Carmageddon

The astute Jon Brooks made me aware of this article about someone who went nuts and went on a driving rampage, running people down on the road.

As I read the account of the rampage, I couldn't help but be amazed that this actually hadn't happened before. Cars as weapons of mass destruction... it's hardly a new concept. Movies have used the concept to grisly effect in things like Deathrace 3000 and Highlander. Video games have explored it with Carmageddon. But this is the first time that I've heard of it actually happening. It underscores that the only thing that really allows us the illusion of safety and security is the thin veneer of social agreements that we make. We give people driver's licenses as long as they prove that they know the rules and are physically able to handle the vehicle. There's no testing for mental stability, nothing to help gauge if someone is actually fit to be operating a lethal missile in public areas.

Most of society exists on the principle that people will follow the rules. We assume that people are stable, and responsible, despite massive evidence to the contrary.

Now granted, how could we measure one's capacity for responsibility in a way that would be equitable? And by and large, haven't we found that people *do* follow the rules enough for things to function? I don't want totalitarianism, but I do want to look at the things that we take for granted in our society. Why do we have so few true restrictions on auto use, when the death toll from auto accidents/drunk driving/bum fuck crazy assholes is so much higher than thing else? Motor Vehicle Accidents are the leading cause of death in the U.S. We're in more danger from our own cars than from terrorists, but adding restrictions and regulations on airline travel at every opportunity.

And yet we're in love with our cars. They are weapons, they destroy the environment, they're massively expensive and for many people largely unnecessary. Why do we use them then? Status and convenience are the big factors. Public transportation is considered economically and socially "low". It takes longer, and public transit often is unavailable when you really want it. Service is reduced on weekends. MUNI in particular is terribly unreliable. It feels more expensive, because you pay as you go.

But how could we change this? There's got to be a way that doesn't involve whole sale environmental and economic collapse. Trains, buses, car shares, shuttles, bicycles... so many options, if we just take them.

Could I be finding a cause? Maybe. It's early to tell, but this is the first thing I've been evangelical about since I left the church a decade ago.

one week out

every show is different. This one has had it's share of challenges, to be sure. It's a good show, but it's been a challenging one. It's the shortest rehearsal process I've worked through, and although only a 45 minute play, it's one of the more difficult scripts I've written. That means that we've only had half the time to do as much comprehension and character work that we would need normally. Combine that with scheduling conflicts and last minute emergencies, and it's been a stressful ride.

Life at WestEd has been crazy as well, which makes for a very exhausted Dan at the end of the day. Weekdays and nights have been grueling, when it comes down to it, although the weekends have been utter delight.

I went out with Eden Tosh to see "Debbie Does Dallas: the Musical" last Friday, and ran into a new friend from Consumating.com on the way. This was only odd because I had invited this friend to join us, and she hadn't responded, but ended up being at the same restaurant we wandered into, totally by accident. There's that small world thing again. The show it self was ribald and absolutely hilarious. Mindy Lym had told me it was hysterical, and her assessment wasn't off by a jot.

The next day I took a train to Santa Cruz, which had numerous delays which resulted in my little 2 hour jaunt turning into a 4 hour one. Sofia Ahmad is peforming the Shakespeare Festival down there, and it was a good excuse to visit Santa Cruz and see a dear friend. Sadly, because of the delays, we didn't get much time before King Lear to chat. She picked me up and we went right to the festival grounds where I was forced to make do with the insanely overpriced salads that they had on sale there.

$13 for a caeser salad with a few strips of cold chicken. Airports dont charge that much (I think).

Lear was a solid and enjoyable production, but nothing that blew me away. The evening show, "As You Like It" was more than I could have dreamed, however. Absolutely brilliant in every capacity, it was a joy from start to finish. Making it even better, John Atwood was there, with his posse, and I got treated to a picnic dinner and some wonderful wine to go with the show. Better and better, it was. I even got a ride back to Oakland in the wee hours of the morning, saving me the potential hassle of Amtrak. (I wish I hadn't bought those tickets in advance, though.)

I was going to go to John Filgas' memorial show on Sunday but completely failed due to calendar confusion. I was convinced that it was at 7pm, and checked my email to confirm the address around 5:40, and learned that it had started at 5:30. By the time I got there, it would have been over. I do feel pretty horrible about that, but John was very much in my heart and my thoughts all that day.

As for this week, it's been work, work, work and rehearse, rehearse, rehearse. We open in a week, and I think that it'll be a big hit. But for now, it's work all week, and then see shows and friends all weekend.

There are worse lives.

Preaching to the choir

I was particularly intrigued by this story about an art show in Iran.

The whole article is worth a read for what it says about art as political reaction, but what really interests me is how this gallery showing is getting international press, while being virtually ignored by the people who actually could be going to see it.

"'Look, these cartoons are the reflections of U.S. and Israelis'’ deeds, but wouldn'’t it have been better if they were put on display in the U.S. or even in Israel?' said Ali Eezadi, 70, a retired industrial engineer who visited the gallery Thursday afternoon."

To me, this is the constant struggle for the political artist: how to craft your statement in a way that is truly subversive. Creating art that advocates a particular political statement, and then placing it someplace where only people who already agree with your statement will see it, defeats the purpose. On the flip side, placing such art someplace where people don't agree with its statement will probably result in people either ignoring it as well. After all, if someone put on a play about how great white supremacy was, and staged it in the Mission District of San Francisco, I don't think it'd get a huge audience. Protesters, maybe, but not audience. People would react to the news that it existed, but not actually approach the art in a way that would allow for an actual dialogue.

As artists, how can we create art that allows all parties to come to the table and actually think about ideas in a new way, without increasing polarization... or just being irrelevant?

clean

Tonight was a rare night off, made even rarer by how I chose to spend it. I was in dire need to do my laundry, lest I be forced to walk about neither socks, nor underwear. Since my roommate was on the DSL, I decided to spend the evening off the computer entirely. I dusted. I vacuumed. I cleaned and cleaned and then cleaned some more. I still need to tackle mopping the kitchen and bathroom floors, but otherwise, the apartment is cleaner and more orderly than it's been in far too long a time. It smells nice, like lemon pledge, and everything is in its place.

Something about a clean house puts my soul at ease. It makes me happy to be here.

Of course, I'll be spending very little time here for the next few weeks. Between rehearsals, going to Santa Cruz for the weekend, and various other activities, I'll only come home to sleep. Still, for tonight, this place is perfect.

Cleaning is like writing for me. It's terribly hard to start, but once I get going, there is little more satisfying.

rapid progress

The first week of rehearsal is done, and already this is looking like we've got a winner on our hands. I couldn't be happier with my cast. They're sharp, funny, and talented as hell.

We worked "Got it", and Sam Shaw and Paul Jennings are proving to be a fantastic comic team. We found a lot of bits together that turn a funny scene into a hilarious one. It only gets better from here.

I was pretty nervous about blocking the oral sex scene (no, not between Sam and Paul). I had a couple of actors express interest in the script, but who didn't feel comfortable with that particular part (which is pretty crucial), so my paranoia was pretty high as it was. There's something distinctly awkward about telling people, "ok, now put your head between her legs. Um... how far up are you comfortable with?" Again, though, the actors put each other at ease and everything looks good at this stage.

We still have ten rehearsals to go before our Fringe opening, which isn't much since we haven't even touched Catz' monologue or the last half of "Good", but people are already mostly off book, and once we start doing run throughs we should be able to run it twice a night.

If you're in the area, I highly encourage you to come on opening night. I expect a lot of buzz for this show, and it may be hard to get into later shows.

Frustration

On the plus side, rehearsals are underway, and the poster design is completed, and all the paperwork is on its way (two weeks late) to the Actor's Equity office. All we have to do now is actually rehearse and perform the play. Yay!

On the minus side, my Mom's decision to return to Idaho has set of a family firestorm. Things that probably should have been said at a reasonable volume years ago are now coming out in shouts and recriminations and I'm sitting on the sidelines trying to keep from getting pulled into the flames. I don't want to air family laundry here, but I will make a few statements about my own personal philosophy of life.

People make their own decisions, and they are responsible for them. People make mistakes, and circumstances change over time so that a decision that might have seemed necessary years ago is now no longer useful or beneficial. People ultimately live their lives for themselves... it is their life after all. They may choose to martyr themselves because of what other people want, and they may choose not to.

I don't agree with all the choices that anyone may make. I don't even agree with all the choices that I make. But fighting battles that were ended years ago does no one anyone good.

and speaking out of bitterness is a reproductive process: it begets more of the same.

Take control of your life, and let other people take control of theirs.

Supporting the Troops

A year ago, I performed with the Legal Briefs at the Coast Guard Training Center in Petaluma. Tonight, we went back.

I agreed to the show months ago, and all was well and good. It was a fun show last year, and I'm all for fun shows. But today, I was in a cranky mood about it. I was missing Nick and Leslie's baby shower, Elizabeth Creely's MFA completion festivities and Robin Plotchok's housewarming. Lots of excellent people who I wasn't going to be able to celebrate with, because I had to meet super early and go to Petaluma.

I was able to swing by and visit Allistair Larson who I hadn't seen since he made his emergence from Michelle's naughty bits. He's changed quite a bit from the old days when he looked like a squid. But not even his happy burbles could improve my attitude about taking a very long drive to go and be funny.

Still, Diana and Stacy picked me up and off we went.

Now, the Legal Briefs haven't done a show together for months. I think it's actually been six months, and I haven't seen Christina Marie since then, let alone done a show with her. It's been pretty much the same with Barry and Howard, too. We got up there, and began to reassemble the lineup for the show... which we had largely forgotten over the last year or so. Things were a bit different with the show, too. Last year, they fed the Coasties, but not this time. Last year, no one knew who we were or what we did. This year they do, and they had a picture of us from last year's show on flyers and had double the reservations. So we needed to have a longer show, and the pressure was on.

The show took off like a rocket and only faltered once. We tried to keep it clean, but the Coasties were there to have a good time and steered us rapidly into innuendo territory and beyond. The laughs were big and frequent, and by the end, all my doubts and annoyances had melted into nothingness.

One man had been a student last year and is now stationed two hours south in Alameda, and he drove up to see our show. Another couple thanked us, because with all the stress they're under right now they desperately needed to let off some steam and laugh. Another asked if we toured the country with our show. Several others made a point of shaking our hands, getting our autographs, and thanking us for coming out and providing them with such a great night.

We all left with a glow, and didn't even mind the two hour drive back home.

Getting Ahead

I don't really prowl online for fun things to watch, but fortunately I have you to do that for me. Old college chum T.M. Camp made me aware of this and it pretty much made my morning. I love anything complicated completed successfully in one take! Good tune, too.

I tackled next week's RadioStar episode last night. I'm trying to get a few weeks shows done in advance, and was able to get about half of next week's piece done. Choosing shows to air is always interesting, as we currently have over 20 shows in storage waiting for review. I pretty much listen to them until one catches my interest. Sometimes it's because it's funny, sometimes because it's just compelling. The show that went up today isn't really funny at all, but surprisingly complex thematically for an improv show. I'm pretty pleased with it. Next week's show is another one that is more wry than laugh out loud funny, but it takes some interesting twists and is a neat character study and exploration of media and assumptions and family.

We're really trying to do something more interesting than yuk yuk comedy on the show. We want to explore what it means to do improv on the radio, and to do theatre first, with comedy a distant second. In other words, we're more about the story than the laugh every 20 seconds.

Tonight is the preview for the SF Fringe Festival. I need to whip up some flyers today. I don't even have postcards yet, because we haven't had our first rehearsal, and won't until Monday. It's a short piece (about 45 minutes... I think), so we're only doing three weeks of rehearsal. Some shows have been doing Fringe tours, so they've had their show together for months. I suppose that's part of the difference between being a local company and an out of town fringe specialist. So, cheap flyers it is for tonight. Things kick into high gear next week.

Remembering John

John Filgas died last night.

I can't say that John and I were extremely close, but I did count him as a friend and as a collaborator. John was not only deeply committed to improv and theatre, but was also one of the most resilient, kind, and helpful people I've ever met. He was always there to help, doing box office or helping with concessions or anything else that he could do. He performed with Pharmarsupial once, and was a frequent artist at the SFIC Monday Night Jams back when I was on the board there.

I could talk about his long struggles with health, never complaining, and always looking for the joy in his situation.

But I think I want to remember one particular event. The Darkroom Theatre was just discovering the market for stage productions of classic geek movies. He was cast as Prince Humperdink in The Princess Bride and got to strut as swarthy, delicious evil before enthusiastic houses to great reviews. He had been off stage for a while due to health reasons, and watching him during that period was like watching a man reborn to the delight of life. John was a man who loved his art, deeply.

I'm going to miss you, John.
I wish I had spent more time with you, and not been quite so caught up in my little whirlwind.

We'll catch each other next time around.

Tolerance Levels

I feel like I'm winding down when I should be winding up. That may just be the effects of a Monday morning, grey and soft, beckoning me back to bed.

I had to go to Sacramento for my day job, which necessitated getting up at what is, for me, an obscene hour in order to make a 6:25am train. It was for the best, I suppose, as if I was still driving it would have taken me just as long to get to the office (2 hours) but I would have felt that I could dawdle more at home before leaving. Trains do tend to make one punctual. I did try to sleep on the train ride out, to limited success. At least on planes they give you pillows. I would have loved a pillow, or a seat that reclined. But beggars cannot be choosers, no matter how much we want to be.

As it was, I was able to fix lots of annoying problems they were having in Sacramento before heading back. One of my goals is to get a few weeks ahead on RadioStar shows so that I can start passing off foley work to a gentleman named Taj Moore. This is a first step towards the general goal of distributing editing duties on RadioStar to a larger team of people so that I can give other projects their due. I haven't touched the novel in months now, and I fear that entropy will devour it completely. I was able to use the time on the return train trip to tackle this week's show, which felt damn good.

This week's RadioStar is much more drama than comedy. I like to mix them up, so that we have at least three funny shows between the dramatic ones. This is based on my own suspicion that people want comedy more than they want drama in their podcasts. I have no reason for believing this outside of my own observation of human consumer patterns. Maybe someday, when people start actually posting to the Cassandra's Call Discussion Board, I'll have a better metric for this sort of thing. We're all pleased with this show, though. It has a thematic consistency and dramatic completeness to it that our shows can waver from.

That night I was looking forward to going to Rykarda Parasol's CD release party in the Mission, and did actually attempt to do so. I was so exhausted however, that I had to leave after purchasing my CD, before Rykarda took the stage. I found myself nodding off to the excellent opening band, which is just disrespectful. I fell asleep on BART, waking up in Lafayette and having to jump off the train and catch a return one in order to get back to Oakland.

I caught a colleagues show on Friday night, which was more of a final rehearsal than an opening, although I was very pleased with my friend's contribution to what was a rather mixed bag of one-acts.

Of more interest was getting brunch with Suraya on Saturday. She returned a few days earlier from a trip to Israel. She went intending to do some spiritual work, and to ground herself, and ended up in a war zone. In some ways, it reminded me of our first brunch together after our separation, when she had narrowly survived a horrific car crash the day before. She's had a few near death-experiences lately: car crash, almost drowning on a white water rafting trip, and being bombed. It's a strange thing, to hear about these things after the fact, when the danger is done and all I can do is be amazed with her that she's escaped all these things without a scratch.

That night brought another game night with the guys, and then I went to a club gathering that was organized by a new acquaintance on Consumating. It was a much larger gathering than I expected in a club that I didn't even know existed. Sadly, it wasn't really my "thing" and I left in time for the last BART train. More and more I'm finding out new things about myself, things that I've known but am growing more aware that they are things that aren't going to change. For example: Burning Man. I went for two years and found it to be a very good experience... if not always pleasant. But I've never really been able to buy into the Burning Man aesthetic or lifestyle. I appreciate it, and I encourage it for folks who find it liberating, but I don't find that it resonates with me personally. Perhaps I'll explore my theory on this in a later post, as this one's getting long enough as it is.

As it was, it was good that I got a good night's sleep, as I had a production meeting for a short film I'll be shooting in two weeks. It was mostly a costume check, and a chance to do a quick run through so that the director/writer/lead wouldn't have to explain things too much on the day of the shoot. The AP has got things on a very tight schedule and the last thing we need are actor issues the day of filming. I wasn't sure that the meeting was necessary until a ten minute conversation took place when an actor couldn't understand why he needed to stand up from his desk and walk over to where everyone else was talking.

Let me say right now, that while this kind of thing is often made fun of, it is not behavior that 99% of actors I have worked with ever engage in. It's actually so rare, that when it does happen, I rather goggle at it. When a director says, "Move from point A to point B", it's our job to create for ourselves a reason to do so that makes sense with our understanding of the character and the scene so that it looks natural. It is not our job to say "I don't think my character would stand". Now, if the character does something that seems violently out of its nature (I don't think the gentle old grandmother would throttle that baby), then yes, there's a good chance for some dialogue over a point in the script that needs work. But this "what's my motivation" stuff is a joke both inside and outside the acting world. It's a degree of hand-holding that wastes everyone's time and immediately flags the person as someone that I wouldn't hire on one of my own projects.

Harsh? Perhaps. But I'm growing more and more used to working with very talented people who aren't divas or drama queens, know their shit, and consistently push projects forward instead of holding them up.

Case in point, RadioStar. We had a phenomenal recording session on Sunday, having just welcomed Janna Sobel on as a permanent member. We recorded three shows: a satire, a drama, and a warped fairy tale. Everyone was engaged, clear, attentive, and brilliant. My standards rise with each show that I do, whether it be a film, a podcast, or a play.

This is a good thing, although it does make me a little less tolerant at times.

Dutch songbird

I haven't really seen my friend Djoke for a very, very long time. I'm talking at least six months to a year. She came and saw Vagina Dentata, but I didn't know about it until I got the email a few days later. She was performing tonight, however, for the first time. She's joined an acapella group and this evening was their debut. They only sang three songs, but it was delightful to see her up there, having such a wonderful time.

I didn't know who else would be there, if anyone, as it was such a short set. I was so happy to find Oliver and Remington and Chimene there, as well as Robin, who performed in 411 and was also (in a bizarre twist of fate) Djoke's roommate at the time. (I didn't cast the show, and had no idea of the connection until everyone was in rehearsal).

It takes such courage to get in front of a group of people and sing. I may seem like I take it for granted, since I get on stage all the time, but I know that for many people it's the most frightening thing in the world. I may have been a bit harsh in my assessment of some of the other acts that went up, but any concerns I may have had about certain people's preparation or ability were not unmitigated by my respect for the cajones/ovaries required to get up there in the first place.

I think that the more one invests in a field, the more difficult it is to focus on the heart, courage, and love that leads people to take those first tremulous steps into what can be a very frightening place. For me, if I see someone get in front of a microphone without a sense of the tune, a voice that quavers with fright, clutching the music sheets in front of them... I wonder why they thought they were ready to perform in front of an audience. I respect the courage, but as an artist myself I begin to move into a critical mode. I think of the necessity to respect the audience by preparing, and being more than ready to tackle the task at hand.

And yet, I was attending an event that was clearly geared towards supporting people who are taking those first steps. It's hard to switch gears sometimes. I paid to enter, and some of my group were chastised for talking among themselves during someone's song... when professional singers have to deal with much more loud and boisterous behavior during their sets. Are the performers here for the benefit of the audience, or is the audience there for the benefit of the performers? This is an essential question for amateur performance.

For me, the performer is first and foremost there for the audience. Some of the audience is there for the benefit of the performer, because they love him or her. But as a performer, I would hate to think that the only reason people were present is to support. I hope that they are also there to enjoy, and that they do so. To perform is to bring a gift to your audience. You give them song, or laughter, or thought, or something.

Djoke brought us song, and joy. She always brings the joy, and the song was a bonus. But the evening at large clearly raised some vital issues about art, and performance, and how I view my own avocation.

Food for thought, to say the very least.

Prom, and turning corners

The show is cast, and I'm very happy about the actors I've got. It's going to be a fantastic show, and I'm itching to get into rehearsals. I'm not so future focused, however, that I haven't been able to savor this period between projects. Saturday in particular was a day of extreme pleasures and embracing new and old friends.

Trish Tillman had a "birthday season" party at the SF Croquet Society out in the Sunset District, which is a thing that only Trish would have thought of. People came dressed nattily and had the rules of tournament croquet ("This is not lawn croquet!") explained. The day was foggy, but warm and comfortable and everyone dined on fresh fruit, bread and cheese, and pottered around being awfully civilized.

That night, however, was a flip to the other side. I've been hanging out at Consumating.com lately, and they were having a Prom at G3, a club on the corner of Geary and 3rd Ave. I was supposed to go with my friend Linda, but that didn't work out. I walked in alone, having chatted with a half dozen or so people, but no close connections at all. Normally, this kind of situation is one of those that looks great on paper but ultimately feels alienating and strange. This was aggressively not the case. Drinks were had, dancing all night, kisses from several, plans for future meet ups, after parties until 4am, wicked behavior, and over a hundred people spending the next couple of days online going "what the hell was that? more! more!"

For me, it was a turning point in my moving from "fuck it, I'm single" to "all right, let's start enjoying that I'm single". A large part of the last year and a half has been me avoiding heartbreak, accepting heartbreak, and being generally guarded. The crushes I've had have been with the unattainable, due to geographic or relational unavailability. I had a date with someone for lunch on Sunday, and am seeing someone else on Wednesday. I met up with some people last night, including a woman I met at the party who I am interested in as well.

I'm not hiding anymore. It's more a change of attitude than anything else. I'm at the top of my game right now, in pretty much every part of my life. Literature would dictate that something quite terrible happen for having the audacity to express that... but it's the truth. Life is good, and I feel like it's just getting better.

This has been the anti-emo broadcast station. Don't harsh my happy.