Michael Meyer: Persevering & Pursuing Art No Matter What

As long as he can remember, Michael has pursued his calling as an actor and found the ultimate joy in making others' laugh.  From a very early age, he discovered he could get positive attention, rather than negative scolding, through his performance antics and sense of humor.  Then, in 1996, something occurred that changed his perspective on life even further.  He had a near death experience through coming down with Meningitis, which caused him to fall into a coma.  When he awoke, he suffered damage to his short term memory.  During that time of the illness, he was cast in a play called "Table Manners" and had a great deal of line memorization.  Through the process of learning the lines and performing in the play, he re-developed the confidence in himself and came to a deeper realization that he was meant to pursue the art of theatre and film as an actor and director.

He believes that his work as an actor and as a director (which he views as an extension of his acting craft) is to portray the experiences in life that give audiences' the ability to reflect and explore aspects of their own identities and existences.

Michael looks back with fondness at a wide plethora of acting and directing opportunities he has had in his life.  First, he is most proud of his time as an instructor and director traveling with the Missoula Children's Theatre Group, calling it "the best gig he ever had".  He recalls how rewarding it was working with a different set of children each week, coaching them with their acting abilities and in a limited amount of time helping them to fulfill the goal of performing in a real play, and he hopes that this experience caused them to have life-long memories, as it did for him.  Next, he looks back with utmost affection for several plays and films he participated in, such as his role as Major Arnold in the play,"Taking Sides", his role as Tom in the play, "Light Sensitive",  and his role as Billy in the film, "Besetment".  He will always feel grateful for the experience working on "Besetment", seeing Billy as his favorite film role to date, being able to see a part of Oregon he had never yet viewed, finally feeling truly respected as an actor and artist, and making good memories that created life-long friendships.

He believes himself to be still in "film school" as a film director and views every opportunity on set as a learning process.  He extends a warm shout-out and personal thank you to his good friend, Ray Nomoto Robison for his mentorship.  Because of this, he is truly excited about the process of starting up Cafe-Girl Productions, Inc and is thoroughly enjoying the process, saying that it is not something he would ever imagined he would do and he is infinitely proud of Lia for founding it and for all her hard work.  The strengths he brings to Cafe-Girl are his years of experience working as a professional actor and as an artistic director for a local community theatre.  He says this knowledge gained gives him the ability to coach the rest of the organization without over-stepping his bounds or causing them to feel less than capable in their artistic endeavors.

Michael looks forward to the continuing unfolding of all that Cafe-Girl will bring forth in the world, through the focus on community, creating meaningful productions that increase the value of individual and society, and helping each other and others to thrive as artists.  He especially looks forward to not only all of the future productions and services of Cafe-Girl but one day producing an original work that he wrote with his first mentor, Nancy Jones, his high school speech and debate coach, bringing it forth into the world in her beloved memory.

For more information on Michael, check out his facebook page at: 

Michael Meyer

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One Final Time

All day at work in his office, his headache grew in intensity. After the lunch hour, about 1:00, Les told his secretary, Susan, (a pretty blonde in her early forties) that he was heading home early from work.

As he drove the streets toward his house, his head pounded with an such increased pressure that he barely remembered that drive home. He didn't notice then Stella walking hurriedly down the sidewalk towards the nearest bus-stop, the same he had dropped her off a week before.

He pushed the door from his garage to his house open and slowly walked down the hall towards the kitchen, in search of a glass of water, perhaps, or something to ease the pain. The living room was dark and his eyes were blurry from the pain, so he did not notice Monica huddled over on the sofa. He moved into the kitchen without thinking and reached for a glass of water. Monica's cracking voice full of emotion startled him.

“She's pregnant,” was all Monica said. He turned slowly and tried unsuccessfully to bring his wife into view through the blurry-eyed perspective. Failing, he let her swim before her as he moved partially into the living room.

“Who?” he asked cautiously and hopefully.

“Our babysitter,” Monica said sarcastically, glaring up at him. He gulped soundlessly.

“Judy?” he wondered.

Monica sighed and stood up.

“No,” she said and walked over to him. “Stella, your little girlfriend.”

Les stumbled backwards as she approached him, trying not to fall over in the process. He felt his body start to shake as if in fever.

“How could you do this to me, to us?” Monica's voice shrieked to a thrill piercing the pain in his head. He grappled at the air, mouthing silently in anguish, as he felt his legs crumble beneath him. The last thing he saw was Monica's eyes in fear as he fell and her voice screaming, “Les!!” and then everything went dark.

Ruby was sitting up in her hospital bed. The psychiatrist had come and gone. It had been three days since the incident and the psychiatrist had decided that she was stable enough to be released. Her wrist was no longer bandaged and sported the familiar long sewn scar, reminiscent of high school. She wondered if she still had those arm bands her mother had made her wear back then. Her old room-mate, Nicole, had stopped by a little earlier and agreed to let Ruby crash at her place for awhile.

The door to the hospital room opened and Rob entered, cautiously. Slowly, he crossed the room and sat at the chair by the bed. He carried with him her guitar case and a duffel bag.

“I, uh, brought you some clothes and your guitar,” he said, breaking the silence. Ruby stared straight ahead and did not look at him.

“Thank you,” was all she would say.

“Won't you,” he began and then broke off. In a minute, he breathed in confidence and said, “Won't you come home?”

Ruby looked fully at him, trying to hide her lower lip trembling.

“Why?” she demanded to know.

“Can we work this out?” Rob offered.

“Why?” Ruby asked again, louder. “What am I to you, really? How do I know it won't happen again? God, I'm so stupid. What are we, just play-things to you?”

“No, no, not like that,” Rob pleaded. Ruby stared up at the ceiling then back at Rob. She surveyed all of him, saw a vision in her head of the first time they had met, in class, the moment she fell in love with him when their eyes had met, the first time they kissed, the feel of his naked body against hers, and then the flash of his face between the other girl's legs.

“Go!” she said at last.

“But--,” Rob protested.

She shook her head and said again, “Go.”

He stood and looked at her, his eyes pleading.

“Just go,” she said, her lip trembling, her voice starting to crack. She could feel the tears swelling in her eyes. “Go and don't come back.”

He looked longingly at her and then he turned and left the room. She let the tears flow freely, feeling loss of him, the heartbreak of letting go, and strangely a sense of empowerment. As the sobs subsided, she pulled herself from the bed. Opening the duffel bag, she pulled out the clothes and began dressing herself, preparing to leave.

Down in the emergency room, the doctors and nurses were busy with the intake of a thirty-eight year old unconscious man being wheeled on a gurney into the hospital. Unbeknownst to him, he was hooked up to IVS and life support. Flying behind him, his wife, soon to be separated, came carrying a baby, her eyes wide with worry.

She hurried over to a desk with a window and began filling out the necessary paperwork and answering the doctor's questions. In the room, Les had been taken into, a young blonde intern was busy drawing blood and running tests.

Monica paced, carrying Sam, in her arms in the waiting room, trying to calm her breathing. As the young blonde female intern came to get her, Monica thought how fitting it was that this would be his on-call doctor, that if he was awake he'd probably flirt with her. This doctor looked like a much younger version of herself, Monica thought.

“We've ran some tests and your husband tested positive for meningitis,” the blonde doctor was saying. “We would like to start him on some anti-biotics, we just need your signature.”

“Will that help?” Monica heard herself ask, as if from faraway. “Will he wake up?”

“We aren't sure,” the doctor said slowly and thoughtfully. Monica slumped into the chair further, holding Sammy closer and harder. The baby squealed a little and Monica released her grip a bit.

“We'll make him as comfortable as possible, give him a private room,” the doctor continued. “While we wait for more answers.”

“Um, okay,” was all Monica could say.

In another part of the hospital, Ruby sat filling out forms, preparing to leave the hospital and begin all over again. In the seat by her, perched her guitar case. The duffel bag was on the floor. She finished the paperwork and handed them to the secretary across the desk.

“We'll send your information to your insurance,” the secretary was saying.  She was an older, very rotund woman with short, bluish-grey hair. “We'll be in touch. You take care of yourself now, okay?”

The secretary's eyes scanned down to Ruby's left wrist and Ruby automatically pulled her sleeve down over her arm.

“Thanks,” she said and stood up, shouldering her guitar and duffel bag. She left the office and began slowly to make her way down the hall and out into the freedom of the big, bad world, to face it now all alone.

She stopped halfway down the hall and watched as several hospital staff wheeled a hospital bed in the adjacent hallway. Once they passed, she continued her journey, turning down in that same hallway but in the opposite direction, towards the front entrance of the hospital. To her surprise, a very shaken looking Monica, carrying a baby, was coming towards her.

“Monica?” Ruby asked, startled. “Why are you here?”

“It's Les,” Monica was saying, her voice full of emotion and trembling. “They say...meningitis, he's unconscious, in a coma. I don't know...”

In silence, Ruby felt the beating of her heart increase, almost could hear it beating louder. As if my heart couldn't break anymore, she thought.

“Where did they take him?” she asked.

“Room 203,” Monica answered. She hesitated and then continued, “You know he cheated on me?”

Ruby said nothing.

“Well, he did,” Monica continued. “I had just found out when he passed out in my living room. I was confronting him and then he...I thought it was my fault.”

She broke off and Ruby could see the tears falling down her face. Ruby gave her friend's wife a side hug in consolation.

Monica went on: “While I was waiting for him at home, after SHE left, I went into his office at home, I don't know why or what I was looking for, just something, some evidence of--”

She broke off and wiped her eyes with her free hand. Her purse swung by her side with the movement.

“Anyway,” she sighed and went on. She reached into her purse and pulled a photograph out of it. “I found this on his desk, right by his keyboard.”

She handed it to Ruby, who looked down at it. It was a picture of all of them from camp. She remembered that day as their day-off from counseling, when they'd all gone to town to do laundry, have a little fun. That evening of that same day she and Les had kissed. It was the whole bunch of them in a group shot, there before her was Geoff, Tara, Jess, herself, and Les. In this picture, Les had his arm around her shoulders and both of their faces beamed in a large smiles. A happier innocent time reflected back into her face, when their futures were still brightly laying before them and yet unknown.

“He always really cared for you,” Monica was saying. “I know that he didn't always show it, for whatever reason, but you really mattered to him.”

Ruby blinked back the tears from her eyes and looked up at Monica.

“What room?” she asked, her voice faltering.

“Room 203,” was Monica's automatic answer.

“Can I see him?”

“Let's see,” and the two women and one baby moved down the hallway.

Monica let Ruby enter Les's room by herself. Ruby stood dumbfounded in the room, staring at her long-time friend's still body on the bed, IV's of life all around him, a beeping and blinking machine matching his heartbeats beside him. She moved over to the chair by his side, setting her duffel bag down. Gently, she laid the guitar case on the edge of his bed. Still clutching the photograph Monica had given her, she looked for a very long time at Les.

Finally, she spoke.

“I can't believe you still have this photo,” she began, trying to sound cheerful. “I think I have one like it somewhere, I don't know where. It was so long ago, it seems now. Where did you find it?”

She waited, half wondering if he would answer. She breathed heavily.

“God, Trip, won't you just sit up now? Say this is all some stupid practical joke or something,” she bit her lip hard. Then held up her left wrist, “Kind of ironic that we both are here right now.”

She looked at the picture again in the same hand as the sewn up scarred wrist.

“You were always so good to me back then, always there for me,” she said, her voice faltering as tears began to fall. “I never really got it, you know, I don't know why I...we...never...oh, you know. We were just kids then, right? Just kids--”

She looked up tiredly at her friend.

“God dammit, Trip, just wake up. Wake up now. What the hell would I do in this world without you in it?

No answer came but the soft beeping of the monitor. Ruby laid the photograph on her lap and opened the guitar case, pulling the guitar from within. She set it cautiously on her lap on top of the photograph.

“I remember it was you that first taught me to play, you started it all,” she said almost laughing. She began to strum softly, then a song came fluttering back to her memory and she began to play.

From the depths of his unconsciousness, a memory fluttered through. A memory of a young girl on a camp stage, lit up by fire-light, singing a song from long ago, and that long ago self began to understand and inside of him now he began to feel it too.

Ruby sang and the hard years fall away, all the bitterness that had come between them dissipated with each line, her true feelings revealed themselves once again:

“I wanted to write you some words you’d remember
words so alert they’d leap from the paper
and crawl up your shoulder and lie by your ears
and be there to comfort you down through the years.

But it was cloudy that day and I was lazy
and so I stayed in bed just thinking about it.

I wanted to write you and tell you that maybe
love songs from lovers are unnecessary.
We are what we feel and writing it down.
seems foolish sometimes without vocal sound.
But I spent the day drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes
and looking in the mirror practicing my smile.

I wanted to write you one last, long love song
that said what I feel one final time.”

Ruby felt herself began to crumble inside. She gulped back her tears and went on.

“Not comparing your eyes and mouth to the stars
but telling you only how like yourself you are.
But by the time I thought of it, found a pen,
put the pen to ink, the ink to paper,
you were gone.”

She stopped singing, abruptly, unable to continue. She held the guitar in silence and looked at her unconscious friend, her childhood crush.

“And so, this song has no words,” she whispered softly. Slowly, she stood up and placed the guitar back in its case, closing the case. The photograph had fallen to the floor and she retrieved it and moved over to Les's side and looked for a long time into his face, his eyes closed from hers.

Setting the photograph on his pillow, she leaned over close to her face.

“Ollie right,” she whispered, smiling slightly. And, she kissed his lips. Then, she moved away, leaving the photograph beside him. She picked up her guitar case and her bag. Then, closing the door softly behind her, she left him.

In the hospital bed, now alone, Les's eyes opened.

Somewhere Only We Know

The End

One Final Time is lovingly dedicated to my Y-Camp friends & faithfully written for my "Trip"

One Final Time

Ruby stumbled out of the bar and hailed a cab.  She had had a few too many free drinks at the bar after her set. When she reached her apartment building, she paid the cabbie and fumbled in her purse for her keys, juggling between her guitar case and her purse, swaying slightly on her heels. She pushed the buttons on her front entrance, unlocking the door and allowing her in from the night's coldness and darkness.

Stumbling into the elevator, she pushed the button for her floor and felt the familiar lurch in her stomach as the machine ascended. As the doors swung open at her destination, she stumbled down the hall to her doorway, pushing it open when she found it unlocked.

Entering, she found the lights dimmed, two wine glasses on the dining room table, one with lipstick and the other half drunk. She thought she heard noises coming from her bedroom so she cautiously crept down the hall towards the sound.

Pushing the door open, she stood in the door way with her mouth agape. A girl, breasts bare, lay on her bed with Rob's head between her legs. The girl's loud moans beat into her brain in cold, hard waves. When the repetitive motion of the oncoming slot of the girl's ecstasy reached its fever pitch, Ruby found sound escaping her mouth without her control, a loud piercing scream reverberating off the walls and into the very chasm of the souls of those in her bed.

Rob abruptly froze and slowly turned toward her. His goatee was wet with the girl's juices. He stared at Ruby, unable to speak. The girl pulled herself to a sitting position and covered her nakedness.

“Who...who is this?” the girl gasped.

“Um, this is Ruby, and this is Marcie,” Rob stuttered out as if this was a casual greeting at a local diner.

Ruby just stared him down. Marcie quickly rose from the bed, still clutching the sheet half covering her and started frantically searching for her clothes, dressing hurriedly. Ruby looked down at Rob who stood up himself, standing bare before her, not knowing what to say.

“You didn't tell me you...lived with someone,” came Marcie from far away. Neither of them noticed her. Ruby felt a slight breeze as Marcie quickly passed her, sloppily dressed in the hurry, to leave the apartment and flee to her own home.

“Why?” came Ruby's voice, a small creak within her heart. “Why?”

Rob moved towards her and she moved away, quickly, saying, “Don't...don't touch me!”

He realized then how he appeared and ran over to the closet, pulling out his bathrobe and wrapped it around him.

“Let me explain,” Rob began.

Ruby looked around the room, at the bed with its sheets thrown about, the books on her side of the bed and the glass of water she'd left there from the night before, the curtains in the window, and moved restlessly about.

“Why? Why? Why?” she wondered aloud, getting louder and louder as she went. She crashed over to Rob's side of the bed and grabbed his books off his nightstand and threw them across the room.

“How could you?” she screamed. Next she grabbed his glasses and threw them against the wall, the lenses cracked as the bounced from the wall to the ground.

“Calm down, calm down,” Rob begged, coming to her and then moving towards the broken pair on the ground. Ruby grabbed the sheets torn asunder and threw them above her head and released, they fluttered almost beautifully down to the floor. 

She screamed terribly and crashed into the living room. Grabbing the wine glasses off the table, she threw first the one with the lipstick and then the other against the TV. They shattered into a million pieces on the floor. She moved over towards them and collapsed amongst the shards. Picking up one of the large pieces, she stared at it almost longingly with a dullness in her eyes. She ran a finger along the edge of the sharpest edge and felt the familiar sting.

Rob ran into the room and saw.

“No, Ruby, please!” he shouted at her in desperation. Ruby stood up and stared at him, glass shard in one hand with her breath quickening. With one hand, she felt in her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. Without thinking, she looked down at the screen, thumbing through her address book. Frantically, she wondered who to call, who could help. Her thumb clicked the number of an old friend.

“Pick up, please, pick up!” She prayed frantically to herself. The voice mail clicked over, “You have reached Les Daniels...”. Brokenly, she ended the call, thought about calling someone else, maybe Tara, but then let the phone fall dejectedly out of her hands to the floor. Tears of loneliness, heartbreak, and despair began falling down her face. She felt so alone, lonely, and afraid. She stared wildly at Rob in front of her. He moved towards her.

“Please,” was all he said. She held the shard against her left wrist firmly in place. He held out his hands, in the far distance, she thought she heard him say, “Nooooo!” as she let the glass penetrate her skin and drew the line down her arm. The familiar release of blood bubbled to the surface and began to drip, onto her skin, then onto the carpet below. For a moment, she stood, teetering between consciousness and unconsciousness, then she found herself falling, falling, falling....

She awoke in a hospital bed, her left arm heavy and her wrist bandaged up tightly. She stared listlessly up at the ceiling, blearily counting the dots in each square tiles above her head. She heard the door open and close, and someone moving towards the bed. A blonde head of a woman hovered above her.

“Hello, Ruby, how are you feeling?” it was the pleasant voice of a nurse.

“Fine, I think,” Ruby muttered softly.

“My name is Samantha, you can call me Sam,” the nurse introduced herself. “I'm the nurse on duty for you today, you should have a doctor to see you soon, okay?”

“A doctor?” Ruby asked.

“Someone you can talk to,” Sam began. “Someone who can help you.”

A shrink, then, thought Ruby, why didn't this Samantha just say that?

“There is someone here who'd like to speak with you, he brought you into the ER,”

Sam smiled down at her. “Are you up for that?”

Ruby looked up at Samantha and slowly shook her head.

Les woke with the early morning alarm. Monica slept beside him, still and quiet. He pushed himself from the bed and without thinking picked up his cell-phone from his bedside table. Blurry-eyed he looked through the phone, he felt the oncoming feeling of a headache approaching. He noticed he had a missed call from an unknown number, but they had not left a message. He thought about calling them back but decided against it. It was time to get ready for work. Perhaps once he had his morning cup of coffee, his headache would subside.

He showered and quickly dressed, before heading out the door, brief-case in hand. He'd go through the drive-thru at Starbucks for his morning breakfast routine on his way to work. In the car, his head began to pound with the dull ache. Gratefully, he took the latte from the girl at the window along with his croissant and took a sip, hoping that would ease his pain.

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