Dream Power Activate!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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

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.