“Confucius said, ‘A day spent in idle conversation is a day well spent.’“
Fred was drunk when he told me that.
I was drunk too, so I believed him.
Well, what’s not to believe? It’s a cool observation attributed to one of the supercool philosophers in history.
Problem is, Confucius didn’t really say it, apparently. I’ve Googled the shit out of it. I think Fred made it up.
Fred and I talked a lot of philosophy during our late night conversations. After the onstage curtain calls and the final theater patrons had left the building, out came the large bottle of Albertsons vodka and a couple of cans of Diet Sprite. From that moment into the wee hours of a Saturday or Sunday morning Nietzsche and Schopenhauer were our bitches.
I couldn’t quote philosophy but I could understand the concepts, sorta. Fred could quote famous thinkers word-for-word and explain what they meant. Sometimes he even took issue with the likes of Kant and Kierkegaard. He considered Descartes a fool merely for being French.
Fred has been gone for almost twenty years. I miss him, even though he was irascible and often insufferable. He was also one of the funniest men alive. He could noodle on a piano with a four-inch ash dangling from his “ciggy-poo”, as he called it, while reducing his fellow comic actors to puddles of laughter with his bawdy jokes, his rubbery face and his exquisite sense of timing. He was the master in a house full of funny people.
Most of my dear friends from Stagedoor Comedy Playhouse are gone now, as is the building itself. I loved that time of my life and though I’m not inclined to be overly nostalgic I do enjoy basking in fond memories from time to time.
I miss the laughter and my drunken conversations with Fred.