What Kind of Person Are You?
Joseph Jonas
What kind of person are you?
(That's the only question.)
"What kind of person am I?" Joe's head tilts back, eyelids blinking lazily behind the lenses of his glasses. He wears these Ray Bans that make him look like a wannabe Buddy Holly and cost one seventy-five, minus tax. He told his brother, Nick, they were better than those rectangular frames he sported for years, but Nick wouldn't buy it.
"They're just pretentious."
"At least they're prescription."
And that had shut Nick up, made him stop sporting those fake eyeglasses he had a penchant for.
"I went to Australia after I graduated from college, for a few weeks. A reward to myself, you know? And my brother--one of them--Nick was stateside, of course. He'd landed this... this guest arc, or something, on a sitcom NBC had at the time. I can't remember the name of it.
"Anyway. He was really excited about that. Nervous, too, of course. He'd done a few television commercials before, but those would be done filming in a day or two, max. This sitcom was going to take up over a month of his life and... I mean, he's done plays before. Has been on Broadway since he was a kid. But I guess filming for a television show would be really different. Makes sense."
He laughs softly at himself, takes a swallow from his cup of water. "He stayed up late one night so we could talk, instant messaging, you know. We had a seventeen-hour time difference, so it must've been... four? in the morning there. Yeah, four.
"Anyway, I was telling him about how my hotel had those tissue boxes in it, which I was digging because it's always nice to blow your nose with something softer than toilet paper, you know? And--he was being sarcastic, I could tell, 'cause that bleeds through even in type, with him--he says, 'Wow, Joe. I wish I could be as lucky as you.'
"So I told him I'd mail him some. He laughed it off, but, you know, I was serious. So the next day I bought some envelopes and folded three of those tissues and slipped them right inside one of them. Addressed it, stamped it, and mailed it to him. Just the tissues, not even a note.
"He got it about a week later and shot me an e-mail telling me I was a dork. I told him I was only making his dreams come true.
"And... You know, I guess that's the kind of person I am." He's silent for a moment, lips pulling back slightly. And then he looks away, lets out this short little laugh.
I let the camera run for a few seconds more before I stop it.
(That's the only question.)
"What kind of person am I?" Joe's head tilts back, eyelids blinking lazily behind the lenses of his glasses. He wears these Ray Bans that make him look like a wannabe Buddy Holly and cost one seventy-five, minus tax. He told his brother, Nick, they were better than those rectangular frames he sported for years, but Nick wouldn't buy it.
"They're just pretentious."
"At least they're prescription."
And that had shut Nick up, made him stop sporting those fake eyeglasses he had a penchant for.
"I went to Australia after I graduated from college, for a few weeks. A reward to myself, you know? And my brother--one of them--Nick was stateside, of course. He'd landed this... this guest arc, or something, on a sitcom NBC had at the time. I can't remember the name of it.
"Anyway. He was really excited about that. Nervous, too, of course. He'd done a few television commercials before, but those would be done filming in a day or two, max. This sitcom was going to take up over a month of his life and... I mean, he's done plays before. Has been on Broadway since he was a kid. But I guess filming for a television show would be really different. Makes sense."
He laughs softly at himself, takes a swallow from his cup of water. "He stayed up late one night so we could talk, instant messaging, you know. We had a seventeen-hour time difference, so it must've been... four? in the morning there. Yeah, four.
"Anyway, I was telling him about how my hotel had those tissue boxes in it, which I was digging because it's always nice to blow your nose with something softer than toilet paper, you know? And--he was being sarcastic, I could tell, 'cause that bleeds through even in type, with him--he says, 'Wow, Joe. I wish I could be as lucky as you.'
"So I told him I'd mail him some. He laughed it off, but, you know, I was serious. So the next day I bought some envelopes and folded three of those tissues and slipped them right inside one of them. Addressed it, stamped it, and mailed it to him. Just the tissues, not even a note.
"He got it about a week later and shot me an e-mail telling me I was a dork. I told him I was only making his dreams come true.
"And... You know, I guess that's the kind of person I am." He's silent for a moment, lips pulling back slightly. And then he looks away, lets out this short little laugh.
I let the camera run for a few seconds more before I stop it.