It's been a week since the end of the Fringe Festival. My Mom has moved back to Idaho, I completely failed to meet up with my online buddy Nina during her visit up here, we secured at least one musician to work on RadioStar episodes, dates for the return of Vagina Dentata have been re-established again, there was a Guy's night, I saw Cassidy and Chris H. in a show, hung with Rachel Efron, had a blind date and had a spontaneous brunch with Eden, Angela, Tristan, Oliver, and Joseph. I also backed out of a show that I had agreed to do.
I had been approached to audition for a local company that I have no real history with, and the role was a small one. I figured that it'd be good to work with them, and the role was so small that I forsaw about three to four rehearsals and the run throughs as the totality of the schedule. What I got was well over half my month consumed by the project. I just couldn't do it. I had a fight for flight reaction so strong that I could think of little else for 24 hours. I'd never backed out of a project after being cast, though... although I was no stranger to the experience from the other side of the table.
I needed to protect my time though, and my sanity. I have been more and more aware over the last few weeks of all the wonderful people in my life that I spend too little time with. I don't want to back away at all from my projects, but I want balance and the scales have been dangerously tipped for most of this year.
This doesn't necessarily mean that I'll be any less busy for the next few months. There's a project on the horizon that will be fun, but will also require minimal work to prepare (and it won't be all me). With bringing musicians on board, we need to get several shows prepped in advance so that the musicians can score them and that means a bit of a crunch now. But Chris DeJong and Brian Shirmer are coming aboard to edit shows as well, so it shouldn't be long before we have a good month's worth of shows ready for music and we can focus more on promoting the podcast rather than crunching away on editing them.
The novel still languishes, but I am hoping that once the episodes are caught up, I can spend time polishing up scripts and working on the book. I don't mind being busy, as long as I can move things around as needed and see loved ones when I want to (and when they are available). That's the positive aspect of editing and writing instead of rehearsing and performing... I'm more in control of the when and where of the process.
Which is why I'm sitting in my favorite pub, eating a good meal, using their wireless, chatting with friends on IM and getting ready to go to RadioStar.
Hope you all are having as good a Sunday!
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
considering rewrites
I’ve never had much fear about putting my stuff before the public. I’ve met a lot of people who write, but are quite adamant about not showing it to anyone. That’s always baffled me. Art, to me, seems a thing that is to be shared. It’s part of its very nature. I only really understood it in the sense that one’s art is so close to who they are as a person that they feared it being judged. As the art is judged, so is the person. Now, in truth, most of the people doing the judging aren’t thinking in those terms. But as an artist, it feels like someone looking into your soul and, possibly, giving it an “eh”, or even worse, unleashing their disdain upon it.
Still, I never really had that fear of judgment. Again and again, I’ve just put my stuff in front of audiences and seen what response I got. Of course, when people have issues with it, and you’re right in front of them, they tend to be rather polite and they think through their critiques before unleashing them. If they don’t like certain things, or have opinions that are less than flattering, they couch their thoughts in a way that invites dialogue and discussion.
So, the anonymous reviews on the Fringe website have been a bit of a stunner to me. I was afraid of getting blasted by the papers, and indeed the Guardian and the Weekly may still prove unkind. But the Chronicle was honest, but supportive in a way I was pretty happy with. The reviewer felt the script needed some work, but generally enjoyed the show and seemed to get what I was doing. But some of the reviews I’ve gotten from audience members, either completely anonymous or leaving only a rather generic first name, have been… well, wrathful. Absolute and utter hate and anger towards the show.
I’ve always been fine with people having issues with my stories, and I knew that I was taking some big risks with this particular piece. Hell, I wrote it with the express intent of taking chances. But I wasn’t expecting people to hate it so much.
What seems to be the point of contention, though, is that I refuse to define the “it” that “Get it?” is about. That was rather the point of the piece: the indefinable thing that we’re all striving for, but that is always eluding us. Happiness, faith, hope, joy, contentment, serenity, peace… no matter what you try to define it as, once you start looking at your definition it seems lacking. And yet, we’re all trying to fill that void, that emptiness, with something. Very few of us, if any of us, are able to articulate what exactly it is that drives our actions. It is this inability articulate, this enigmatic aspect to “what are we striving for anyway?” that the piece is about… and that seems to be the big complaint.
From a writer’s standpoint, my failure seems to have been to think that the audience would “get” that. I don’t like to come right out and say the point of a story, because I feel like it should be imparted inference and allusion whenever possible. I don’t like being hit over the head with “the moral of the story”. My third act of “411” almost had the same problem as “Get it?”, but various readers told me outright that I needed to be clearer so that the audience could follow along. I didn’t get that kind of feedback from anyone on this piece until we were in the rehearsal process, and that was from some of my actors who were having difficulty making specific internal choices. I wasn’t in a place where I could hear it, because it would have meant re-writing the piece.
People who have talked to me face to face about the script seem to think that it just needs another draft. Reducing characters perhaps, and clarifying what is going on a bit. I get feedback about the number of characters being overwhelming, as the audience is having a hard enough time sorting it all out, when someone totally new comes on stage. It’s hard though, to think of cutting any of these characters out. Doing so would mean a complete rewrite. But perhaps that would indeed be in order.
From an author’s standpoint, it creates very hard choices. Who would go? Stim and Franco? My comic relief? My Rosencrantz and Guildenstern? Hamburg, my distraught perfectionist seeker? Without him, there is no journey. If Stim and Franco make the journey, then what does that do to the play? Take out Jasmine, Bosko and Gino, and there is no journey to take. Take out Felix and Kippi, and there is no reason for the journey in the first place.
The answer, if there is one, may lay not in reducing but expanding. Take this half hour piece that moves like a freight train through the existential dilemma, and give the relationships more time to develop. Slow the pace down, and lay more clues for the audience. Above all, define the indefinable just enough so that there is a hook for the mind to hang on.
People liked “Got it” and seem to like the beginning of “Good!” although they seem split on the last half of it. It may just be that “Got it.” Is its own piece. It is laden with references to “Get it”, but that could be remedied. Simply writing a series of comedy sketches with these characters and placing “Got it.” In the midst of those would allow it to thrive in more fertile soil.
“Good!” may transform into one of those sketches. It may even split into two different bits.
In this way, I could keep what I love about all the pieces, without sacrificing anything but their initial unity. I might even be able to pare “Got it” and “good” into a smaller cast and make the show something that could travel to other festivals. (which, with an 8 person cast, the current show could never do.)
This will be a good project for me to tackle, before diving back into the novel and the rewrites on "Vagina Dentata". I’m still sorry that those two people hated the show as much as they did, but they have helped move me to something that has more potential. And after all, my own characters argue that “politeness is pointless.”
Still, I never really had that fear of judgment. Again and again, I’ve just put my stuff in front of audiences and seen what response I got. Of course, when people have issues with it, and you’re right in front of them, they tend to be rather polite and they think through their critiques before unleashing them. If they don’t like certain things, or have opinions that are less than flattering, they couch their thoughts in a way that invites dialogue and discussion.
So, the anonymous reviews on the Fringe website have been a bit of a stunner to me. I was afraid of getting blasted by the papers, and indeed the Guardian and the Weekly may still prove unkind. But the Chronicle was honest, but supportive in a way I was pretty happy with. The reviewer felt the script needed some work, but generally enjoyed the show and seemed to get what I was doing. But some of the reviews I’ve gotten from audience members, either completely anonymous or leaving only a rather generic first name, have been… well, wrathful. Absolute and utter hate and anger towards the show.
I’ve always been fine with people having issues with my stories, and I knew that I was taking some big risks with this particular piece. Hell, I wrote it with the express intent of taking chances. But I wasn’t expecting people to hate it so much.
What seems to be the point of contention, though, is that I refuse to define the “it” that “Get it?” is about. That was rather the point of the piece: the indefinable thing that we’re all striving for, but that is always eluding us. Happiness, faith, hope, joy, contentment, serenity, peace… no matter what you try to define it as, once you start looking at your definition it seems lacking. And yet, we’re all trying to fill that void, that emptiness, with something. Very few of us, if any of us, are able to articulate what exactly it is that drives our actions. It is this inability articulate, this enigmatic aspect to “what are we striving for anyway?” that the piece is about… and that seems to be the big complaint.
From a writer’s standpoint, my failure seems to have been to think that the audience would “get” that. I don’t like to come right out and say the point of a story, because I feel like it should be imparted inference and allusion whenever possible. I don’t like being hit over the head with “the moral of the story”. My third act of “411” almost had the same problem as “Get it?”, but various readers told me outright that I needed to be clearer so that the audience could follow along. I didn’t get that kind of feedback from anyone on this piece until we were in the rehearsal process, and that was from some of my actors who were having difficulty making specific internal choices. I wasn’t in a place where I could hear it, because it would have meant re-writing the piece.
People who have talked to me face to face about the script seem to think that it just needs another draft. Reducing characters perhaps, and clarifying what is going on a bit. I get feedback about the number of characters being overwhelming, as the audience is having a hard enough time sorting it all out, when someone totally new comes on stage. It’s hard though, to think of cutting any of these characters out. Doing so would mean a complete rewrite. But perhaps that would indeed be in order.
From an author’s standpoint, it creates very hard choices. Who would go? Stim and Franco? My comic relief? My Rosencrantz and Guildenstern? Hamburg, my distraught perfectionist seeker? Without him, there is no journey. If Stim and Franco make the journey, then what does that do to the play? Take out Jasmine, Bosko and Gino, and there is no journey to take. Take out Felix and Kippi, and there is no reason for the journey in the first place.
The answer, if there is one, may lay not in reducing but expanding. Take this half hour piece that moves like a freight train through the existential dilemma, and give the relationships more time to develop. Slow the pace down, and lay more clues for the audience. Above all, define the indefinable just enough so that there is a hook for the mind to hang on.
People liked “Got it” and seem to like the beginning of “Good!” although they seem split on the last half of it. It may just be that “Got it.” Is its own piece. It is laden with references to “Get it”, but that could be remedied. Simply writing a series of comedy sketches with these characters and placing “Got it.” In the midst of those would allow it to thrive in more fertile soil.
“Good!” may transform into one of those sketches. It may even split into two different bits.
In this way, I could keep what I love about all the pieces, without sacrificing anything but their initial unity. I might even be able to pare “Got it” and “good” into a smaller cast and make the show something that could travel to other festivals. (which, with an 8 person cast, the current show could never do.)
This will be a good project for me to tackle, before diving back into the novel and the rewrites on "Vagina Dentata". I’m still sorry that those two people hated the show as much as they did, but they have helped move me to something that has more potential. And after all, my own characters argue that “politeness is pointless.”
Sunday, September 10, 2006
First reviews
Tonight is our second night, and reviews are starting to come in. the Chronicle seems to have largely liked it, although the review feels that (like most Fringe shows) it's under-developed. I've only gotten one audience review from someone who absolutely hated the piece. I've had a lot of verbal compliments, and people who quite liked the show and enjoyed the mental stimulant of unresolved identification... but I don't want to dismiss the critiques at all. Indeed, some of the actors had the same conerns that my unknown angry audience member did. I don't think I'd change it, as the entire point was to literalize an existential and spiritual issue.
All creative endeavors are open to varying responses, and it's good not to let responses on either end of the taste spectrum get to you. New works are even more prone to this. After all, I had never heard the play read aloud before last month. Minor tweaks and changes have taken place, but even then, by that point, I was not prepared to make any major changes to the script.
When we bring back Vagina Dentata, it will incorporate several things I learned doing it before a live audience, and things are cut and things are changed. It's still 95% the same play, but better. "Get it? Got it. Good!" was even more of an experiment, so it's fitting that it's getting even more of a varied reaction. I'll re-examine it, to be sure. But I don't know that it will ever be the kind of theatre that is for "everyone".
All creative endeavors are open to varying responses, and it's good not to let responses on either end of the taste spectrum get to you. New works are even more prone to this. After all, I had never heard the play read aloud before last month. Minor tweaks and changes have taken place, but even then, by that point, I was not prepared to make any major changes to the script.
When we bring back Vagina Dentata, it will incorporate several things I learned doing it before a live audience, and things are cut and things are changed. It's still 95% the same play, but better. "Get it? Got it. Good!" was even more of an experiment, so it's fitting that it's getting even more of a varied reaction. I'll re-examine it, to be sure. But I don't know that it will ever be the kind of theatre that is for "everyone".
Friday, September 08, 2006
opened
We opened the show last night. Thanks to everyone who came out for opening. I know that Jennifer Jajeh, Suraya Keating, Christopher DeJong, Ann Spayer, Diana Brown, Stacy Marshall, Claudia Weeks, Eleanor Reinholdt, Brian Schirmer, Tom Kelly and Rob Avila where out there. Your support is greatly, greatly appreciated.
It was our first time on the actual stage, working with lights, and we were doing it in front of a very respectably sized opening night fringe audience. That's a terrifying thing. Our light operator had never seen the show before. We had never run the show with her to be sure that she'd be able to make the cues in time (she did!). I added a sound cue that afternoon, and I had assigned myself a voice over role, so in addition to calling the show, watching it like a nervous father, and running a couple of sound cues... I was performing as well.
Now, I don't get nervous before shows... at least not much. But as we approached my "appearance" I found that my hands were shaking. I am fairly certain that I rushed my lines a bit, although the bit still worked. It was almost like stage fright, which is an affliction I've been spared up until now.
Afterwards, I was amped for about 45 minutes before my heart finally slowed down and the "runner's high" faded.
We have three shows left, but now we all know that we can do it... and that the show works.
Hopefully my hands won't be shaking on Sunday night.
It was our first time on the actual stage, working with lights, and we were doing it in front of a very respectably sized opening night fringe audience. That's a terrifying thing. Our light operator had never seen the show before. We had never run the show with her to be sure that she'd be able to make the cues in time (she did!). I added a sound cue that afternoon, and I had assigned myself a voice over role, so in addition to calling the show, watching it like a nervous father, and running a couple of sound cues... I was performing as well.
Now, I don't get nervous before shows... at least not much. But as we approached my "appearance" I found that my hands were shaking. I am fairly certain that I rushed my lines a bit, although the bit still worked. It was almost like stage fright, which is an affliction I've been spared up until now.
Afterwards, I was amped for about 45 minutes before my heart finally slowed down and the "runner's high" faded.
We have three shows left, but now we all know that we can do it... and that the show works.
Hopefully my hands won't be shaking on Sunday night.
Monday, September 04, 2006
Time Warp
I’ve been going through my photo library lately. I got a free Flickr account, and have been going through my iPhoto, naming images, fixing erroneous dates, and uploading particular favorites.
I’ve been focusing largely on pictures taken from the 2004 Europe vacation, when I spent a month in the U.K. and France with Oliver, Elyse, Angela, Alexis, and Elizabeth. I took a lot of pictures, and Angela took enough, that I look like a slacker in comparison. She’s an excellent photographer, and has a camera that suits her skills. (I went out and bought a new camera after that trip, amazed at how we could take shots of the exact same thing, but hers look brighter and sharper by a very noticeable degree.
And so, my mind has been very much with these five people as I look at pictures and pick particular ones to share with the wider world.
I don’t dwell much on the past, but I marveled that it had been two years since the trip. Two years, in which so much had happened. And yet, we had done so little as a group in those two years. Each of us has been following our passions and checking in with each other when possible, but infrequently enough that each gathering feels like an “event” unto itself.
I went to go and see one of the RadioStar guest artists, Julie Kurtz, in “Comedy of Errors” in San Leandro on Saturday. After the show, I was approached by another member of the audience. “I think we did a show together”, she said. She didn’t initially look familiar, but then she mentioned the name of the Neil Simon show that marked my return to theatre when I came back to California. “Leslie?” I replied. I hadn’t seen her in a good six or seven years, and to say that it blew my mind would be an understatement. We talked for a bit, and I gave her a card for the upcoming show. It felt like nothing so much as a brush with my past.
Afterwards, Julie and I got a drink and some food and got into a lengthy conversation about life, art, and faith issues. Julie is a Christian, which is a lonely thing to be in the San Francsico theatre scene. I was amazed at my own mind as I pulled thoughts and observations and historical details from my mind that had no relevance to my ongoing existence, and surely bored her castmates terribly. It many ways, it felt like I was tapping into an old version of myself, something that had been largely overwritten, but still remained under the existing code.
The conversation was engaging enough that I completely missed getting to Berkeley to catch a ride with Suraya to watch her production of “Comedy of Errors”, which I will now watch on Friday. I felt terrible about it, but before Julie and her “Antipholus” were able to drag me off to watch “Merchant of Venice”, I got a phone call from Alexis, who was in the area and interested in some time together.
So a mistake on my part allowed me to spend time with someone I see entirely too infrequently. We walked the lake and talked while I noticed, and not for the first time, the inexpressible beauty of this place I live in. We walked among the feral cats and the wild geese that live around the lake. The water reflected the moon, and the strings of lights that rim the shore year-round. I don’t walk the lake enough, I thought. We so often go elsewhere, and forget to look at the beauty right in our own backyards.
I got a call from Eric Rath as well, letting me know that Angela was in the hospital. He was very good to let me know immediately that she was fine, but was wondering if I wanted to go and visit her the next day. I most definitely did, so we arranged to meet up the next morning. The time came, and Eric wasn’t ready to go, so I took my houseguest out to brunch. Since my cell phone had the ringer off, I managed to miss his return call at noon, and we didn’t actually leave until well after 2:30 to head out to Concord to see her.
Now, I generally only go to the East Bay to see Angela, and it’s always a somewhat odd experience for me. I lived in Pleasant Hill from the age of five to nineteen, and going back there always feels like playing in my childhood sandbox. Part of me has always had a discomfort around the idea of coming across someone who knew and remembered me from my highly religious period. I consider myself quite the heretic now a days, and while I no longer follow the tenets of Evangelical Christianity, I have no real desire to enter into confrontation with people who I have loved who would be deeply saddened and disappointed by my current direction in life.
But here I came with Eric, into the suburban womb that I had once dwelt so comfortably in. Angela was staying in the Concord campus of John Muir Hospital, and I didn’t put two and two together until we pulled into the parking lot. The last time I had been here, was when my Dad had suffered one of the most significant heart attacks before the one that took his life. A wash of emotion hit me, and I felt a bit shaken as we pulled in and walked up to the hospital. The waiting room seemed populated with the shades of my mother and brother, waiting nervously for news of my father’s surgery. We walked quickly through them, however, and headed up to Angela’s room.
As we visited Angela, I thought of Alexis, and all of our shared time together, and how odd it was that Jesus would have admonished us to visit the sick, as if it where a thing that needed urging. To be with those we love in times of adversity seems like something that needs not be encouraged, although I suppose the truly saintly are those who would make it their practice to visit those who lack a supportive community.
But what truly blew my mind was our exit from the hospital. As we emerged from the elevators and turned towards the exit, I saw a face I have not seen for a good fifteen years. As I turned the corner, across the waiting area, and the reception area, in almost silhouette was one of my dear high school friends… and I could not remember her last name. Even from that considerable distance, I recognized her face immediately. “God, is that Kris?” I thought. As we prepared to pass each other, I called out her name and she looked at me, blinking once or twice before the voice and face registered. “Dan?”
The last place you want to run into an old friend is in the lobby of a hospital. On a beach in Fiji, perhaps, or the party of a friend who you never knew was mutual… but in a hospital waiting room? She was there for her own crisis, and we passed a few surprised pleasantries before Eric and I exited and she and her fiancée entered.
Still, as I got in the car and Eric took us back to Oakland, I found myself drowning in memories. Two years ago with Angela and Alexis, dear friends undergoing very different trials, but who I had been allowed to spend time with. Five years ago, with my father’s surgery. Seven years ago with Leslie, who was present at the beginnings of my own artistic rebirth. And finally fifteen years ago, with someone who embodied my entire high school experience.
Eric dropped me off and I got on BART. It was time for RadioStar’s recording session. The present demanded my attention.
I’ve been focusing largely on pictures taken from the 2004 Europe vacation, when I spent a month in the U.K. and France with Oliver, Elyse, Angela, Alexis, and Elizabeth. I took a lot of pictures, and Angela took enough, that I look like a slacker in comparison. She’s an excellent photographer, and has a camera that suits her skills. (I went out and bought a new camera after that trip, amazed at how we could take shots of the exact same thing, but hers look brighter and sharper by a very noticeable degree.
And so, my mind has been very much with these five people as I look at pictures and pick particular ones to share with the wider world.
I don’t dwell much on the past, but I marveled that it had been two years since the trip. Two years, in which so much had happened. And yet, we had done so little as a group in those two years. Each of us has been following our passions and checking in with each other when possible, but infrequently enough that each gathering feels like an “event” unto itself.
I went to go and see one of the RadioStar guest artists, Julie Kurtz, in “Comedy of Errors” in San Leandro on Saturday. After the show, I was approached by another member of the audience. “I think we did a show together”, she said. She didn’t initially look familiar, but then she mentioned the name of the Neil Simon show that marked my return to theatre when I came back to California. “Leslie?” I replied. I hadn’t seen her in a good six or seven years, and to say that it blew my mind would be an understatement. We talked for a bit, and I gave her a card for the upcoming show. It felt like nothing so much as a brush with my past.
Afterwards, Julie and I got a drink and some food and got into a lengthy conversation about life, art, and faith issues. Julie is a Christian, which is a lonely thing to be in the San Francsico theatre scene. I was amazed at my own mind as I pulled thoughts and observations and historical details from my mind that had no relevance to my ongoing existence, and surely bored her castmates terribly. It many ways, it felt like I was tapping into an old version of myself, something that had been largely overwritten, but still remained under the existing code.
The conversation was engaging enough that I completely missed getting to Berkeley to catch a ride with Suraya to watch her production of “Comedy of Errors”, which I will now watch on Friday. I felt terrible about it, but before Julie and her “Antipholus” were able to drag me off to watch “Merchant of Venice”, I got a phone call from Alexis, who was in the area and interested in some time together.
So a mistake on my part allowed me to spend time with someone I see entirely too infrequently. We walked the lake and talked while I noticed, and not for the first time, the inexpressible beauty of this place I live in. We walked among the feral cats and the wild geese that live around the lake. The water reflected the moon, and the strings of lights that rim the shore year-round. I don’t walk the lake enough, I thought. We so often go elsewhere, and forget to look at the beauty right in our own backyards.
I got a call from Eric Rath as well, letting me know that Angela was in the hospital. He was very good to let me know immediately that she was fine, but was wondering if I wanted to go and visit her the next day. I most definitely did, so we arranged to meet up the next morning. The time came, and Eric wasn’t ready to go, so I took my houseguest out to brunch. Since my cell phone had the ringer off, I managed to miss his return call at noon, and we didn’t actually leave until well after 2:30 to head out to Concord to see her.
Now, I generally only go to the East Bay to see Angela, and it’s always a somewhat odd experience for me. I lived in Pleasant Hill from the age of five to nineteen, and going back there always feels like playing in my childhood sandbox. Part of me has always had a discomfort around the idea of coming across someone who knew and remembered me from my highly religious period. I consider myself quite the heretic now a days, and while I no longer follow the tenets of Evangelical Christianity, I have no real desire to enter into confrontation with people who I have loved who would be deeply saddened and disappointed by my current direction in life.
But here I came with Eric, into the suburban womb that I had once dwelt so comfortably in. Angela was staying in the Concord campus of John Muir Hospital, and I didn’t put two and two together until we pulled into the parking lot. The last time I had been here, was when my Dad had suffered one of the most significant heart attacks before the one that took his life. A wash of emotion hit me, and I felt a bit shaken as we pulled in and walked up to the hospital. The waiting room seemed populated with the shades of my mother and brother, waiting nervously for news of my father’s surgery. We walked quickly through them, however, and headed up to Angela’s room.
As we visited Angela, I thought of Alexis, and all of our shared time together, and how odd it was that Jesus would have admonished us to visit the sick, as if it where a thing that needed urging. To be with those we love in times of adversity seems like something that needs not be encouraged, although I suppose the truly saintly are those who would make it their practice to visit those who lack a supportive community.
But what truly blew my mind was our exit from the hospital. As we emerged from the elevators and turned towards the exit, I saw a face I have not seen for a good fifteen years. As I turned the corner, across the waiting area, and the reception area, in almost silhouette was one of my dear high school friends… and I could not remember her last name. Even from that considerable distance, I recognized her face immediately. “God, is that Kris?” I thought. As we prepared to pass each other, I called out her name and she looked at me, blinking once or twice before the voice and face registered. “Dan?”
The last place you want to run into an old friend is in the lobby of a hospital. On a beach in Fiji, perhaps, or the party of a friend who you never knew was mutual… but in a hospital waiting room? She was there for her own crisis, and we passed a few surprised pleasantries before Eric and I exited and she and her fiancée entered.
Still, as I got in the car and Eric took us back to Oakland, I found myself drowning in memories. Two years ago with Angela and Alexis, dear friends undergoing very different trials, but who I had been allowed to spend time with. Five years ago, with my father’s surgery. Seven years ago with Leslie, who was present at the beginnings of my own artistic rebirth. And finally fifteen years ago, with someone who embodied my entire high school experience.
Eric dropped me off and I got on BART. It was time for RadioStar’s recording session. The present demanded my attention.
Friday, September 01, 2006
time off?
I've been luxuriating in the idea that after September 15th, closing night for "Get it? Got it. Good!", I have nothing other than RadioStar Improv scheduled. Ah, months of comparative relaxation. Everyone just laughs at me and says "that's not going to last."
I know it won't, but at least for a bit I won't be running around, right?
I got an email today asking if I wanted to audition for a show at the end of the month. Performances are in November.
Of course, I agreed. It's a cast I'd like to work with, so if the script is any good.. why not? It isn't like I *really* thought I'd have six months off.
I know it won't, but at least for a bit I won't be running around, right?
I got an email today asking if I wanted to audition for a show at the end of the month. Performances are in November.
Of course, I agreed. It's a cast I'd like to work with, so if the script is any good.. why not? It isn't like I *really* thought I'd have six months off.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Carmageddon
The astute Jon Brooks made me aware of this article about someone who went nuts and went on a driving rampage, running people down on the road.
As I read the account of the rampage, I couldn't help but be amazed that this actually hadn't happened before. Cars as weapons of mass destruction... it's hardly a new concept. Movies have used the concept to grisly effect in things like Deathrace 3000 and Highlander. Video games have explored it with Carmageddon. But this is the first time that I've heard of it actually happening. It underscores that the only thing that really allows us the illusion of safety and security is the thin veneer of social agreements that we make. We give people driver's licenses as long as they prove that they know the rules and are physically able to handle the vehicle. There's no testing for mental stability, nothing to help gauge if someone is actually fit to be operating a lethal missile in public areas.
Most of society exists on the principle that people will follow the rules. We assume that people are stable, and responsible, despite massive evidence to the contrary.
Now granted, how could we measure one's capacity for responsibility in a way that would be equitable? And by and large, haven't we found that people *do* follow the rules enough for things to function? I don't want totalitarianism, but I do want to look at the things that we take for granted in our society. Why do we have so few true restrictions on auto use, when the death toll from auto accidents/drunk driving/bum fuck crazy assholes is so much higher than thing else? Motor Vehicle Accidents are the leading cause of death in the U.S. We're in more danger from our own cars than from terrorists, but adding restrictions and regulations on airline travel at every opportunity.
And yet we're in love with our cars. They are weapons, they destroy the environment, they're massively expensive and for many people largely unnecessary. Why do we use them then? Status and convenience are the big factors. Public transportation is considered economically and socially "low". It takes longer, and public transit often is unavailable when you really want it. Service is reduced on weekends. MUNI in particular is terribly unreliable. It feels more expensive, because you pay as you go.
But how could we change this? There's got to be a way that doesn't involve whole sale environmental and economic collapse. Trains, buses, car shares, shuttles, bicycles... so many options, if we just take them.
Could I be finding a cause? Maybe. It's early to tell, but this is the first thing I've been evangelical about since I left the church a decade ago.
As I read the account of the rampage, I couldn't help but be amazed that this actually hadn't happened before. Cars as weapons of mass destruction... it's hardly a new concept. Movies have used the concept to grisly effect in things like Deathrace 3000 and Highlander. Video games have explored it with Carmageddon. But this is the first time that I've heard of it actually happening. It underscores that the only thing that really allows us the illusion of safety and security is the thin veneer of social agreements that we make. We give people driver's licenses as long as they prove that they know the rules and are physically able to handle the vehicle. There's no testing for mental stability, nothing to help gauge if someone is actually fit to be operating a lethal missile in public areas.
Most of society exists on the principle that people will follow the rules. We assume that people are stable, and responsible, despite massive evidence to the contrary.
Now granted, how could we measure one's capacity for responsibility in a way that would be equitable? And by and large, haven't we found that people *do* follow the rules enough for things to function? I don't want totalitarianism, but I do want to look at the things that we take for granted in our society. Why do we have so few true restrictions on auto use, when the death toll from auto accidents/drunk driving/bum fuck crazy assholes is so much higher than thing else? Motor Vehicle Accidents are the leading cause of death in the U.S. We're in more danger from our own cars than from terrorists, but adding restrictions and regulations on airline travel at every opportunity.
And yet we're in love with our cars. They are weapons, they destroy the environment, they're massively expensive and for many people largely unnecessary. Why do we use them then? Status and convenience are the big factors. Public transportation is considered economically and socially "low". It takes longer, and public transit often is unavailable when you really want it. Service is reduced on weekends. MUNI in particular is terribly unreliable. It feels more expensive, because you pay as you go.
But how could we change this? There's got to be a way that doesn't involve whole sale environmental and economic collapse. Trains, buses, car shares, shuttles, bicycles... so many options, if we just take them.
Could I be finding a cause? Maybe. It's early to tell, but this is the first thing I've been evangelical about since I left the church a decade ago.
one week out
every show is different. This one has had it's share of challenges, to be sure. It's a good show, but it's been a challenging one. It's the shortest rehearsal process I've worked through, and although only a 45 minute play, it's one of the more difficult scripts I've written. That means that we've only had half the time to do as much comprehension and character work that we would need normally. Combine that with scheduling conflicts and last minute emergencies, and it's been a stressful ride.
Life at WestEd has been crazy as well, which makes for a very exhausted Dan at the end of the day. Weekdays and nights have been grueling, when it comes down to it, although the weekends have been utter delight.
I went out with Eden Tosh to see "Debbie Does Dallas: the Musical" last Friday, and ran into a new friend from Consumating.com on the way. This was only odd because I had invited this friend to join us, and she hadn't responded, but ended up being at the same restaurant we wandered into, totally by accident. There's that small world thing again. The show it self was ribald and absolutely hilarious. Mindy Lym had told me it was hysterical, and her assessment wasn't off by a jot.
The next day I took a train to Santa Cruz, which had numerous delays which resulted in my little 2 hour jaunt turning into a 4 hour one. Sofia Ahmad is peforming the Shakespeare Festival down there, and it was a good excuse to visit Santa Cruz and see a dear friend. Sadly, because of the delays, we didn't get much time before King Lear to chat. She picked me up and we went right to the festival grounds where I was forced to make do with the insanely overpriced salads that they had on sale there.
$13 for a caeser salad with a few strips of cold chicken. Airports dont charge that much (I think).
Lear was a solid and enjoyable production, but nothing that blew me away. The evening show, "As You Like It" was more than I could have dreamed, however. Absolutely brilliant in every capacity, it was a joy from start to finish. Making it even better, John Atwood was there, with his posse, and I got treated to a picnic dinner and some wonderful wine to go with the show. Better and better, it was. I even got a ride back to Oakland in the wee hours of the morning, saving me the potential hassle of Amtrak. (I wish I hadn't bought those tickets in advance, though.)
I was going to go to John Filgas' memorial show on Sunday but completely failed due to calendar confusion. I was convinced that it was at 7pm, and checked my email to confirm the address around 5:40, and learned that it had started at 5:30. By the time I got there, it would have been over. I do feel pretty horrible about that, but John was very much in my heart and my thoughts all that day.
As for this week, it's been work, work, work and rehearse, rehearse, rehearse. We open in a week, and I think that it'll be a big hit. But for now, it's work all week, and then see shows and friends all weekend.
There are worse lives.
Life at WestEd has been crazy as well, which makes for a very exhausted Dan at the end of the day. Weekdays and nights have been grueling, when it comes down to it, although the weekends have been utter delight.
I went out with Eden Tosh to see "Debbie Does Dallas: the Musical" last Friday, and ran into a new friend from Consumating.com on the way. This was only odd because I had invited this friend to join us, and she hadn't responded, but ended up being at the same restaurant we wandered into, totally by accident. There's that small world thing again. The show it self was ribald and absolutely hilarious. Mindy Lym had told me it was hysterical, and her assessment wasn't off by a jot.
The next day I took a train to Santa Cruz, which had numerous delays which resulted in my little 2 hour jaunt turning into a 4 hour one. Sofia Ahmad is peforming the Shakespeare Festival down there, and it was a good excuse to visit Santa Cruz and see a dear friend. Sadly, because of the delays, we didn't get much time before King Lear to chat. She picked me up and we went right to the festival grounds where I was forced to make do with the insanely overpriced salads that they had on sale there.
$13 for a caeser salad with a few strips of cold chicken. Airports dont charge that much (I think).
Lear was a solid and enjoyable production, but nothing that blew me away. The evening show, "As You Like It" was more than I could have dreamed, however. Absolutely brilliant in every capacity, it was a joy from start to finish. Making it even better, John Atwood was there, with his posse, and I got treated to a picnic dinner and some wonderful wine to go with the show. Better and better, it was. I even got a ride back to Oakland in the wee hours of the morning, saving me the potential hassle of Amtrak. (I wish I hadn't bought those tickets in advance, though.)
I was going to go to John Filgas' memorial show on Sunday but completely failed due to calendar confusion. I was convinced that it was at 7pm, and checked my email to confirm the address around 5:40, and learned that it had started at 5:30. By the time I got there, it would have been over. I do feel pretty horrible about that, but John was very much in my heart and my thoughts all that day.
As for this week, it's been work, work, work and rehearse, rehearse, rehearse. We open in a week, and I think that it'll be a big hit. But for now, it's work all week, and then see shows and friends all weekend.
There are worse lives.
Friday, August 25, 2006
Preaching to the choir
I was particularly intrigued by this story about an art show in Iran.
The whole article is worth a read for what it says about art as political reaction, but what really interests me is how this gallery showing is getting international press, while being virtually ignored by the people who actually could be going to see it.
"'Look, these cartoons are the reflections of U.S. and Israelis'’ deeds, but wouldn'’t it have been better if they were put on display in the U.S. or even in Israel?' said Ali Eezadi, 70, a retired industrial engineer who visited the gallery Thursday afternoon."
To me, this is the constant struggle for the political artist: how to craft your statement in a way that is truly subversive. Creating art that advocates a particular political statement, and then placing it someplace where only people who already agree with your statement will see it, defeats the purpose. On the flip side, placing such art someplace where people don't agree with its statement will probably result in people either ignoring it as well. After all, if someone put on a play about how great white supremacy was, and staged it in the Mission District of San Francisco, I don't think it'd get a huge audience. Protesters, maybe, but not audience. People would react to the news that it existed, but not actually approach the art in a way that would allow for an actual dialogue.
As artists, how can we create art that allows all parties to come to the table and actually think about ideas in a new way, without increasing polarization... or just being irrelevant?
The whole article is worth a read for what it says about art as political reaction, but what really interests me is how this gallery showing is getting international press, while being virtually ignored by the people who actually could be going to see it.
"'Look, these cartoons are the reflections of U.S. and Israelis'’ deeds, but wouldn'’t it have been better if they were put on display in the U.S. or even in Israel?' said Ali Eezadi, 70, a retired industrial engineer who visited the gallery Thursday afternoon."
To me, this is the constant struggle for the political artist: how to craft your statement in a way that is truly subversive. Creating art that advocates a particular political statement, and then placing it someplace where only people who already agree with your statement will see it, defeats the purpose. On the flip side, placing such art someplace where people don't agree with its statement will probably result in people either ignoring it as well. After all, if someone put on a play about how great white supremacy was, and staged it in the Mission District of San Francisco, I don't think it'd get a huge audience. Protesters, maybe, but not audience. People would react to the news that it existed, but not actually approach the art in a way that would allow for an actual dialogue.
As artists, how can we create art that allows all parties to come to the table and actually think about ideas in a new way, without increasing polarization... or just being irrelevant?
Thursday, August 24, 2006
clean
Tonight was a rare night off, made even rarer by how I chose to spend it. I was in dire need to do my laundry, lest I be forced to walk about neither socks, nor underwear. Since my roommate was on the DSL, I decided to spend the evening off the computer entirely. I dusted. I vacuumed. I cleaned and cleaned and then cleaned some more. I still need to tackle mopping the kitchen and bathroom floors, but otherwise, the apartment is cleaner and more orderly than it's been in far too long a time. It smells nice, like lemon pledge, and everything is in its place.
Something about a clean house puts my soul at ease. It makes me happy to be here.
Of course, I'll be spending very little time here for the next few weeks. Between rehearsals, going to Santa Cruz for the weekend, and various other activities, I'll only come home to sleep. Still, for tonight, this place is perfect.
Cleaning is like writing for me. It's terribly hard to start, but once I get going, there is little more satisfying.
Something about a clean house puts my soul at ease. It makes me happy to be here.
Of course, I'll be spending very little time here for the next few weeks. Between rehearsals, going to Santa Cruz for the weekend, and various other activities, I'll only come home to sleep. Still, for tonight, this place is perfect.
Cleaning is like writing for me. It's terribly hard to start, but once I get going, there is little more satisfying.
Friday, August 18, 2006
rapid progress
The first week of rehearsal is done, and already this is looking like we've got a winner on our hands. I couldn't be happier with my cast. They're sharp, funny, and talented as hell.
We worked "Got it", and Sam Shaw and Paul Jennings are proving to be a fantastic comic team. We found a lot of bits together that turn a funny scene into a hilarious one. It only gets better from here.
I was pretty nervous about blocking the oral sex scene (no, not between Sam and Paul). I had a couple of actors express interest in the script, but who didn't feel comfortable with that particular part (which is pretty crucial), so my paranoia was pretty high as it was. There's something distinctly awkward about telling people, "ok, now put your head between her legs. Um... how far up are you comfortable with?" Again, though, the actors put each other at ease and everything looks good at this stage.
We still have ten rehearsals to go before our Fringe opening, which isn't much since we haven't even touched Catz' monologue or the last half of "Good", but people are already mostly off book, and once we start doing run throughs we should be able to run it twice a night.
If you're in the area, I highly encourage you to come on opening night. I expect a lot of buzz for this show, and it may be hard to get into later shows.
We worked "Got it", and Sam Shaw and Paul Jennings are proving to be a fantastic comic team. We found a lot of bits together that turn a funny scene into a hilarious one. It only gets better from here.
I was pretty nervous about blocking the oral sex scene (no, not between Sam and Paul). I had a couple of actors express interest in the script, but who didn't feel comfortable with that particular part (which is pretty crucial), so my paranoia was pretty high as it was. There's something distinctly awkward about telling people, "ok, now put your head between her legs. Um... how far up are you comfortable with?" Again, though, the actors put each other at ease and everything looks good at this stage.
We still have ten rehearsals to go before our Fringe opening, which isn't much since we haven't even touched Catz' monologue or the last half of "Good", but people are already mostly off book, and once we start doing run throughs we should be able to run it twice a night.
If you're in the area, I highly encourage you to come on opening night. I expect a lot of buzz for this show, and it may be hard to get into later shows.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Frustration
On the plus side, rehearsals are underway, and the poster design is completed, and all the paperwork is on its way (two weeks late) to the Actor's Equity office. All we have to do now is actually rehearse and perform the play. Yay!
On the minus side, my Mom's decision to return to Idaho has set of a family firestorm. Things that probably should have been said at a reasonable volume years ago are now coming out in shouts and recriminations and I'm sitting on the sidelines trying to keep from getting pulled into the flames. I don't want to air family laundry here, but I will make a few statements about my own personal philosophy of life.
People make their own decisions, and they are responsible for them. People make mistakes, and circumstances change over time so that a decision that might have seemed necessary years ago is now no longer useful or beneficial. People ultimately live their lives for themselves... it is their life after all. They may choose to martyr themselves because of what other people want, and they may choose not to.
I don't agree with all the choices that anyone may make. I don't even agree with all the choices that I make. But fighting battles that were ended years ago does no one anyone good.
and speaking out of bitterness is a reproductive process: it begets more of the same.
Take control of your life, and let other people take control of theirs.
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.
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.
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