ME: Holy Shit.
ME: Holy shit.
KEVIN: I know. And it was going so well.
ME: Thank you for meeting me.
KEVIN: You’re about the only person who’ll talk to me right now, so it’s not like I can do better.
ME: The fourteen year old.
KEVIN: I know.
ME: It’s not what you think. I’m obviously not on your side…
ME: But the first thing I thought when I heard it was… where are that kids parents?
ME: What are they doing letting a 14 year old go to a party with adults? My son would NEVER go to a party with adults without me there. That would be insane.
KEVIN: That’s not an excuse.
ME: Of course it’s not, but you were also not an adult.
KEVIN: I was 24.
ME: You were 24 and drunk: that is the definition of acting like a kid.
KEVIN: And it was 30 years ago.
ME: Long time. Do you wish you were me?
KEVIN: What do you mean?
ME: Like you’re Kevin Spacey. You have won Oscars, Tony’s, but your reputation is shit.
KEVIN: It’s not looking good.
ME: It’s shit. Low-level actors like me are talking about you in audition rooms.
ME: Auditioning for parts we don’t even want. We’re not even concentrating on the job; we’re talking about you.
KEVIN: Uh-huh. But do I want to be you?
ME: Every where you go. From here on in. When you walk through the door, and someone sees you…. there is grime on your face.
KEVIN: I worked so hard in my life. I came from nothing.
ME: I don’t doubt that.
KEVIN: It all gets taken away so fast.
KEVIN: What other industry is like that?
ME: Like what?
KEVIN: It’s supposed to be that you work, and work, and work, and all those years pay off, and then you can relax.
KEVIN: But in entertainment you work for 40 years professionally.
ME: Long time.
KEVIN: Doing the best work of your career! And one slip— and everything turns to shit.
KEVIN: If a carpenter made a chair, and took him months, years. But he made that chair. It would take time to destroy that chair. Even if it burned.
ME: I heard thirty years ago it took seventeen minutes to escape a house fire. Today, it’s three.
ME: The way newer houses are built, the furniture—
KEVIN: Everything burns a lot faster. But do I want to be you?
ME: Do you wish you were me right now.
ME: Anonymity. You walk into the room—we think 14 year old boy. I walk into the room—we think…
ME: What? Not nothing.
KEVIN: You’re nobody.
ME: I’m somebody. I’m human.
KEVIN: No one would care if you entered the room, or not.
ME: Somebody would care, probably. Like if I was meeting someone; that person would care.
KEVIN: I’m still rich…
KEVIN: I have homes in London, apartment in New York, home in Los Angeles.
KEVIN: I was artistic director of one of the best theatre’s in the world for over ten years.
KEVIN: I did five seasons of an incredible hit show.
ME: I was on season four!
KEVIN: Get out of here.
ME: I was. We weren’t in a scene together, but I opened the season.
KEVIN: You were in the jail scene.
KEVIN: That was you in the jail?
ME: It was. I was sure I was going to be re-written into the last episode where your character would wind up in jail, too. And we’d be in a cell together.
ME: And for the record, I probably would have let you grope me. Or, I just wouldn’t tell anyone if you did. Except my wife. Cause… she’d be curious.
KEVIN: That’s very sweet.
ME: You’re not like some film producer that I don’t know. I want to root for you, Kevin. But I can’t.
ME: I’ve always enjoyed your work, and enjoyed watching you on talk shows.
KEVIN: Well I can’t say I ever heard your name before in my life, but thank you for opening season four of House of Cards.
ME: Thanks, Kevin. You know I was hoping—when it aired—you’d get in touch with me, and tell me “I believe in your talent” or, promise me a spin-off serious where I’m the lead in prison. Like an “Orange is the New Black” but with men.
KEVIN: Oh, I don’t watch scenes I’m not in.
ME: That makes sense.
ME: Holy Shit.