As a kid, I had never heard my father being supportive of the gay lifestyle. To be absolutely fair, I had never heard him be unsupportive. But because of the nonexistence of subject in our lives, I didn’t know how he was going to react to the news I had finally decided to give. It was three days before Christmas, and I was nineteen years old, the day I sat at the edge of my father’s bed and, without looking at him, told him I was gay. It took everything I had to say those words. Everything I knew at that moment was up in the air. Since I was a little kid we were a self proclaimed “team,” just me and him. We would sit on Sundays and listen to music and he would ask me how it made me feel. We would watch movies and talk about them afterward, dissecting story and character. He would read every word from every draft of every story I wrote. He would see every show I was performing in, multiple times. Support, amazing support, is what my Dad had always been. I wasn’t at risk of just losing a father by this news, I was at risk of losing my best friend.
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It is to be considered, when cutting or placing a gem, the unique qualities of the gem itself. How shall it be cut so that it will reflect in the light? What shape will bring out the most sparkle? What will make this stone stand out among the rest? How shall it truly shine? Such are the questions that I imagine goes into the creation of a piece of art. I remember when I was a kid; I went on a road trip with you from Miami to Iowa. Before leaving I was playing by a large window, and you were talking to me. “Once I looked outside the window and saw a waterspout.” You said. “What’s a waterspout, Grandpa?” I said. “A waterspout is a like a tornado at sea.” “What happens if a tornado hits something?” I asked. “It rips it apart.” “Then what happens if a waterspout hit something?” “Markie, think about what you are asking.”
For GoNaked Magazine By Mark-Eugene Garcia The sun is beating down on my back. The sweat is seeping down my forehead. The salty breeze is blowing against my butt. There is a soft sound of the surf slamming the sand. My pen is in my hand. I am naked, laying alone on a nude beach at 11 AM on a Tuesday and life is perfect. Looking back, it wasn’t a matter of if I would get naked, but when. I was 22 when my best friend dared me to go to the nude beach with him. It was a passing dare, but I wouldn’t let it go. I brought it up every chance I got. Nude beach. Nude Beach! NUDE BEACH! This is how we found ourselves calling in sick to work, driving for an hour, searching out the rumored beach, paying for parking, and hiking down the park to nakedness. Yes, there were some fears and questions.
or Insight for Playwrights Magazine by Sally Deering. Copyright 2013. Used by permission. Name: Mark-Eugene Garcia Place of Residence: New York City Selected Titles: (Musicals) STANDBY; THE HOLY COWS OF CREDENCE SOUTH DAKOTA; FACING EAST: A NEW MUSICAL; and THE JOURNEY. (Plays) (UN)MISSED CONNECTIONS; INSCRIPTIONS; WHAT FRIENDS ARE FOR; and THE KEYS Mark-Eugene Garcia discovered his passion for writing musicals post high school, after penning several angst-ridden poems about unrequited love. Looking at them one day, once he got over the unrequited love and with a clear head, Garcia found that his poems formed an arc. “I spent the better part of the next few years writing dialogue and lyrics to connect the pieces,” Garcia says. “I had no guidance and it was very rough. The project wouldn’t (and still won’t) ever see the light of day, but it got me started. When I later discovered the Academy of New Musical Theatre, I sent in some of that work. They must have found potential in the jumble because they brought me on. Suddenly, at 22, I found myself learning how structure, prosody and dialogue worked, while working toward my first production: a mini-musical based on the story of the Prodigal Son.” |
Mark-Eugene GarciaWriter/Actor/Storyteller. Theatre Maker. Husband. Bad Hombre. Cat Taunter. ContentsArchives
May 2024
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