We bid July adieu today. Farewell July, you’ve been a helluva four letter month. As I walked this morning, I thought of how we are now well into the second half of the year, feeling the hours and minutes fall off of me and into the wake I was leaving in the day.
I’m constantly reminded of the passing of time, it’s impossible not to see it in the face of Riley. When you walk in to give him a kiss before leaving and he’s standing up with a death grip on the top rail of the crib, that combo ‘look what I can do/hey, it’s Dad’ smile all over his face, there’s a bitter and complex taste note that reminds me that it will all go so fast.
I had also hoped to be halfway through a novel by this point of the year, but not so much…
In the spirit of this bittersweet, but mostly sweet feeling I’ve been carrying, in the spirit of remembering that time will always go too fast and we need to slow it down sometimes for us, I would like to dedicate this last day of July post to my lady friend:
We were looking out over San Francisco Bay towards sunset, Alcatraz and the Golden Gate Bridge sitting there all picture postcard like. I don’t remember specifically what we were talking about, but I can guess that it involved me looking for ways to talk you out of going back home to Chico. It may have been one of those calm moments where we didn’t need to talk.
I remember how freakishly cold that wind coming in off of the Bay could get, and I remember the black and grey flannel coat that I had. I remember you there, looking out over the water painted an impressionistic masterpiece by the early evening sun, me behind you with my arms around you, feeling safe for the first time in years.
You went along with my insistence that this was not a long term thing, I think you knew just as well as some part of me did that I was lying. And at that moment the piece of my soul that could not just let this pass by, the piece that would wail for eternity if I wasted it spoke up and accused me. My self delusion fell all over me and I realized in a heartbeat how flimsy the lie had been in the first place.
“I think I’m falling in love with you,” I said in a near whisper that you heard perfectly.
One of the best moves I ever made, hands down.
Song Stuck In My Head Right Now: “I Got The Blues” by The Rolling Stones.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Monday, July 30, 2007
I'm A Chaser
Some further tales from the theater world…
The long hours of tech rehearsal went by in a flash. There were some small personality conflicts happening. This is going to happen when you lock 12 people in a stuffy basement together for a large number of hours. It was very minor, and ultimately pretty damn funny, but the director felt the need to intervene and try to bring peace to a battle that honestly seemed like the sort of thing siblings do to entertain themselves on a long car ride; the kind where the dad threatens to pull the car over and engage in some socially acceptable child abuse and the mom tells dad to keep his eyes on the road in a tone that implies that everything wrong with the family is his fault.
Everything was fine. Some people got a little cranky as the hours wore on, but again that’s bound to happen, and can usually be repaired with a well placed dick joke.
Saturday night after rehearsal, I had agreed to do a reading for a friend who is a playwright and actor. I had originally worked with her in The Crucible a while back and have done a staged reading for one of her plays. She is one of the sweetest, open and caring people I have ever met. We passed each other while I was walking home last week and it jogged her mind to have me come read for a one act that she was submitting for a contest.
Now, already I would crawl over a twelve foot high wall of rotting wallabies to help her out, and as it turned out she was also recruiting one of the actors that I’m currently working with to also do the reading. She did not know that we knew each other, that we have an easy rapport, that we have kissed on stage a number of times.
Oh man, it just felt good. No stress, working with an actor that I work with (and work well with) already, a funny script with characters that you can just sink your teeth into, a writer who was tickled to hear her characters brought to life…
And in between readings we sat and talked about art and writing and acting. And it was one of those conversations that can easily turn to one of those annoying cases of verbal masturbation, but we kept away from the self congratulatory bullshit. I was again struck by a sense of how lucky I am to be part of this community, how fulfilled. We talked about how art is important, about how it feels when you’ve been unexpectedly touched by a work, when you know that you have performed something that has touched people – whether it’s to make them laugh, or hold their breath in anticipation, or empathize with someone who never even existed. We talked about what we expect from other artists and what we need from other artists, and as the sun was turning down to a brilliant end of day orange and we sat in a circle in this small and comfortably warm studio apartment, it became easy to believe that art could change the world.
Can I get an amen?
The long hours of tech rehearsal went by in a flash. There were some small personality conflicts happening. This is going to happen when you lock 12 people in a stuffy basement together for a large number of hours. It was very minor, and ultimately pretty damn funny, but the director felt the need to intervene and try to bring peace to a battle that honestly seemed like the sort of thing siblings do to entertain themselves on a long car ride; the kind where the dad threatens to pull the car over and engage in some socially acceptable child abuse and the mom tells dad to keep his eyes on the road in a tone that implies that everything wrong with the family is his fault.
Everything was fine. Some people got a little cranky as the hours wore on, but again that’s bound to happen, and can usually be repaired with a well placed dick joke.
Saturday night after rehearsal, I had agreed to do a reading for a friend who is a playwright and actor. I had originally worked with her in The Crucible a while back and have done a staged reading for one of her plays. She is one of the sweetest, open and caring people I have ever met. We passed each other while I was walking home last week and it jogged her mind to have me come read for a one act that she was submitting for a contest.
Now, already I would crawl over a twelve foot high wall of rotting wallabies to help her out, and as it turned out she was also recruiting one of the actors that I’m currently working with to also do the reading. She did not know that we knew each other, that we have an easy rapport, that we have kissed on stage a number of times.
Oh man, it just felt good. No stress, working with an actor that I work with (and work well with) already, a funny script with characters that you can just sink your teeth into, a writer who was tickled to hear her characters brought to life…
And in between readings we sat and talked about art and writing and acting. And it was one of those conversations that can easily turn to one of those annoying cases of verbal masturbation, but we kept away from the self congratulatory bullshit. I was again struck by a sense of how lucky I am to be part of this community, how fulfilled. We talked about how art is important, about how it feels when you’ve been unexpectedly touched by a work, when you know that you have performed something that has touched people – whether it’s to make them laugh, or hold their breath in anticipation, or empathize with someone who never even existed. We talked about what we expect from other artists and what we need from other artists, and as the sun was turning down to a brilliant end of day orange and we sat in a circle in this small and comfortably warm studio apartment, it became easy to believe that art could change the world.
Can I get an amen?
Friday, July 27, 2007
Welcome To The Pleasure Dome
Been feeling good about the theater work the last couple of days. We’re heading into hell week, which means we open next weekend, which means I’ll be spending approximately 6-10 hours both Saturday and Sunday in the theater, which means there will be nothing but rehearsals for the next six days until we have our preview.
But rehearsals the last two nights have been pretty great. There seems to be a renewed energy in the cast, director and stage manager and I feel like we made that sort of metaphysical leap that needs to occur at some point in the rehearsal process to make the show real. Backstage there’s been this calm and comfortable wave of just being together and talking and… It just feels good. I’m happy to be working with these people, happy to be doing this show.
So naturally, my mind goes to bonobos.
Bonobos, or pygmy chimpanzees, are the only other primates to have face to face, genital to genital sex. Girl on girl, boy on boy, girl/boy, you name it. Sex is important in their society for greetings, conflict resolution and post-conflict reconciliation. Hang on and think about this for a second… They use sex as a greeting. It’s gotta be tough to say hello with all kinds of dick in your mouth.
If my photo sharing site wasn’t down at the moment, below you would see a picture of two female bonobos bumpin’ fuzz and grinning like… Well, two monkeys grinding ginies.
The males also engage in front on genital sex. One way is to hang from trees and facing each other while they “penis fence.”
Penis fence.
I think that we have a lot to learn from bonobos, and a lot to learn from penis fencing. I will tell you right now that even if I didn’t do it out loud, if I were to penis fence, I’d be making light saber noises in my head.
But rehearsals the last two nights have been pretty great. There seems to be a renewed energy in the cast, director and stage manager and I feel like we made that sort of metaphysical leap that needs to occur at some point in the rehearsal process to make the show real. Backstage there’s been this calm and comfortable wave of just being together and talking and… It just feels good. I’m happy to be working with these people, happy to be doing this show.
So naturally, my mind goes to bonobos.
Bonobos, or pygmy chimpanzees, are the only other primates to have face to face, genital to genital sex. Girl on girl, boy on boy, girl/boy, you name it. Sex is important in their society for greetings, conflict resolution and post-conflict reconciliation. Hang on and think about this for a second… They use sex as a greeting. It’s gotta be tough to say hello with all kinds of dick in your mouth.
If my photo sharing site wasn’t down at the moment, below you would see a picture of two female bonobos bumpin’ fuzz and grinning like… Well, two monkeys grinding ginies.
The males also engage in front on genital sex. One way is to hang from trees and facing each other while they “penis fence.”
Penis fence.
I think that we have a lot to learn from bonobos, and a lot to learn from penis fencing. I will tell you right now that even if I didn’t do it out loud, if I were to penis fence, I’d be making light saber noises in my head.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
You'll Drive Me To Ruin
It’s funny, the things that enter your head when you’re walking through downtown with Led Zeppelin’s "Communication Breakdown" first thing in the morning. And by funny I mean, "really, that’s what you’re gonna drag up?" questions to my own mind.
I thought about the reply that I got when I had asked my grade school girlfriend to go out with me.
Notes, everything was done through notes. Notes were written, then passed onto friendly third parties who negotiated meetings. Things haven’t changed that much since; I gave GRa a note to pass to Biff when I asked her to marry me. It was a certified letter, for sure, but still a note. I believe, that back in the day I had written, in note form, "will you go with me?"
I wasn’t even sure of what responsibilities went with "going with" with someone, it was all very new to me. Julie, the friendly third party mentioned above, approached me at recess and told me that I should ask so and so to "go with me." "What does that mean?" I asked her. "You know, be nice to her and you guys hang out and stuff, you hold hands when you go skating." I tried to explain that that’s what we pretty much did now and Julie gave me the fifth grade equivalent of "just fucking do it.
When I think about it now, "will you go with me?" is really sort of an unfinished question. I mean, it’s elegant in its brevity, but does not explain what I’m talking about, or if she was easily confused, where I was talking about. This may explain the answer via note of:
"I tell you tomorrow."
I wanted to tell her that there should be a "will" in there, to at least make a contraction out of it, but I didn’t. I waited on the answer like I still wait on any potentially life changing answer; with quiet anxiety.
But it wasn’t that there was not a resounding "yes" coming back to me through Julie, it wasn’t that she was taking her time making what was a very important decision to an 11 year old that made me anxious. It was the sentence that had been scribbled out above "I tell you tomorrow."
I tried to read through the heavy lines of graphite that had eradicated the words previously written, and the only one I could decipher (before I quit trying) was "no".
The feeling of knowing that the first response to me from the girl who made my tummy do back flips was a "no" is one that I held onto for some time. She came back to me the following day with a yes and I was nice to her and we hung out and held hands while skating, but somewhere in the back of the mind, rummaging like a ferret, was that scribbled out decline.
I don’t feel that it changed the relationship, or scarred me for life, but I do feel that it’s a pretty good example of what my psyche feeds on. Even today, when I get the good news that I got the part from the audition, I imagine a separate cast list with another actor’s name scribbled out before mine was added.
Song Stuck In My Head Right Now: Well, naturally it’s "Communication Breakdown" - "I don’t know what it is that I like about you, but I like it a lot." Words of wisdom my friends, words of wisdom.
I thought about the reply that I got when I had asked my grade school girlfriend to go out with me.
Notes, everything was done through notes. Notes were written, then passed onto friendly third parties who negotiated meetings. Things haven’t changed that much since; I gave GRa a note to pass to Biff when I asked her to marry me. It was a certified letter, for sure, but still a note. I believe, that back in the day I had written, in note form, "will you go with me?"
I wasn’t even sure of what responsibilities went with "going with" with someone, it was all very new to me. Julie, the friendly third party mentioned above, approached me at recess and told me that I should ask so and so to "go with me." "What does that mean?" I asked her. "You know, be nice to her and you guys hang out and stuff, you hold hands when you go skating." I tried to explain that that’s what we pretty much did now and Julie gave me the fifth grade equivalent of "just fucking do it.
When I think about it now, "will you go with me?" is really sort of an unfinished question. I mean, it’s elegant in its brevity, but does not explain what I’m talking about, or if she was easily confused, where I was talking about. This may explain the answer via note of:
"I tell you tomorrow."
I wanted to tell her that there should be a "will" in there, to at least make a contraction out of it, but I didn’t. I waited on the answer like I still wait on any potentially life changing answer; with quiet anxiety.
But it wasn’t that there was not a resounding "yes" coming back to me through Julie, it wasn’t that she was taking her time making what was a very important decision to an 11 year old that made me anxious. It was the sentence that had been scribbled out above "I tell you tomorrow."
I tried to read through the heavy lines of graphite that had eradicated the words previously written, and the only one I could decipher (before I quit trying) was "no".
The feeling of knowing that the first response to me from the girl who made my tummy do back flips was a "no" is one that I held onto for some time. She came back to me the following day with a yes and I was nice to her and we hung out and held hands while skating, but somewhere in the back of the mind, rummaging like a ferret, was that scribbled out decline.
I don’t feel that it changed the relationship, or scarred me for life, but I do feel that it’s a pretty good example of what my psyche feeds on. Even today, when I get the good news that I got the part from the audition, I imagine a separate cast list with another actor’s name scribbled out before mine was added.
Song Stuck In My Head Right Now: Well, naturally it’s "Communication Breakdown" - "I don’t know what it is that I like about you, but I like it a lot." Words of wisdom my friends, words of wisdom.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Tell Me Where You See Yourself In Five Minutes
I have to be quick on this one here today. I’m going to be interviewing hopeful young lads and lasses who will soon learn that desperate and gut crunching feeling of having your soul crushed. I’ll be doing this all day so I will not have time to post later.
Some people may go into an interview situation such as this, sitting on the interrogation side of the table, feeling the power of holding the possible future of someone in their hands. I have interviewed for people like this, you can tell immediately by the smirking eyes and slight, burnt rubber smell of way too much testosterone in the air. I am not one of these people.
First and foremost, I’m in the room to find someone who I think will be good for the team. Power doesn’t enter into this at all, a lot of it is avoiding having to deal with some whacked out, uncomfortable situation down the road with this person, and quite possibly eight or nine other employees.
But running a real close second, so close that it can taste the sweat flicking off the hair of the above mentioned reason, is the desire to keep a running tally of behaviors that will blow an interview almost as fast as jumping up on the table and taking a largish dump on the copy of your resume.
I’m hoping for at least one bat shit crazy today.
An example of a behavior mentioned above is stumbling into the room as if you had tripped over the invisible possum napping in the doorway, jeans and a T-shirt, hair all amiss, and when being asked what your name is, having to check the badge on your chest that security gave you. Quickly follow up with stories about crazy neighbor kids and how they’re blowing up parts of your property and you’ve got yourself the cream filling of an interview day Twinkie; the sort of shocking sorbet flavor between courses of questions.
Oh and hey, if you could call back a large number of times after you are not given the job? That totally makes you look more rational than your ranting made you out to be.
See, I’m collecting all of these ideas, all of these bad interview tips, so that I may one day go interview for a job I am way unqualified for, and really do not want, so that I can go down in corporate history as that insane MF’er who came in for the VP of Sales job and had to eventually be restrained.
Man, I hope I get a crazy.
Song Stuck In My Head Right Now: "Candidate" by David Bowie.
Some people may go into an interview situation such as this, sitting on the interrogation side of the table, feeling the power of holding the possible future of someone in their hands. I have interviewed for people like this, you can tell immediately by the smirking eyes and slight, burnt rubber smell of way too much testosterone in the air. I am not one of these people.
First and foremost, I’m in the room to find someone who I think will be good for the team. Power doesn’t enter into this at all, a lot of it is avoiding having to deal with some whacked out, uncomfortable situation down the road with this person, and quite possibly eight or nine other employees.
But running a real close second, so close that it can taste the sweat flicking off the hair of the above mentioned reason, is the desire to keep a running tally of behaviors that will blow an interview almost as fast as jumping up on the table and taking a largish dump on the copy of your resume.
I’m hoping for at least one bat shit crazy today.
An example of a behavior mentioned above is stumbling into the room as if you had tripped over the invisible possum napping in the doorway, jeans and a T-shirt, hair all amiss, and when being asked what your name is, having to check the badge on your chest that security gave you. Quickly follow up with stories about crazy neighbor kids and how they’re blowing up parts of your property and you’ve got yourself the cream filling of an interview day Twinkie; the sort of shocking sorbet flavor between courses of questions.
Oh and hey, if you could call back a large number of times after you are not given the job? That totally makes you look more rational than your ranting made you out to be.
See, I’m collecting all of these ideas, all of these bad interview tips, so that I may one day go interview for a job I am way unqualified for, and really do not want, so that I can go down in corporate history as that insane MF’er who came in for the VP of Sales job and had to eventually be restrained.
Man, I hope I get a crazy.
Song Stuck In My Head Right Now: "Candidate" by David Bowie.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Seven Sometimes
Sometimes you just have to take what life puts into your clenched fingers and run with it.
Sometimes you have to succumb to the groove, dance your ass off at the bus stop while everyone watches.
Sometimes you wish you could be brave enough to dance under the stares of others.
Sometimes you have to take it to a hill and shout it loud, the way the world fills you with jazz.
Sometimes you have to whisper it with shuddering breaths, afraid that words may break it.
Sometimes it's easy to forget that you will not break.
Sometimes it’s just a moment of silence, a moment where someone is sleeping, where nothing passes, that pounds at your soul like a river entering the ocean.
Sometimes you have to succumb to the groove, dance your ass off at the bus stop while everyone watches.
Sometimes you wish you could be brave enough to dance under the stares of others.
Sometimes you have to take it to a hill and shout it loud, the way the world fills you with jazz.
Sometimes you have to whisper it with shuddering breaths, afraid that words may break it.
Sometimes it's easy to forget that you will not break.
Sometimes it’s just a moment of silence, a moment where someone is sleeping, where nothing passes, that pounds at your soul like a river entering the ocean.
Monday, July 23, 2007
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