Posts (page 2)
We just came in from the SECOND fire alarm/drill at our office in as many weeks. It's a beautiful day outside fo sho, but there isn't a lot of shade IN THE PARKING LOT, just asphalt (they keep the trees next to the building.) Hot, sticky asphalt. With no breeze, in black pants, 80 degrees and the sun beating on me, I am now, officially, a hot mess.
My daytime plans for tomorrow got qwashed. It's supposed to be one of the best summer days that an August can offer. My question is...instead of enjoying the sunshine...or better still, cleaning my apartment - Would it be wrong to take in this double feature at the Landmark:
Right about now, as I wipe the sweat off my neck, I just want to sit in a dark theater with some Mr. Pibb and Red Vines (equal crazy delicious.) What if I promise to clean my room on Sunday? Pleeeeeeeeeease?????????
My birthday is next week and although I am awash in riches of friends and home and really want for nothing to speak of (with the exception of winning the LOTTO that I never remember to play anyway)...I still feel a bit off about it. I'm turning 39 and Mi Dios! That seems ancient, right? Except...it's not. At all.
Right now, I'm home with what is either a really mammoth allergy fit or the onset of a sinus cold. Nothing green or infectious, but my head feels like I'm walking around with a scooped out watermelon rind over it. Less sticky, but you get the picture.
Anyway, one of the habits I've seemed to develop is whenever I start feeling crappy or frustrated about things, instead of just thinking about all the folks who might have it worse - the starving children in the third world, soliders coming home with one less appendage, the illiterate, and so forth...instead of just considering those folks, I've gotten into the habit of looking up a small charity that provides for them and I make a donation.
It makes me feel slightly less like a doltish idiot for complaining about my runny nose.
And who knows, maybe it helps somebody have a better day. That's my hope.
Since Friday is the Windy City Rubber Duck Derby, I sponsored a couple ducks. I have no illusion of winning one of the awesome prizes, but instead I spent some time thinking about a young lad I knew when I was a kid. A friend of the family had a son, Mike, who had Down's Syndrome. Mike passed away years ago, well before he turned 39...and yet, whenever I think about him, I can't help but grin. You see, Mike loved dancing to Ye Olde Disco.
This one's for you Mikey. May the best duck win.
I originally had just the song playing...but I came across this...and it just was...well, exactly what Mike was about. Dancing and enjoying the hell out of it. Thank you, nice dancing lady. You rock.
And...if the video won't play click here to see it at youtube. It's still up. I think vox is throwing some kind of fit.
Last night I walked my neighbor's dog at bedtime. Unfortunately, Zou is Olive's sworn enemy. They growl and bark at each other constantly. I had to walk them seperately. I took Olive first because she will have a coniption fit that is exponential to her actual size if you go out the door without walking her first. Then I put her away and got Zou. Amazingly, Olive didn't bark when I put her inside...even though she could hear and, I suppose, smell me cohorting with the enemy.
Zou is a sweetheart. When I came in the door, she was all wiggles and wagging. Didn't hold Olive's scent against me in the slightest. It just breaks my heart that I couldn't walk them together. Bitches.
This is Chuck. His owner keeps a fantastic (and fairly famous) blog called Dooce. If you haven't ever checked it out, you should. Anyway, I saw this and put my head on the desk, knowing three things.
1) I will never get Olive to sit this still.
2) I will never be able to put a treat close to (much less on) Olive without her gobbling the treats down so fast she would choke herself.
3) Olive will always bark at Zou.
So I just read D-Ray's blog about the show last night.
Which made me realize that while big sis might be breathing in the awe inspiring vistas of another continent, I get the equally wondrous and rare chance to spend my birthday working on a show that is every bit as fleeting and beautiful as her trip abroad.
Sure, I don't get to watch lions and giraffes saunter across the plain, but each night I get to hear to D-Ray blow his trumpet and sing an aria(ette), watch Erin step up and belly-bump him across the stage, unhook Joe from his appendages, entrust Sharko and his wheelchair maneuverings, marvel at Joel's many hairstyles, watch Dennis slip into something more comfortable, report to Brownie every night on where my meat landed, listen to Johnson turn every wee bit into doubloons, sit footsteps away as Lisa and Regan tango around me, argue passionately with Mary Jo every night about a glue gun, kiss Dave on top of his jellied head and hear Jen laughing in the audience.
I haven't done this in four years. What was I thinking?
This is gonna be a fucking awesome birthday.
I still want hugs though. Those are non-negotiable.
My birthday is swiftly approaching. I've been telling people I'm 39 for a few months now...just to get used to it. Something about that "nine"...it's a bit unnerving. Still, when I tell them I'm 39, I still seem to get a lot of surprised responses, which is nice. I actually like the little wrinkes around my eyes quite a bit. The exceedingly bad eyesight, I could do without, though.
The actual day falls mid-week and it hits right before we close Metaluna, so I'm not sure if or when I'll have time to plan something, as we'll be hip deep in wrapping up the show, pulling down the set and putting it to bed...while we start the run up to the next play in October (which I won't be in...it's has only male roles a la Let There Be Light. )
Personally, I'm a big believer of noting birthdays. You only get a handful and, as I don't believe in the hereafter, the number I'm getting is finite and fixed. I'm not saying you need to go all "Super Sweet Sixteen" - please, gawd, no - but, a nice dinner with friends or a rollicking night at the roller derby never hurt anyone.
While I don't read my horoscope all that often, I'm a confirmed Leo. After reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe as a child, and falling head over heels in love with Aslan, I feel nothing but delight when I think that I'm somehow linked to lions. Even though, I'm totally a dog person. Figure that one out.
I came across a link to this story, which is well worth the read. It's about a lion cub that was adopted in London an a year later was released into the wilds of Africa. And a year after that, this video shows the amazing reunion of man and beastie.
While I can do without the overwrought Whitney soundtrack, it's still spectacular footage. I suggest turning off the sound and watching it...well, it reminds me of the old 8mm vacation reels my parents would throw up on the wall when we were kids. Eons before video, so there was no sound - just the narration of some adult or folks laughing and commenting accordingly.
After watching this, I've decided I just want hugs for my birthday. And I don't want no stinkin' bear hug. I want the one the lion throws down with. Nuzzly, powerful, I'm-all-in goodness. That's the hug for me.
And it just occured to me that my big sis is on a plane right now that will probably land not too far from this preserve - she's spending the next month in the outskirts of Narobi. She is also a Leo (her birthday within days...and a few years...of mine.) She's setting the bar pretty high on how/where one celebrates their birthday.
Man. I want to kick her in the shin right now.
(Skeeter, if you're reading this, you better check out some preserves with lions...or I'll never look you in the eye again. Go all the way to Africa and not see Lions. It's kind of impossible, right? Right?)
I figured that I probably have more friends and folks who read this blog (semi) regularly than my Wry Potato blog, so I'm posting a link regarding that documentary project I'm working on. Mainly, if you have some "suggested veiwing" material for me, I'd love to know about it.
http://wrypotato.blogspot.com/2008/07/homework.html
Oh...and Amy. If you're reading this, I keep meaning to call you and ask you if you'll give the first edit a look - I would love some notes from an eyeball such as yours. Of course, this won't be for a month or two, which is why I keep putting off talking to you about it. My brain has been 99.5 Metaluna until yesterday.
And since I'm posting here about it...I just want to say for the record that Dave Lykins is the HAWESOME. If you don't know him, you'll just have to take my word for it.
Recently, D-Ray wrote about an exchange with the lady who cut his hair. He asked for a specific style that is really out of date, and ending up have a brief conversation about Metaluna.
I was in the Hair Cuttery Saturday, getting a trim. I gave my name and waited.
"Dan?"
"Don."
"Right over here."
She was (guessing) in her late thirties, Latino, pretty but a little thick in the waist - it turned out she had three teenage boys and had just given birth to her first girl last fall - and she carried with her the air of someone who would give anything to be somewhere else but had lost the will to even think about where that somewhere else could be.
"How do you want your hair cut?"
"A number 3 buzz around the sides and back, square it off in the back, leave most of the top a bit longer."
"You know, it would look better if I cut two inches off the top - it would blend better."
"Yeah, but I'm in a show coming up and the hair has to be fairly specific."
Her face lit up for the first time. "A show? What show?"
"It's called Metaluna and the Amazing Science of the Mind Revue."
Not long after reading about this, I was getting lunch in the cafeteria at my office.
I have to admit to a certain affinity towards janitors and food workers - mainly because I worked those jobs in high school and college...and hated just about every minute of it. Whenever I meet adults working those jobs, I usually have the fleeting thought about "there but for the grace of [insert personal diety], go I." And in a way, I feel akin to them. If they seem friendly, I'm friendly back. It amazes me how many of my coworkers don't even know the names of the folks who are making their food or cleaning their "house." It's just polite and nine times out of ten, those folks are really sweet and appreciate (like any of us would) a pleasant word of acknowledgement in their workday.
Enter Gina. Gina mainly works the sandwich/panini section of the cafe. You want a turkey on wheat, an egg salad on rye or my favorite, the philly-beef wrap - Gina's your huckleberry.
When she askes me how my weekend was, instead of just saying the usual, "Okay. How was yours?" I'll actually tell her if I did something interesting (and there aren't 30 people waiting in line behind me.) Once I told her about our trip to the roller derby. After that, Gina would constantly tell folks that I performed in the roller derby. Just for kicks. She has a warped sense of humor, that one.
Back in May, I mentioned about our RAW series and how I was acting in a couple scenes and directing one. Well, it being on a weeknight, she couldn't make it out, but she showed a lot of interest. So, I told her a bit about Metaluna (and my small role in it) she seemed very interested in going.
Weeks later, I read D-Ray's blog about the hair stylist and thought...you know, I should invite Gina. Maybe she'll come. She's at least interested in the show. I offered her up a pair of comps to opening night.
For this show, I do not wear my glasses or contacts. Long story short, the contacts are a hassle and honestly, I play a blind woman and it actually helps me out by being, for all intents and purposes, "blind." As such, while I'm in the audience or on stage, I can make out shapes enough not to trip and fall, but I can't tell one person from another in the semi-darkness.
Friday night, we opened and performed to a packed house. It was a fantastic show. Jen, our director, has one post-show rule - change out of your costume (and put your props and shite away) before coming out to greet folks. Well, in our closet-sized dressing room where at least 6 or more people are changing at the same time, it's a bit chaotic backstage and I changed as quick as I could. I came out and immediately started looking for Gina. No luck. She had already scooted.
This morning, I went down to the cafe to get a bit of instant oatmeal and find out what she thought. She came out from around her station and gave me a big hug. She went and on about how fantastic it was from the word go.
Me: So you both liked it?Her: We LOVED it!
She (and her 26 yr old daughter) LOVED it. In caps, people. She plans on telling everyone who comes throught the sandwich/panini section all about Metaluna.
Metaluna. Lunch Lady Approved!
Thanks to K and B for coming to opening night too! Let it be written that I made K laugh...and then I made K cry! I made K cry! That's all I want out of life, people. To make my friends cry! Huzzah!
Metaluna is finally open. Huzzah! It's such a fantastic, mind-blowing, hysterical, smart, touching, glorious (that's my word for the day, it seems) show. Joe wrote a brilliant script (12 years back), Don worked his producing magic (yet again), the cast is firing on more cylinders than one can count, I want to live inside the set that John built (as long as I don't have to do it in a certain chair with wheels), Sarah enhanced it to make things all kinds of delightfully creepy, Dianna is a stellar stage manager and Jen has fashioned it all into something to marvel at.
I love it when a plan comes together.
Now, I know lots of folks who don't consider themselves "theater" types. That in the wide array of stuff to do with your money and free time, theater is low on the "to-do" list....somewhere between "defrosting freezer" and "removing tatoo of [insert former boy/girlfriend's name.]" It's just not on most folk's radar.
Admittedly, I'm biased. I think this is an experience that might change your mind a bit. Open your mind a bit. Unscrew your mind a bit. So, why not take a chance. Be bold. Be daring. Come see this show.
Metaluna and the Amazing Science of the Mind Revue
Red Orchid Theatre 1531 N. Wells Street, Chicago Thursdays through Saturdays at 8:00p.m. and Sundays at 7:00p.m.
Through August 16, 2008 TICKETS: $15.00 (Thu/Sun); $20.00 (Fri/Sat)
CALL 773-661-3195 for reservations or go to: Brown Paper Tickets
This is a vlog from charlieissocoollike. Most of the dreck on YouTube contains folks working waaaay too hard to be amusing. One of the reasons I continue to surf YouTube are the rare and wonderful occassions when people share a bit of themselves and have the inate skill to deliver the story well...it's very SKALD-like in those moments.
This little 1.5 minute vlog just filled my heart with sunshine...happy begets happy. And then, when my heart is near to burst, the black raincloud of reality comes along and kicks me in the shin...which initiates my heart gloriously exploding inside my chest. (watch the whole thing for full effect...it's worth the one and a half minutes of your life. Promise.)
Our second preview was a blast! Now that we are in a fully realised, beautiful set (which is a peice of freaking ART in and of itself) with props, costumes and tech...folks are really beginning to...crap. I can't think of the right adjective. My brain is still on stand-by.
Let me put it this way, I'm backstage for most of the show. Last night, I was stitching up some holes we made in my costume that nobody would notice but me (long story)...and I didn't want to be thinking about silly holes in my costume, so I spent my down time backstage fixing it. At the same time, I was helping set props for other actors and in general, just listening to the show. The audience was really responding to the show and the cast was vibing off it in the most lovely and amazing ways.
Metaluna is not your typical narrative play...while there are some story threads, those threads unravel and get rewoven into fucked up Freudian tapestries. It's a wild and wonderful ride in the subconcious mind.
It's also hella funny.
Honestly. You should come and see it. I double dog dare you to. And yes. I'm talking to you, Miro. If you think that you're going to miss this show, you are sadly mistaken, my friend. For all the folks that think theater and plays are for blue-haired fogies and self-obsessed arty-types....think again. This show will make you laugh and I guarantee your brain will expand at least 23% by the time you leave.
Print it.
