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.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Sunday, August 13, 2006
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
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.
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.
Monday, August 07, 2006
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Off and Running
The danger of hanging out with the people you create with on a regular basis is that you keep thinking of more things to do.
I spent this last weekend with Chris DeJong, Brian Schirmer and new friend, Mark Chun. We four manly men went down to San Diego for the annual orgy of geekdom: ComicCon. This is the largest comic book convention in the world, although it's moved well beyond comics. It's a haven for toy retailers, independent publishers, science fiction and fantasy enthusiasts, Costume Players, and gamers. In other words, if there is an obsessive fan base, it's here. (Not including sports or Brittany Spears fan-bases, obviously)
They had over 10,000 attendees, and yet I still managed to run into a couple of people that I knew. Love that.
For the most part, I checked out some panels, met Phil Foglio (of Girl Genius) and seeded the Freebie Table with RadioStar cards. After hours of walking the floor, watching the fans in their costumes, independent films, major film previews, and being in awe of the sheer humanity that crushed around us, we retired frequently to the YardHouse. The YardHouse boasts the largest beer menu in San Diego, and I had first been taken there by my old boss, Bill McKeever when I spent the weekend on his boat a couple of years ago. They do indeed have an impressive array of beer there, and we did drink an awful lot of it. And as we drank, we schemed.
We're already looking at a Holiday show with RadioStar: a mixture of sketch and improv. We have agents looking to secure a space for us, and are prepared to start working on the show as soon as we can confirm the location. But ComicCon inspired us to get booths at SF-based WonderCon and the independent press convention A.P.E. Our material is off-beat and smart in the way that the crowd at these conventions appreciates, and nobody else is promoting themselves that way yet. For that matter, very few people are approaching podcasting in the way that we are. By all accounts, we're as niche as you can get.
It would be a Cassandra's Call booth though, not just RadioStar. This means getting some of my plays printed via a small publisher, or doing it ourselves. This also means making CDs of our best shows and putting them up for sale. Demo CDs as well, with a single episode that can be handed out for free. In other words, work. Lots and lots of work. All of it feasible. None of it particularly difficult (except for that publishing part). Still, work, and lots of it.
Still, I weigh the possibilities against the blood pressure spikes and I think we'll go for it. The company needs to grow and to begin to position itself with a sale-able product. It's time for the next level, and I've always been about stretching things as far as they can go.
Of course, with auditions for "Get it? Got it. Good!" tonight and tomorrow, and rehearsals starting in a few weeks.... the thing feeling most stretched right now is me.
I spent this last weekend with Chris DeJong, Brian Schirmer and new friend, Mark Chun. We four manly men went down to San Diego for the annual orgy of geekdom: ComicCon. This is the largest comic book convention in the world, although it's moved well beyond comics. It's a haven for toy retailers, independent publishers, science fiction and fantasy enthusiasts, Costume Players, and gamers. In other words, if there is an obsessive fan base, it's here. (Not including sports or Brittany Spears fan-bases, obviously)
They had over 10,000 attendees, and yet I still managed to run into a couple of people that I knew. Love that.
For the most part, I checked out some panels, met Phil Foglio (of Girl Genius) and seeded the Freebie Table with RadioStar cards. After hours of walking the floor, watching the fans in their costumes, independent films, major film previews, and being in awe of the sheer humanity that crushed around us, we retired frequently to the YardHouse. The YardHouse boasts the largest beer menu in San Diego, and I had first been taken there by my old boss, Bill McKeever when I spent the weekend on his boat a couple of years ago. They do indeed have an impressive array of beer there, and we did drink an awful lot of it. And as we drank, we schemed.
We're already looking at a Holiday show with RadioStar: a mixture of sketch and improv. We have agents looking to secure a space for us, and are prepared to start working on the show as soon as we can confirm the location. But ComicCon inspired us to get booths at SF-based WonderCon and the independent press convention A.P.E. Our material is off-beat and smart in the way that the crowd at these conventions appreciates, and nobody else is promoting themselves that way yet. For that matter, very few people are approaching podcasting in the way that we are. By all accounts, we're as niche as you can get.
It would be a Cassandra's Call booth though, not just RadioStar. This means getting some of my plays printed via a small publisher, or doing it ourselves. This also means making CDs of our best shows and putting them up for sale. Demo CDs as well, with a single episode that can be handed out for free. In other words, work. Lots and lots of work. All of it feasible. None of it particularly difficult (except for that publishing part). Still, work, and lots of it.
Still, I weigh the possibilities against the blood pressure spikes and I think we'll go for it. The company needs to grow and to begin to position itself with a sale-able product. It's time for the next level, and I've always been about stretching things as far as they can go.
Of course, with auditions for "Get it? Got it. Good!" tonight and tomorrow, and rehearsals starting in a few weeks.... the thing feeling most stretched right now is me.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
stretch
With "Vagina Dentata" finished for the time being, and casting for "Get it? Got it. Good!" still a week away, it's an unusually calm week. It's been filled with a lot of false starts, too. I was going to get dinner with someone on Monday, and they had to cancel because of work. So Eden Tosh and I were going to get dinner and then go see Scanner Darkly, but it turned out that she had guests coming into town at the last minute so we just grabbed a quick bite. I'm seeing an acquaintance's show at the Magic Theatre tonight and was going to go with someone, but she had to add another rehearsal for her show tomorrow night, so I'm going solo instead. I'll catch her performance tomorrow at Jupiter in Berkeley, but it looks like pretty much everyone I invited to join me won't be able to make it... or won't be there until it's almost over.
This seems to be consistent for me. Whenever I actually *have* time, nobody else does, or they think they do but then have to cancel at the last minute. This seems to be the primary source of spontaneity in my life, as I'll have plans, get them cancelled and then something else will come up at the last minute.
But for now, it's more about taking the chance to stretch out in the free time. I bought a bunch of books the other day and I am currently reading about the DNA researcher Rosalind Franklin. Tomorrow, at Jupiter, I'll probably sit out on the patio with some food and a beer, and listen to Rachel Efron while reading about a woman terribly wronged by history. Maybe people will show up, maybe they won't. I've certainly learned not to rely on the schedules of others to do the things I want to do.
This seems to be consistent for me. Whenever I actually *have* time, nobody else does, or they think they do but then have to cancel at the last minute. This seems to be the primary source of spontaneity in my life, as I'll have plans, get them cancelled and then something else will come up at the last minute.
But for now, it's more about taking the chance to stretch out in the free time. I bought a bunch of books the other day and I am currently reading about the DNA researcher Rosalind Franklin. Tomorrow, at Jupiter, I'll probably sit out on the patio with some food and a beer, and listen to Rachel Efron while reading about a woman terribly wronged by history. Maybe people will show up, maybe they won't. I've certainly learned not to rely on the schedules of others to do the things I want to do.
Friday, July 14, 2006
Intuition
Another extremely tired morning. I went out to Brian Shirmer's last night for our weekly game night and hung out with Chris DeJong and Kurt DiSessa. More of the usual: Settlers of Kataan and Halo2. I went a bit lighter on stuffing myself with beer and pizza as I tend to feel like a stuffed sausage when I leave these things. A good night, and I was supposed to head over to Zeitgeist afterwards for an online gathering. I've been hanging out on ConsuMating.com a bit and they were having a party there. When the time came, though, I had a strong impulse to just head home instead, so I jumped on BART and planned for an early evening.
Halfway home I got a call from Mindy Lym, who has recently moved down the street from me. She and some friends were looking for a place to buy a corkscrew at 11pm. I had them pick me up at the station and got my corkscrew from home. That could have been it, but I'm not such a fool as to turn down the offer of a glass of wine with a bunch of lovely and talented ladies. So, I ended up talking theatre and relationships and watching Mindy to tarot readings until around 2 in the morning while draining two bottles of wine. Her friends were from the cast of Seussical, which I highly encourage folks to check out before it closes this month. I saw the show last week, and it was fun to get to know them.
I don't make the mistake of confusing the person for the role they play, but it's quite interesting to watch someone be the sweet and pining Gertrude McPhee and her One Feather Tail, and then meet the exhausted, sardonic woman playing her. The focus of the evening, however, went to the struggle of the director's small dog trying desperately to make friends with Mindy's kitten... who arched and hissed like a Halloween cat every time the pooch got anywhere near her. The little puff ball would just whine and try over and over again to make friends with the very unreceptive kitten.
God, it was like watching human relationships... the more emotionally unavailable the kitten was, the more the little dog wanted to be its friend.
Take what you will from this.
Halfway home I got a call from Mindy Lym, who has recently moved down the street from me. She and some friends were looking for a place to buy a corkscrew at 11pm. I had them pick me up at the station and got my corkscrew from home. That could have been it, but I'm not such a fool as to turn down the offer of a glass of wine with a bunch of lovely and talented ladies. So, I ended up talking theatre and relationships and watching Mindy to tarot readings until around 2 in the morning while draining two bottles of wine. Her friends were from the cast of Seussical, which I highly encourage folks to check out before it closes this month. I saw the show last week, and it was fun to get to know them.
I don't make the mistake of confusing the person for the role they play, but it's quite interesting to watch someone be the sweet and pining Gertrude McPhee and her One Feather Tail, and then meet the exhausted, sardonic woman playing her. The focus of the evening, however, went to the struggle of the director's small dog trying desperately to make friends with Mindy's kitten... who arched and hissed like a Halloween cat every time the pooch got anywhere near her. The little puff ball would just whine and try over and over again to make friends with the very unreceptive kitten.
God, it was like watching human relationships... the more emotionally unavailable the kitten was, the more the little dog wanted to be its friend.
Take what you will from this.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
So Hollywood
A fun night, tonight. After work I took care of a few things at home, including removing headshots from my stack of people who are auditioning for the Fringe show, and finding out that the cable I bought to allow me to transmit my computer signal to a television screen didn't work. Feh.
Tonight was a planning potluck for the Fringe Festival, so I had to miss a viewing for Brian Shirmer's film. I was sorry to miss the screening, but I felt a certain responsibility to my own show. Of course, when it somes to potlucks, I'm rather pathetic. I don't cook, really. So I swung by a corner donut shop on the way to the theatre and got a dozen bundles of deep fried, chocolate covered joy. Most of the other offerings weren't much better. Asking theatre producers to bring food to a potluck is an exercise in absurdity. We buy things, and the cheaper the better.
The meeting was fine, and afterwards I grabbed a cab to the Mars Bar to join the afterparty for Brian's movie. Chris DeJong was there, with the always lovely Ann, and other members of the cast and various friends and groovy people. We drank into the evening, with pizza ordered around 11. I'm currently riding home with the producer of the film and a gentleman who is interested in doing some foley work for RadioStar. Lots of cards were passed around. It was very Hollywood for this San Francisco boy. I've convinced one of the actors from the film to audition for my show, and who knows if any of these things tonight will come to fruition. But it's been fun regardless, and one hell of a Wednesday night.
Tonight was a planning potluck for the Fringe Festival, so I had to miss a viewing for Brian Shirmer's film. I was sorry to miss the screening, but I felt a certain responsibility to my own show. Of course, when it somes to potlucks, I'm rather pathetic. I don't cook, really. So I swung by a corner donut shop on the way to the theatre and got a dozen bundles of deep fried, chocolate covered joy. Most of the other offerings weren't much better. Asking theatre producers to bring food to a potluck is an exercise in absurdity. We buy things, and the cheaper the better.
The meeting was fine, and afterwards I grabbed a cab to the Mars Bar to join the afterparty for Brian's movie. Chris DeJong was there, with the always lovely Ann, and other members of the cast and various friends and groovy people. We drank into the evening, with pizza ordered around 11. I'm currently riding home with the producer of the film and a gentleman who is interested in doing some foley work for RadioStar. Lots of cards were passed around. It was very Hollywood for this San Francisco boy. I've convinced one of the actors from the film to audition for my show, and who knows if any of these things tonight will come to fruition. But it's been fun regardless, and one hell of a Wednesday night.
Monday, July 10, 2006
Big weekend
Closing
Well, this has been a rather extraordinary weekend.
I went and saw "Papa", the show playing before our show, on Thursday night. It's been virtually impossible to see their show on nights when we perform, since they don't finish until 5-10 minutes before when we're theoretically supposed to start our show. This was not part of the original plan, but we're flexible in the theatre world when we have to be. So, I wanted to be a good neighbor and check out the show when I could. It was quite good, actually. I'm not a big fan of one persons shows, generally speaking, but for what it was it was very well done. I found myself wanting to explore various assertions about Hemingway's life in more depth than the show allowed, but that's a good thing. Always leave them wanting more, you know. Afterwards, I was planning on meeting up with coworkers for a birthday celebration, but had no idea where to meet them. All I knew was that they were heading to the Marina. Chris Hayes works at the Eureka and was the person who got me in the space in the first place. He's friends with some of the guys in Los Angeles' Second City troupe, and they were in town for Shaun Landry's San Francisco Improv Festival. So, I joined him and we caught cab down to the bar they were at. Apparently, they had a fantastic show that night. I got the impression that three acts had played that night, and all of them had rocked the house like a Scorpion's set. I had a couple of beers and talked about Vagina Dentata and RadioStar. I hadn't had time to eat that night, so I got very tipsy very fast. This is never a wise choice, and I ended up slightly drunkenly inviting David Razowski to come and play with Pharmarsupial when he visited San Francisco on his next vacation.
Very smooth, I can be, when drunk and happy. There was a small voice in the back of my brain yelling at me to shut the hell up and let the man alone, but we were all in a friendly mode and my common sense wasn't paying much attention at the time.
I got the call from Rebeca Diaz, letting me know where to meet up for Marycruz Diaz's birthday gathering. So off I was in another cab up to the Matrix bar for more late night revelry. Now, the Marina is a whole different scene from most of the places I hang out, but I was feeling pretty limber. I chatted up a cute girl at the bar while I was getting a drink for the birthday girl, but wasn't able to follow up as I needed to deliver my birthday present.
Now, remember, I hadn't eaten all night, and had a Guinness, and white German beer of unknown appelation, and two screwdrivers by this point. I met another woman who came in and talked for a few seconds with her before she found her friends and vanished from my besotted and fond gaze. Throughout the evening, I would look over and check her out, hoping for another chance to talk to her. I was tipsy as hell, but quite lucid. Rebeca noticed my attention and I commented that guy she'd been talking to had been keeping his distance. In my mind, that meant that I might have a chance to swoop in shortly... and then looked back over to find her making out passionately with him.
Fuck.
It's a bad sign when you find yourself getting jealous about total strangers in a bar. It was well after hours by that point, though, and I needed to wait it out and get a ride home with the Diaz sisters. I finally got home around 2 or 2:30... I'm honestly not sure which.
It made going to work the next morning and interesting experience.
Throughout the day at work I got various calls on my cell, and checked voicemail at home, and watched the reservation list for Vagina Dentata grow and grow. By the time I got to the theatre, we have over fifty people on the reservation list. For a small theatre production, that's wonderful. For a late night (10pm) show, that's damn near mythical. I was very excited, and realized that we had run out of programs. One of my actors, Stefanie Goldstein, offered to take me to her office, which isn't that far from the theatre, and we made up about 75 programs on the copier. We got back with lots of room to spare and I fiddled about getting things ready for our show while "Papa" played on in the theatre. Time ticked further and further on, and I became more and more aware that we were missing something crucial: a box office manager. As people began to arrive at the box office, I put out a sign indicating when we'd actually be opening it and called my volunteer.
He had forgotten what day it was.
Cassidy Brown was in the crowd waiting for the box office to open, so I made him earn his comp ticket for the night and put him on duty. I gave him the quick orientation and then waited for the final notes of "Papa's" performance. Warren Jensen was there, so he could learn the light cues for our closing night as we were going to be losing our light operator. Kurt DiSessa was there as well, and I had offered him a comp if he'd help with the rapid set change. As the ovation subsided for "Papa" we swept in and began making the changeover. While I dropped the wire from the ceiling and starting hanging the wall panels, they brought the desk down the aisle and up on the stage. Then they went and got the conference table from the wings, and it broke as they tried to maneuver it onstage. Drills were grabbed and brackets refastened as I thanked whatever gods watch over the theatre that this happened on a night when we had extra hands.
Finally, the table was repaired enough to survive the show and we opened the house. We had over seventy people that night. The theatre claims to hold two hundred, but looking out at the house, I think that this number is inflated. Seventy filled the primary middle section very nicely. We started the show about 10:15pm and had a rocking old time. It was the largest single audience in Cassandra's Call's history.
Sunday was a whole different deal, as I borrowed Eden Tosh's car to go to Fairfield for my Great Uncle Mac's 90th birthday gathering. I saw people I hadn't seen since I was a wee shaver, and was amazed at how sharp, spry, fit, and feisty my uncle was. I can only hope and pray for that kind of longevity. May we all ready 90 and be cracking wise about beer and women while still moving around easily under our own power.
I picked Eden up afterwards in Pleasant Hill. She had been tooling around with Angela Mazur, so we sat for a bit, cooling our toes in the pool before jumping out for some thai food. Time got away from us, sadly and I had to whisk Eden away in order to get to the theatre by 9pm for our closing night. Eden was our box office manager for the evening, and while we only had 24 people on the reservation list, I wanted things to go smoothly. We made our final switch over, and when all was ready to go, there were over fifty people in the house. We had doubled our reservation list.
The show snapped like fresh elastic. Every one of the ladies had a good night, and everything sang. At the end, Gigi gave me roses and I gave them to the cast and thanked the audience and they roared like a village of vikings who had just been given free beer.
It was a good feeling... a VERY good feeling.
Andy and Lorelei, and Cindy Yee and Warren stayed afterwards to help us strike the set. It seemed pointless to put stuff away just to strike it the next day, so we got everything out of there that night. While making the final leg of the journey back to my rehearsal room, the desk that had sat in my apartment for years and barely survived the trip to the theatre in the first place, finally gave out. Particle board and wooden dowlings, secured by soft metal angle brackets, splintered and snapped and fell apart. It had seen it's last day. I broke it into pieces and tossed it in the room for later management. It was almost 1:30am and I was in mood to try and salvage it.
Sunday came, and I returned to the theatre to help "Papa" strike their set for a few hours before catching a bus across town to see Mindy Lym in "Seussical". The show was charming and sweet, and I marvelled at the size of the cast and the choreography and wondered how they got all that together while rehearsing in my room. After the show, lacking the change for bus fare, I walked the two miles back to the room, which took me through the tenderloin. After watching musical versions of Horton Hears a Who, with one lone elephant hearing an invisible community's cry for help... taking in the Tenderloin takes on a new poignancy.
I got to the room, though, and set things up for RadioStar. We had a smashing session, although were were few in number. David Austin-Groen is off in Eastern Europe, and Diana Brown is off doing "Dead Certain" in New York. Still, we got some damn good shows in the can and then retired to our usual watering hole to decompress. While there, Christopher DeJong proposed a RadioStar holiday show that dovetailed with some ideas I had been having about a scripted show.
To make an already way too long story a little less long, it looks like I now have a project in between "Get it? Got it. Good!" and the March revival of "Vagina Dentata." We don't have a name for it yet though.
And no, this is not what I would consider to be a slow weekend.
Well, this has been a rather extraordinary weekend.
I went and saw "Papa", the show playing before our show, on Thursday night. It's been virtually impossible to see their show on nights when we perform, since they don't finish until 5-10 minutes before when we're theoretically supposed to start our show. This was not part of the original plan, but we're flexible in the theatre world when we have to be. So, I wanted to be a good neighbor and check out the show when I could. It was quite good, actually. I'm not a big fan of one persons shows, generally speaking, but for what it was it was very well done. I found myself wanting to explore various assertions about Hemingway's life in more depth than the show allowed, but that's a good thing. Always leave them wanting more, you know. Afterwards, I was planning on meeting up with coworkers for a birthday celebration, but had no idea where to meet them. All I knew was that they were heading to the Marina. Chris Hayes works at the Eureka and was the person who got me in the space in the first place. He's friends with some of the guys in Los Angeles' Second City troupe, and they were in town for Shaun Landry's San Francisco Improv Festival. So, I joined him and we caught cab down to the bar they were at. Apparently, they had a fantastic show that night. I got the impression that three acts had played that night, and all of them had rocked the house like a Scorpion's set. I had a couple of beers and talked about Vagina Dentata and RadioStar. I hadn't had time to eat that night, so I got very tipsy very fast. This is never a wise choice, and I ended up slightly drunkenly inviting David Razowski to come and play with Pharmarsupial when he visited San Francisco on his next vacation.
Very smooth, I can be, when drunk and happy. There was a small voice in the back of my brain yelling at me to shut the hell up and let the man alone, but we were all in a friendly mode and my common sense wasn't paying much attention at the time.
I got the call from Rebeca Diaz, letting me know where to meet up for Marycruz Diaz's birthday gathering. So off I was in another cab up to the Matrix bar for more late night revelry. Now, the Marina is a whole different scene from most of the places I hang out, but I was feeling pretty limber. I chatted up a cute girl at the bar while I was getting a drink for the birthday girl, but wasn't able to follow up as I needed to deliver my birthday present.
Now, remember, I hadn't eaten all night, and had a Guinness, and white German beer of unknown appelation, and two screwdrivers by this point. I met another woman who came in and talked for a few seconds with her before she found her friends and vanished from my besotted and fond gaze. Throughout the evening, I would look over and check her out, hoping for another chance to talk to her. I was tipsy as hell, but quite lucid. Rebeca noticed my attention and I commented that guy she'd been talking to had been keeping his distance. In my mind, that meant that I might have a chance to swoop in shortly... and then looked back over to find her making out passionately with him.
Fuck.
It's a bad sign when you find yourself getting jealous about total strangers in a bar. It was well after hours by that point, though, and I needed to wait it out and get a ride home with the Diaz sisters. I finally got home around 2 or 2:30... I'm honestly not sure which.
It made going to work the next morning and interesting experience.
Throughout the day at work I got various calls on my cell, and checked voicemail at home, and watched the reservation list for Vagina Dentata grow and grow. By the time I got to the theatre, we have over fifty people on the reservation list. For a small theatre production, that's wonderful. For a late night (10pm) show, that's damn near mythical. I was very excited, and realized that we had run out of programs. One of my actors, Stefanie Goldstein, offered to take me to her office, which isn't that far from the theatre, and we made up about 75 programs on the copier. We got back with lots of room to spare and I fiddled about getting things ready for our show while "Papa" played on in the theatre. Time ticked further and further on, and I became more and more aware that we were missing something crucial: a box office manager. As people began to arrive at the box office, I put out a sign indicating when we'd actually be opening it and called my volunteer.
He had forgotten what day it was.
Cassidy Brown was in the crowd waiting for the box office to open, so I made him earn his comp ticket for the night and put him on duty. I gave him the quick orientation and then waited for the final notes of "Papa's" performance. Warren Jensen was there, so he could learn the light cues for our closing night as we were going to be losing our light operator. Kurt DiSessa was there as well, and I had offered him a comp if he'd help with the rapid set change. As the ovation subsided for "Papa" we swept in and began making the changeover. While I dropped the wire from the ceiling and starting hanging the wall panels, they brought the desk down the aisle and up on the stage. Then they went and got the conference table from the wings, and it broke as they tried to maneuver it onstage. Drills were grabbed and brackets refastened as I thanked whatever gods watch over the theatre that this happened on a night when we had extra hands.
Finally, the table was repaired enough to survive the show and we opened the house. We had over seventy people that night. The theatre claims to hold two hundred, but looking out at the house, I think that this number is inflated. Seventy filled the primary middle section very nicely. We started the show about 10:15pm and had a rocking old time. It was the largest single audience in Cassandra's Call's history.
Sunday was a whole different deal, as I borrowed Eden Tosh's car to go to Fairfield for my Great Uncle Mac's 90th birthday gathering. I saw people I hadn't seen since I was a wee shaver, and was amazed at how sharp, spry, fit, and feisty my uncle was. I can only hope and pray for that kind of longevity. May we all ready 90 and be cracking wise about beer and women while still moving around easily under our own power.
I picked Eden up afterwards in Pleasant Hill. She had been tooling around with Angela Mazur, so we sat for a bit, cooling our toes in the pool before jumping out for some thai food. Time got away from us, sadly and I had to whisk Eden away in order to get to the theatre by 9pm for our closing night. Eden was our box office manager for the evening, and while we only had 24 people on the reservation list, I wanted things to go smoothly. We made our final switch over, and when all was ready to go, there were over fifty people in the house. We had doubled our reservation list.
The show snapped like fresh elastic. Every one of the ladies had a good night, and everything sang. At the end, Gigi gave me roses and I gave them to the cast and thanked the audience and they roared like a village of vikings who had just been given free beer.
It was a good feeling... a VERY good feeling.
Andy and Lorelei, and Cindy Yee and Warren stayed afterwards to help us strike the set. It seemed pointless to put stuff away just to strike it the next day, so we got everything out of there that night. While making the final leg of the journey back to my rehearsal room, the desk that had sat in my apartment for years and barely survived the trip to the theatre in the first place, finally gave out. Particle board and wooden dowlings, secured by soft metal angle brackets, splintered and snapped and fell apart. It had seen it's last day. I broke it into pieces and tossed it in the room for later management. It was almost 1:30am and I was in mood to try and salvage it.
Sunday came, and I returned to the theatre to help "Papa" strike their set for a few hours before catching a bus across town to see Mindy Lym in "Seussical". The show was charming and sweet, and I marvelled at the size of the cast and the choreography and wondered how they got all that together while rehearsing in my room. After the show, lacking the change for bus fare, I walked the two miles back to the room, which took me through the tenderloin. After watching musical versions of Horton Hears a Who, with one lone elephant hearing an invisible community's cry for help... taking in the Tenderloin takes on a new poignancy.
I got to the room, though, and set things up for RadioStar. We had a smashing session, although were were few in number. David Austin-Groen is off in Eastern Europe, and Diana Brown is off doing "Dead Certain" in New York. Still, we got some damn good shows in the can and then retired to our usual watering hole to decompress. While there, Christopher DeJong proposed a RadioStar holiday show that dovetailed with some ideas I had been having about a scripted show.
To make an already way too long story a little less long, it looks like I now have a project in between "Get it? Got it. Good!" and the March revival of "Vagina Dentata." We don't have a name for it yet though.
And no, this is not what I would consider to be a slow weekend.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
S.E.P.
Twice in the last seven days I've gotten phone calls or emails that have been like a solid, well placed punch in the abdomen, just above the stomach but below the rib cage. I suppose that places it on the diaphragm, not that it matters.
It's funny, I've joked a bit over the last few months about how I've given up on connecting with people and decided to be a workaholic. I've only been a tiny bit kidding. It's just seemed easier to focus on what makes me feel good about myself and leave the ambiguity and continual issues around rejection aside. But that, of course, is easier said than done.
These alerts from the outside world ultimately have nothing to do with me. That's what hurts the most, I think: the fact that they have nothing to do with me. "Hello. Nothing to do with you, except that I thought you should know."
Pretending that you don't care anymore, that it doesn't hurt, that everything is smashing and who needs a heart anyway... it's not as helpful as it is on paper.
I wish it was. I wish I could hear things without immediately placing them in the context of how they hurt *me*, or how they make *me* feel. But I do. Then I feel bad about that reality, even though I know very well that there isn't a person on the planet that doesn't react the same way. I guess the real question is "how long before I stop being a selfish twit and focus on the real issue here?"
For me, it's usually only a half second or so... maybe a tiny bit longer. But then, later, it comes back. That's when I wish I was as disinterested and cold and hard as I like to pretend I've become. That's when I keep trying to push my heart back down my throat before it manages a grisly but impressive suicide dive out of my largest oriface.
No one buys my little charade of indifference, of course.
I'm not really that good an actor.
It's funny, I've joked a bit over the last few months about how I've given up on connecting with people and decided to be a workaholic. I've only been a tiny bit kidding. It's just seemed easier to focus on what makes me feel good about myself and leave the ambiguity and continual issues around rejection aside. But that, of course, is easier said than done.
These alerts from the outside world ultimately have nothing to do with me. That's what hurts the most, I think: the fact that they have nothing to do with me. "Hello. Nothing to do with you, except that I thought you should know."
Pretending that you don't care anymore, that it doesn't hurt, that everything is smashing and who needs a heart anyway... it's not as helpful as it is on paper.
I wish it was. I wish I could hear things without immediately placing them in the context of how they hurt *me*, or how they make *me* feel. But I do. Then I feel bad about that reality, even though I know very well that there isn't a person on the planet that doesn't react the same way. I guess the real question is "how long before I stop being a selfish twit and focus on the real issue here?"
For me, it's usually only a half second or so... maybe a tiny bit longer. But then, later, it comes back. That's when I wish I was as disinterested and cold and hard as I like to pretend I've become. That's when I keep trying to push my heart back down my throat before it manages a grisly but impressive suicide dive out of my largest oriface.
No one buys my little charade of indifference, of course.
I'm not really that good an actor.
Quick Breather
I've been enjoying taking it a little easy the last few days. We got a delightful review in the SF Bay Times (which you can read at the Cassandra's Call Website and had two very nice audiences this weekend. I was pretty freaked at our low numbers on opening weekend, but am greatly comforted by how this weekend went. Lots of my crew showed up, and 1am donuts were consumed, drinks consumed, and activity vaguely resembling dancing took place.
For the most part, I was fairly exhausted all weekend, although I managed to have lots of fun anyway. I had the Executive Leadership Center conference in El Segundo last week, and felt terribly un-prepared for it. Work on Vagina Dentata had kept me from really focusing any creative energies on the conference, and the spec's for what they wanted shifted a mere couple of days before it all went down. It all turned out well in the end, but by the time I got off the airplane Friday evening, I was dead tired. The fabulous Linda Kim drug me out anyway for crepes and to go dancing with some of her girlfriends. I was so tired I could barely stand up, and I've never found loud and dark clubs good places to make introductions. To make it worse, I found the band absolutely painful to listen to. I had to finally make my adieus and flee from the club after the second "song." Oy.
The holiday was an exercise in staying in my robe all day long. I got this week's RadioStar episode prepped (and did double duty on it since we missed last week), cleaned and then dirtied the kitchen and goofed off a lot. I feel like I should regret not going out and being social for the 4th, but I'm really quite over the whole fireworks thing and I think that I needed a complete day of down time and to recharge a little.
I can't do much more of that, though. I need to start casting for the Fringe show. I'm confirming my actors and need at least three more people. I've got two of the current cast ready to bolt for better paying jobs, so I may be casting more people than originally planned. Par for the course, really. I'm not paying much for the Fringe, it only has four shows, and it's not very high prestige. Still, I hope I can get things locked down soon. We start rehearsing in five weeks.
For the most part, I was fairly exhausted all weekend, although I managed to have lots of fun anyway. I had the Executive Leadership Center conference in El Segundo last week, and felt terribly un-prepared for it. Work on Vagina Dentata had kept me from really focusing any creative energies on the conference, and the spec's for what they wanted shifted a mere couple of days before it all went down. It all turned out well in the end, but by the time I got off the airplane Friday evening, I was dead tired. The fabulous Linda Kim drug me out anyway for crepes and to go dancing with some of her girlfriends. I was so tired I could barely stand up, and I've never found loud and dark clubs good places to make introductions. To make it worse, I found the band absolutely painful to listen to. I had to finally make my adieus and flee from the club after the second "song." Oy.
The holiday was an exercise in staying in my robe all day long. I got this week's RadioStar episode prepped (and did double duty on it since we missed last week), cleaned and then dirtied the kitchen and goofed off a lot. I feel like I should regret not going out and being social for the 4th, but I'm really quite over the whole fireworks thing and I think that I needed a complete day of down time and to recharge a little.
I can't do much more of that, though. I need to start casting for the Fringe show. I'm confirming my actors and need at least three more people. I've got two of the current cast ready to bolt for better paying jobs, so I may be casting more people than originally planned. Par for the course, really. I'm not paying much for the Fringe, it only has four shows, and it's not very high prestige. Still, I hope I can get things locked down soon. We start rehearsing in five weeks.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Crossed Wires
So, this weekend was a success, and a disaster... depending on your point of view.
The show opened. People seem to have enjoyed it. We successfully managed to change the set from the show before us to our set in 20 minutes, and that was with some significant problems. I was able to make various repairs to the set between shows and we found a better way to handle some of the furniture and have begun conversations on how to do this whole thing better next year. I went to a meditation workshop that Cindy Yee was running, saw Jack Rucker for the first time in a good four years, had dinner with Anais Delamour, saw Trish Tillman's show and got some great ideas for future script while talking with Gigi and Warren Jensen.
On the other hand, the Guardian reviewer got confused as to when our show started and missed our opening night, delaying our review by a week. The Bay Times reviewer needed a photograph and I managed to confuse both myself and my photographer so that we almost lost our review. Attendance was excruciatingly low, partly due to it being Pride Weekend. They physical demands of setting up and striking the show every night are about ready to do me in. My confirmation email to one of my rental clients got stuck in his spam folder so he thought he didn't have anywhere to rehearse, and I was relying on his presence in the room to allow another client into the room... so I lost rental income for both clients as the second one couldn't get into the room.
In short, it's been a busy, busy weekend and I was about ready to chuck everything this morning. Fortunately, time passed and my mood calmed and I can see both the good and the bad right now.
Still, I'm glad that I didn't have rehearsal tonight.
The show opened. People seem to have enjoyed it. We successfully managed to change the set from the show before us to our set in 20 minutes, and that was with some significant problems. I was able to make various repairs to the set between shows and we found a better way to handle some of the furniture and have begun conversations on how to do this whole thing better next year. I went to a meditation workshop that Cindy Yee was running, saw Jack Rucker for the first time in a good four years, had dinner with Anais Delamour, saw Trish Tillman's show and got some great ideas for future script while talking with Gigi and Warren Jensen.
On the other hand, the Guardian reviewer got confused as to when our show started and missed our opening night, delaying our review by a week. The Bay Times reviewer needed a photograph and I managed to confuse both myself and my photographer so that we almost lost our review. Attendance was excruciatingly low, partly due to it being Pride Weekend. They physical demands of setting up and striking the show every night are about ready to do me in. My confirmation email to one of my rental clients got stuck in his spam folder so he thought he didn't have anywhere to rehearse, and I was relying on his presence in the room to allow another client into the room... so I lost rental income for both clients as the second one couldn't get into the room.
In short, it's been a busy, busy weekend and I was about ready to chuck everything this morning. Fortunately, time passed and my mood calmed and I can see both the good and the bad right now.
Still, I'm glad that I didn't have rehearsal tonight.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Preview
We have our Preview tonight. It's odd, having only two days in the theatre, and then a preview, and then two days off before opening. But then again, theatre is odd in general.
I try and get as much done in advance as possible, because things always go wrong. Better to deal with the handful of disasters than have to deal with them AND everything that got put off until the last possible minute. There's still things that have just not gotten done before now, but it's the big nasty "what the fuck?" things that make me want to crawl in a hole and cover my head.
We've gone through a few different options of how to deal with working around, or within, the "Papa" set, which is the big budget show before ours. The current, and final option is to hang microfiliment wire from the lighting grid at appropriate places and then hook fabric panels to them and allow them to drape easily over the set. We have the fabric, the grommets, the hooks and the wire. I was going to work with the theatre rep. to do these yesterday before our dress rehearsal but he got pulled away for the day. I was going to work with him today, but he got pulled out of the city and won't be back until late night. So I'm leaving work early to go and climb ladders, measure wire, and try not to kill myself. We have our first audience tonight and it'd be awful nice to have a set.
I've been checking some of the places we're supposed to be listed, and so far so good. On the odd front, however, is our listing in SFGate.com (the SF Chronicle). The entire description of the show (and I sent them a nice short blurb on the plot) is: "Dan Wilson's new social satire".
That's it.
It borders on "Mostly Harmless", and I'm not sure if I should be offended or amused. I mean, I suppose it's nice to know that my name is the only relevant information. If it's Dan Wilson's new satire, what more need be said? And here I thought that the average theatre goer didn't have any idea who I was. Not only do they obviously all know, but my name is all the information they need to come see the show!
Ok, I think I'm actually offended. I'm not sure how to change this other than email the Weekly and the Chronicle and re-send them the description.
Criminy.
I try and get as much done in advance as possible, because things always go wrong. Better to deal with the handful of disasters than have to deal with them AND everything that got put off until the last possible minute. There's still things that have just not gotten done before now, but it's the big nasty "what the fuck?" things that make me want to crawl in a hole and cover my head.
We've gone through a few different options of how to deal with working around, or within, the "Papa" set, which is the big budget show before ours. The current, and final option is to hang microfiliment wire from the lighting grid at appropriate places and then hook fabric panels to them and allow them to drape easily over the set. We have the fabric, the grommets, the hooks and the wire. I was going to work with the theatre rep. to do these yesterday before our dress rehearsal but he got pulled away for the day. I was going to work with him today, but he got pulled out of the city and won't be back until late night. So I'm leaving work early to go and climb ladders, measure wire, and try not to kill myself. We have our first audience tonight and it'd be awful nice to have a set.
I've been checking some of the places we're supposed to be listed, and so far so good. On the odd front, however, is our listing in SFGate.com (the SF Chronicle). The entire description of the show (and I sent them a nice short blurb on the plot) is: "Dan Wilson's new social satire".
That's it.
It borders on "Mostly Harmless", and I'm not sure if I should be offended or amused. I mean, I suppose it's nice to know that my name is the only relevant information. If it's Dan Wilson's new satire, what more need be said? And here I thought that the average theatre goer didn't have any idea who I was. Not only do they obviously all know, but my name is all the information they need to come see the show!
Ok, I think I'm actually offended. I'm not sure how to change this other than email the Weekly and the Chronicle and re-send them the description.
Criminy.
Monday, June 19, 2006
lights
Well, the dry tech went pretty well. There's a handful of details to work out before the tech run tomorrow night, but all in all... we're pretty well off. I want a little more stage space, and I'm still not very happy about having to deal with the other show's set in the way that I do... but these are things that won't be an issue when we remount the show next year. These are the unique little problems that make this show special, after all.
On interesting issue was practically destroying my desk while loading it into the truck. It's this big "Dan Sized" desk that's really just fancy looking particle board. It got caught between the tailgate and the bed of the truck and whammo. Near kindling. We're able to fix it up with some L brackets, but damn it that wasn't the sight and sound to just put you off your lunch.
Again, though, nothing that wasn't fixable.
The important thing is that all of our furniture and our props are in the space. Our lights are programmed.
now we just need a few final things and to burn the CD of music and we're ready to do this thing.
On interesting issue was practically destroying my desk while loading it into the truck. It's this big "Dan Sized" desk that's really just fancy looking particle board. It got caught between the tailgate and the bed of the truck and whammo. Near kindling. We're able to fix it up with some L brackets, but damn it that wasn't the sight and sound to just put you off your lunch.
Again, though, nothing that wasn't fixable.
The important thing is that all of our furniture and our props are in the space. Our lights are programmed.
now we just need a few final things and to burn the CD of music and we're ready to do this thing.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Those final feet
Vagina Dentata opens in less than a week. The show feels 95% ready, which is phenomenal. Tonight we move the set into the theatre and figure out exactly how the hell we're doing to do this thing technically, since there's another show in the same theatre with a rather ornate and immobile set that we need to conceal and replace within 20 minutes for each of our shows.
Fun, eh?
I think we've got a good solution, which involves accordion-like beams that screw into the stage that will allow us to have a free standing backdrop with only about twelve screws. No one approaches it, so we'll see how our engineering works out.
We've got a preview on Wednesday, and our first paying audience on Saturday. My only trepidation is on the technical side of things, and even the it's mostly about the time between "Papa" and "Vagina Dentata".
-------
The lovely Sofia Ahmad sent me this fabulous bit of mad science. While I found the videos fantastic, it's the explanation of the volatile reaction of Diet Coke to Mentos that really got me. She'll be doing Shakespeare in Santa Cruz this summer, so go see her wonderfulness if you're in the area.
-------
Alexis Dinno is now Dr. Lexicat, thank you very much. I was able to make a very belated appearance at her post doctoral shindig at a Fellini's in Berkeley last night, although I spent a good chunk of that time hounding Kevin Kerrick, an actor I'm trying to recruit for the Fringe Festival show in September, who happened to be at the bar. Small town(s). Alexis is now officially a super genius with a funny hat. A thousand toasts in her honor!
--------
I'm still getting used to the idea of having a very part time personal assistant. I had a business brunch with Mindy yesterday before rehearsal and was delighted to find that things that had been on my to-do list for a year were finally "magically" happening!
That's pretty much it in Dan-Land right now. I'm going to go and edit this week's RadioStar Improv show while I still can. Once 5:30pm hits, my life is nothing but WestEd and Vagina Dentata until Thursday.
Fun, eh?
I think we've got a good solution, which involves accordion-like beams that screw into the stage that will allow us to have a free standing backdrop with only about twelve screws. No one approaches it, so we'll see how our engineering works out.
We've got a preview on Wednesday, and our first paying audience on Saturday. My only trepidation is on the technical side of things, and even the it's mostly about the time between "Papa" and "Vagina Dentata".
-------
The lovely Sofia Ahmad sent me this fabulous bit of mad science. While I found the videos fantastic, it's the explanation of the volatile reaction of Diet Coke to Mentos that really got me. She'll be doing Shakespeare in Santa Cruz this summer, so go see her wonderfulness if you're in the area.
-------
Alexis Dinno is now Dr. Lexicat, thank you very much. I was able to make a very belated appearance at her post doctoral shindig at a Fellini's in Berkeley last night, although I spent a good chunk of that time hounding Kevin Kerrick, an actor I'm trying to recruit for the Fringe Festival show in September, who happened to be at the bar. Small town(s). Alexis is now officially a super genius with a funny hat. A thousand toasts in her honor!
--------
I'm still getting used to the idea of having a very part time personal assistant. I had a business brunch with Mindy yesterday before rehearsal and was delighted to find that things that had been on my to-do list for a year were finally "magically" happening!
That's pretty much it in Dan-Land right now. I'm going to go and edit this week's RadioStar Improv show while I still can. Once 5:30pm hits, my life is nothing but WestEd and Vagina Dentata until Thursday.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
seeds
Vagina Dentata opens next week. We have a preview on Wednesday, and then opening night is Saturday at 10pm. The show is shaping up nicely, although I'm getting a bit stressed over the technical details surrounding it.
I was interested, however, in something I came across while removing furniture from my apartment to be used as set for the show. I found the little notebook I purchased when in Hawaii this last December. Inside were notes and thoughts and little bits of poetry that I wrote while on the beach. I was musing on the themes of my unfinished play, "Mammals in Collision", but in it, I see the seeds of what became Vagina Dentata:
"While actions may speak louder, it is through words that we best hide.
Rationales move to excuses, and in their recursive maze we lose ourselves and others, until we cannot admit, even to ourselves, what base need urged the words that first crawled from our self-deceiving lips.
The further we creep up the scale of so-called evolution, the further we move from knowing ourselves and that which drives our every thought.
We hide from that which we fear, but over time the stranger to what we hold most dear becomes ourselves,whom we have lost in a million polite excuses and enlightened precepts.
We damn and curse our hungers, decried as lusts of beasts, as though we came from different blood and flesh and knew no tears but those of aether, spirit, and air.
Yet deep behind the alphabet of ideas and masks lies bone, blood, sweat and life.
We crave, consume, desire and want so deeply that our souls quail at such passion.
It is unthinking, uncaring of lofty goals or hopes for kith, kin, and kind.
All that remains are the unenlightened drugs of taste and touch.
There is no truth here, but only sweet and savage release."
I was interested, however, in something I came across while removing furniture from my apartment to be used as set for the show. I found the little notebook I purchased when in Hawaii this last December. Inside were notes and thoughts and little bits of poetry that I wrote while on the beach. I was musing on the themes of my unfinished play, "Mammals in Collision", but in it, I see the seeds of what became Vagina Dentata:
"While actions may speak louder, it is through words that we best hide.
Rationales move to excuses, and in their recursive maze we lose ourselves and others, until we cannot admit, even to ourselves, what base need urged the words that first crawled from our self-deceiving lips.
The further we creep up the scale of so-called evolution, the further we move from knowing ourselves and that which drives our every thought.
We hide from that which we fear, but over time the stranger to what we hold most dear becomes ourselves,whom we have lost in a million polite excuses and enlightened precepts.
We damn and curse our hungers, decried as lusts of beasts, as though we came from different blood and flesh and knew no tears but those of aether, spirit, and air.
Yet deep behind the alphabet of ideas and masks lies bone, blood, sweat and life.
We crave, consume, desire and want so deeply that our souls quail at such passion.
It is unthinking, uncaring of lofty goals or hopes for kith, kin, and kind.
All that remains are the unenlightened drugs of taste and touch.
There is no truth here, but only sweet and savage release."
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Off Book and on You Tube
Just a quick post. Things continue to move along nicely with Vagina Dentata. We're two weeks out from the preview and I was called an "evil, evil bastard" by one of the actors because last night was the first night they were supposed to rehearse without their scripts in their hands. The difference between working on character and lines in a living room and getting it up on its feet without scripts is so intense, and so major, and it was like a whole new rehearsal process last night. Gabrielle Guthrie came in as well with the painting that will be featured in the show, which got shocked gapes from the cast, and took measurements for costumes. We are well and truly on our way.
In other news, a documentary about Women's Will's 24 hour playfest is up at YouTube. I'm in there, although they didn't interview me. Check it out!
In other news, a documentary about Women's Will's 24 hour playfest is up at YouTube. I'm in there, although they didn't interview me. Check it out!
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