A Multitude Of Life-Changing Events

News

2011-09-19T14:41:00.000-07:00

I started a couple of new blogs based on current activities in my life.

I started an acting studio in San Antonio. www.rivercityactorsstudio.com

I started a new blog for my drawings. www.thorntoons.wordpress.com

Please visit.

Bird

2011-07-25T20:10:00.001-07:00

There were all these little birds around my car when I went out this morning-- those little brown ones-- what are they?-- sparrows? They seemed to be bunched up under and around my back right tire and they flew away startledly as I approached, some of them bunching precariously on the chain link fence in front of my car, then flying further away as I unlocked my car and got in. As I drove east on Basse, near the coffee place and Sushi Zushi, there was a white-winged dove in the street ahead of me, with its head turned in the opposite direction. Usually birds wait till the last possible second, then they fly away, so I didn't bother to slow down. I ran over that dove, heard it thud against the undercarriage of my car, and saw feathers fly up in my rearview mirror. A horrible shock ran through me and I shouted out, "Christ!" I turned around at the next intersection to backtrack. There is no room to pull over on that section of Basse and at this time of morning cars are coming fast and constant. As I re-drove the same two blocks I saw no sign of the bird, not even a feather. I kept driving and felt very sad.

I stopped at Starbucks but when I went in, it was so crowded that I just got disgusted and went to work.

De Café

2011-07-23T12:48:00.000-07:00

The Starbucks manager is upset today. Not for any particular reason, though those unfinished quarterly reports are looming on the counter next to the stale iced coffee, those unifinished quarterly reports, just pieces of paper, so small and seemingly benign, yet with such an insidious and evil influence. It doesn't help that it's a Wednesday-- days of the week, by virtue of themselves, have that kind of effect on him, the very worst days always being Monday and Wednesdays-- and that Marcus never responded to his Facebook posting. But that's another story. There's really, like I said, no good reason.

And a young woman at the counter is being obtuse about her order. She won't use the proper coffee terminology (she keeps saying "large" instead of "venti," and she even said EXpresso), and she's looking at the menu board as if that will give her any resemblance of a clue.

"Yeah, uhh... I'm gonna need a large... no, a medium... uh... what's a Machado?"

The Starbucks manager is tapping his fingers on the keypad, adjusting his collar, taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly, looking around, licking his lips. There's really no reason to be upset. No reason to let one ridiculous customer ruin your morning, he says to himself. Breathe. Just breathe.

In Search Of Inspiration, Ouija-Wielding Youth Consults His Dead Heroes

2011-07-22T02:08:00.001-07:00

It would be an important story. So important that I called upon all my dead heroes to help me with it. James Merrill, the first hero I called upon, said, “O, you’re using my method. First inspired, then poised to attack! Go ahead, I’ll help you with it-- whom else would you like to call back?”

I was so delighted to have contacted JM that I reverted to adolescence and said, “cummings, mr. cummings,” upon which my basic Ouija skipped out upon me the following letters: “hear/tso/proclam/a/tory/you’d/thinkitwasafidgetingantlion.”

Somewhat predictable. “Has nothing changed since your life on earth, edward estlin?” I asked him. And there was no response. I can only assume he was offended by my cavalier hand. Merrill, as ever the dutiful guide, stepped back into play. “Well, that was quick. He’s flown. But whom else? Let’s move on.”

This time I was a tad bit chancier with my choice. Since I had been indulging in his music of late, I asked for Frank Zappa.

“Expect no manifesto. I’m currently undergoing a precarious kind of global-spatial-psychotherapeutic-cosmological chemotherapy.”

“For your cancer?” I asked.

“For all the cancer I absorbed on earth which was not mine. All the cancerous filaments I exposed myself to. But this is already too much, you know, I'm out of breath. Check back with me in six months.”

Upon which JM returned. “He looks good, though; you wouldn’t be saddened. His face has fleshed out. His aura has gladdened.”

“That’s nice to know,” I ruminated, getting a wave of emotion through my eyeballs.

Spurred on by JM’s encouragement, my next choice was also musical, my old hero Sergei Prokofiev.

“Hello,” he said quietly, then, “What would you have of me?”

“An inspiration, my dear,” I announced too chummily. I realized this mistake when JM said, “Careful. Slow. He’s awfully shy.”

I took a deep breath and another try, saying, “Do you know, Sergei Sergeivich, that you and I were both born on April 23rd?”

“They never quite knew,” he answered. “They were unsure as to whether that was my real birthday or not.”

“How could they be unsure?” I asked.

“Nothing was sure. Everything was a fugitive vision. Alas, that is the way life was back then. It was our curse, yet it was what we thrived on.”

If I could have sighed through the Ouija board, I would have. All I spelled back was, “Oh.”

To which dear Sergei Sergeivich said, “But do not let my doubt fool you. If it is true that we share a birthday, if anything is true, then I congratulate you and raise a glass to your health.”

“Thank you,” I replied, and JM stepped in with, “He says you’re welcome. All covered with scales and shell-scum. Exuding notes, cadence and dance. What an odd person to have met by chance.”

“My favorite composer,” I groaned, head on hand. “Boy, this is turning into something of a let-down.”

“Quick, another!” Merrill commanded, and I found myself tremble-handed, as if JM were shaking me in anticipation.

“Virginia Woolf,” I uttered stonily, mostly out of intimidation.

“Yes, what is it?”
“Ms. Woolf?...”

“That’s who I was,” she said.

“Do you have any ideas you could share?”
There was a hesitation in which I shrank, sensing that I was indeed a foolish young man.

“Well, I have many ideas, and through the current medium you’ve chosen, I suppose I could share them. I mean I could, certainly. But the question is, young person, why would I want to? What would inspire me, living or dead (and I am dead, you know) to give away my ideas, my thoughts, my words to a complete stranger? And do you know what’s most horrific about it? I had no choice but to answer your call. For all you know I may have been doing something quite important and vital on the far end of the astral plane. How presumptuous of you to have invoked me from your small and strange spot.”

“I beg your forgiveness,” I responded, “and won’t keep you.”

And Woolf was gone. Who’s afraid of her? Well, me, a little.

“She’s busy,” JM said simply. “No time for old worries, earthly concerns. Nonetheless there’s a fire inside her, and it burns.”

“So I see,” I said simply, noting the smoke sailing up from the board. “Next I’d like Fyodor. Dear Dostoevsky. What of him?”

There was a pause. Then JM: “I’m afraid the gambler is unavailable. His pockets have been used. I’d tell you what’s become of him; chances are, you’d be confused.”

“What’s become of him?” I demanded, urged, begged.

“A reincarnation,” JM replied. “Not to say reneged.”

“And who, pray tell, is he now?” --not letting him gloss this one over.

James paused, and considered, and said, “He's your lover.”

Ha-ha-ha, I thought. Sure-- all for the sake of a rhyme. “You can’t fool me, JM: My lover Amy’s nothing like him.”

“Ah, but it’s a not-her,” he drew.

“A not-her? Another? Then who?”
“Maybe you’ll know, maybe you’ll not. But be on your guard, because he’ll hit the spot.”

A crude rhyme. I could sense Merrill’s tension and chose another. It was like a cosmic fast food sampling-- tasty and infinitely unsatisfying.

“Tolstoy,” I murmured, still wondering when I would make love to Fyodor.

“Ah yes, the lover of dear Fedya,” said Leo with a broad stroke and a scent of smoked salmon and vodka and cucumbers. “You’re a good-looking young thing, but I always thought Fedya preferred the ladies... not the gents.”

Delighted, stupefied, I said, “Anything can happen. Can I call you Dyadya Lev?”

“If you must. Though I prefer, for our purposes, LT.”

“LT it is. How is life in space, and why haven’t you also been reincarnated?”

“It is not life in space, as you so perversely assume. It is life without space, for space is essentially a human distinction, and once we have shuffled off that mortal coil, space as it once held meaning becomes meaningless. Here there is no matter, no space... just rhythm and stoppage, counseling and deafness. I don’t much care for it, though to reincarnate hasn’t yet been my choice, because of the sheer terror of that transition through the womb. In all my human years I never got over the trauma of being born... what a fright it instills in you. Seems to me a more comfortable, less violent entry into living could have been fashioned by now. But perhaps I just don’t understand--”

“Time’s up,” Merrill stepped in. “We must move on.”

“He wasn’t finished!” I admonished.

“He would have talked till dawn. You've other guests, I trust?”

“Why so negative about Lev Nikolaevich?”

“He’s just a cloud of dust. He regrets his death, yet chooses not to return. After all this ambling around for years you’d think he’d learn. But he just glances around coughing, his hat doffing every so often, for chivalry, which, here more than anywhere else, is in its coffin.”

I couldn’t believe that such an industrious, energetic and charismatic man could be such an irritant in the afterlife. I would’ve thought he’d be creating new souls, new systems, new progress. Instead, he’s inert.

“But we digress,” JM did blurt.

“Flannery O’Connor,” I said.

JM said with flair, “Now we’re getting somewhere!”

“Who calls to me from beyond the grave?” was Flannery’s introductory line.

“I hope I haven’t disturbed you,” I said.

“Always glad for some company,” she said. “Well, usually. And who’re you?”

“A fan, a simple fan, trying to get inspired.”

“Have you tried Aeschylus?” she suggested.

“Ugh, too stiff.”

“Not at all,” said O’Connor. “Good loose stuff. It’ll mix those juices right up and get you going.”

“Maybe I’ll try him. Who else would you recommend?”

“Oh, Conrad. Joyce. And Jamieson.”

“Jamieson?”
“Not well-known. But read and be inspired. Then there’s one other text I think you may have ignored for a while. You know the one.”

“Old or New Testament?”

“Both, silly goose. Read them both.”

Sheepishly, almost crying out of a touched and embarrassed son’s guilt and sensitivity, I said, “Yes’m.”

“Keep in touch.”

And she was gone.

“Wow,” I said. “What’d she look like?”
“Guess,” said Merrill.

“Peacock?”
“Yes,” said Merrill.

We sat together, JM and I, and there was a quiet minute between us, till I said, “Any advice from you, JM?”
He chuckled a tiny chuckle and said, “The book you’re in need of you've since taken off the shelf. When in doubt and when confused, simply kiss yourself.”

That was the poignant end to my jaunt into the world of my dead heroes. For a while afterwards I couldn’t stop hearing everything as a rhyme. As I sat down, thus inspired, to write, an unknown voice came tumbling to the front of my head, saying, “You’ve offended cummings. Why was Zappa still in pain? Prokofiev says nothing’s sure. Virginia caught a plane. Fyodor is your lover, Tolstoy is all grey. Flannery says the Bible. But what do you want to say?”

And with that I set down my pen, lay down on my bed, and wanted to cry, wanted to die, having never said anything at all.

Reviews

2011-05-17T23:20:00.001-07:00

Review of Hedda Gabler.

Another.

Stuff's Happnin'

2011-05-14T08:14:00.001-07:00

Walking. An hour of time spent well. Three minutes brisk followed by three minutes relaxed, ten times. Houses, sidewalks, trees, cats, cars, people, joggers, babies, bikers, a little girl on a scooter. Playlist in my ears is 20 songs, 10 fast, 10 slow, interspersed to match the pace of my walk.

In other news, Hedda Gabler opened this weekend. I am having fun playing George Tesman, Hedda's well-meaning husband, though I also feel that I haven't fully hit my stride yet.

I've been asked to play Stanley in A Streetcar Named Desire next spring. It was a jaw-dropping offer, a role I never thought I'd be asked to play, though I did make a paltry effort at Stanley during a sophomore workshop production in college. I am not very much like Stanley in most ways, though the director has been very persuasive in reminding me of the ways I am very much like him-- full of rage, judgmental, driven by desire. There will be a preliminary reading at the end of the month.

I am putting together material to start my own acting studio, called River City Actors Studio. The paint is still being mixed on this one. Updates to come.

I've been asked to act in a relatively new play called God of Carnage, by Yazmina Reza. It is the story of two couples, parents whose children got in a fight at school. It's a remarkably funny, harrowing play that I look forward to working on. The Broadway cast included Marcia Gay Harden, James Gandolfini, Hope Davis, and Jeff Daniels.

And isn't that new Beastie Boys album gooood...................

Dream ...

2011-04-19T07:44:00.000-07:00

I dreamt that I was applying for a job at Waterloo Records in Austin. There was a huge poster behind the register, among tons of other media, of my friend Helen in a movie called "School Days." It pictured her lying lengthwise on her side across the bottom of the poster, looking at the camera, her head propped on her hand, and in the background behind her, a lot of young men in prep school ties and jackets. I told a woman working there that I wanted to apply for a job and we started chatting. I mentioned that I knew Helen and remembered that she had actually worked at Waterloo before moving to New York City. The woman seemed weathered and resentful because she'd had aspirations of being an actress too. Eventually she took me to another room in the store and I was introduced to another employee who would take me through the application process. All the rooms in the store were huge and cavernous and highly decorated with posters, album covers, etc. All the employees (as is sort of true of the real Waterloo) kind of seemed to treat me with disdain, though I wasn't sure (and am never sure) if it was disdain about me being "free" and them being "at work," or me being a music dilettante while they were all so clearly aficionados. This new employee beckoned me behind the counter and disappeared. At least I thought he did. So I followed. I had to get down on my hands and knees to scoot through a door that had a small space at the bottom. I guessed everyone had just gotten used to it. Then I was outside behind the store with this young man, the employee (senior manager? co-owner?). It was a lovely park-like area, grass and sidewalks and big trees and people all around. We talked about me for a while, my plans. I wasn't sure what I was going to do. That part was very realistic. I blathered on for a while and he listened patiently. He was nice enough, though there was an air of that disdain to him that I mentioned earlier. At one point he went away and I noticed that ants were crawling on my leg. The more I tried to swipe them off, the more there were. Soon they were on my hand too. I thought, "These ants are trying to eat me!" And for the rest of the dream I was brushing ants off my leg, my arm, my back. At the end of the dream, another young man joined us. He was a little guy with short hair and glasses and the man who was interviewing me knew him. The new applicant came to our table and didn't say anything. The man interviewing me said, "Oh, hi, Lou." The new applicant held up his already completed application. His name was Lou Maria. I said "Hi, Lou." Lou didn't say anything. He sat down on the ground next to our table as if to have something to eat, picnic-style. He was obviously introverted and had applied for this job several times before. Then I heard him making a terrible sound. I looked down and saw that Lou had stretched himself out on the ground in such a way that he had hurt his back and was making grunting and gasping noises, unable to move or correct his position. After a second of taking this in, I asked him if he needed help, and as he was lifting his arms up toward me, I awoke.

soup & widows

2011-03-10T19:22:00.000-08:00

I'm directing two ten-minute plays for a local community theatre. It's a ten-minute play fest consisting of seven plays by seven different local authors. I was assigned two plays. One of them is about four friends meeting for soup in order to combat hangovers and fulfill destinical omens. Yes, I made that word up. The other play is about three generations of African-American women who have all lost their husbands to various military action.

The playwright of this latter play came to our rehearsal tonight, which was lovely. She hasn't been involved in the process at all, which has been fine-- she wrote a very good play and we have been content to work on it... but to have her there tonight added an element that was very important. And dear Lord, she is a gorgeous person.

The playwright of the soup play hasn't come to rehearsal yet. I think she's planning to come on Monday evening. I have been having problems with it because the four main characters are sitting at a table at a restaurant and some kind of theatrical convention needs to be employed in order for the audience to be able to see the people sitting around the table. If they all face the center of the table the energy just gets lost. It is a problem I'm currently wrestling with.

Movies

2011-03-07T14:39:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, a quadruple-feature.

David and I saw Cedar Rapids. It was funny and silly. John C. Reilly continues to delight me.

Later in the afternoon, I was reading my Woody Allen interview book and decided to watch Another Woman (stellar cameo by Sandy Dennis), then Interiors. Spurred on by a desire to watch Geraldine Page act again, I watched Summer and Smoke. Page does an admirable job of making that prototypical Tennessee Williams southern belle almost nearly believable.

Speaking of movies, I acted in one this past weekend. The working title of the movie is something like The Paranormal Exorcism Project. It is a spoof of Paranormal Activity, Exorcism of Emily Rose, Blair Witch Project, and others. I played Professor Ward, a pretentious academic who reads psycho-sexual undertones into everything. I had a blast doing it, and got a hundred bucks.

But mostly, Let My Movie Career Begin!

Bounty

2011-03-03T13:58:00.000-08:00

Peter Masterson's The Trip to Bountiful, starring Geraldine Page, has been one of my favorite films since it came out in 1985. Page's minutely detailed performance, complete with childish tantrums, coquettish flirting, sinking spells, and quiet triumph, is a lesson to me each time I watch it. As one of my acting teachers used to say, "It's all about specificity." And Page is the epitome of specific. For example, in one scene toward the beginning of the film, Page's Carrie Watts has decided to flee her oppressive Houston apartment and nagging daughter-in-law and to revisit her childhood home in Bountiful. She must keep this decision a secret from her cohabitants, who have caught her trying to escape to Bountiful before. In the moment when her son says goodbye to her, as sons say goodbye to their mothers when they go to work, we see Page in a tiny moment of ambivalence as she answers, "Goodbye, Son," knowing that if she carries out her plan successfully, it may be a while before she sees her son again. What Page so masterfully does is, halfway through her "Goodbye, Son," she allows her voice to catch ever so slightly on the "Son," as if she had an impulse to say goodbye to him more completely, but knowing that she musn't give away her plan for escape, she lets the moment go, and the film rolls on.

And then, as a film, it's just so good. It has its weak moments here and there; it isn't perfect. But the final image of Carrie Watts sitting in the back of the car headed back to Houston, her dejection, contentment, sadness and triumph all somehow mixed together on her weary face, never fails to move me.

When I saw the movie for the first time, alone, it had been just a few months since my beloved grandmother had died. Somehow in that final moment of the movie I was blessed with an epiphany having to do with the unconditional nature of my grandmother's love. Maybe it was something in Page's expression in that final shot. Or it could have simply been my projection onto the film because I was still grieving. In any case, I hold the film dear not only because of its excellence but also for the way it resonated for me personally.

This semester at one of my teaching jobs, I have a class of five 7th graders. In December I found a copy of Horton Foote's The Trip to Bountiful (the play) at Barnes & Noble. We read the play in class. I was happy to note that the screenplay barely varies from the original.

I'm going to make a cutting of the play (30-35 minutes) and we're going to perform this play.

Scooch

2011-02-21T10:32:00.000-08:00

Usually a little behind the times: Just read Alison Bechdel's beautiful graphic autobiography, FUN HOME. I had seen her work here and there online, and when this book came out I remember the reverberations, but just this weekend finally managed to read it. Or should I say devour it. So well-done, disarming, childlike, sophisticated, stimulating, inspiring, and most of all, brave.

This weekend I opened my phone bill and it said six hundred and something dollars were due. After talking to several Sprint operators I realized that lots of calls had been made from my phone to South Dakota, bringing my overage minutes to an unprecedented high. I wracked my brain for South Dakotan phone pals. Couldn't think of any. Was righteous and indignant with the Sprint operators. A few hours later I realized that all those South Dakota calls had been made by me, mostly in the month of January, when I signed up for a 30-day phone meditation. Apparently, "free conference call . com" is not free to the people who call the number; only free to the person who sets up the conference. ARGH!

We have been seeing a lot of theatre. Vanities. Steel Magnolias. Mame. Caucasian Chalk Circle. And we'll see Unnecessary Farce and The Bacchae soon. I wish the theatre we were seeing were a little bit more high-quality. The stuff that passes for good in this town is starting to look pretty lame to me.

Seeing Mame onstage prompted me finally to watch Rosalind Russell in Auntie Mame. I loved it. Why did no one force me to watch this years ago?

Tonight I will start rehearsals for two 10-minute plays I'm directing. I'm always happy to start a new project.

A Quote from "Demons" by Dostoevsky

2011-02-05T10:20:00.001-08:00

"I do not wish you much happiness-- you'll get tired of it;

I do not wish you trouble, either;

and, following the precept of the popular philosophy,

I'll simply repeat: 'Live on,'

and try somehow or other not to be bored too much."

-Stepan Verkhovensky

2010

2010-12-31T13:35:00.000-08:00

Most exciting things that happened this year:

-Got my photo taken to be considered for the Coen Brothers' "True Grit" (they were seeing me for the part of the dead father in the coffin)

-Got a cool role in "A Schizophrenic Love Story," a local movie (and thereby met my goal of being in a movie in 2010)

Most devastating thing that happened this year:

-Got ousted from "A Schizophrenic Love Story" and didn't even get notified about it, which crushed my soul for several days

Biggest challenge of the year:

-Directing "Much Ado About Nothing" (oy vey!)

Biggest reward of the year:

-Playing Estragon in "Waiting for Godot"

-Seeing my relationship with David develop and deepen

Favorite trip of the year:

-Visiting Beth in Portland

Favorite houseguests of the year:

-ET

-Dave Schmader

-Marc & Margaret

Best book of the year:

-Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer, which has changed the way I look at food, and to some extent, life

Best music of the year:

-Well, I gave a list in my last post, but I think the record I love the best is still Joanna Newsom's "Have One On Me," because there is really and truly nothing else like it

What am I looking forward to in 2011?

-Writing more consistently and submitting my writing to publications, fearlessly

-Acting in "Hedda Gabler"

-Figuring out what I want to do in regards to "a job" (to teach or not to teach?)

-Meditating and yoga

-Being in a movie

-Seeing Barack Obama come out of his bipartisan funk and kick some ass

Merry Xmas

2010-12-25T11:05:00.000-08:00

My Top Ten 2010 Albums:

Joanna Newsom: Have One On Me

Hot Chip: One Life Stand

Broken Bells: Broken Bells

Devo: Something for Everybody

Love Is All: Two Thousand and Ten Injuries

LCD Soundsystem: This is Happening

Arcade Fire: The Suburbs

Bjork + Dirty Projectors: Mount Wittenberg Orca

Cee Lo Green: The Lady Killer

M.I.A.: /\/\/\Y/\

Horrifying

2010-12-18T15:00:00.001-08:00

We just saw Darren Aronofsky's new movie, BLACK SWAN.

I am fascinated by the new imagination behind horror films, as evidenced in this movie as well as Lars Von Trier's ANTICHRIST. It is not about serial killers or going into haunted houses anymore, at least not in a literal sense. It is about personal psychological tension and the horrifying beast that emerges from within normal, aspiring, sorrowful people. It is so much more beautiful, so much realer, and therefore scarier than all those slasher flicks. Can't wait to see more exploration of this newly-opened area of film.

Cat Foot

2010-12-13T09:13:00.000-08:00

Last night in bed my cat sat on my right foot and hunkered down as if she were willing eggs to hatch. I got a great feeling of coziness and imagined that she was infusing me with her grace and patience through my right foot. Then I imagined it could be my blog post for today.

Minutiae

2010-11-22T11:35:00.001-08:00

We went to Austin on 11/11 to see Joanna Newsom at the Paramount. She was lovely. She played 13 songs (2 encore songs). Being a weirdo, I made a list of every song she sang so that I could recreate the concert on my iPod later.

I wrote a play based on improvisations that my 7th and 8th graders did, based on mythological characters that they chose. The play is called Therapy of the Gods. It features Pandora as a therapist who helps the various gods work out their problems. At one point it turns into a game show like the Dating Game (Pandora is trying to get Apollo to date), hosted by Aphrodite; and later on, Persephone and Demeter turn the play into a soap opera. The kids will perform it twice on December 3, after an extreme paucity of rehearsals. My hopes are not high, but the play is kind of funny.

I got a cold last week and it seems to be going away slowly now. I have been sweating a lot the last three days. This week is my Thanksgiving break and though it is a little irritating to be sick during the break, it is also kind of a blessing, since I don't have to go to school this week.

I finally took down some of the cruddy blinds in my room (they were filthy and broken) and put up some curtains yesterday. I bought the curtains at Burlington Coat Factory. They're big and dark purple and I'm not used to them yet, but I do like having the blinds down.

My friends Marcus and Margaret will be coming to stay for Thanksgiving, then next week my friend Dave is coming for three weeks. He will be performing his one-man show at a theatre here at Trinity University. So I have been sort of cleaning up and rearranging things for the past few weeks in preparation for these visits.

Since being sick I have had some intense dreams.

Last night I slept for only three or four hours and the rest of the time I creeped around on Facebook. Life is so weird.

The Eternal Shuffle and Swipe

2010-10-12T08:06:00.000-07:00

I would like to find a copy of Donald Fagen's masterpiece "The Nightfly" remastered. But I don't think it's been remastered. I looked online and there are dubious foreign versions of it. And versions with lots of initials that I don't understand. If anyone finds one, let me know.

Last night I cleaned the shelves in my room for the first time since I moved here. You may remember last year when I re-energized a whole corner of my room by moving the shelves around and putting a chair in. But even then I didn't clean the shelves, I just moved them. So last night I finally took everything off the shelves and apprehended the dust bunnies and re-distributed all the detritus found there... some to the trash can, some to other rightful positions. I took my stereo equipment and the speakers and put them in the dining room, where I've been keeping the LPs anyway, so maybe now I'll use it more. The CD player, perhaps from sheer disuse, has stopped playing CDs. But the turntable, tape player, and receiver work fine... poor old dinosaurs that they are...

The thing about cleaning is, as soon as you start doing it, you keep finding more things that need to be cleaned. Your eyes and nose become dirt sensors. And everything is covered in dust. It's a good thing really, because my closet really does need a lot of work, and the kitchen blinds over the sink, I noticed last night, are coated in dust. Blet. Dust is weird and disgusting.

Another thing I did last night: dusted off my old LPs and decided to display a few of them in my room on a ledge over the window:

Rickie Lee Jones, "Girl At Her Volcano"

Crowded House (first one)

Prince, "Around the World in a Day"

Elvis Costello, "Imperial Bedroom"

Cyndi Lauper, "She's So Unusual"

ABC, "The Lexicon of Love"

And at the end, the triple LP of Joanna Newsom's new album, "Have One On Me."

Admittedly, part of my cleaning frenzy has to do with my friend Dave, who is coming to stay with us for a few weeks in December while he performs his one-man show STRAIGHT at AtticRep here in town.

I need to clean the fan blades today.

On Sunday I attended the 20th annual Alamo Theatre Arts Council Globe Awards Gala, which is San Antonio's little version of the Tonys. I have decided that the gala is a study in the Ridiculous and the Sublime. There is always something great and wonderful (my high school drama teacher Sam Gilliam's fantastic introduction of this year's lifetime achievement honorees Bill and Frances Swinney), and there is always something horrendous (a performance from a local production of Sweeney Todd). You just have to be able to stomach both extremes. I was given an award for playing Estragon in Waiting for Godot, and whether that's sublime or ridiculous is not up to me to judge.

Re-starting

2010-09-24T11:35:00.001-07:00

This morning I started thinking I wanted an iPad so that I could draw cartoons on it.

So I started to look around online. The cheapest iPad I could possibly get would cost more than $500.

Then for fun I started looking for applications for drawing that might apply to iPads.

I found an application called TabletDraw that I was able to download right to my computer for free. It costs $35 for a slightly more advanced version.

I haven't posted any sketches on this weblog in years, but I am hereby revitalizing it. I am going to start posting my doodle efforts on my drawings blog again. Please visit and see my magnificent handiwork.

Death Schmeath

2010-09-19T08:48:00.001-07:00

According to some Experts, everything is pretty much dead. With eyebrows arched cynically and eyelids wearily at half-mast, they declare, for example, that The Novel is dead, The Short Story hardly lived, Theatre was dead long ago. This is a horrible declaration for someone like the young Believer, who actually believes people, to hear. This puts the Believer’s mind in a tailspin before it loses all control and goes skidding into a ditch. “All those things must be dead,” the Believer thinks, horrified. “There’s no chance for me. I came along too late.”

Yet on further examination, and upon re-playing the YouTube interviews with said jaded Experts, the Believer suddenly understands that it isn’t the Novel, the Short Story, or the Theatre that is dead; it’s the Expert. The Expert’s already had his moment; his wings have felt the air beneath them; he has basked in the sun, and now the sun has set, and it’s over. So what the Expert has done, essentially, is projected his own death upon the art form as a whole. Because the Expert’s novels are no longer appreciated, his short stories are no longer published, his plays are no longer being produced, he has no other recourse but to imagine the death of the entire thing, rather than the more personally painful admission that his own particular career is over within that discipline.

It’s an understandable predicament: nobody wants the game to continue after his time is up. But the game does continue, and it’s an irresponsible, bitterly harmful, presumptuous thing he’s done by declaring the game over. Shame on the Expert. He should find a job in some other field, learn a new trade, start over, do something productive, rather than decry the things being produced today as post-mortem obfuscatory babble.

As long as something is being produced, as long as there are aspiring Novelists, Short Story writers, Playwrights and Actors, as long as people want to do these things and are trying to do them, well then, these disciplines, Sir, are Alive and Well (well, at least as well as they’ve ever been).

How dare you declare their death, for whatever reason? By erroneously declaring the death of these disciplines, you shatter and suffocate living dreams of Believers who haven’t had their time yet. This declaration is tantamount to a death sentence, or, more bluntly, murder.

the pictures in my room

2010-09-16T11:48:00.001-07:00

It always starts the same way (with full awareness of the extreme nature of the word “always”): the pungent pang of desire. Desire for what?

To make something, to change something, to improve something, to deconstruct something. But always, always, the desire stops its information there-- it doesn’t tell you what it is. The desire does not even know what it is. The desire does not know what it desires. It only knows that it wants. It is up to you to pick up the desire and run, as bravely as you can, in whatever way your nose leads you. Because the desire is mute and burning your hands.

Nebulae

2010-09-11T15:13:00.001-07:00

Time to post something else.

Today I had lunch with one of my ex-students I have a particular affinity for. I ended up giving him my iPod. (I have another one.) I was concerned about him traveling on 9/11. At this moment I'm thinking his plane is taking off from the SA airport and headed for North Carolina, where he goes to college.

My desire to write seems to be growing; however, that's all it is-- an empty desire to write. I really have nothing to say. Or maybe I have too much to say, and it's all disconnected stuff, and I despair of ever knowing how any of it will fit together. Of course it's not my concern how it all fits together, at least not until I have something TO fit together. But it would be just too healthy and productive to think that way and actually write something.

But who knows?, I have been known to be healthy and productive in the past. I wrote three journal pages. It could be a turn-up.

Understanding

2010-08-26T10:14:00.000-07:00

I don't really think that understanding life and people is a possibility. I say this because the older I get, and the more I ostensibly understand, the more I realize I will never really understand much of anything. Humans are a puzzle. Existence is a big mystery.

One of the few things I have come close to understanding is that life seems to be mostly about balance-- striking a balance in almost every situation, staying true to your vision and at the same time being open to compromise. As my yoga teacher told me, everything in moderation, nothing in excess.

However, a problem I often encounter is one of empathy: I can almost always see a situation from each point of view. Though this is in many respects a strength, it becomes a problem when I am tasked to make a decision. Each party has a point. One party will be the winner while the other party will lose. In this case, balance is almost a crippling attribute-- just as I comprehend the sweetness of victory, I am struck down by the bitterness of failure.

I am understanding Buddhist philosophy more these days as being less spiritual/esoteric and more physical/practical. Getting worked up about things, desires, expectations and grievances, is hard on a body. Detachment is more health-friendly. During the last week of MUCH ADO rehearsals, I had heart pangs several evenings, and one evening I even felt numbness in my fingers and shooting pains down my left arm and shortness of breath. Everyone must have been wondering why, in the midst of all that chaos, I was yawning... the body's attempt to get oxygen, to slow me down, to detach.

This week I started classes at St Luke's, where I am teaching 3 times a week. I was quietly excited about our first class and had a great lesson plan prepared. Imagine my surprise when there was an all-school assembly during the hour that was supposed to be my first class, an assembly no one had bothered to tell me about. I sat there dejected, puzzled, waiting for my class to show up. It was fortunate that three seventh-grade girls did come to my class, either rejecting or, like me, not knowing about the assembly, and we had a great mini-class together. Today I'll have my second class, and though I shirk expectation of all kind (yeah, right!), I do look forward to a larger attendance. But really, there are only 13 kids in the class, so 3 is not that far off.

and on the other hand, "Pitch-Perfect!"

2010-08-20T07:11:00.001-07:00

Argh. I mean, ahhh.

Crrrrrrrrrritic!

2010-08-19T07:39:00.000-07:00

ugh.

Ongoing

2010-08-14T08:55:00.001-07:00

Opening night of our play was good. We had two reviewers there. We'll see what they say next week. One of them will be incisive and will actually have something to say, I hope. The other one will use phrases like "hits just the right note" and "does a jaunty turn as..."

I am attempting to get my clothes back from the movie people. I had left some of my clothes with the costumer, thinking I would be in the movie. They have been unprofessionally non-communicative with me about this. What a massive and ongoing disappointment. Not that I'm invested emotionally anymore. I just want my jeans and shoes back. (If this behavior is any indication of how L.A. works, then I thank my lucky stars I never moved there. In fact, I read a great interview with Bill Murray, one of my favorite actors, where he said he would never live in L.A. again. He said all they're out for is fresh blood, that's it.)

I have been offered three directing jobs that I am unsure about. One is to direct The Arabian Nights at a well-reputed theatre in town. It would probably be wise to take this job, because their client base is maybe a little different and would get my name out more, and also the guy who runs the theatre seems to be a real pro. The second job is the third installment of the 40's film noir trilogy; I directed the previous two, so I feel sort of obligated to take this job. The people are sweet and fun, the atmosphere is unprofessional and I don't get paid. You can sense my ambivalence. The third job is directing Corpus Christi (the Terrence McNally play which poses Jesus as a gay man) for the best-funded and most poorly run theatre in town. This job would pay, but I'm not crazy about the play, and I don't like working in that theatre (dangerous wires, rats, dank spaces, crowded dressing rooms, etc.). I do however have a soft spot for the artistic director, who has always been good and kind to me in the past.

I need to finalize all these decisions in the next couple of weeks.

It is nice to be wanted, and I appreciate my own ability to see situations from all points of view, but that doesn't make decision-making very easy.

Man is a giddy thing.

2010-08-12T09:00:00.000-07:00

Our Much Ado About Nothing opens tonight. On Sunday we had our tech day from 3:30 to 10 pm. Our Don Pedro, a good actor who for whatever reason wasn't able to learn his lines (Dyslexia? Mental block? Self-sabotage? Substance issues? Plain old laziness?), was fired when he showed up to tech day 1.5 hours late. We were able to re-cast his role from someone else in the play, and that actor's role was in turn taken by someone else in the play, and that actor's role was in turn taken by our stage manager. Though it was horrible to fire him, he seemed to expect it, and the play seemed to begin breathing better when he left (like the day I rearranged the furniture in my room). The play is pretty to watch and with such good actors. I am proud of it. I have that weird feeling of "glad it's opening" mixed with "not sure I want to let go yet."

I have been going to teacher inservices all week, some at St Luke's and some at St Mary's Hall. That has been OK, at times bad, reminding me of why I quit teaching, at times good, inspiring me with new ideas.

Two of my favorite things are the worst things I could possibly consume: coffee and cigarettes. It's not that this is news; it's just that it's the first time I've begun to feel the detrimental effects. Blet.

Here, apparently, is the actor that replaced me in the movie I was cast in. Which is pretty funny. Heh.

In Mid-Leap

2010-08-07T08:37:00.001-07:00

I'm doing better. It wasn't long before I began to detect the irony, frivolity, and drunken randomness of God.

Turning my attention to Much Ado About Nothing, the play I'm directing:

One of my actors doesn't know his lines (he has a big part, Don Pedro, Prince of Aragon);

Our violist is gaining confidence each day;

Piece by piece;

I will end this with a semi-colon, because that seems to sum up the current state of things;

Sometimes all you can say is, What The FUCK

2010-08-04T21:35:00.001-07:00

I don't want to write right now, but I feel that I should.

Right now I am:

Sad

Confused

Disappointed

Dejected

Enraged

For about a week now, I have been trying to contact someone from the film I was cast in, to get information about when and where my scenes would be shot. In the meantime I have been working on my scenes diligently. They're all memorized, messed with, adapted, personalized. I feel close to this guy.

I have been building my hopes on the assurance that I set a goal and met it.

I just talked to a producer of the movie (I had to track him down), who told me I had been replaced, about a week ago. According to the producer, a "big-name" actor who had been offered the role a while back became available, so they decided to use him instead.

No one called to tell me this.

I have so many questions, so many insecurities cropping up. But mostly, I feel like a chunk of my heart has been torn out.

I know that in the future this will seem like a minor event, and I will see how everything fits together for the best, but right now I am devastated and hurt. And I don't know if this helped, to write about it. What I'm really feeling is kind of ineffable.

Was I too eager?

Too elated?

Did I not read well at the table read?

That one producer didn't like me, I could tell.

FUCK YOU for making me ask these questions, you fucking god damned whores.

That's all for now.

Live Your Own Movie

2010-07-15T10:31:00.000-07:00

Last summer I was asked to be in a few spoof commercials which were subsequently shown at an HEB convention. I really enjoyed shooting the commercials, and while we were shooting the third one, I made a conscious intention to do more film work.

At the new year 2010, instead of making any resolutions, I made a goal: to be in a movie in 2010. A couple of weeks later, I had a great audition in Houston for an interesting film about a lawyer fighting the medical supply system. Several weeks after that, I went to Austin to be seen for the role of Mattie Ross' dead father in the Coen Brothers' upcoming remake of True Grit. Then, nothing. My agent didn't even come see me in Waiting for Godot, and I had saved my comps for him. Jerk!

But about two weeks ago, my wayward agent got me an audition for a feature-length film being shot here in San Antonio. I read for the part of a psychiatrist to a young man who has something resembling schizophrenia and delusional disorder. I was able to read the screenplay and work on the audition scene for a few days before I auditioned, so by the time I went in, I felt comfortable, memorized, and was able to enjoy reading in front of the audition panel. The next day, the screenwriter (who is also starring in the movie) sent me a message, informing me that I had been chosen for the role.

There is great satisfaction in meeting a goal which, when it was made, seemed rather unrealistic. I am relishing the thought of being on a film set and learning all about how it works. The movie has a very low budget, but the filmmakers are serious and have experience in the field. One of the producers said it will be submitted to Sundance, and will have a wide distribution. Yesterday I went in to be measured for a costume, and seen for a makeup test. The day after tomorrow, we will have our first table read.

Do I need to mention I'm pretty jazzed about all this?

In other news, speaking of unrealistic goals, I am directing Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing for a local theatre company. I have a fantastic cast and design team, and we open in about a month. I am a little anxious about the set for the play, as my vision requires a surfeit of creative energy and specificity which, to my knowledge, hasn't been expended yet. I met with the lighting designer yesterday and am meeting again with the set designer today, and tomorrow we're all meeting together for the first time, for a production meeting. Almost every time I direct something, I doubt that it will come together: this feeling is nothing new. But this time, with this project, I do feel like the bar has been raised much higher than it was in the past.

Dream Power Activate!

2010-07-01T08:31:00.000-07:00

I dreamt last night about dying, but it was so interesting how it happened. I knew I was going to die, and there were other people with me who were also going to die. I was afraid. I closed my eyes and made my body small, anticipating nothingness. But what happened was sort of like an alka-seltzer tablet when you drop it in water, the effervescent effect of bubbles and soda, my body and/or soul dissolving in a mass of effervescence, only to come right back into another reality. Rebirth through bubbles. It was not painful, though there was a sense of something burning away. And when I came back into another reality, I realized that the same circle of people were there as had been there in my previous reality. And it made me think, "I need to make peace with the people in my life, because they will always be here, somewhere." I realized that holding grudges or holding strange secrets are ridiculous in light of the next reality, where everything would be revealed and razed anyway. I woke up with my cat next to me, purring and loving me. I felt so renewed and strengthened and happy after this dream, and in this form of waking. I got up and put on my shorts and a shirt and my sneakers and I got my iPod in my ears and my wallet and an umbrella and went out for a walk. It was about 7 am I guess. It rained on me most of the way, residual from the hurricane they thought would blow through the oil spill, but didn't. I walked in the rain with Paul McCartney in my ears: "Any time, any day, You can hear the people say that love is blind, Well I don't know, but I say love is kind..." I walked down McCullough in puddles and drizzle and a couple of cars splashed me, and my sneakers and eventually all of me got soaked. I got a coffee at a Starbucks where my friend John works. I had been avoiding John because he had treated me negatively a while ago and I didn't want to ever talk to him again, and when I saw him a sort of fearful shiver went through my heart. I turned around to leave immediately, but then I remembered my dream, and how silly it would be to have that fear make me leave, how unnecessary. So I turned back around and got a coffee from him. There were no reunions or revelations, he treated me with his established mode of indifference, even calling me "sir" as he handed me my cup (politeness or coldness? doesn't matter). I walked back home in the rain, getting even more soaked. I was happy, there was life and energy, and effervescence.

F-ing chicken

2010-06-30T15:27:00.000-07:00

My boyfriend likes to do origami. He does really cool mobiles. There's an origami book sitting on top of our toilet, and everytime I'm peeing, I look at it. On the cover of the book, there are several examples of the origami patterns that are in the book. One of the examples is the "Pecking Chicken." But everytime I look at it, I think it says "Fucking Chicken."

What could this mean?

Discuss.

dream

2010-06-25T09:18:00.000-07:00

this morning

in my dream

i fell in love

with my shadow self

he was elusive

sexual

had seen combat

lived on the street

he knew my name

he stayed busy

he seduced me

without anyone noticing

when he said my name

it was like a whisper

that went right into me

and then he was gone

i tried to follow him

but i felt unfaithful

to my partner

and he was gone anyway

i woke up

feeling

strangely

paralyzed

Songs

2010-06-24T08:05:00.000-07:00

There are different kinds of music listeners.

I am the kind of music listener who listens primarily to the melody and the atmosphere of the song before I ever ascertain the lyrics. Sometimes the lyrics are very clear to me and sometimes I can go years without really knowing what a song is about, then when I realize what the song is really about it's a revelation.

For example, there's a Smiths song called "This Night Has Opened My Eyes." It has a pretty, muted, mysterious quality about it, and the lyrics never particularly called attention to themselves. Then one night my eyes were opened:

In a river the color of lead

Immerse the baby's head

Wrap her up in the news of the world

Dump her on a doorstep, girl

This night has opened my eyes

And I will never sleep again

Basically it's a song about getting rid of a baby. How could I not have noticed that? I just thought it was a pretty song about someone having a revelation about something, some night.

Another song I recently realized the lyrics for is The B-52's song "52 Girls," which is much more whimsical.

Effie, Madge and Mabel, Biddie

See them on the beach or in New York City

Tina, Louise and Hazel and Mavis

Can you name, name, name, name them today? ...

These are the girls of the U.S.A.

I always knew they were singing girls' names, but I never knew the song was actually about girls' names.

Last night I heard a band cover The Cure's "Just Like Heaven."

"Show me show me show me how you do that trick

The one that makes me scream," she said

"The one that makes me laugh," she said

And threw her arms around my neck

"Show me how you do it

And I promise you I promise that

I'll run away with you

I'll run away with you"

And then the girl goes away, either into the sea, or into the ocean "deep inside of" the narrator...

In moments like this, I wonder how much of life I'm just blatantly oblivious to...

So much ignorance...

So much to discover...

Flee, flee as a flea to the boneyard

2010-06-20T09:04:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday David treated the yard with a new batch of beneficial nematodes.

Last Monday we spent the whole day cleaning the house, taking detritus either to the trash can or the garage, sweeping, vacuuming. When everything was sufficiently clean, we sprayed a toxic flea killing agent in half the house, closed ourselves off in the other half of the house, and waited while the spray dried. Once we had waited long enough, we sprayed the other half, closed it off and waited again. Then, I gave Freda a pill called Cap Star (I think) which makes fleas die and fall off within half an hour. Then we gave Freda a thorough bath.

It has been a blissfully relaxed, flea-free week. Freda has slept again like she used to, with abandon and without fear of jerking awake to scratch an irritating flea away. I'm starting to see fleas again, as of yesterday, on my bed. I have emailed my landlord to ask him to bring in that professional exterminator he mentioned. In the meantime I have sprayed my bed down with a solution of water and flea shampoo, and vacuumed the bed and all the areas around it. I don't know how much sanity I can maintain if the fleas come back like they were.

You might have noticed I changed my blog template. Sort of like a little re-model. I like the drippy watercolor effect in the background.

I'm in a play that I am not enjoying as much as Godot. I am learning.

I would like to travel to a cooler climate for a month or even a week.

I watched Shadow of a Doubt, a 1947 Hitchcock film co-written by Thornton Wilder. A thriller starring Joseph Cotten. I also re-watched Synecdoche, New York, the great Charlie Kaufman movie that came out a couple of years ago.

I am directing Much Ado About Nothing which will open in mid-August. I have hit on an idea that excites me, after much floundering around for an idea, concept, or time period to latch onto. I have a great cast and I am excited about this project, both to be directing as well as to take a break from acting for this one.

I met with the Head of School for St Luke's, where I'll be working in the fall. He is an interesting and alive person who is very supportive of my ideas and has great artistic aspirations for the school. I'll work there only 6 or so hours a week, with 7th-8th graders, creating the first Drama program St Luke's has ever had.

This week David and I went to an impromptu pool party thrown by one of my castmates. It was at night and it was a blast.

Summer Good and Bad

2010-06-16T11:19:00.000-07:00

Tennis Camp

Summer School (the kid who pulled the elastic out of his sock and offered it to me)

Chlorine

My sister when she wakes up

Cold musty house

It's such a long drive to Dallas

Basketball falling on my head

Sore legs lying in bed at night

Permission

Weasel & the White Boys Cool

Suitcase full of liquor (at American U when I roomed with Robert)

Arizona

Sticker burrs

Card games

Jello 1-2-3

What day of the week is it?

Gannie

Six Flags

My brother wiping out on his skateboard down the driveway

I've got a brand new pair of roller skates

Salty french fries eaten with pruny fingers

Doritos at the beach

On the shoulders of a life guard

Chiggers

Fireflies (Lightning Bugs)

Dead chicken pile

Hawaiian Tropic

Amazing non-stick bubble gum

Nike

Sweep out the garage every Saturday

Beauty School Drop-Out

Coneheaded Woman

Canyon Lake

Peeling shoulders

Pineapple

Flights

Archie comics

Care package

Homesick

Dust

Public showers

Bowl of sliced peaches with sprinkled sugar

Why can't we be friends?

Bathing suit

High dive

Cousin Linda who made my bed smell so good for weeks...

Duckies

2010-06-10T15:46:00.000-07:00

I love my horoscope this week.

It's time for some image medicine, Taurus. Wherever you are right now, I invite you to look down at your left palm and imagine that you see the following scene: an infinity sign whose shape is made not by a thin black line but by a series of small yellow rubber duckies. The duckies are flowing along slowly in continuous motion. They are all wearing gold crowns, each of which is studded with three tiny rubies. With resonant tones that belie their diminutive and comic appearance, the duckies are singing you your favorite song. It makes you feel safe, brave, and at home in the world. What else can see you see there? What happens next?

Presence

2010-05-30T10:18:00.000-07:00

My godmother, Jean Jean (double-named at an early age by my sister), passed away this morning. She was in her eighties and had struggled with Alzheimers for six or seven years, maybe more. In the last few years she had become so different than the Jean Jean I had known, lost in that horrible disease. I hadn't seen her in over a year. She had recently been moved to a nursing home in Boerne.

In her heyday, Jean Jean was a consummate godmother. I adored her. She was chic and had a dry southern wit. She cooked beautiful meals. One recent Thanksgiving (2003) she snuck out with me to the guest house to have some wine before the meal. (She didn't think my mother would approve of her desire for wine.)

The most overtold story about Jean Jean and me happened when I was very young, maybe five or six. It was my birthday and my presents were stacked on the dining room table along with the food we were about to eat. As my dad said the before-meal prayer, he said, "We thank you for Jean Jean's presence with us today." No sooner had everyone said "Amen" than I burst out in sobs, saying, "It's not Jean Jean's presents, it's MY presents!" ...alas, I was a greedy little booger... but it made for a good story, told and re-told over the years.

I have been missing Jean Jean's presence for the last couple years, and I will miss her even more now.

Today is the last performance of Waiting for Godot. Thanks to Marc and Margaret for making it down for the show-- y'all are non-stop. :-) My body is grateful that this play is over. David tweezed a splinter out of my foot this morning, and that's not the half of it.

Godot Grotto

2010-05-10T14:04:00.000-07:00

Wow, I can't remember the last show I was in that was so hard on me physically. It's the kind of situation where you don't realize how strenuous it is until it's over. During the action, it feels fine, then suddenly it's over and you feel run over by a truck.

The director has decided to have me onstage before the play begins, as the audience is coming in. During this time I may do whatever I want to do. I will probably opt to sleep most of the time, though I may wander and scavenge occasionally. What's most important is that when the theatre doors close, my right foot begins to itch, and my boot just won't come off.

Last night I practiced that pre-show routine a little by lying onstage in costume (for the first time) while everyone else completed their getting-ready processes. As I lay there, I said to myself, "I am confident and grounded in this play. All that remains is to have fun."

And it worked that way.

I know the show will have its ups and downs, but to give myself the simple goal of FUN is kind of an amazing lesson.

In other news, I have always loved Rachel Maddow's show on MSNBC; after reading this article I love her even more.

beckett's masterpiece

2010-04-26T20:46:00.000-07:00

Rehearsal was unsatisfying and borderline frustrating tonight, for the following reasons:

1. My cohort keeps apologizing every time he speaks. I thought I was a chronic apologizer! He makes me look like Napoleon! Tonight he actually stepped on a spot on the floor and it creaked and he apologized to it. I am not lying. This would all be funny and chuckly except that this man really takes his apologies to heart. So that by two hours into rehearsal he has hit a wall of exhaustive self-hatred and almost completely shuts down, becoming nearly impossible to work with.

2. We are at that point in rehearsal where things are just frustrating, regardless of the work we're doing. It is standard.

3. I feel that the director hasn't been specific enough with some of the blocking in the show. Now I am a person who believes that an actor can create his own blocking and that makes the movement that much more organic. However, there are bits in this play that call for very specific comic timing and consistency in order to work, and those bits aren't really being established. This worried me tonight.

Ah, relief. I feel better now that those things are off my chest.

Rain

2010-04-15T12:40:00.000-07:00

...and lots of it, in San Antonio, today.

An early memory: My mom taking me to a doctor's appointment, at the Children's Clinic on Hildebrand. I was in the backseat looking out the back window of the car (in the days before seatbelts were ever paid attention to). It was very rainy and the radio was on, and some commentator like Paul Harvey was talking. I felt sad because of some separation from my mother. I must have been 6 or 7.

I read a passage from the Tao Te Ching today. It seems strangely appropriate, given the recent nuclear arms talks and the bank bailouts:

The more prohibitions you have,
the less virtuous people will be.
The more weapons you have,
the less secure people will be.
The more subsidies you have,
the less self-reliant people will be.

Risk

2010-04-05T14:52:00.000-07:00

Ridiculous how new technology (the iPad) makes my 3-year old technology (MacBook Pro) look like a dinosaur. I don't even know 3/4ths of what my computer can do, and I'm lusting after this stupid new computer that's no thicker than a wafer.

It's a sad state of affairs.

It doesn't help that my left-hand shift key has fallen off, that my battery is dead, and that my electricity cord is fraying. I'm like, a new battery and new cord will cost me upwards of $200; I might as well just throw in another $350 and get an iPad! But no, that's not my thought process at all, really. I just want to get this one fixed. Really. I ain't lying.

The continuing battle against fleas. Another bath for Freda, her Frontline today, David spraying flea spray on the outside sills of the windows.

First rehearsal of Godot tonight.

Late nights staying up, not sleeping, or sometimes sleeping before I can realize I was tired. Limiting myself on certain intakes. Easter with family. Children I'm related to not knowing who I am. The creaky floors. My boyfriend looking in, unsure.

It doesn't make sense and it doesn't have to. I come back to the squirrel in the grass and the current moment's gravity. I am good at what I do.

Ah elusive, overrated sleep

2010-04-04T09:27:00.000-07:00

Spring is birthday time in my family. My mom and three siblings all have birthdays in April and May, plus a niece and a nephew.

Today I'm going to my brother's house for an Easter/Mom's birthday/brother's birthday celebration. I don't really see my family that often, so it will be nice.

I see my parents more often than I see my sister and brothers.

I guess there are various reasons why I don't see them that often. One brother lives a 4-hour drive away, that's a hindrance. As for the ones who live closer, I think I'm probably used to alienating myself from them because I didn't want them to know everything about me. Now that I don't care what they know about me, I am used to alienating, so it just works out that way. But I see no reason why it has to stay that way.

This week David and I had a good evening with my nephew and his wife.

I am depressed about: looking haggard, having fleas in my house, being out of shape, and being poor.

I am happy about: starting rehearsals on Waiting for Godot tomorrow, eating leftover pelmeni, listening to Jonsi's new album Go, and seeing my family today.

Return to Form

2010-03-30T22:56:00.000-07:00

Life-Changing Events

(every little thing)

My aunt fell and broke her shoulder.

I got an email from Yulia in Moscow saying she wasn't hurt in the bombings.

Joan Armatrading has a new album out. So does Black Francis.

I had purchased some beneficial nematodes for our yard, but never used them.

Mom and Dad bought my lunch today. My mom's pupils were all dilated because of an eye exam she'd just had.

David got his Texas I.D. at the D.M.V. today, and rode the bus.

My cat is scratching. I should have used those nematodes.

events

2010-03-29T14:50:00.000-07:00

Two suicide bombers killed 38 people in Moscow today.

I don't like Matthew Rothschild's incessant negativity.

My boyfriend is looking for a job. Today he went to a new bakery that opened up around the corner from us, and who was standing in line but his old abhorred boss. He said he immediately turned around and left the establishment before she could see him.

I have felt bombarded with lint and settled upon by dust lately. So today I aired out the rugs in my room, swept, cleaned under the bed, rearranged, did laundry, took things to the storage room. I guess you could call it a mini spring cleaning.

Time is weird

2010-03-27T03:11:00.000-07:00

Today is Kevin Biggerstaff's birthday, and it is also Sergei Nosov's birthday.

Twenty years ago, in 1990, in the Spring, I went to Russia for the first time, and had my mind blown.

I know that Kevin is in San Francisco. I assume that Sergei is in Moscow, but I haven't had contact with him since somewhere around 2004.

Post Script: Last night (or, that is, early this morning) while writing this blog entry, when I couldn't sleep, my cat jumped up on the bed and was purring on me. All at once I noticed that she had a flea crawling on her muzzle. In my effort to capture the flea, I somehow tore my index fingernail down past the quick and my computer went sliding off my lap square onto the floor. Both my computer and my fingernail survived, though the left hand shift key fell off, and my finger is band-aided up like a mini-mummy. The flea, I'm proud to say, did not survive.

Fruity Bunny

2010-03-21T23:16:00.001-07:00

Well shut my mouth, it's chilly again this evening.

Health Care Reform is supposedly passing in Congress as we speak.

Today a theatre friend sent me one of those fancy fruit baskets that looks like a flower arrangement. What a nice gift, complete with chocolate-covered pineapple bunnies.

I have two big theatre projects weighing heavy on my mind these days: Waiting for Godot, which I will perform in in May; and Much Ado About Nothing, which I will direct in the summer. I am mildly, predictably freaked out about both.

I love my boyfriend.

Small and big

2010-03-17T01:06:00.000-07:00

So I put on my p.j.s for what will probably be one of the last chilly nights of the year. Or should I say mornings. It's 3:06 a.m. I am listening to a bootleg recording of Joanna Newsom in Sydney. The world is quiet.

At night I sit outside and smoke. I sometimes listen to the neighborhood noises, or there might be some loud youngsters across the street in the parking lot behind the nightclubs. But mostly I listen to music and play solitaire on my ipod.

I have had many revelations while playing solitaire and listening to music and smoking. Sometimes I lose myself in the game and root for suits like I'm at a sporting event, playing and replaying those games with the potential to win. And whichever suit's the last to be placed has special significance. And a win is even more significant if I got it after numerous tries. These game lessons are sometimes implied as life lessons.

Sometimes I have revelations about actions I need to accomplish, or qualities I want to incorporate, or I have ideas about ways to do something.

Sometimes I just vegetate.

I fill myself with smoke.

I remember something stupid or smart that I said, and I wince or smile accordingly. And that memory is quickly forwarded into another. Sometimes I am able to stand at a vantage point and look down, or up, at my movie of memories, which unrolls ceaselessly, impervious to my attention or inattention.

When I come inside, my cat sometimes (usually when it's cool) perches on me. She's perching on me now.

It's 3:16 a.m...

Read This One!

2010-03-15T14:31:00.000-07:00

Enough of Lame Postings.

My last post started out really long and then got cut down to several sentences. Somehow in reviewing it I almost edited it away.

Here in San Antonio it is spring. It is the perfect time of year, except that the slight warmth in the air is an unwelcome harbinger of the beast called summer.

I have been enjoying the grape candy smell of mountain laurel in the air.

I am engrossed in Joanna Newsom's new album, Have One On Me. So engrossed, in fact, that I purchased the LP version, which is big (it's a 3-LP set) and beautiful (complete with calligraphy) and has a lyrics booklet to help decode all that swoonily-sung poesy.

Another album that has slunk unnoticed into my subconscious is Dungen's 4. This is a Swedish band and their music is difficult to describe. It is sometimes hard rock, but it also has intimate piano moments, and at other times it makes me feel like I'm sunburned in the 1970's, wearing brown sunglasses and driving a Monte Carlo on the beach at sunset, windows down and gritty breeze burning my stubbly cheek. One dusk while driving home from Dallas after an audition, I was listening to Dungen and watching some birds in the sky make their swarming patterns, and it was one of those perfect moments of beauty that you remember for a long time.

Freda, we recently realized, has been beset by fleas. I took her to the vet for some update shots last week and we also got some flea medicine for her. On Friday we gave her a bath in the bathtub. It was much less traumatic than I'd imagined it would be. She screamed about four times, then as we scooped the water onto her, she seemed to go into a state either of shock or acceptance, and let us do whatever we wanted. Afterwards when we dried her off, she didn't bolt or hide or hiss at us; she hung out with us in the heated living room, licking herself and letting us continue to dab at her fur with towels. Low-drama kitty! My favorite!

David and I have been working on the Forum Theatre Project the last 4-5 weeks or so. This year's theme was Love and Marriage, with a subtext of Who Has The Right To Get Married?. So we collected interviews and stories from people and put them into a structured, improvised scene. I did not perform but was a sort of assistant director on the project. David acted for the first time in ten years and did an excellent job. We are both glad it's over, though it was an enjoyable experience for both of us. On Saturday night the Project performed at San Antonio's 3rd annual Luminaria, an arts festival in downtown San Antonio.

I have mixed feelings about Luminaria. On one hand, it is beautiful and inspiring to see San Antonians come out in droves to experience an arts festival. On the other hand, the content of the actual festival is kind of slim. But it is only the third year. Maybe it will improve.

I applied to be a census worker and took the census worker test. I'm hoping they'll call me.

You may have noticed I am using proper capitalization recently, whereas in the past I wrote everything in lower case. Just felt it was a time for a change, a consciousness of the shift button, an evolution to adult rules, for the fun of it.

P.S. Barry, tell me how I can get in touch with you.

Theatre machine

2010-03-02T09:04:00.001-08:00

I have been seeing a larger amount of theatre than usual. Just in these past two weeks, I have seen Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, Fire on the Bayou, Blood Wedding, and Mary Stuart. Each play left me with a distinct level of satisfaction and a different list of praises and/or problems.

I am learning a lot about acting and about directing.

movie again

2010-02-26T13:48:00.000-08:00

yesterday i auditioned for another movie. this audition wasn't nearly as fun-- all i did was go in, fill out a form, and get my picture taken-- but it was for the coen brothers' upcoming remake of TRUE GRIT. they were seeing me for a "featured extra" -- a role that has a name but no lines, and apparently the man i would be playing is, in the movie, dead.

in any case, dead or no, it would be so cool to be in a coen brothers movie. wouldn't it?

movie

2010-02-23T12:44:00.000-08:00

last week i drove to houston for a movie audition.

the movie is called SAFETY POINT and has already started filming. it is about two lawyers (one a heavy partier, the other straight-laced) who stumble into the world of corporate medical supplies and challenge the system. it is a funny, smart, and relevant movie. i was auditioning for the part of a corporate hatchet man with a heart of ice. my expectation was that the casting agent would see me and send me away immediately based on my appearance. but instead, the casting agent was welcoming and complimentary. she ran the 6-line scene with me several times, gave me a few things she was looking for, and even called in another actor to read with me before we taped it. instead of a predictable 30-second once-over, this casting agent gave me a full half hour of her time and at the conclusion of our time together, told me i was one of two actors she was submitting for the role.

i drove back from houston feeling elated.

i haven't heard from them since, and that is of course disappointing. but this audition felt like a very important step on my road to the goal: be in a movie in 2010!

valentine surprise

2010-02-12T02:24:00.000-08:00

for xmas my brother gave me a subscription to sam phillips' private website, the long play. it's a cool present because we both like her music and as part of the membership we get free downloads of new songs, access to her blog, photos, podcasty thingies, videos... it's neat.

a few weeks ago she announced a valentine's day contest: write about your worst valentine memory and post it; three winners will be chosen to receive a homemade valentine from sam phillips herself.

i wrote about something that happened to me:

Well, all those early school Valentine’s Day experiences were pretty terrible, there’s no denying that; but my most memorable Valentine activity happened in 2002, when i was 33 and working in the one-hour photo lab of a large chain drugstore in northern California.
The photo lab was a sectioned-off area in the corner of the store with walls that went only waist-high, so that customers could look in and ostensibly see their photos being developed. On the evening before Valentine’s Day, I was feeling particularly unattractive, cheeky, and single, and I was sick of the incessant marketing, the pink cardboard ruffle hearts, the flowers, the schmaltz– so I took down the dry-erase board in the photo lab and I wrote the following message on it: Happy Corporate Scam Day!, with little hearts with arrows through them all around it.
In my mind it was a perfectly harmless little piece of cynicism, something I thought might give a smirk to my co-workers in the midst of all that lovey-dovey chocolatey nonsense.
But when I arrived to work on Valentine’s afternoon, I was immediately told to go see Jeff, one of the store managers. My little pink heart skipped a beat. I went up to Jeff’s office.
”Andy,” he said, pulling the board up off his desk and facing it at me, ”What were you thinking?!” My writing suddenly looked so insolent, so mean, so bitter. ”Happy Corporate Scam Day?? People shopping at our store can SEE this dry-erase board in the photo lab. How do you think this message makes them feel? How do you think it makes us look?”
Though I was 33, at that moment it was as if I was 13 again, sitting in the principal’s office after spraying shook-up Cokes in the stairwell. I felt so suddenly, childishly guilty.
”Sorry, Jeff,” I said. ”I thought it would be funny.”
”Well it’s not,” he said, wiping his hand across the message and handing the board to me. ”Now go get to work.”

...and i found out the day before yesterday that i was chosen as one of the winners. sam talked about my corporate scam day on her audio "phone booth" podcast, and apparently a homemade (not store-bought) valentine is on its way to me. the lesson i'm gleaning: bad and annoying experiences can, if put into proper context, resonate with others and pay off someday! yay.

parental

2010-02-08T15:49:00.000-08:00

last night as i was going to sleep i had the thought, "i haven't seen mom and pop in a long time. i need to see them soon." and this morning the first call i got was mom saying they were coming into town and could i meet them? ...voila.

so i met them for lunch at a nearby luby's. i used to hate luby's. it's one of those things that was shoved down your throat as a kid and you always hated it, and now that you're an adult you can't live without it.

pop talked about how obama is smooth but if you actually read his speeches there's not much substance. he talked about how great sarah palin's book was. he said she was his candidate. i said, "i'm sorry." but we all agreed that the politics in congress are getting in the way of anything being done.

we talked about mom's longtime friend jean who is living with alzheimer's at a retirement facility in boerne. she sits and observes. she sometimes recognizes mom, who always introduces herself when she comes in.

their dog ringo was in the car. since i had walked to luby's, they gave me a ride home. i gave my dad a check, another installment paying him back slowly for the car he helped me buy.

the importance of socks

2010-02-07T21:27:00.001-08:00

ET is not chopped liver. i just want to make that clear.

nik, i will endeavor to post some of my drawings up on the blog eventually. i have a drawings blog, but shortly after i started it, i got a new computer, then i got a new scanner, and i have still not learned how to use them to my best advantage. but i will do so eventually, on one blog or the other.

you know how little adjustments in life can make that slight difference that makes everything better? it's the difference between a corona with lime and a corona without lime-- though it is a small adjustment, there's really no comparison. it's when you move the dresser to the other side of the room-- it took five minutes, yet it changes the entire atmosphere. it is the tiny twist that makes the guitar string in tune instead of flat.

well, on my recent trip to portland, on one of our walks, i noticed this SOCK shop in beth's neighborhood. this sock shop had a sexy painted sign with a woman wearing long socks. one day we decided to go in. if i were a foot fetishist, i would have been, well, aroused. as it was i was very excited. who knew that a shop full of beautifully displayed socks could be so cool, so sexy? i don't know why, it wasn't like they were sex socks or anything... they were just normal socks-- cotton, wool, acrylic... there was a back room with lingerie-type socks, but that wasn't what was so great. i really don't know what it was. all i know is, i bought three pairs of socks-- a black pair with eyes all over it, a pair that looks like red meat, and a dark blue pair with dragons on them (for david, who is a dragon on the chinese calendar). and every time i get to wear those meat socks or those eye socks, it makes me really happy.

just a suggestion. the next time you feel a little low, try getting yourself some cool socks.

wah-wah-wahhhhh

2010-02-06T06:43:00.001-08:00

don't you just hate it when no one reads your blog. then you think someone has left a comment and you get all excited, and you go to the comment, and it says,

先告訴自己希望成為什麼樣的人，然後一步一步實踐必要的步驟。

black and white

2010-01-29T16:02:00.001-08:00

i visited my friend beth in portland. the time was intense. it was restful, replenishing, chilly, stunning, sad, and productive. i took a day trip to seattle. it was the first time that i had ever gone on amtrak. i saw friends there, bought some sneakers, drank coffee and watched jean cocteau's beauty and the beast... again.

i read a book called nothing to be frightened of by julian barnes. in this book, he talks about his family, his agnosticism, and the nature of life and death. it sounds like it should be a very heavy tome, but barnes keeps it light and enjoyable, even while making the possibility of death, ultimate death, feel quite real. reading it, i felt a strange mixture of dread and delight. though it isn't really pleasant to think about not existing anymore, it is mildly comforting to know that somebody else is scared of it too...

i would rather think about these things and get a little sad about them than not think about them at all, or remain where i've been all my life-- in a sort of half-thought-out state of maybe-this-will-happen-ness. of course i have no idea what will happen, but to fully consider the possibilities feels important.

i have taken a short story i wrote called "human tenderness" and am making it into a graphic version, in other words a story with pictures. i started last night and i have the first two pages under my belt. i am using pencil, roller ball pen, and 3 colors of india ink: cherry red, turquoise, and sepia. the story is about a man who comes to pick up his friend for lunch and finds that the friend has killed himself.

today i took a walk to las salsas, a sort-of good mexican restaurant on san pedro. the air was cold and the sky was so, so blue. on my way home i saw a dog running in the road and i whistled to it. it stopped. i knelt down and made a kiss noise, but it didn't come over. i whistled a few more times. it didn't have a collar on. it looked young. it was black and white.

blerk

2010-01-22T16:17:00.001-08:00

another remarkably bland, characteristically lukewarm san antonio review.

hard bargain review

2010-01-14T02:36:00.000-08:00

i did one of those unintentional benders last night.

i sat down to watch the russian film NIGHT WATCH with a glass of tequila and a beer.

before i knew it i was seeing double. or was that just the movie?

i woke up at 3:15 am all cotton-mouthed and dizzy.

though it was really cool to watch, i could not follow that movie. not a whit.

i might try again.

in the meantime, here's a review for the play i directed. the play actually happened, wow. i thought it would maybe happen, maybe not.

zwahhh

2010-01-02T22:46:00.000-08:00

i did make that cd for my brother after all, and gave it to him for xmas.

he seemed to appreciate it. he said he'd listen to it.

he pointed out that i forgot "coconut" by harry nilsson. he was right.

2010 feels good already, even though i got sick.

we went to rick and chris' house and there were cool people there sitting around talking and being naturally funny. rick and chris were making homemade pizza. all the ingredients for the pizzas were in little white bowls on the kitchen table. it was so picturesque, it looked like it should have been filmed.

at the turning of the hour we all went into the front yard with our drinks. they had veuve clicquot. we watched the fireworks over the tower of the americas. it was cold and there were two dogs running around. people were smoking and laughing, and no one shouted "happy new year!" -- how refreshing!

my family gave my boyfriend gifts for xmas. not only the gift of their kindness but actual presents. i saw my dad hugging him a little and saying something to him. it was like, wow. evolution.

it helps me to evolve when i see my family evolve.

wishes made truth

2010-01-01T08:48:00.000-08:00

happy new year.

may prosperity

creativity

harmony

discovery

and

DYNAMIC ACTION

all be yours this year!

tendencies

2009-12-13T15:13:00.000-08:00

of how much use is incessant nostalgia?

i am a victim of sentimentality.

recently i decided to make a playlist of nostalgic songs i associate with my brother and our childhoods. we used to go into this pool room at the place where we swam. the pool room was, i think, a breakroom for staff, but no one was ever in there. my brother had a knack for finding out about places that other people didn't know about. this was one of them.

there was a jukebox in there. i remember these songs playing.

jambalaya (on the bayou) by hank williams -- we wondered what "fille gumbo" was and sometimes called each other "fille gumbo" if in a fightin' mood;

i shot the sherriff by bob marley -- my brother would go on to be a complete reggae fanatic, even traveling to jamaica in his early 20's;

me and julio down by the schoolyard by paul simon -- which remains my favorite paul simon song and one of the few songs that loses no emotional punch as i grow older;

low rider by war -- sticks on bottles and the deepest groove.

count on me by jefferson airplane -- that country piano at the beginning always reminds me of "behind closed doors" by charlie rich, but this song is so much better, and kind of a perfect 70's love song.

then there are other songs that remind me of our house growing up.

rock the boat by hues corporation -- i remember doing a dance to this and making my brother laugh... the difference was that i was laughing too;

i wish by stevie wonder -- there are so many stevie wonder songs that qualify for nostalgic gems, but this one holds sway over all the others for some reason;

nothin' but a heartache by michael mcdonald -- all us thornton boys were doobie brothers fans, and felt some special affinity for michael's dog-like howling voice;

moondance by cat stevens -- i remember hearing this on the radio in the car on the way to new braunfels once, and singing it to sarah kate, our younger cousin, when we finally got to thanksgiving, or christmas, or whatever family function it was we were attending;

coming up by paul mccartney -- not his best, possibly his worst, but dang i loved it when it came out, that jangly guitar and those silly high vocals;

monster mash by bobby "boris" pickett and the crypt-kickers -- when i was 7 or 8 i got a free transistor when my dad opened a savings account for me... the radio was little, round and white, and it never picked up shit. then one day we were standing in front of our house, on the sidewalk, and this came on, and it was the best song i had ever, ever heard.

there are other songs too.

now that i am over 40 i am afraid that making cds for people is a patently childish thing to keep doing, so i am debating with myself whether or not to make a cd for my brother for christmas. he once told me that if he doesn't like even one song on a cd, he won't listen to it. so i have been selecting carefully. but i am leaning toward the feeling that i probably won't risk it at all.

in any case, it has been a lot of fun for me to revisit these memory-soaked tunes.

good weather

2009-11-17T07:49:00.001-08:00

i was walking every day before the beastly summer descended... and DIDN'T GO AWAY.

till now.

yesterday, fall, finally.

took a walk to trade some dvds in.

headphones playing 'bitte orca' by the dirty projectors.

thoughts of ingmar bergman controlling the lighting for his interview, suggesting he interview the interviewer instead.

bright blue sky. breeze.

to walk with hands in pockets, or swinging free? a little of both.

tromped across a grassy field.

on the way back, a poor woman collecting fallen pecans.

following the brackenridge park train tracks to mulberry.

as the train passed, waving to the few kids inside.

a dog hanging out by the river.

two guys fishing.

one of those empty lots with a concrete foundation in it. did a house used to be there? did they pour the foundation and run out of money? would be a good place to shoot a music video.

passing firetruck.

boyfriend calls. "where are you?"

walking home. almost home.

feng shui?

2009-11-06T20:34:00.000-08:00

life-changing event #3,771:

i rearranged my room today, effectively opening up an entire corner of the room that was being neglected.

it's like the room is breathing differently. i like it a LOT.

photo shoot

2009-11-01T07:57:00.000-08:00

this is me as of one week ago, standing in front of the wall across the street from our house.

week's events

2009-10-23T22:14:00.000-07:00

it's been a very busy week for me.

david has been in denver, helping his mom move and seeing friends.

i went in to get labs done, including an X-ray (i'm not sure why, i guess my doctor ordered it).

i got a haircut. i had a photo session with my nephew (for resume pictures).

i drove 2 hours to smithville texas, where i was a special guest speaker in my friend lisa's 7th grade Teen Leadership class. she likes to shake the class up sometimes, so she had me pose as a person who had at one time been homeless, to see how the kids would react. so i came up with a whole backstory and stayed in character all day. the kids were very respectful (at least to my face) and after the first class "performance" i got a pang of guilt. it felt a little wrong to be manipulating them that way, inherently dishonest. and they bought into it so completely. and yet something about that character i was playing, this man whose life is not much like mine at all, came out of me quite organically, and therefore felt quite honest. lisa said the kids were talking about it all the next day and wanted to send me letters and presents. all in all i take it as a great (if voyeuristic) life experience, and a valuable acting experience as well.

i went to three southside high schools to work with students on scholarship monologues. these are students with not many resources (in some cases, hardly even a teacher to count on) but who remind me that the world is much bigger than my usual beaten path.

i had lunch with two good friends and dinner with two good friends, where we watched rufus wainwright's new concert video done in milwaukee. i thought rufus camped it up a bit too much but then i realized... i think that was the point. he looked especially gorgeous in drag.

today i was going to go to two more southside schools, and i was going to see a play, but i felt sick all day, headachy and sore throaty. so i stuck around home drinking Emergen-C and gargling with salt water. i also thought of fran when i took some oscillococcinum. just in case.

boxes

2009-10-16T07:40:00.000-07:00

my friend barry wrote something that rings true for me.

Thinking outside of the box is something we must do every day of our life as we are constantly creating new boxes for ourselves. Even the ones we feel comfortable in are best served by our examining them for restrictive qualities. Stimulus is our best asset in helping us to get out of our own way. It can come in millions of forms limited only by our antennae and willingness to receive.

cars

2009-10-10T16:26:00.001-07:00

yesterday my dad helped me finance a new car. it's not a new car. it's from 1996. it looks like this. i like it because it is smooth and reliable. it is sort of like gliding in a silver cloud. i feel invisible in it.

this article says you can tell a lot about a person by the car they drive. they don't mention the mercury grand marquis. only porsches, hondas, mini coopers... kind of a stupid article actually. but i was thinking about that question as i drove home from kerrville yesterday. i was thinking, what does this car say about me? that i want to disappear into the background? that i crave practicality? or simply that i am poor and had to rely on my dad to choose a sensible car for me? this last option seems most accurate.

my old car looks like this, except much less shiny and with more dents and rusty spots. it has a lot of character. but character only goes so far when you can't rely on it.

rage of murk

2009-10-07T08:51:00.000-07:00

my alma mater has just sent me a postcard announcing an "alumni weekend" at the end of the month. why did they just now send me this, on october 7th? 2010 will mark 20 years since i graduated. what about our 20-year reunion? i mean isn't that sort of something special that should be organized and done right? i am not interested in some sort of general "alumni weekend" that i get a POSTCARD for, THREE WEEKS BEFORE IT HAPPENS!

i have always said i would never go to my high school reunions, but would be interested in a college one.

perhaps instead, next spring, i'll go visit ET in W-S and we'll just have our own private reunion. that way i won't have to worry about certain people in my class gloating about how successful they've been.

i feel crappy today. i'm hot, and my car isn't working, and i have no money.

no one in my class would gloat. that's a statement rising out of my current crappy mood, which manifests as bitter insecurity.

i'm walking to have lunch with my old high school drama teacher soon. we've been meeting for lunch every wednesday. we have great talks and there's a lot of love. there's a turn up.

my cat left a roach on the floor of my room for me this morning.

i watched a 50-minute documentary on frank zappa and the making of "apostrophe/overnite sensation." he is inspiring for these reasons:

prolific

unflinching

knew what he wanted to do

did it on his own

reverence for absurdity

incisive and intelligent

demanded excellence

today i feel like flailing on the ground, flailing on the wooden floor so hard that i would break a hole through the floor, then flail through the foundation, then flail through the earth and just keep flailing until i wanted to flail no more. somehow i feel the need to break free or release something. it's a murky sort of rage inside.

what a storm can do

2009-10-04T12:49:00.000-07:00

last night, late, one of the most aggressive thunderstorms i have ever experienced. the lightning was so bright, it really looked as if someone were standing on the roof of our house flashing a bright white light on the garage in back, in successive flashes, 3-5 seconds apart, for at least 40 minutes. the thunder so raging and aggressive, sounding like iron gurneys being slammed onto the floor of the sky and rolled angrily to crash against a very nearby wall.

when it first woke me up it was splendid, because it's great being witness to a raucous thunderstorm, especially if it's in the middle of the night. there's a romance to it. david and i uttered our various "wow"s and "goddamn"s. but as it went on and did not decrease but rather seemed to increase in intensity, i began to sense my utter insignificance. how i could be ripped to shreds, smothered, snapped like a twig by nature, without a second thought.

it wasn't like a woody allen "i'm dying!" existential crisis, but there was a shuddering-in-the-corner-peering-out-into-the-void feeling about it. it made me think that i do not live as if i could die at any moment-- i have way too many possessions, for one thing. who do i think i'm fooling, with all those books?! that was one of the thoughts. another was that i really should clean up, because if the house were ripped in half by lightning, i would be ashamed about all the unneeded muss and detritus when the rescue cleanup crew came.

and also, where's the urgency in my life? where's the fire under my ass? in what way am i manifesting the rage of lightning inside of me?

normal

2009-10-01T08:58:00.000-07:00

it's the first day of october. i like the next three months. when i was teaching i didn't like january. but i think i'll like it this year.

the other day i got a call from my old boss at the school district. the man who took over my teaching position is quitting due to marital stress and personal problems. i would like to talk to him and find out the true story, but i don't know him well enough to approach him with those questions.

it's not really cooler today, to reflect the change of month, but the heat has... eased up a little, let's put it that way.

i met with an agent and am going to sign with him for a year. i am really excited about this and have a good feeling about the agent.

i have been listening to ben folds' "way to normal" and liking it.

sunday quiet house

2009-09-20T14:50:00.000-07:00

one of the devastating things about life is that such high and full hopes can be so quickly obliterated.

in relationships, though you may have huge vats of love for each other, a few nagging issues may ruin everything.

in other news...

today i walked along the refurbished north end of the riverwalk. it is, in a word, cool. there are many beautiful plants and flowers, exquisite landscaping. there are interesting under-bridge artworks, like large suspended fish and piped-in birdsong that echoes. there are terraces, benches, pagodas. it is beautiful. as the weather mildens (that's a word i just made up meaning "to become mild"), i will be spending more time on that new riverwalk branch, strolling, perhaps jotting down a note or two, maybe finding time to make a sketch.

conking

2009-09-19T08:53:00.000-07:00

for the past several weeks my car has been on the verge of conking out.

is mercury in retrograde?

one morning david and i went to the bank and as we were pulling out of the parking lot onto the busy street we lost power. though i was pressing the accelerator, the car was sputtering and hesitating. luckily we made it into the median. we decided then and there immediately to go to stan's (remember--my polish mechanic?). stan looked at it, made a simple adjustment (something having to do with RPMs), and the car is working normally again.

i still love stan.

the aforementioned play, which i saw last night in austin, was a sort of rock opera fantasia with a lot of weird names. i went in with an open mind. i appreciated all the thought and hard work that went into it. but it wasn't my kind of thing. basically it boiled down to a lot of people singing dissonantly onstage in heavy makeup and costumes, the subject of their singing being power struggles and exotic names of potential destinations. beautiful lighting. well-funded. they must have a good grant writer...?

joan armatrading is blasting in the dining room. though the volume is a little much for me, i am grateful for a boyfriend who loves her as much as i do.

in the middle of our talk

2009-09-18T08:52:00.000-07:00

marc finally called me and my phone conked out. it won't let me use it until it is charged to a certain capacity, i guess? anyway, sorry marc, i'll call you back when my phone is working again.

last night we walked to emily's for wine and project runway. it was fun. we snuggled with the puppies. on the walk home i danced in the street gaily. very gaily. it was a good release for me.

last week my external hard drive conked out. i was able to transfer all the information on it to a new hard drive. i have spent the past week organizing all the music on it. all the music is organized according to artist, except soundtracks, showtunes and compilations, all of which are organized by title of movie/show/compilation/person who made compilation.

compilation. compilation. compulsion. compulsion. compulsion.

i told beth i was spending time organizing my music on my external hard drive and she said, "it's sort of like your form of gardening. weeding, reorganizing, you're not getting enough light over here so i'll move you." she was right. it is like that.

tonight i am going with a friend to austin to watch a play called "the dragonfly queen."

bike satisfaction

2009-09-14T06:27:00.000-07:00

in order to make the dream come sort of true, and to honor that cool guy i was riding bikes with in my dream, i walked my bike to the gas station and filled the tires and took a great lil' bike ride yesterday. i rode on down mccullough and turned right on east dewey, then left on ogden and stopped by david's old apartment, whose parking lot is now clean and paved. (that parking lot used to be so disgusting-- we think guys used to go there after the gay bars and get busy, because we'd always see used condoms lying around everywhere. one night david saw a guy naked in his car there.) then i continued on down ogden to the little park behind the gay bars and i circled around it (there were a few kids playing on the swingset and a couple of moms sitting at a table), then back onto ogden, took a right on locust and went all the way down to st. mary's, by the enchilada warehouse. at that corner there was a cab van waiting for someone in front of a house. he was on the phone shaking his head and gesturing toward the house. i went on past him all the way up st. mary's, which was almost deserted, to east craig, took a left and i was home. wow, it was a beautiful day, with huge clearly-defined clouds billowing in a cool blue sky.

me being with me

2009-09-13T13:14:00.001-07:00

i dreamt that i was riding bikes with myself. i was me, and i was riding bikes with another guy that was me. and he was a really cool person to be with.

the psychological implications are almost insultingly overt.

nonetheless, in the dream, i realized the beauty of the situation, and how much i liked being with me, and i started sobbing out of pure joy. it was very moving. i was surprised when i awoke that i hadn't actually started crying in my sleep.

nine-nine-nine

2009-09-09T19:01:00.000-07:00

it's september 9, 2009.

there may be logistical problems with president obama's policies. there may be financial conundrums he can't solve. maybe he has made too many concessions to the right. his health care plan may be criticized as a grab-bag of policies.

but what is most important to me about him is the direct human element he brings to an office i had grown up being at best indifferent to, at worst cynical about. what i mean by 'direct human element' is that it seems to me our president cares about people and people's issues. it seems he really has people's welfare in mind. in listening to past presidents, i found myself straining to understand them, relate to them, decipher them; i always wondered what ulterior motives they had. with president obama, it never crosses my mind-- for some reason, i trust him completely. when i listen to him, i understand. i agree. i am inspired.

i am still thrilled and inspired that barack obama is our president.

angst

2009-09-08T06:09:00.000-07:00

i'm not exactly sure what happened last night.

when i first decided to quit teaching and focus on acting and directing, several people told me it was a risk. but the ones i remember said it in a tone of exhortation, like, "that takes balls!"

last night nothing happened, but as i was sitting there my framework seemed to gradually slip away and i experienced a profound terror, as if everything around me had suddenly revealed its true nature, and its true nature was much more shallow and mean than i had led myself to believe.

maybe i wandered out to the edge of the cliff and didn't realize it.

maybe i had too much wine (2 glasses?).

i am the kind of person who thinks that events have resonance beyond their visible action. but i don't know how to interpret this event.

i have so many desires and so much to give. yet i am crouching in the corner with my blankie.

it could have been just another coming of age moment where i am forced to grow up real quick-- like ripping the bandage off. it's less painful that way, finally.

bullet points

2009-09-07T08:08:00.000-07:00

first: it doesn't take much to inspire someone. my more frequent blog updates are inspired in part by someone else's more frequent blog updates, which enrich my life.

second: i watched bunuel's 1977 film 'that obscure object of desire' the other day, and i liked it. it is the story of a rich man who falls in love/lust with his maid. the entire movie is spent with him pursuing her and her leading him on. all framed by the man telling the story to some strangers on a train. it is based on an old novel and was done as a silent film, i guess in the 20's? three clips of the original silent film are included on the criterion dvd.

third: as a kid, i loved to repeat phrases over and over, often applying a sing-song layer to the phrase. this made me an almost unbearable child, especially to my older brother, who must have wanted to strangle me after hearing me repeat "come...on...lar-ry, give... val... tro-phy" the 689th time. little did i know, however, that in becoming an adult actor, i would draw on my love of repetition to such a large extent. yesterday i did my first ever taping of a commercial for HEB. the commercials will not be shown on TV, but at an HEB pharmaceuticals convention. (HEB is a big grocery store chain in texas.) the three commercials i am doing (i did two yesterday and will do the third one on thursday) are spoofs of popular commercials for GEICO, swiffer mops, and verizon wireless. though they are not particularly creative or innovative in themselves, i had a blast doing them because of the sheer repetition. to do the same 30 seconds of text + action over and over 10 times? love it. also, the guys i was working with were cool and very relaxed, which made it even more enjoyable. so i have officially embarked upon my film career now. the repetition king is here, so watch out!

fourth: this morning our cat was jumping up on us in bed and meowing very insistently. she was using different techniques of meow, soft and whiny, loud and alarming. eventually i got up and followed her very excited trot into the kitchen. she had placed a dead roach right next to her food bowl at some point in the early morning hours. i can only assume it was a gift for us, because when i thanked her and stroked her she purred and began to eat her food, and didn't meow at us again.

revelation lunches

2009-09-03T08:23:00.001-07:00

i have great lunches sometimes with people who inspire me. or, to be more precise, the communion between us inspires me. we talk about ideas, like synchronicity: yesterday, ben said he was at a friend's lake house, walking up from the shore and feeling sad and blah. suddenly he felt a sort of exciting streak of fear pass through him. he stopped walking and looked up behind him and a shooting star went streaking across the sky. he said "i'm sure it didn't mean anything, a lot of other people probably saw the same star and thought it meant something," and i said, "of course it meant something, you were the link between the star and your thought that gave it meaning."

during these lunches we talk about people who make things, about the therapy of making things, about the value of the process versus the product, about sitting and being still. we talk about breathing through the nostrils and how that practice makes time a relative element. we talk about physical awareness and how someone could sit for twenty minutes just focusing on their legs.

i love these lunches. i love being productive. i am struggling, i am perfectly content.

we talk about letting go of addictions, about surrendering to pure being and feeling what we feel, not trying to fill in any cravings but sitting with them. all these things touch on the ends of my nerves and travel through my body like electric impulses. it is fun to have these discussions. putting the ideas into practice is a little more challenging. can i sit with myself? can i overcome the addictions i have mindlessly fostered? of course i can.

i focus on a voice, my breath, my legs. i hear machinery roaring on the street. my cat calls out for me.

the dump(lings) of theatre

2009-09-01T11:24:00.001-07:00

in total, i made over 350 little russian dumplings this weekend. that's the most i've ever made in one sitting. i had promised beth i'd wear a babooshka while making them, but forgot. i made the lame concession that i was wearing a babooshka of the soul. which, in some sense, i was.

it's good to drink beers while making pelmeni. so i think i probably drank 6 or 7 beers throughout the course of saturday's session, building up my alcohol level considerably for the party on sunday. by the time the party rolled around, though i was having occasional bouts of black-out, i was up and awake and non-vomiting till 3 am.

the show was received in a manner better than was expected. we sold out half the performances and made about 15 thousand dollars. even better, people who had never seen a chekhov play done and had misapprehensions about the viability of such a play were, i think, pleasantly surprised at the outcome. my favorite compliment was from a seasoned director named mary r., who said that we brought the play into present time.

she didn't mean we set the play in 2009, but that we made it relevant for contemporary audiences. for this i am deeply gratified.

in other news...

the annual theatre award ceremony that a certain slice of san antonio engages in is coming up in september, and the plays that have been nominated for honors were announced today. david and i were disappointed to see that THE GOAT was not nominated for anything. as far as i'm concerned, it was the best all-around theatre experience i've had, ever, in san antonio-- from quality of script to direction to fellow actors to tech support to design. so it's kind of a crock when that happens.

it's weird-- you work so hard on something and you pour so much of yourself into it, yet you just never know how it's going to be received. but like i told my students, if you're in theatre, you can never really believe what anyone tells you-- all you can rely on is how you feel about it, and even then, be wary... :-)

pel-o-rama

2009-08-30T08:34:00.000-07:00

i made 280 dumplings yesterday, some of which david and i immediately boiled and ate. today we will make more. not sure how many people will come over tonight, but wouldn't want to run out.

quick demo.

ya stroyu zamki iz piska

2009-08-28T08:13:00.001-07:00

for the closing of UNCLE VANYA, we will be having a pelmeni party at our house.

pelmeni are russian dumplings, traditionally made with ground beef. i use ground turkey and also spice it up with a lot of garlic and dill. they are served with sour cream and butter, and maybe a dash of vinegar, for that special edge. it's the one dish i know how to make, and i love making it, and i have sort of altered the recipe to my taste over the years...

i may start making them today... make a few batches today and freeze them, make a few batches tomorrow and freeze them, so that we'll have a huge quantity of pelmeni by the time sunday evening rolls around.

we will also get a lot of cucumbers and slice them thinly. sprinkle them with some salt, chopped dill and a little sour cream, voila, salad.

i have been putting together a music playlist for the party. it's mostly jazz, with some tom waits, seu jorge, boris grebenschikov and bjork thrown in.

vanya pics

2009-08-27T09:57:00.001-07:00

pictures of our production of UNCLE VANYA:

Go to flickr.com and search lightswerve. It will tell you no matches were found. Click the word people, then lightswerve, and there they’ll be. Right click and save whatever you want. There are some really stunning ones.

backstage wonderings

2009-08-23T16:56:00.001-07:00

for today's matinee i watched UNCLE VANYA from backstage. as i've mentioned before, i like seeing the entrances and exits and all the routines the actors and crew have fallen into. something is so satisfying to me about that aspect of the theatre-- the routine of it, how all these little pieces come together to make a well-oiled machine.

i find myself wondering what russians would think of this production.

i wonder if chekhov would like it.

yet again

2009-08-21T08:17:00.001-07:00

another review.

this morning we were on Great Day S.A., one of those morning shows where girls chat about stuff. we did a little interview with the host and john & emily did a short scene from the first act of the play. the other guests on the show were a jazz quartet and some people made up for a zombie movie.

jazz,

zombies,

and uncle vanya.

my brain is synapsing to find hidden meanings and connections.

know what you want!

2009-08-20T06:39:00.001-07:00

our production of UNCLE VANYA opens tonight. we have all worked so hard on it.

it's an interesting phenomenon: during rehearsal there was a constant sense of discovery, play, and spontaneity which made me feel like we were doing something very fresh and even edgy with this 1896 play. but when we got into the theatre and into set and costumes, the play took on a very traditional, conservative vibe. it was quite distressing for me. the set and costumes are both quite beautiful and add a certain weight of legitimacy to the play, but i could see the actors struggling under that weight to regain the identities we'd established during rehearsals-- those fresh, spontaneous people now heavily costumed and walking on hard, echoey platforms. as rehearsals continued, the actors acclimated and i began to see them shining through the set and costumes again, weren't overwhelmed by them. still, the technical elements are a little stiff, and i mark it as a lesson to remember in the future: know what you want! that age-old nugget of wisdom. know what you want.

here's a critical but well-written review.

fluid conveyor

2009-08-01T13:26:00.000-07:00

a conduit.

the woman who ran the group home said it was called "stemming." i've never heard it referred to as such since. it was when one of the guys would start rocking rhythmically, or repeating a certain sound or motion or activity over and over again. i understand those guys. as i'm sitting on my bed right now, in the record texas heat, it feels good to move from the waist up in a circular motion. not because of the heat, but just because.

my boyfriend is making a russian "olivier" salad in the kitchen. we're taking it to a vodka party fundraiser for UNCLE VANYA tomorrow. this is a salad that i had many times while in russia, but never had the proper recipe for. it has potatoes, egg, ham, turkey, pickles, peas, onion, mayo, garlic. it is made up of simple ingredients but combines into a heavenly experience.

rehearsals for UNCLE VANYA could not be going better. we have been productive and i have been able to strike a balance between allowing the actors to play freely and providing them with a modicum of structure. so far it has been thrilling and fulfilling. everyone is the right age for his or her role. i have a girl of 22 playing sonya and a woman of 88 playing marina. it's wonderful. it is also helping me feel empowered about my abilities as a director, because i am directing both young as well as seasoned actors, and we all actually seem to be enjoying the experience! imagine that!

i have been enjoying music by a band called why?. the album i have is called "alocepia," which is the technical term for male baldness. the singer's voice sounds sometimes like they might be giants, but the music has darker subject matter. i have especially been enjoying one song called "fatalist palmistry," the first line of which is as follows: "I sleep on my back, 'cause it's good for the spine, and coffin rehearsal." one day i sang that line over and over in my car.

last night david and i went to the overtime theatre and saw an original show (they do only original/san antonio-based material there) called BUDDHA SWINGS!. it was a musical in 40's swing style telling the story of the buddha. i found it quite smile-inducing and joy-bringing, and it even made me want to go read up on his story myself.

last weekend we saw a play at AtticRep called BLACKBIRD. it is by scottish playwright david harrower. it was about a man and woman meeting in a trashy break room to talk, and as their talk unfolds you learn that the two of them had an intimate relationship when he was 40 and she was 12. he went to prison for 10 years and this play begins when she shows up unexpectedly at his workplace. it was a very complex, sad, sympathetic and ultimately devastating story.

i am reading a collection of short stories called HOW WE ARE HUNGRY by dave eggers. i am liking it a lot. i realize i like it because i think of things from it during the day, like how one character thinks another character over-romanticizes the idea of living abroad.

david and i liked the movie AWAY WE GO a lot.

i have been experimenting with pen and india ink.

my car is in the shop till tomorrow to get an oil leak and a door fixed.

take me out

2009-06-24T09:09:00.001-07:00

looks like we sort of pulled it off. go figure.

(though san antonio theatre critics are known to be milquetoasty.)

follow-up

2009-06-22T06:35:00.000-07:00

opening weekend went surprisingly well.

the replacement actor completely changed the atmosphere among the actors. he didn't do it intentionally; he is just such a different person that the change happened naturally. the mood lightened and it seemed everyone started having a lot more fun.

i know i did.

just so you know...

2009-06-16T11:35:00.000-07:00

THE GOAT closed and was a pleasure from start to finish.

now i'm in another play, a fun and insightful look at baseball, homophobia, racism and friendship called TAKE ME OUT. the production has been somewhat poorly organized from the beginning, and this past week it manifested a big piece of doo-doo.

the guy playing the lead, who was severely miscast and had chronic trouble remembering what we had done in rehearsal each previous night, WALKED QUIETLY OUT OF REHEARSAL AND DROVE AWAY IN HIS CAR... A WEEK BEFORE WE OPEN. he texted the stage manager, "i can't do this. i need out."

those of us left in the theatre sat stunned. some with incredulous smiles, some with angry grimaces, some simply flummoxed. the next day this annoying person who quit wrote us all an e-mail stating that he disagreed with the nudity in the play and the way the nudity was being dealt with. (the play features baseball players in shower scenes, and the nudity is valid because it clearly illustrates the vulnerability these macho men feel, both as men and as baseball players, in light of their teammate's recent outing of himself to the press.) this excuse put forth by the annoying person who quit was a complete fabrication and a flimsy one at that, to cover the fact that he couldn't retain any information about his blocking, entrances and exits, or even his intentions as a character within the play. what's more, he came to his final rehearsal high on pain killers, after some invasive 'surgery' the day before. quotation marks very intentional.

so he left.

oh my god, i thought. what's going to happen? i thought, "if he comes back, i don't know what i'll do. i'm so appalled and disgusted by his behavior, and my character is supposed to have a crush on his character... i won't be able to maintain onstage with him. i'll sneer, or maybe vomit!"

but what happened is good:

someone who has played the role before has been enlisted, for a moderate fee. he has come from out of town to bail us out of this problem. and he's right for the role! he's the right age, the right ethnicity, and a good actor to work with!

so, whew. drama!

we open friday. i'll post a report (regardless of whether or not anyone even reads this anymore).

new albums

2009-06-12T07:49:00.000-07:00

i met my brother in austin on monday. we met at waterloo records and i purchased leonard cohen's new one, 'live in london,' which is the kind of concert recording you sit and luxuriate in, smiling lazily and maybe occasionally wistfully singing along for a strain or two. so satisfying. i also found a new recording of van morrison singing the entire 'astral weeks' album in concert. it is also beautiful, and contains the lyrics, which i hadn't remembered reading before.

Little Jimmy's gone

Away out on the back street

Out of the window

To the fallen rain

Right on time, right on time

though the lyrics aren't surprising and pretty much match what i had in my head, it still seems like a small revelation to read them, after just listening all these years.

after waterloo, my brother and i had mexican food and then went to stubb's, where we saw gomez, a rock band originally from the UK. they were great and a little too loud (have my ears grown more sensitive with age, or am i just now noticing it?). mostly it was just fun being at a concert with my brother, whom i love.

i'm in another play, 'take me out,' which opens a week from today. it is perhaps the most ill-prepared production i've ever been a part of. the two leads are still very much on book, the production values are haphazard, the director seems blissfully ignorant. i can't understand how he's not frantic and humiliated at this point. i don't enjoy being a part of it, but as i said to fran today, i am opting to see the experience as a challenge and adventure. everything's for a reason.

kyogen details

2009-06-02T08:34:00.000-07:00

my first exposure to the japanese kyogen was with KITUS. we did an interpretation of 'the fox mound' as part of our moun-tain extravaganza carnivore (the one we performed in 110 degree heat at rehoboth art league, complete with fur coats, while people were dying in philadelphia and chickens were suffocating in their cages surrounding the schoolhouse).

when i was asked to work with the 5th graders at my alma mater, st. luke's episcopal school, i was told that the previous year, the entire play had consisted of a bicentennial parade. i didn't want to do something baby-ish, but i knew that there needed to be a sense of play about the production. i was very excited when, one slightly inebriated evening on my front porch, the idea of the kyogen popped into my mind.

back in the 14th century, these short comedic plays were used as intermission material between Noh plays, as a sort of refresher for the audience, so that they could get some laughs out before coming back for another epic tragedy. most of the kyogen deal with people playing tricks on each other, and most of them end with one character becoming enraged and chasing another, shouting "don't let him get away! catch him! catch him!"

i made sure the kids knew that whenever they heard the phrase "catch him," they were supposed to shout the second "catch him!" in unison, and with great volume and energy. that part worked really well.

another thing that was fun was using the kids as objects. i have always loved the american tradition of playing an inanimate object as a child. ask people you know, many of them will say, "oh, i've never been in a play, except for that time i played a doorknob in 2nd grade." stuff like that. so i made these 5th graders play doors, trees, tables, fences. that was fun.

they did an amazingly good job with the language, as well, which at times was pretty challenging-- sentences like "I am a wealthy landowner who dwells in this vicinity."

we set up the stage so that there was a red carpet coming out to make an aisle down from the stage into the middle of the audience, which led to a sort of pagoda-like umbrella at the far end of the audience. so that the action was more integrated into the audience. i think that helped a lot.

costumes were basic accessories on top of a black t-shirt/pants base. lots of hats and jackets.

it was fun.

week in review

2009-06-01T07:10:00.000-07:00

it was a big and satisfying week for me.

on monday the 25th i met my sister at rudy's in leon springs for a little post-birthday lunch. i got to hang out with my sister and brother-in-law a little, and after that i went to st. luke's for our final dress rehearsal of the kyogen plays. though the rehearsal was predictably chaotic, with kids coming and going at all hours and not an optimum level of concentration, i had already decided to take it easy and roll with the punches, and it all went fine.

on tuesday the 26th i stayed at st. luke's pretty much the whole day. we had a rehearsal in the morning from 9:30 to 11:15. i set up the parish hall while kids were having lunch. at 2:30 we did a show for students and parents. after the show we had pizza and japanese sodas and talked about the performance. then we did a speed-through. then it was time for our 6:00 performance. it went well, the kids were adorable. though i wished we'd had more time to work on things, i think the bottom line is that the kids had a great time and will remember the experience, overall, positively. that evening i met scott mcdowell, a local playwright, at barnes & noble, to talk about his sequel to the play i directed of his last summer. it is a film noir-inspired trilogy and i think it's going to be a lot of fun.

on wednesday the 27th i had lunch with my friend michele. we talked about falling in love with animals (she is smitten with a gibbon at the zoo) and she told me she knows a guy who is making a zombie movie and that she would recommend me to him. that evening david and i had a dinner party for 4 of our friends-- two other couples. it was low-key with good food and good conversations.

on thursday the 28th we had a production meeting for 'uncle vanya', with this great technical team that has assembled to work on the project. margaret, who is handling costumes, is doing incredible research and has designed such beautiful things for the show. we had it at her house. we discussed concepts, transitions, looks. it was a good meeting. in the evening we began our final weekend of performances for 'the goat.'

'the goat' has been such an unabashedly fun and drama-free experience. the actors, technical team and director have been a pleasure to work with. yesterday, at our final performance, the house was packed. gloria and i kept shards of broken pottery as keepsakes. we took pictures. i had a blocking rehearsal for 'take me out,' and after that, joined the cast party for 'the goat' which was already in progress.

friday phrases

2009-05-22T07:07:00.001-07:00

my black backpack is the cat's pillow.

my russian friend's daughter is in russian commercials for heart medicine and clotted cream.

the play i'm in is a lot of fun to perform, and last night we had a talk-back after the show.

i'm meeting a new acting student tomorrow.

the 5th grade play is tuesday and we won't be ready, but it will be adorable.

the weather has been perfect this week.

yesterday i made rice and turkey with swiss cheese.

funny

2009-05-20T07:32:00.001-07:00

i'm not one of those hilarious people. i might say one mildly funny thing a day. usually when i'm funniest is when i didn't intend it, like tripping while going up the stairs, or dribbling food on my shirt, or boogers. sometimes i'll say something funny and people will laugh and that's gratifying. but i think that in general i've always been something of a serious person. not so much dramatic necessarily, but introspective.

reaction

2009-05-19T17:14:00.000-07:00

cold and impenetrable, the way people are. the way you try to make yourself. they're like, it's too much, i've got to draw the line somewhere, i can't be just absorbing all this stuff all the time, i've got to draw the line, there has to be a limit here somewhere. thereby cold and impenetrable. not even sure if there IS anyone else, that's how impenetrable. but there are other assurances, other things to turn to that make things OK. people who care what you say, sort of, for whatever reason, though it be selfish, ah yes, ah well, that's ok, that's all right. at least on some level they're listening. sort of.

123 favorite albums

2009-05-15T05:17:00.002-07:00

i indulged myself. i went through my music and chose the albums i like the most. it came to 123 albums (though some are multiple-disc albums), which equals about five consecutive days of listening. here they are in alphabetical order.

A Tribe Called Quest: People's Instinctive Travels and Paths of Rhythm

Laurie Anderson: Home of the Brave

Fiona Apple: When the Pawn...

The Arcade Fire: Neon Bible

Joan Armatrading: Joan Armatrading

Joan Armatrading: Walk Under Ladders

Louis Armstrong & Duke Ellington: The Great Summit

Mulatu Astatke: Ethiopiques, Vol. 4: Ethio Jazz & Musique Instrumentale

The Avett Brothers: Emotionalism

The B-52's: Time Capsule: Songs for a Future Generation

J.S. Bach: St. Matthew Passion

The Beatles: The White Album

Pierre Bensusan: Musiques

Bjork: Live Box

Bjork: Medulla

David Bowie: Hunky Dory

Billy Bragg: Must I Paint You a Picture?: The Essential Billy Bragg

Kate Bush: The Kick Inside

Kate Bush: The Dreaming

Kate Bush: Hounds of Love

John Cage: Prepared Piano Sonatas & Interludes

Ben Charest: The Triplets of Belleville

The Clash: London Calling

Cocteau Twins: Victorialand

Elvis Costello: My Aim is True

Elvis Costello: Imperial Bedroom

Crowded House: Crowded House

De La Soul: 3 Feet High and Rising

De La Soul: Buhloone Mind State

Iris Dement: Infamous Angel

Thomas Dolby: The Flat Earth

Bob Dylan: Blood on the Tracks

Duke Ellington & John Coltrane: Duke Ellington & John Coltrane

Eurythmics: Be Yourself Tonight

Donald Fagen: The Nightfly

The Flaming Lips: Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots

Djivan Gasparyan: I Will Not Be Sad in This World

Glover Gill: Waking Life

Girl Talk: Feed the Animals

Philip Glass: Glass: Saxophone

Philip Glass: La Belle et La Bete

Jose Gonzalez: Veneer

Boris Grebenshikov & Aquarium: The Favorite Songs of Ramses IV

Tommy Guerrero: Soul Food Taqueria

Guided By Voices: Under the Bushes Under the Stars

Robyn Hitchcock: I Often Dream of Trains

Iron & Wine: The Creek Drank the Cradle

Joe Jackson: Jumpin' Jive

Rickie Lee Jones: Pirates

Rickie Lee Jones: Pop Pop

Louis Jordan: Five Guys Named Moe

Robert Earl Keen: No Kinda Dancer

The Kinks: The Kinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society

K'naan: Troubadour

Latin Playboys: Latin Playboys

Los Lobos: Kiko

Lyle Lovett: Pontiac

The Magnetic Fields: The Charm of the Highway Strip

The Magnetic Fields: 69 Love Songs

Taj Mahal & Toumani Diabate: Kulanjan

Manu Chao: Proxima Estacion: Esperanza

Wynton Marsalis Septet: Live at the Village Vanguard

MGMT: Oracular Spectacular

Charles Mingus: Mingus Plays Piano

Joni Mitchell: Court and Spark

Joni Mitchell: Hejira

The Modern Lovers: The Modern Lovers

Van Morrison: Astral Weeks

Van Morrison: No Guru, No Method, No Teacher

My Morning Jacket: Z

Joanna Newsom: Ys

Liz Phair: Exile in Guyville

Pixies: Doolittle

Prince: Purple Rain

John Prine: In Spite of Ourselves

The Proclaimers: This is the Story

Sergei Prokofiev: Piano Concerto #3

Giacomo Puccini: La Boheme

R.E.M.: Murmur

R.E.M.: Life's Rich Pageant

Radiohead: Kid A

Radiohead: In Rainbows

Gilda Radner: Live From New York

Lou Reed & John Cale: Songs for Drella

The Replacements: Let it Be

The Roches: The Roches

Roxy Music: Roxy Music

Roxy Music: Live

Todd Rundgren: A Wizard, A True Star

The Rustavi Choir: Georgian Voices

Santigold: Santigold

Michelle Shocked: Short Sharp Shocked

Shonen Knife: Pretty Little Baka Guy

Nina Simone: The Soul of Nina Simone

The Smiths: Meat is Murder

Elliott Smith: Elliott Smith

Patti Smith: Horses

Devon Sproule: Upstate Songs

Steely Dan: Pretzel Logic

Sufjan Stevens: Greetings from Michigan

David Sylvian & Holger Czukay: Flux + Mutability

Talking Heads: Sand in the Vaseline

James Taylor: Greatest Hits

Television: Marquee Moon

They Might Be Giants: Then

Tom Tom Club: Tom Tom Club

TV on the Radio: Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babes

TV on the Radio: Dear Science

Suzanne Vega: Suzanne Vega

The Velvet Underground: VU

Rufus Wainwright: Rufus Wainwright

Tom Waits: Rain Dogs

Tom Waits: Frank's Wild Years

Wilco: Sky Blue Sky

Lucinda Williams: Car Wheels on a Gravel Road

Stevie Wonder: Songs in the Key of Life

X: Beyond & Back: The X Anthology

XTC: English Settlement

XTC: Skylarking

Neil Young: Harvest

Frank Zappa: Apostrophe/Overnite Sensation

Frank Zappa: Hot Rats

Frank Zappa: The Yellow Shark

mother's day

2009-05-10T09:05:00.000-07:00

i wouldn't say i'm estranged from my mom. but i'm not exactly close to her either. i get the sense that we should be closer. we have been closer in the past. i have a lot of love for her. but the last few times we talked i ended up feeling kinda shitty at the end of the conversation. of late she has been casting aspersions upon the play i'm currently in, THE GOAT by edward albee. it is her right to cast aspersions and in truth i would expect nothing less. indeed, neither would albee-- he'd probably be proud.

i wonder if i'm getting more sensitive as i get older. in terms of my acting, this may be a good thing; but in terms of life, this overbearing sensitivity is crippling. why should several negative comments about THE GOAT cause a rift of apathy between my mother and me?

my mom was a really good mom while we were growing up, for the following reasons: she told me i was creative and imaginative, instilled creative confidence in me; she was positive and loving and almost never lost her temper; she taught me how to pray-- a skill that, though my spiritual leanings have changed, has always served me well; she read THE LION, THE WITCH, AND THE WARDROBE to us once-- to my brother and i, at night before we went to bed, for how ever long it took to get through the whole thing, maybe a month?

i love my mom very much.

phrases in english

2009-05-02T16:47:00.000-07:00

poem about paris

waiting for friends to come over

samples and flow laced over drumbeats

all the fans on, air hot

drenched in sweat

mopping the floor

homemade samosas

walk to gas station

pockets filled with chocolate

painting of apartment building

cat sacked out lengthwise

things hidden

i don't want to talk about it

that won't stay up

postcards stuck to the side of my dresser

holding on to things from fifteen years ago

shelves with pictures

wet paper towel sucks up dust

a tree softening a harsh corner

you never write to me

beads hanging on a hook

empty gift bag

belt hanging on a doorknob

emptied recycling bin

lamp stays on

beer at 5 pm

we hugged a tree

picture of the sky

picture of shadows