Starting is always half the battle

In the fading light, the persimmons looked orange so I picked them.  Once I got home and under the house lights, they were in fact, fairly green.  I should've waited until the leaves fell, but the squirrels have been getting the best of them, leaving half-eaten fruit still hanging from the branches, and I wanted one, too.

Just started two more books: "An Acrobat of the Heart," by Stephen Wangh, and "Improvisation for the Theatre," by Viola Spolin.  I'm looking for physical exercises, both for group and solo work, to help with developing something for the show, and also for personal scene/monologue work.  I've lost track of how many books I am currently "reading," should finish something, if only for a sense of closure. (And to return some of them.)

Thoughts on jealousy and insecurity: Feed it into the work.  Guess these arise as they will, but they are more destructive when left to spin and ponder, rather than used as fuel for action, growth, or...something.  If jealousy is spawned because I'm not doing more myself, then I guess that's fuel for doing something rather than stewing.  It's hard not to compare myself and wonder in all the ways I lack, that I'm not enough...and I don't even know what "enough" would be.  If I'm not, I'm not, and if I think too much about it, I'll lose sight of me, as I actually am, as opposed to who I would need to be to be deemed worthy in someone else's eyes.  People see what they see, and want what they want, it's futile to spend too much time trying to change it, or change myself to fit that.  I can only change my own response, which I do (sometimes grudgingly), I can't control anything else, nor should I want to.  But sometimes I do.  Sometimes I give too much weight to what I believe other people think instead of figuring out how to be most authentically myself.  And authenticity is more important than being liked.  (And yet, we all want to be liked...or rather, loved.)  Yeah.

Semi-related note, (if only in my head, but related to the idea of action or movement) I was thinking about how we are often exactly where we need to be, when we need to be.  And when you look back you can see it, or if you're lucky, you'll realize it in that moment.  Trusting that if you start moving, even if you do not know exactly where you are going, cannot see the endpoint, life has a way of opening up for you, if only one footstep at a time.  On the Camino (pilgrimage) forums, people talk about this all the time, how the "road walks you."  How you are where you need to be, when you need to be there.  It happens in our everyday lives, too, it's just easier to see when things are stripped down to basics.  I've been thinking about this lately because I've been hyper-aware of it, that I was doing what I needed to be doing, at the right time.

It's letting go of believing we have to control everything.  It's opening up to chance.  It's a form of grace.

Makes me think of Dr. Seuss, October 27/L Herlevi 2014

Not particularly coherent

My nose has been extra sensitive today, so many things just extra foul: old garbage, pea soup and coffee breathe, urine, etc., waiting for the remnants of the hurricane to wash it away, but so far, the rains have held back.

Been having back issues for the past week, sometime in the middle of the night, the pain went into the top of my neck and woke me up.  Never did go back to sleep, had trouble finding any position that didn't scream out.  Went to get a massage mid-morning, she gave me an extra half hour, but by this evening, the stiffness was creeping in again, though it doesn't hurt quite so much.  This has all made me rather tired.

Went to go see Bill Irwin tonight as part of the "Beckett Fest" happening around town.  He made me think about how one approaches work (or art of any type) at different stages in your life.  What you find at 20 is not what you find at 50 and not what you find at 80.  He also talked about the climate you are living in and how that would affect how you play it as well as how the audience receives it.  And since he's a physical actor, he was asked how that informed approaching such heady work.  I think that's when he talked about working with the late Herbert Blau, he mentioned two things, which I wanted to write down, but other things happened, so by the time I was able to, I'd mostly forgotten, but I think it had to do with: 1) everything is happening right now; and 2) imagination is visceral (which works for me.)  I think #1 was the performance is about you and the audience in this space and moment; and #2 being that sometimes ideas are better expressed through the physical rather than through the thinking or the words.

Also, in the middle of his talk/performance I thought..."and this is all for men, I don't get to know the work at the same level, because it wasn't written for women to perform." ("Endgame," "Waiting for Godot," though he did write women characters into other plays, just not the ones talked about tonight.)  It's true enough, though I'm not sure why that went through my head at that moment.

On the way home, I began to reread Act IV of Othello.  Prep work for the monologue...should get around to finishing the second version of the Chekhov, too, but trying to get some sleep for now.

Sunday

We bury our meaning under a mountain of words, and then spend the rest of the time trying to get back to the truth.

In auditioning class, the fear of performing for others rears its head, though I guess we all are in the same boat to some extent.  Forced myself to do mine a second time for feedback.  Did not back out even though I wanted to, the whole point being to get better, and if you don't risk anything, nothing changes.  I'm understanding the meaning of "driving action," what is the line going through the whole monologue?  Why do you say what you say, to whom you say it to, right now?  I ended my working session early, as I've got a lot of work to do, starting with the internal stuff, and I wasn't going to hit it today, but I do have a sense now of where I'm going.  Think I need to do the classical monologue next time, it will need more work, since I've never studied Shakespeare.

Interesting coincidence in class, the man who went up before me happened to be using the monologue that my character is referring to when I speak.  I asked him about it later, if he'd gotten the part, he said that it wasn't from the audition (the one I just did), but rather that he'd found it online.  Still, what were the odds of him doing the monologue I'm responding to right before me?  Sadly, I'm not sure I let it help me much.

The instructor gave the note (to someone else) to forget all the "beats" and strong acting choices you made and just follow the driving action.  Make the audience forget that they are "watching" a show, and have them believe in the story.  Whomever the audience is, it's the first time they are hearing it, regardless of how many times you've told it: invite them in.

Much to consider.  Know what I'm after, not sure how to get there.

Guess I should watch "Hedda Gabler" now...nice light-hearted evening.

I'm cold from waiting for the bus.  It's been warm for so long, I'm in denial that there is a winter, and it lies before me.

Friday

At the bus stop, coming home from an improv session that didn't end up happening, though at least we generated a few more ideas, a man walks over and stands under the awning, near to me.  Both of us dodging the rain.  Takes out two apples from his bag, contemplates them both, turns, and offers one to me.  Says they are from his neighbor's tree.  Looks them both over, saying he is trying to decide which is best, then hands one to me. I hold it, not feeling particularly well, and hopeful that my bus will arrive at any moment: the sign says "NOW."  Now never arrives.  He eats his, says it's a little overripe, a little mushy, and very sweet.  His bus arrives, and he leaves.  I contemplate the apple, the oddness of the encounter: I am no fairy tale princess, but seem to have been given a lot of apples lately.  A different bus time miraculously changes from 25 minutes to 2 minute away, and arrives.  It speeds homeward, hardly any stops.  I still have the apple.

Earlier, heavy with sadness, across from me on the bus, she, slouched down and sleeping, batman high-top sneakers on her feet, ink-stained leggings, hand held in yours.  Innocence.  Raising her arms in flight, curling her fingers like claws, then stretching awake into her scarf and immediately falling back asleep.  Held in your arms.  Safe with you.  The witness of it helps, but the sadness lingers still.

Stormy

Thought of the day after Suzuki class, "There is tension in stillness."  That just helps with all of it.  (Has to do with what I was doing with my arms, and also a competition that we had to see who could be the most still in between moving.)  This was the last day of the intensive, the drop-ins are only 1x/week.  I want to find a way to keep practicing (with other people), but the time of it is hard for me.  I just feel so grounded, like I have to work to pull my feet off of the floor, and that when they touch the ground again, they are in full contact.  I like that, not a common state for me.  Also, other stuff related to acting and emotional withholding came up and I want to work through it.  I'm finding a relationship with the emotional and the physical that I'd like to spend more time exploring.

We are now having a thunderstorm.  When I walked up the stairs after class it was dumping rain, and then by the time I got my jacket on, it had stopped.  So, I got back to work in the dry window, even patches of blue sky, but that's gone now.  Dark, thunder, wind kicking up.

Lot of information today, I wanted to remember this poem by Kabir, a reminder for me that now is all we've got.  Everything important that you think you can keep putting off, what would you regret if the opportunity to change things, to say things, to do things, were suddenly taken away?
 
The Time Before Death - Kabir (Robert Bly Translation)

Friend? hope for the Guest while you are alive.
Jump into experience while you are alive!
Think... and think... while you are alive.
What you call "salvation" belongs to the time
            before death.

If you don't break your ropes while you're alive,
do you think ghosts will do it after?

The idea that the soul will join with the ecstatic
just because the body is rotten --
that is all fantasy.
What is found now is found then.
If you find nothing now,
you will simply end up with an apartment in the
          City of Death.
If you make love with the divine now, in the next
life you will have the face of satisfied desire.

So plunge into the truth, find out who the Teacher is,
Believe in the Great Sound!

Kabir says this: When the Guest is being searched for,
it is the intensity of the longing for the Guest
that does all the work.

Look at me, and you will see a slave of that intensity.

Wednesday Evening

Just got home from the PAPT's (UW Graduate School for Drama) production of "Cold Empty Terrible."  A bit of experimental theatre created by the director, ensemble, designers over the course of the past half year.  The point of departure was Treplev's play at the beginning of Chekhov's "The Seagull."  (I did mention earlier that Chekhov is either being performed or influencing a lot of work around town right now.  This is another one.)  Very much an ensemble-based movement piece, the only real dialogue being Chekhov's words from that play.  They are quoted three times, I guess for Past, Present, and Future.  It was like a dream, or a nightmare, depending on how you looked at it:  Moody sound, lighting, stage design, lots of repeated actions.  Not ever very sure what was going on, or why, but I enjoyed watching it.  I liked the way they moved, saw a lot of things I've had some exposure/worked with, used.

I won the tickets at the Mad Art event last month.  Ended up going with the right companion, he found it interesting, said he liked it. (One of my former theatre classmates.)

Didn't not make call backs.  Didn't really expect to, it was a two-person show, and I don't have much experience, not that I couldn't have done it, but I don't know I'd go with me either, with the lack of experience.  (And it gives me the time to start working on this emotion thing; the audition reinforced for me that I need to start again on that.)  Kinda' excited that I can get some reading for pleasure done without feeling guilty about not doing character work.  I'll still do that, just won't be the only thing.  I really want to read a book.

Wednesday

I think the rain may have temporarily stopped, it's no longer pounding on the roof.

Another audition over.  It went alright, though they gave me the same direction as last time, which was to play the emotions hotter...still something I need to work on.  Stage seems like a good place to have these, any consequences would be useful, and yet they remain at bay.  My nerves were almost fine when I went in, though I said a few lines wrong (I got them right the second time through.)  I was shaky after I left the room.

I'm getting better at shaping monologues.  Would like to work this one with a coach, though.  She's talking to a person in a coma, and in doing the monologue for the casting director, I wasn't sure where I should be looking.  Would be good to have another pair of eyes on that and offering suggestions.  Also, I need someone to call me out when my focus wanders.  Gonna try to stay with the Suzuki classes for awhile, it'll be good for that, but I still want someone watching the monologue.  I want feedback, to see if what I think I'm communicating is what is being picked up.

I met with a friend after to try to generate some performance material.  We ended up talking a lot, and doing one improv.  We're trying to come up with something for November, and also February.  It's intimidating to think about creating something out of nothing, possible, just need to keep exploring.  I think I need to start with some sorta form, a basic structure to work inside of.  Otherwise, I get stuck on too many choices, and worry too much about what the right one is rather than just starting.  (That's why I like the improvs, they have a basic outline, such as: A enters; A does something; B enters; B discovers A; A & B interact; one or both leave.)

I made a list of all the things I need to work on, and in my head there are all the things where I'm an absolute beginner.  In some ways it's more exhilarating than daunting, at least there is something concrete to do, not just a racing thought in my head.  When the parts start to come together it'll make sense, but right now it's all just random elements I need to keep track of.  If I stay with it all, it will eventually click, things will fall into place.

Oh, the rain is back.  Missed my window to leave the house and not get soaked.

Thoughts

I admire anyone doing a good monologue, whether  that be a solo performance or an audition.  It's so easy to the let the nerves get to you, to lose focus when it's just you up there (I suppose that's when it's good to work with a director or a coach, and just keep running it.)  When there are other people on the stage, you have the luxury of needing to focus back on them, and going for what you want.  When I walk around and say it, I can connect to what I want, and why she'd say those things, but I know I'll have to have the wants much more solidly in focus, or the nerves will just take control and I'll spit the whole thing out without connecting to anything.  You get 90 seconds.  I guess that's why it's good to use material from plays you've worked on before, it'd be kinda' built in after a point.

Saw "Before Sunset" (Richard Linkletter, dir, with Julie Deply and Ethan Hawke - it's the middle of three) last night.  It's like a much better version of "Serendipity," i.e., better dialogue, higher stakes, no cheap laughs or comic relief, more raw, more urgency to the words.  Both dealing with what if you actually met the "right one" (is there a "right one?") but left the chance of meeting again to fate rather than having the courage, or trust, at the time to claim it.  (Or perhaps, you need all the experiences you had in the intervening years to make it more meaningful...but then, they are pining for each other for all those years..."Hedda Gabler" is in that territory, too, but with a less happy ending - which I also have sitting around waiting to be watched.)  "Before Sunset" came out first.  Julie Delpy's dialogue ran true for me (she wrote it).  And while I'm grateful I didn't marry the one I was with at 21 (mostly for the experiences I've had since then, and the person I became, and none of those would have happened had we stayed together, other things would have, obviously) I'd like to be as open as I was then, have been guarded since (all the things she says.)  We're friends and, unlike the movie, I don't want to be with him, I just want the openness I had toward him, and myself, back.  Watching it, listening to her, made me realize that's been missing for me.

Or maybe it's just a current cycle of high stress talking.  Or this monologue character getting under my skin.

(Darn, the batteries seem to have corroded, and the charger's not very good...so, still no camera.  And now I have to clean up after the batteries.)

Sometime past mid-October

The wind in the leaves sounds like rain.  It's sunny and warm again, the weather reports pessimistically calling the bright blue sky "partly cloudy."  Perhaps it's only the sky above me that is clear.  The forecast is for 70 again.  I've had nothing to write about lately.  Missed a show last night, a preview, because I decided to stay for dinner at an event we sang at earlier in the evening.  They sent me home with food.

I should go walk.  Work on the monologue.  I'm using the second one, mostly because I have a better sense of what she wants in this scene.  Been trying to pin the other one down for the past year, but still not feeling convinced.  I'm not sure which one I'll use for the class.

My legs are feeling normal, just before I go back to class.  I should do some balancing for good measure.  This is my last free Sunday for a while.

Back from a walk, it's dark now.  I am stuck on the last two words.  I think I know what she wants but it never comes out right when I say them.  I mostly have the monologue, as well as the Suzuki text, down.  The house smells like solvent, everyone denies it.  Giving me a headache, even with every window open.

Here are pictures of trees.  (I finally found the batteries, not sure how I missed seeing them, they've been on a bookshelf for a while, I'm guessing.  These were taken with a different camera, the batteries are still charging.)

Yellow, Oct 19/L Herlevi 2014

Tree, Oct 19/L Herlevi 2014

Late afternoon, Oct 19/L Herlevi 2014

Balmy

Some of the stiffness worked out in the doing.  Feel a certain anxiety building as the new exercises (there is another name that is alluding me) are introduced: Can my body actually do that?  What if I hurt myself?  How do I stay focused?  What if I'm a disappointment?  What if I'm wasting your time?  I'm out of my league.  But, I'm trying to accept it all, figure out how to make it all happen, trying to remember all the things: the position, the posture, the focus, the actual movement, the centering, the tension, the control, etc., involved in each one.  And then I go into my head and lose my center.  It'll come.  Just not today.  All the same, it is exhilarating to be learning new things. (So, therein lies my internal tension.)

Cleared up and got sunny and warm.  A nice day to be outside, but I will resist.  I will go home and memorize text, monologue (I need one for the audition class as well as the audition), and do character work.  And then make it to the choir rehearsal for the first time in weeks.

 Life is funny.  Full of random second chances.  Not gonna question that too much.  Just gonna laugh along with it in awe.

Sitting in one place

Came up with a new clown walk, might try to incorporate it into the idea I had from last summer to see if I can go any further with it.  Only downside is now my hamstrings are sore as well as my quads, tried to stretch, too.  Could barely walk up the stairs.  The pliés tomorrow will be fun, none of it seems to make the walking or stomping any more difficult, so that's good.  Had fun with an improv, though I could have had a better exit, and overall, the energy tonight was off.  Not sure why.

We have a target date, theme, and possible long-term rehearsal space, so that's all good.  Date is February.  Maybe the pressure will fuel creativity.

Almost got hit by a cyclist on my way over, totally did not see her.  She yelled for me to watch where I'm going (fair enough), though I did look, and then I was watching the other lane of traffic for a break in it.  It was dark out.  I don't think she had a light, and she was riding her bike right along the edge of the curb, I wasn't even in the street yet, I was walking.  I was spacey, though.  Glad she had good breaks, we both would've been hurt otherwise. (She squealed to a stop inches from me, though I never actually saw her.)  I almost went home, but went to the clown gig in the end.  Got a ride home, people were driving kinda' crazy, maybe everyone is spacey and out of sorts.  I kinda' want to not move right now, stay in one place so I don't walk into anything else, or until I'm paying attention.

Finally wrote something for changing my job title, someone said they'd rewrite it for me.  I have no idea what to say, that's why it's taken me so long to write it.  I hope it goes through, my job has morphed since I started it.  It would be good for everything to match.  Now the main thing hanging over my head is getting ready for the audition.

New things

I don't recall it raining this afternoon, nor earlier tonight, yet when I walked home just now after getting out of the house to get some writing done, the ground was quite wet.

I keep spilling things this week: a burrito's contents on my bed (we don't have a dining room); a rotting plum exploded on my pants as I was carrying the compost outside; my water bottle leaked half of it's contents all over my bag, through my workout clothes, and all over my library book earlier today; and I just spilled the drink I was attempting to drink all over my journal.  I had to wear the clothes anyway, because I needed to.  At least wearing them, helped them to dry out some.  And I really should take a shower, but my feet aren't all that dirty, since we wore socks in class.

So, I'm taking this Suzuki intensive so that I can do the drop-in classes, and get some physical theatre practice in.  I walked in with a little anxiety, not sure what to expect, I've had a couple short exposures to Suzuki (in Biomechanics, as well as a friend who had studied with him-Tadashi Suzuki-who led a brief movement workshop.)  Mostly I remember stomping, and that hurting the bottom of my feet.  Oh, and getting tired.  But it was the plies almost did me in today, not the stomping, and then my back was also killing me.  Kinda' amazing how you also use the lower back when you engage your core.  It's mostly lower body work, with the upper body being relaxed, yet engaged, and an expressionless face.  Anyway, my quads were suffering.  By the end, I think all my big muscles had gone into a state of fatigue.  It's gonna be hard to do stairs tomorrow.  I was shaky for a couple of hours after.  Ate, too.  It's funny what uses up the glycogen stores; I didn't feel like it was all that strenuous, and yet we were all working up a sweat.

I had run up to the instructor last week at another event, and probably made an ass of myself, but I'd wanted to ask him about the class.  He remembered me.  There are a lot of things I need to work on (focus, centering, groundedness) and this will be good for all of those.  I like that he's pointing the lack of these out, because I need it.  These forms are simple, but precise, and in that, also difficult to master.  You have to figure out how your body does what is being asked of it.  It's not a way we typically move.

There are only four people in the class.  I keep hearing that casting directors are saying they want actors to have voice and movement, but it seems difficult to get these classes to reach a high enough enrollment to run.  They keep getting cancelled at Freehold.  I'm glad this one is running with only four students.  I want the training.

Saturday

Went and saw the Chamber Dance Company tonight.  This is the same show as the rehearsal/performance I saw a couple of months ago.  I actually liked the last two pieces (Nacho Duato's Jardi Tancat, and Danial Shapiro and Joanie Smith's To Have and To Hold) more tonight.  When I saw the rehearsal I preferred Susan Marshall's Cloudless, but I think the combination of different dancers, and the shock value of the latter wearing off (and people laughed in strange places), plus just the full ensemble work of the Jardi Tancat and To Have and To Hold, altered my connection to it tonight.  Cloudless is more on the edge of performance art (which I like), whereas the other two were more straight-up dancing, with a sheer beauty of movement, and the intricacies of six dancers moving through and negotiating the space at the same time, that I enjoyed more.  (And the dancing between Bruce McCormick and I'm not sure who the woman dancer was, was gorgeous in Jardi Tancat.)

Last night I went to the Murphy/Lachow Company's The Man Who Can Forget Anything at On the Boards, and while I enjoyed it, I don't really have a clue what it was about. There was film, live music, acting, and dancing, and the second half was particularly poetic.  There were references to Chekhov's The Three Sisters (Chekhov is coming up all over the place, at the moment), many of which were things I marked down as wanting to remember while I was attempting to read it.  (I did finally sit down, and start it for the fourth time today.  Finished it, at last.  Now I just have two other translations I want to read, for comparison.)

In the talk back after the show, someone asked, "What was it about?"  One of the answers was that it was about whatever it made you think of, and that it changed for them every night.  Charlie Lachow, one of the performers, summed it up as, "To build. To balance. And to pass on."  And there was something about the linear, yet also circular, nature of time, and how everyone has a different memory of the same instance, so how do you go back to recreate it?  And then how every act in the Chekhov, is basically the same thing (only things have gotten more bleak, and hope has faded.)  I don't know.

And then on the bus, there was this woman across from me, I thought she knew the man she was talking to, and then suddenly she burst out crying.  He finally asked what was wrong, and she said, "You wouldn't understand, it's a female problem."  And then another woman came over and sat with her and tried to find out what was going on.  She said she was hungry.  She said she was scared, that she didn't know where she was gonna sleep.  Yeah, I was eavesdropping.  But it just all felt wrong.  She said she'd lost her ID, and she handed  the other woman a luggage tag with and address and phone number on it. She said she couldn't go home because someone would be mad.  She seemed to know about the shelter system.  The address was Ballard, but we were on a bus coming out of Ballard to Downtown...I don't know.  We all got off at the same stop.  The other woman offered to buy her food and was trying to call someone.  The whole thing didn't sit well.  This morning I was still thinking about it, and wondering was she a trafficking victim? Playing mind games?  Just having a really bad night?  I don't know what I could've done, the other woman had more of a handle on it than I would have. (I wasn't carrying a phone, for one, nor cash.)  I hope something worked out...Belltown is a bad place to be out on the street all night.  And she was at the end of her rope.  I feel like I should've done something, but I don't know what that would have been (especially without a phone on me.)

Persistant

When it gets light enough to see, the world is a pink glow, the rising sun hidden, but casting it's warmth through the fog, nonetheless.  The fog is all-enveloping, making the world around me smaller, the people inside of it, somehow closer.  By the time I go to lunch the fog has rolled back to the waterways, leaving random, gauzy, clouds stretched lazily out across the expanse of sky, as if by an unconcerned hand.  Soon the foggy mornings will be replaced by rain.

Went to an art opening after work, fully planning on getting to choir after.  Somehow, while waiting to find out how much the art was, I got (easily) convinced into doing this mini-bus art tour.  The idea behind it being to take potential art collectors to the art, introduce them to the galleries (we went to Blindfold, Ghost Gallery, and Vermillion) and the artists, in hopes of turning them into collectors of local art, eventually.  Essentially, trying to overcome the barrier that keeps people from buying art, supporting local artists and galleries.  Was part of an interesting discussion on facebook about this earlier this fall.  It's good to see something proactive happening.  This was the first one.  I think it's called "Collector" or something like that.  (Had seen a cheeky post about it earlier in the day, surprised to find out it was actually true.)

Mentioned to someone that I was late for choir rehearsal.  Ended up telling him about the Finnish choir, he said he wanted to come hear us and gave me his card.  So, I missed rehearsal again.  Even chains you willingly put on yourself begin to chaffe sometimes.  I love singing in the choirs, I do, but having an awful time getting myself to rehearsals lately.  I think my life is overly scheduled again.  (Nobody's doing but my own, I know this.  I've got a lot of "have to's" and not enough free space for "wants".)  I need to not go anywhere beforehand, it's just too tight of a time frame.

My voice class got cancelled due to low enrollment.  Disappointed, need to find some other practice.  I'll get a refund.  Thinking about a couple of workshops, but now I'm interested in this art as well (I like supporting other artists.)  I really need to get my reclassification paperwork turned in...any raise would be helpful.

Lunar eclipse tonight

Early home for me, before 10 pm.  Went to The Seagull Project's "Queer Russia" which was part of their series, "The Great Soul of Russia."  I wasn't actually sure what this was going to be, but it ended up being a scripted performance of the contributions of LGBTQs in Russian history.  (One exception was that of Alexandra Kollontai, who was not queer, but made great strides for sexual equality, and especially for women's rights in the early part of the 20th century: Russian women had equality in the 1940's, though I don't know how that stands now.)  This script is in progress, curious to see where it goes.  Don't imagine they will be performing this in Russia (they have performed Chekhov in Russia.)  Under Putin, I think the statistics are that in 2002 60% (or something around there) of the Russian public had an unfavorable view of LGBTQ's and as of 2012 that has increased to 74% (I think.)  They could go to prison for performing this there.  Beating someone up because of sexual identity is an unpunished crime.  It's a travesty.  You are who you are.  (I'm straight, for the record, but I believe in equality and acceptance.)

Some other things I took from tonight were that I want to listen to more of Tchaikovsky's music; and that it was lovely to see Alex Highsmith as Sophia Parnok (poetess, turn of the 20th century), had previously seen her as Harper in "Angels," and for which I appreciated her non-hysterical performance, but she has a great presence, as well as poetic sense.  And Marty Mukhalian as Alexandra Kollontai, who was recently in the "Bunner Sisters," is also pretty awesome.

Another stressful morning, but through a series of fortuitous circumstances, minimum negative consequences...so I see the overall picture as ending up positive...basically, I got really lucky, things could have gone downhill, but did not.  Yes, of course it has to do with money.

Clouds obscure the moon, who still sends it's light out into the night, in beams around the edges.  I shan't stay up to witness the eclipse.

Edgy Monday

Chaotic.  Day started out feeling that way, and even though much was resolved, never really got to feeling settled.  Always a couple steps behind, and wanting to start over, but of course, that's not how it works.  In reality, nothing all that bad as something triggered inside believed it all to be, so stress levels still through the roof, whether warranted or not.  The edginess remains.

Went to a reception for the new Drama Department Chair for the UW (bus was late, schedule was opposite of what was written, though it all worked out) trying to make myself talk to people...and in the end, being reminded that this is a good city and a good time to be making theatre.  Late for rehearsal (the other choir) but I knew the door would be open, and I needed any rehearsal I can get, so I caught that bus there anyway and went in for the last half hour.  I really can't remember any Finnish anymore, should refresh on that.  (I recognize words, and that I once knew the meaning, but that's about it.)

A gorgeous (mostly) cloudless dusk, deep blue to gold in the west.  Stars.  A rising, almost full, moon.  Odd bits of cloud lit up by it's light.  In the sky.  Looked fake (the cloud), almost, like something drawn on top of a photo for effect, a collage element.  Had to stare at it to believe it was a real thing.

All of it: the music, the words, the colors of dusk, the moon, the calmness of the air:  peaceful...and still, I'm sitting just on the edge, unable to fully let it affect me, calm my nerves.

What was, is done, and in the end, none of it really matters.  But still... ugh, can't even blame it on caffeine.

Sunday

I walk down the stairs into a flood of golden light.  I look around to see where it's coming from, an almost blinding wash of sunlight pouring in through the kitchen window: washes former things away.  When I pass through again on my way out the door, the world has gone back to gray.

My sense of forgetfulness keeps me around home all day:  I soaked beans, and then ran the dishwasher.  Promptly forgot about the dishwasher until I came downstairs to rinse and cook the beans.  Dishwasher still running, it's the old-fashioned kind, slow and plugged into the sink for water. Find I am wasting too much time on the computer, so eventually turn it off and go out to find somewhere to get some writing done.  I go to the park.

The sun is hot, the lake smells from all the algae.  I walk around it anyway, working on the monologue - walking helps me with text.  Halfway, I see a heron trying to eat something.  A little ways over a small crowd has gathered to watch.  This bird has caught a large fish, and is trying to gulp it down.  It's some sorta' catfish-looking creature, gray and bewhiskered.  The bird keeps stabbing at it with it's beak, but without talons, or a crushing beak, not really able to break it down into a manageable size.  After about 20 minutes, it finally does manage to swallow the fish.  Looks like it just went down and got stuck in the throat.  The heron walks a few feet and stands on a rock, occasionally dipping it's beak into the water for a drink.  Can't imagine flying with that fish in the belly, nor how long it would take to digest.  Looked uncomfortable, but I guess it won the battle.

And now evening is falling, a breeze blowing the birch branches when I look out my window, the whistle of a referee cutting through the constant sound of traffic.  I'm home again, and still waiting for the beans to cook.  (Apparently, they are quite old, they end up taking hours.)  Sitting around actually working through the script.  The darkness tricks me into thinking it's later than it is.

Saturday

The air heavy with dew when I left the house this morning, a little bit cold...summer is surely over.  Was early downtown, so went and had breakfast (a waffle), and then caught a tunnel bus to the International District.  I'm so rarely downtown now, that I sometimes feel like a tourist, an outsider...thinking that makes me wonder if I do feel at home in this city, somewhere I've lived longer than anywhere else, now.  And then I remind myself, yes, the area where I work, and where I live as well.  A fleeting feeling, reminding me of once when I was travelling and I felt like I shouldn't be there, like I was a fraud.  It didn't last, but it's a strange state of mind.  So much had gone wrong, I just wondered if I should stay, or put my tail between my legs and catch a flight home.  In the end, I stayed.  Got over the sensation of trying to hide from an all-seeing eye...deciding that if there were such a thing, I couldn't really hide from it.  Might as well let what will be, be.  I don't know what about this morning made me think that.  I'm not hiding.

Went to a walking tour of the ID from the viewpoint of Asian-American women, and their contribution to the shaping of the history of the district as well as the city.  It's a good way to learn a city.  Finally worked up the nerve to say "hi" to someone I used to know, back when I did theatre in college.  We weren't that close of friends, but I always liked her, thought she was pretty solid.  We had a good conversation, so, I'm glad I did it.  We've been crossing paths a lot in the past few months.  No need to prolong the awkwardness (Do they remember me? Should I say something? Do they hate me? - Your brain doesn't go those places?  Lucky you.)  For the record, I don't really hate anyone I know.

There was a Bruce Lee exhibit opening, http://www.wingluke.org/ and I meant to go back, but wandered around looking for a cash machine connected to a credit union (no fees), so I could go pay a bill, and then ended up checking to see what my options were on getting a pair of boots I'd lost the receipt on, fixed.  I was going to just save up the money to repair them, but recently a friend said the store should be able to look up the receipt, and they did.  Upshot, if I bring them back, they will replace them.  The soles pretty much disintegrated two months after I bought them.  I just haven't had the energy to deal with it.  While there I ended up getting a brow consultation and consequently, waxing my brows (I like my eyebrows just fine, but figured, why not?) and then getting a makeover.  (I hardly ever wear make-up, but I really like getting makeovers, go figure.)  I like it, minus the foundation...I'm kinda' fine with my skin.  So, that was my day.

Now I'm just sitting around listening to music, and emptying more boxes, which freed up space.  Feels less claustrophobic.  (Haven't found the batteries yet.)  Went to a multicultural play festival last night, it was Indian-American.  There's another reading tonight and again tomorrow.  These are staged readings, new works.  I might go again, but I also need to work on the monologue and start doing some character work with the script for the audition.  Also, had an idea for a performance piece that I'm working on fleshing out to see if there's really anything there.  So, at some point, I should write.  Need to put in the work.

Sun

Ah, walking outside, under bright blue skies, a relief after the grey of  the past couple of days, the fresh scent of tar greets my nostrils.  Always, everywhere, construction now.  Days growing cooler, a good 20 degrees down from last week.  Fallen leaves litter the ground, crunching underfoot, the trees turning red and yellow.  How quickly the last few months have passed.

Signed up for an audition.  Good script; read it three times before responding to the call.  Wanted to see if I had it in me, I think I do.  It's pretty heavy.  Anyway, I have a couple of weeks to get it together this time.  Five minutes, 90-second monologue.  Gives me something to do for the next couple of weeks: get my monologue more solid, get in touch with this character.  It's vague, what happened, but that's good, can plug into it more.  Practice is good.  In the right age range.  I auditioned for this company last summer, one I really liked:  they're professional and they choose fantastic scripts.

My camera batteries died, and I can't locate my rechargeables, so am currently shooting film again.  No pictures for a while.

Cool.  A friend gave me a comp to a show I was wanting to see.

Art.  Rehearsal.  Writing.  Working on audition stuff.

Still feeling relatively blank.  Something to endure.  Don't rue what I didn't have the courage to do...no living in the thoughts of "what if?"

Later, walking, observing, taking in humanity in all it's glory and depravity, and then also being a part of all that and, feeling very alive.  And so staying longer than I meant, taking in tea, and conversation, and art...and consequently missing rehearsal (singing, but that doesn't excuse it), but connecting.  Stopping to gaze up at the neon lights, and the way the moon lit up the iron work and train tracks.  Finally catching the bus with a flower and an apple in my hand, both offered, and accepted.  Transferring amid the aftermath of cop cars, an ambulance, buses off the trolley lines, and someone's dinner spilled in the street.  Left to wonder, no answer given.