first got to know him in the 10th grade when i finally had the cojones to join glee club.

i’m not going to lie – i was a hot property back then because i was one of like three boys who could actually carry a tune. i think Johannes must have seen potential in me after seeing me in the school musicals. right away, he took me under his wing. in fact, he gave me the solo in one of our first glee club concerts of that year. now we didn’t sing mash-ups of britney and gaga songs back then. we sang stuff like this: Bach’s deposuit potentes from magnificat.

ok. imagine a 15-year old singing that.

yeah. shit ain’t easy. i still remember to this day our rehearsal in his office. he kept telling me not to think so much (a constant refrain in my life apparently) and to just sing. the runs were KILLING me and i really had no confidence that i could do it at all. eventually i got to the point where i sang something close to what it was supposed to sound like, he shook my hand, and that was that.

of course, come concert time, i totally screwed up the solo. how do i know? well, my blunt sister-in-law said, “yeah you didn’t do too well,” as did my favorite theater teacher the next day who said, “he shouldn’t have made you sing that song.”

i don’t think Mr. Somary set me up to fail. in a way, i think he was grooming me to be the next it boy and saw in me more than i ever thought was possible at the time. even though the solo was a bomb, he still recruited me for the boy’s ensemble, a hand-picked, select group of boys from glee club who performed separate concerts and who were like a mini-frat. of course, i was miserable being around so much testosterone and always wanted out, but Mr. Somary never let me give up. even when i’d make excuses to try to miss concerts, he’d arrange rides for me or work around my schedule so that i could attend.

while i LOVED singing and performing, i eventually realized that neither boy’s ensemble nor glee club was for me (the social aspect of it outweighed the artistic and that irked me). i quit boy’s ensemble a year later and whereas there was a point when i wanted to be the soloist in glee club, i became content being another voice in the crowd by senior year. Mr. Somary noticed this and his attitude towards me definitely changed. he treated me as just any other glee club kid and not with the preferential treatment i once had.

i don’t want to remember my relationship with Mr. Somary in a sour way. if anything, i’ve grown to respect him even more. he was fiercely loyal to those who trusted in him– or trusted in his judgement. if he believed in you, it meant that you had something really special and he wanted to nurture that talent and make sure that you utilized it. i might not have been able to sing deposuit potentes then, but i think he was giving me something to strive for — “practice!” i can imagine him telling me, “nothing comes without practice.” lesson learned too late, but i have him to thank for that.

you’ll be missed, Mr. Somary — Johannes. may you rest in peace.

[note: i began this post yesterday, but a.l. came home and i got distracted. now, i’m sitting on the heated toilet (with bidet!) pulling double duty.]

here i am in japan sitting across from n.i. in her apartment. our feet resting under a heated kotatsu (not to be confused with tonkatsu). a bottle of sake sits on the table with two empty glasses and a watermelon-flavored suika-soda next to it. she’s playing tetris while watching desperate houswives while i try to think of something to say on this blog. this is the quietest it’s been in the last week that i’ve been here and i’m grateful for the respite.

tokyo is a madhouse. walking down the streets is a game of frogger. you’ve got to dodge rushing human torpedoes, screaming vendors, and blaring billboards and advertisements that attack you from anywhere and everywhere. while new york might possess the same frenetic energy and crowds, there’s something about tokyo that makes me think this whole city is on crack and redbull ’cause damn i get tired from just standing on the street corner.

n.i. and a.l. live in a suburb not too far from the central transportation hub shinjuku. it’s a two story home owned by n.i.’s uncle. my favorite feature has got to be the combination shower and soaking tub. i’ve got to figure out a way to install one in our bathroom in sf.

n.i. and a.l. have been insanely amazing hosts and i’m not writing that just cause i know n.i. reads this wink wink. they’ve taken me to some out-of-this-world eats and sites and have been trying to teach me basic japanese etiquette and phrases, how to use the metro system, and the glory of vending machines and 7/11s. if not for them, i would seriously be … are you ready? … LOST IN TRANSLATION. i haven’t really missed the u.s. yet. perhaps it’s because home is where the heart is and where your friends are, there is your heart. it’s so great to see them and to know that no amount of time or distance can break these obie/bx bonds.

things i’ve learned so far from my travels:
– asking for help is not the worst thing one can do in the world;
– when an employee at a major tourist destination gives you directions, they’re probably right;
– good eats do exist at 7/11… when you’re not in the states;
– signs tell you where to go.

my sketch comedy group KT (formerly Kamikaze Theory) is headlining AATC’s ComedyFest sketch/improv week!  hope you can come out: