I’ve been working steadily as an actor since around 1998. I wasn’t well known in the public, but I was a dependable working journeyman.
Once you have a PhD, every meeting you go to becomes a doctor’s appointment.
I learned in my early years in the theater that I would never become the guy on top. I’ll never create a show; I don’t have a brain expansive enough to see the whole picture, in a way that would behoove anyone.
I think what makes so many other actors miserable is focusing completely on making other plans. They’re obsessed with their haircut and their headshot and their agent, their IMDB profile or whatever.
I never went too long without a job. The problem was a lot of the early jobs are almost more demoralizing than unemployment.
One of the most poignant pieces of recent science fiction for me was the portrayal of the adults in the Pixar film WALL-E. I feel like we’re on the cusp of becoming fat babies in floating chairs being fed everything in shake form, and I feel like I am as prone to laziness as anybody.
If I had to pick one form of acting, it would be live theater. That’s where I started; that’s where I became a man, I think I’m still finishing up that job.
When it comes to marijuana, I think it’s ridiculous to live in a country that espouses freedom, liberty and equality, yet won’t follow through on a philosophy that says: “If it’s not hurting anybody or their property, you can do any goddamn thing you want.”
I think all these great comforts that come from the human condition of trying to make things easier on ourselves also have these pitfalls, where things become so easy that we forget how enjoyable building a fence can be.
Jack London is a very generous description of my small hiking, bicycling, and canoeing habit. I myself feel like a weak urbanite a lot of the time, because lots of my friends are incredible outdoorsmen and women.
Actually, I’m not super-kickass at a lot of things.
Being a man of the theater and a hedonist, I find the idea of building coffins very romantic.
If you don’t look at yourself and evaluate it, you instead see how the world’s reacting to it.
I have a ridiculously beautiful wife who’s super sexy, and as long as she’s happy with me, I don’t need to look in the mirror and think, “How do I stack up next to Bradley Cooper? Would Cooper rock this shirt?” Doesn’t matter. He does not have your wife. You do.
The key, I would say to any fledgling humorist starting out, is to make sure that sloppiness is part of your recipe. That way they come to expect fumbling and clumsiness and they say, “Oh, it must be a charming part of his personality.”
I have a very healthy growth of both head and facial hair. People always want to attribute further superhuman powers to me. It’s funny the way the audience really seems to want me, Nick the actor, to exhibit the same machismo as Ron Swanson.
I always drastically changed my look for each role. It’s gotten a little tedious in real life, also, because there’s no hiding.
The ultimate disguise is nothing. Nudity.
I was drinking a lot of bourbon. I was miserable. I was starting to get work, but it wasn’t remotely satisfying. It was garbage compared to the theater I was doing.
When I was in fourth grade, we were learning vocabulary words, and the word nonconformist came up. The teacher said, “It’s somebody who whatever everybody is doing, they do the opposite.” I remember raising my hand and saying, “Mrs. Christiansen, I would like to be a nonconformist.”
I don’t know what it is on an elemental level, but a beard in general evokes hedonism. It’s a more lush personal grooming style. It’s more comfortable and cozy; it’s less sharp and angular and businesslike. I feel like a beard is more Hobbit-like, even though Hobbits themselves are clean-shaven.