In a life as non-linear as this image it is not easy to spot the exact time your life went into a spiral, took a hard left turn, hit a wall....or found itself in a field of wildflowers in respite...
A simple question for someone as narcissistic as myself is "How the hell did I get HERE? Why am I not fishing off a yacht near Corfu??" The answer is far more complex.
Anyone who walks off the stage of the Schubert Theater, gets on the IRT to Whitehall St., enlists in the USAF---this is 1964, folks---without even telling his stage manager...anyone who turned down the offer to have medical school paid in full if he agreed to go into practice with his benefactors (in Pittsburgh, unfortunately) but turned it down because his mom burst into tears of grief over his lost theatrical career (thank you, Madame Rose)...anyone who has found ways and means to screw the pooch with a career marked by artistic success and utter financial failure...this is not the guy you go to for easy answers.
But I keep asking, hoping the voices of better angels will sing an answering chorale...
