Rauschenberg died. It is somewhat false of me to mourn this, since his art actually means nothing to me-- but the SITI Company's 'bobrauschenbergamerica' was and is one of the theatre pieces that has meant the most to me in my life.
So, by way of tribute, here's my one of my favorite parts, thank you, Charles Mee, of that script:
But, still, it often seems to me almost miraculous
how we can put things here in the museum
and ordinary folks
my mom and dad and my own neighbors
and I myself
will come to see things
sometimes things that I myself find completely incomprehensible
and really offensive
people will come to our museum
and think: oh, that's interesting
or, oh, that's stupid
but they don't really hold it against the show
they just move on and look at something else and think
oh that's cool.
And I wonder:
how do we get away with that?
And I think well, we are a free people
that's why
and we understand that
in a way maybe other people in the world don't
we like an adventure
often we might think
well, that's a piece of junk
but that's how this fellow sees the world
and there's a certain pleasure in seeing things from his point of view
we are a patient people
no matter what you hear people say
and a tolerant people
and a fearless, open people
that's how it is for us
I think that's how it is to be an American.
We're all unique.
It's a precious thing to compare ourselves to nothing else.
This is my working attitude.
I don't feel shame in my joy.
I started out here knowing what I meant to say
and now I have to say
I don't know what I said.
But I'd just like to welcome you
and let you know
we're all glad to be here with you tonight
to share this with you
and we hope you have a swell evening
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Quasi-Quest
Blackcurrant licorice at ten in the morning. My kind of breakfast.
So, I spent a lovely and absolutely exhausting week in that most congenial spot, transplanted to Avery Fisher Hall. In my newly-conscientious (read: paranoid) state re: this blog, I think maybe I shouldn't spout specifics left and right. This is what I'll say: commercial, large-scale theatre is absolutely insane. So many people that I kept thinking "All of these people can't possibly be working. Seriously?" But oh, they were. Everyone just had one really specific, specialized job--and I mean, I was the most extreme case of that, definitely. But everyone did their one job and that's the way everything kept running. Insane. Operations that large tend to intimidate or overwhelm me and this was no exception for the first few days.
My charge was a lovely and charming gentleman, a pleasure to follow around. He told lots of funny stories and even gave me some nice advice. Delightful. And it was really fun to feel more a part of the group that accompanies this director from show to show-- a group in which my friends that got me this gig are firmly embedded. (Of course it'd be nicer if he understood that I was an actor...but all things in good time.) We had a silly closing party at the bizarre Tavern on the Green-- in my mind, that place was like the height of sophistication, somewhere where I never imagined I'd actually go. Well, maybe it was tres chic...in 1965. Oh man. Deer-shaped medallions on the wall, Chinese lanterns that were actually made out of lampshades upon closer inspection, feet upon feet upon FEET of mirrors on the walls...chandeliers of every stripe. Utterly strange. I hung out with Travis and his gent Mark (coincidentally, Mark and I know each other from R&J in the park years ago...he was Romeo to my serving girl. Bahhhh.), and of course Isaac and Matt...star players made hearfelt and hilarious speeches, impressions were done on piano benches, and come 2:30 I found myself roaming the Upper West Side with a bunch of theatre geek ne'er-do-wells. Plans to go somewhere else fell through, and it took me approximately three weeks to get back to Brooklyn, but it was a wonderfully goofy and pleasant night.
One story: In the show, Arthur, in trying to convince Guenevere to stay in Camelot, tells her all the interesting things she'd be missing if she left. It goes something like this: "We have an enchanted forest, and an invisible castle-- highly original. We have a talking owl named Archimedes-- most unusual. We have unicorns with silver horns-- the rarest kind." Our star said "unicorns" all throughout rehearsal with nary a problem. From dress rehearsal on, things were never the same-- it became, variously: boars with silver feet, little silver goats with tiny silver feet, tiny goats, tiny animals with silver feet, and on closing, little Lonnies with silver feet. So one of the assistants got a little plastic goat and painted its hooves silver and gave it to our man at the party-- it was a huge hit, to say the least. And then they gave me an even littler one. Wonderful.
So, needless to say, I'm now depressed because after a week of working my ass off, I've returned to my life of doing nothing. Oh, excuse me, not nothing-- yesterday I watched about 5 hours of Twin Peaks from a supine position in my bed. That's something. Right.
Two days ago, I met up with Nitz and Julie in the West Village after work and we went to Magnolia, something that I've never done before. It was fun to do it once, and I will say that the banana pudding was a throwback to those pudding concoctions they'd always make at camp and stuff. Delicious. We went back to their place so they could watch 27 Dresses, but I was unable to watch it even in a state of heavy irony, so I fled and watched Juno, which I liked way way way way more than I thought I would and certainly more than I wanted to. Oh man.
And last night, I saw four short riffs on MSND plus a physical piece done by a company that included Miss Katy. Then I went to the dorms at my workplace and drank beers with Shuhei, Elliot, and Valentina, who returns, sadly, to Italy today. The best and stupidest part of the evening involved Shuhei winging a pickled green tomato out the fourth-floor window, across third street, towards the Renewal on the Bowery building. We'd been playing rear window and took it too far! We went onto the roof to enjoy the beautiful view, Valentina sang songs from RENT, and we enacted many young-people-in-the-East-Village cliches. Good.
I'll leave you with this supremely disturbing link, culled from Boing Boing.
So, I spent a lovely and absolutely exhausting week in that most congenial spot, transplanted to Avery Fisher Hall. In my newly-conscientious (read: paranoid) state re: this blog, I think maybe I shouldn't spout specifics left and right. This is what I'll say: commercial, large-scale theatre is absolutely insane. So many people that I kept thinking "All of these people can't possibly be working. Seriously?" But oh, they were. Everyone just had one really specific, specialized job--and I mean, I was the most extreme case of that, definitely. But everyone did their one job and that's the way everything kept running. Insane. Operations that large tend to intimidate or overwhelm me and this was no exception for the first few days.
My charge was a lovely and charming gentleman, a pleasure to follow around. He told lots of funny stories and even gave me some nice advice. Delightful. And it was really fun to feel more a part of the group that accompanies this director from show to show-- a group in which my friends that got me this gig are firmly embedded. (Of course it'd be nicer if he understood that I was an actor...but all things in good time.) We had a silly closing party at the bizarre Tavern on the Green-- in my mind, that place was like the height of sophistication, somewhere where I never imagined I'd actually go. Well, maybe it was tres chic...in 1965. Oh man. Deer-shaped medallions on the wall, Chinese lanterns that were actually made out of lampshades upon closer inspection, feet upon feet upon FEET of mirrors on the walls...chandeliers of every stripe. Utterly strange. I hung out with Travis and his gent Mark (coincidentally, Mark and I know each other from R&J in the park years ago...he was Romeo to my serving girl. Bahhhh.), and of course Isaac and Matt...star players made hearfelt and hilarious speeches, impressions were done on piano benches, and come 2:30 I found myself roaming the Upper West Side with a bunch of theatre geek ne'er-do-wells. Plans to go somewhere else fell through, and it took me approximately three weeks to get back to Brooklyn, but it was a wonderfully goofy and pleasant night.
One story: In the show, Arthur, in trying to convince Guenevere to stay in Camelot, tells her all the interesting things she'd be missing if she left. It goes something like this: "We have an enchanted forest, and an invisible castle-- highly original. We have a talking owl named Archimedes-- most unusual. We have unicorns with silver horns-- the rarest kind." Our star said "unicorns" all throughout rehearsal with nary a problem. From dress rehearsal on, things were never the same-- it became, variously: boars with silver feet, little silver goats with tiny silver feet, tiny goats, tiny animals with silver feet, and on closing, little Lonnies with silver feet. So one of the assistants got a little plastic goat and painted its hooves silver and gave it to our man at the party-- it was a huge hit, to say the least. And then they gave me an even littler one. Wonderful.
So, needless to say, I'm now depressed because after a week of working my ass off, I've returned to my life of doing nothing. Oh, excuse me, not nothing-- yesterday I watched about 5 hours of Twin Peaks from a supine position in my bed. That's something. Right.
Two days ago, I met up with Nitz and Julie in the West Village after work and we went to Magnolia, something that I've never done before. It was fun to do it once, and I will say that the banana pudding was a throwback to those pudding concoctions they'd always make at camp and stuff. Delicious. We went back to their place so they could watch 27 Dresses, but I was unable to watch it even in a state of heavy irony, so I fled and watched Juno, which I liked way way way way more than I thought I would and certainly more than I wanted to. Oh man.
And last night, I saw four short riffs on MSND plus a physical piece done by a company that included Miss Katy. Then I went to the dorms at my workplace and drank beers with Shuhei, Elliot, and Valentina, who returns, sadly, to Italy today. The best and stupidest part of the evening involved Shuhei winging a pickled green tomato out the fourth-floor window, across third street, towards the Renewal on the Bowery building. We'd been playing rear window and took it too far! We went onto the roof to enjoy the beautiful view, Valentina sang songs from RENT, and we enacted many young-people-in-the-East-Village cliches. Good.
I'll leave you with this supremely disturbing link, culled from Boing Boing.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Shall I not be on a pedestal?
At work today, coworker Michael furiously yelled: "All we do is love the theatre. We didn't do anything wrong!" The implied ending: "Why are we being punished?!" Why, indeed?!
I have a few videos posted on YouTube, and one of them is a tiny clip from the BRTC's production of the Crucible, from my sophomore year. I consider this to be one of the highlights of my high school theatre career, as I love the play, I loved my role (and I'll probably never get to play her again), and we had a fabulous cast of thousands. Not to mention the ongoing rivalry with Amdam HS, hey, Knudsen?! (Sidenote-- Drinking game for this clip: take a swig every time I fall on the floor. What? You're wasted? But this is only a minute thirty! EXACTLY.)
Anyway, from time to time, I get hilarious, negative comments on this video and the latest one, from yesterday, tickled me immensely:
"This blocking is sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooo bad its unreal...the only good actor i see is mary warren!"
And I'll take that all the way to the bank.
I actually worked today, which seems unbelievable, since I've been making a career out of sleeping in, staying out too late, and doing nothing lately. Even more than usual. But, hey! It's the lusty month of May, that lovely month where everyone goes blissfully astray! Tra la!
Forgive me. C-lot on le brain.
But I've been doing good stuff. "Wrangling" aforementioned, anonymous (sike) move star, who is funny, very funny and nice, very nice. And confused....very confused. Yesterday was a 3rd of May party at Julie, Michael and Nitzan's apartment that had dwindled down to Julie, Nick, and Craig by the time I finally got there. I ate many tacos and drank a fair amount of tequila, thanks to Julie's mad drinking-making skills. Even when wasted, she's a better host than I'll ever be. :P And in a wild, uncharacteristic stroke of profligacy, I took a cab home from there last night (Fort Greene) because the thought of waiting for the single-tracked G at Fulton, switching at Hoyt-Schermerhorn, and walking from Nassau was just plain demoralizing. A cab. Who am I?!
The night before, I stayed at Erin's....eating pizza, drinking beer, watching Wet Hot American Summer....having pillow fights, doing each other's nails, and teaching each other how to kiss came later. Siiiiiike.
And today, Erin and I, accompanied by a game Jimmy, ventured to Union Hall in the early evening for a ridiculous Yelp Elite event where we schmoozed with the co-founders and tried to get them to patronize our Etsy store. We'll see what happens. All I know is, I had free beers and "savory pastries," as Jimmy so eloquently put it, galore, and then it took me an hour to get home. I like being Yelp Elite. I get something for absolutely nothing. Always a good exchange.
This week, I am up to my gills with he-who-must-not-be-named (like how I'm making a thing out of this now? Yeah, I didn't think I could be any more affected EITHER)-- the show opens on Wednesday, runs through Saturday, and I work, stupidly, stupidly, I'm going to be so hungover, on Sunday morning at...my workplace, where I work, which I also recently decided must not be named in this blog...because it's sheer stupidity to tempt fate, the intarweb, the Patriot Act, and my coworkers like that.
And hey! Watch the new AFN before anyone else on your block! (Don't you want to be cool?!)
Tra la!
I have a few videos posted on YouTube, and one of them is a tiny clip from the BRTC's production of the Crucible, from my sophomore year. I consider this to be one of the highlights of my high school theatre career, as I love the play, I loved my role (and I'll probably never get to play her again), and we had a fabulous cast of thousands. Not to mention the ongoing rivalry with Amdam HS, hey, Knudsen?! (Sidenote-- Drinking game for this clip: take a swig every time I fall on the floor. What? You're wasted? But this is only a minute thirty! EXACTLY.)
Anyway, from time to time, I get hilarious, negative comments on this video and the latest one, from yesterday, tickled me immensely:
"This blocking is sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooo bad its unreal...the only good actor i see is mary warren!"
And I'll take that all the way to the bank.
I actually worked today, which seems unbelievable, since I've been making a career out of sleeping in, staying out too late, and doing nothing lately. Even more than usual. But, hey! It's the lusty month of May, that lovely month where everyone goes blissfully astray! Tra la!
Forgive me. C-lot on le brain.
But I've been doing good stuff. "Wrangling" aforementioned, anonymous (sike) move star, who is funny, very funny and nice, very nice. And confused....very confused. Yesterday was a 3rd of May party at Julie, Michael and Nitzan's apartment that had dwindled down to Julie, Nick, and Craig by the time I finally got there. I ate many tacos and drank a fair amount of tequila, thanks to Julie's mad drinking-making skills. Even when wasted, she's a better host than I'll ever be. :P And in a wild, uncharacteristic stroke of profligacy, I took a cab home from there last night (Fort Greene) because the thought of waiting for the single-tracked G at Fulton, switching at Hoyt-Schermerhorn, and walking from Nassau was just plain demoralizing. A cab. Who am I?!
The night before, I stayed at Erin's....eating pizza, drinking beer, watching Wet Hot American Summer....having pillow fights, doing each other's nails, and teaching each other how to kiss came later. Siiiiiike.
And today, Erin and I, accompanied by a game Jimmy, ventured to Union Hall in the early evening for a ridiculous Yelp Elite event where we schmoozed with the co-founders and tried to get them to patronize our Etsy store. We'll see what happens. All I know is, I had free beers and "savory pastries," as Jimmy so eloquently put it, galore, and then it took me an hour to get home. I like being Yelp Elite. I get something for absolutely nothing. Always a good exchange.
This week, I am up to my gills with he-who-must-not-be-named (like how I'm making a thing out of this now? Yeah, I didn't think I could be any more affected EITHER)-- the show opens on Wednesday, runs through Saturday, and I work, stupidly, stupidly, I'm going to be so hungover, on Sunday morning at...my workplace, where I work, which I also recently decided must not be named in this blog...because it's sheer stupidity to tempt fate, the intarweb, the Patriot Act, and my coworkers like that.
And hey! Watch the new AFN before anyone else on your block! (Don't you want to be cool?!)
Tra la!
Friday, May 2, 2008
Also:
link: Emo Lincoln.
He has so, so many reasons to be emo (i.e.-crazy wife, 3/4 kids dead, 1/4 kids a bastard, slavery, impending assassination, the burden of being the best guy ever, his bad singing voice...) Who can blame him?
He has so, so many reasons to be emo (i.e.-crazy wife, 3/4 kids dead, 1/4 kids a bastard, slavery, impending assassination, the burden of being the best guy ever, his bad singing voice...) Who can blame him?
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Penguins keep me WARM.
I'm drinking cheap white wine from Trader Joe's and chewing on an uncooked dumpling wrapper that I bought in Chinatown the other day. I DID buy them to actually make dumplings, and I DID do that the other day, but in a fit of nostalgia I ate this one raw-- Liam and I used to buy packages of them at Super 88. I remember one time, freshman year, my minifridge contained ONLY cans of seltzer and a package of dumpling wrappers. Delish.
So, yeah, this is my third entry today, but sometimes, that's how things go.
It's "Artwalk" time on Bedford, which apparently means that a bunch of stores have things hanging in their windows. Some of them are pretty cool-- a bunch of bubble-wrapped twisty pink neon tubes in the window of Brooklyn Industries, a crazy 6-minute video loop in the window of Peter's entitled "Suicide Nun" (I think she's a suicide bomberomg edgy!!)...some are gross, like the collection of chewed gum in a corner store. On the whole, it's fun.
There's a coffee/dessert place on Bedford b/w 8th+9th that, until a few days ago, was called "Sweet Farm." (I've never been there, but my mom had a conversation with this woman who was in the Look Book in NY Mag there. She walks around Wburg in colorful clothing, talking to everyone. She relates in no way to Sweet Farm. This isn't particularly relevant.) ANYway, the point is that as of a few days ago, overnight, Sweet Farm was no more, there was newspaper on the windows, and the sign had been changed to a red one with a picture of an ice cream dish on it that says 'Penny Licks.'
Penny Licks? What? I got a peek inside when the door was open and it looks like they're changing the decor so it looks kinda like an oldey-timey ice cream parlor. Our Town, anyone?
So, it's weird when stuff happens overnight, but it's especially weird that this place went from being the unappealingly-named "Sweet Farm" (conjures up images of candy in hay for me-- not something I want to think about) to the even-MORE alarmingly-titled "Penny Licks." My first mental image was of licking pennies-- mmmmmmm. I discussed this with a comrade of mine who offered the image of a girl (named Penny) running around, licking everything.
I've been scaring the crap out of my myself by watching Twin Peaks late at night. Every time something scary happens, I have to keep watching so the image of, say, Sheryl Lee with blood on her face, screaming demonically OR a somber little kid making creamed corn jump around the room ISN'T the last thing I see before I try to go to sleep. This plan always fails, because there are no placid images on which to call it a night. I'm not complaining; I'm just terrified. I am also falling steadily in love with Kyle McLachlan-- I don't see how that's possible, but it's happening. (I'm also sort of falling in love with Sherilynn Fenn.)
I start my week-long engagement as a wrangler for a pretty sweet movie star tomorrow. (I guess I'll take no chances and leave him anonymous. He's Irish. That's all I'll say.) I'm a little nervous. I am not sure what exactly I'm going to be doing. I've got to turn on the charm.
In one final piece of alarming news: I'm worried that one of my teeth is going to fall out. I'll keep you posted. I know you're worried, too.
So, yeah, this is my third entry today, but sometimes, that's how things go.
It's "Artwalk" time on Bedford, which apparently means that a bunch of stores have things hanging in their windows. Some of them are pretty cool-- a bunch of bubble-wrapped twisty pink neon tubes in the window of Brooklyn Industries, a crazy 6-minute video loop in the window of Peter's entitled "Suicide Nun" (I think she's a suicide bomberomg edgy!!)...some are gross, like the collection of chewed gum in a corner store. On the whole, it's fun.
There's a coffee/dessert place on Bedford b/w 8th+9th that, until a few days ago, was called "Sweet Farm." (I've never been there, but my mom had a conversation with this woman who was in the Look Book in NY Mag there. She walks around Wburg in colorful clothing, talking to everyone. She relates in no way to Sweet Farm. This isn't particularly relevant.) ANYway, the point is that as of a few days ago, overnight, Sweet Farm was no more, there was newspaper on the windows, and the sign had been changed to a red one with a picture of an ice cream dish on it that says 'Penny Licks.'
Penny Licks? What? I got a peek inside when the door was open and it looks like they're changing the decor so it looks kinda like an oldey-timey ice cream parlor. Our Town, anyone?
So, it's weird when stuff happens overnight, but it's especially weird that this place went from being the unappealingly-named "Sweet Farm" (conjures up images of candy in hay for me-- not something I want to think about) to the even-MORE alarmingly-titled "Penny Licks." My first mental image was of licking pennies-- mmmmmmm. I discussed this with a comrade of mine who offered the image of a girl (named Penny) running around, licking everything.
I've been scaring the crap out of my myself by watching Twin Peaks late at night. Every time something scary happens, I have to keep watching so the image of, say, Sheryl Lee with blood on her face, screaming demonically OR a somber little kid making creamed corn jump around the room ISN'T the last thing I see before I try to go to sleep. This plan always fails, because there are no placid images on which to call it a night. I'm not complaining; I'm just terrified. I am also falling steadily in love with Kyle McLachlan-- I don't see how that's possible, but it's happening. (I'm also sort of falling in love with Sherilynn Fenn.)
I start my week-long engagement as a wrangler for a pretty sweet movie star tomorrow. (I guess I'll take no chances and leave him anonymous. He's Irish. That's all I'll say.) I'm a little nervous. I am not sure what exactly I'm going to be doing. I've got to turn on the charm.
In one final piece of alarming news: I'm worried that one of my teeth is going to fall out. I'll keep you posted. I know you're worried, too.
Unite, and unite, and let us all unite!
It's May Day! Cue the sentimental feelings for my week in Cornwall. Who can blame me?
Here are some Oss videos to transport you to that magical place. Drink a beer and sing along.
Here are some Oss videos to transport you to that magical place. Drink a beer and sing along.
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