Catching up

Went and saw the UW Professional Actor/Director's Training Program's production of William Inge's Bus Stop.  Four passengers and a driver stranded at a diner overnight due to a snowstorm: a night club singer, Cherie (Hazel Lozano/Tatiana Pavela); two cowboys from Montana, Virgil Blessing (Skye Edwards/Aaron Francis Cammack) and Bo Decker (AJ Friday/Skye Edwards), the latter of which has "abducted" Cherie to take her back to Montana and marry her; and Dr. Gerald Lyman, a three-time divorcee.  The bus driver, Carl (Thomas Allen), takes up a relationship with the owner of the diner, Grace Hoylard (Jess Moss/Hazel Lozano), while Dr. Lyman (Richard Hesik), hits on the young waitress, Elma Duckworth (Tatiana Pavela/Jess Moss.)   Cherie asks the Sheriff, Will Masters (Aaron Francis Cammack/AJ Friday), to protect her from Bo.  The night wears on.

In the morning, the roads clear enough to leave: Dr. Lyman is outed, to Grace and later, Elma, to be a lecher; Cherie decides she will go to Montana afterall; and Virgil removes himself from the picture, saying that he has other offers.  His character is the most ambiguous: did he harbor feelings for Bo?  Did he hope to get lucky with Grace?  Did he leave to give Bo a fighting chance at a life with Cherie?  Didn't know.  In the end, he's left out in the snow to wait for the next bus with no one to keep him company.

Upon leaving, one of the women behind me told her friend that she thought the play was dated.  That doesn't bother me, if the story playing on the stage is believable, the actors believe in it, I'll go wherever they go, and live in their world (1950's Kansas), and this one was for me.

What was interesting about this production was that it was split in half, with Sean Ryan directing Act I and the first six pages of Act II; and Act II and III being directed by Malika Oyetimein.  There was an overlap of the six pages in Act II.  The same group of actors were cast in the two halves, but with the exception of the roles of Carl and Dr. Lyman, all the actors switched roles between the two halves, and the set was re-imagined.   What struck me most about this performance, was the choices the actors made in playing the two different roles.  How the characters were very distinct between the two halves, and didn't seem influenced by the other actor's interpretation of the same role (and obviously they saw it, they were all in rehearsals together.)  I was impressed with how well they held their vision of each character.  And I think the outcome would have felt different had the casting not shifted, for instance, Cherie in the first half was classy and could sing and you could  imagine she worked at a Jazz club; while Cherie in the second half was more bawdy and could not sing, and you could imagine her club was more about showing off her wares.  Going to Montana for the first would be more of a loss since she had talent, and where would she use that on a ranch?  For the second, it would be the opportunity to start over and have a new life, since working in the club wasn't any calling, just a way to pay the bills.  So deciding suddenly to agree to go with Bo, made more sense for the second version of Cherie.

I liked it.  I liked the second casting more, but I think that might have to do with the first Act being more of a set-up for the rest of the play, and the action taking place in the second half.  Cool experiment.

(I'm catching up on the four posts I've started and haven't had the energy to finish, so apologies for not being very concise.)

Always more to do

Well, I asked.  And now for all the correspondence I've been putting off (because I don't know what to say, because it intimidates me, and yet it's hanging over me like a cloud to remind me to do, etc.)

Spent the earlier part of the day raking gravel for the garden project (leveling for ADA accessibility.) Ran home and then caught a bus to St. Mark's just in time to meet up with the procession for Alice Gosti's "How to Be a Partisan."  A five-hour immersive performance, on the anniversary of Italy's liberation from fascism.

While I didn't always understand what was going on, the experience overall was phenomenal.  Very site specific: the music was written/chosen for the acoustics of the space, as well as the choreography, and the use of natural light, ending the performance as the daylight disappeared.  The music was transcendent (although, at one point was louder than any rock concert I'd ever been to.)  The soloist managed to stay in the basic same position, at the front of the space, for five hours, all while a red liquid, pooling from melting ice, slowly dyed her dress from white to red; by the last half hour of the five, it was completely transformed, and must've been uncomfortable, but you'd never know if from looking at her (Hanna Benn.)  And she had a gorgeous voice.  And the dancers performed during most of the five hours, doing lifts four hours in...humbling, they must've been exhausted.

And the performance and the audience shared the space.  The audience was free to move, to come and go, while the performers also moved in the same space (sometimes literally, as when they used the pews people were sitting in, to move through).  People talked throughout (not loud enough to be a distraction), though during the last half hour, as the lights dimmed, and an occasional tone would emanate from the organ, the dancers lit only by pen lights they held, moving methodically from aisle to aisle, until they had wound through the entire audience, you could've heard a pin drop.  (I thought I heard a radio, but when I put my ear to the door, it was the evening song of birds.)

There's another event related to this one, to get a sense of the bigger picture of where this came from, and what people experienced (and what questions emerged, what do you do now?)  (There was a pre-event as well, but I wasn't able to make that.)

There's a lot of exciting art happening in the city right now.  Get out and experience it.

Wednesday (not Thursday)

I need a compass to tell me where I am.  I rake the sky with my eyes as I walk home, searching for the moon, to no avail:  the sliver that was dropping heavily to the west as I headed toward the bus stop just a short while ago, is now no where to be seen.

Of that I had been sure of, now lies in shards at my feet.  Hope remains in some other form of possibility, no resemblance to what I thought was true, still perhaps, there is something left to find.

Off a day, all week.  Think I might be coming down with something; doesn't feel like a cold.  Worked late last night, catering a post-show event.  The food was gorgeous, but fewer people showed up than expected, and no one ate much.  At any rate, didn't get much sleep (home late and up early).

Did not have bad dreams.  Dreamt about being an extra on a film shoot; they needed someone to eat cake (?), and I thought I should just be someone who wandered around (as you do), but they said, "No, you eat the cake."  Perhaps meaning to stop being in the background of my own life. To take what's mine, what I've earned, because I don't often.  (That came up earlier this week, too.)  Some patterns are hard to break.

Early in the evening, the fast throwing of ideas for the (clown) show.  Later, enthralled in the telling of story, knowing the inevitable outcome, and yet waiting for you to dole it out, hanging on every word.

One thing more

Oh, now I need to muster up the guts to ask someone to mentor me (and the director), as well.  Aye.  (It is good to hear that other people find this process intimidating.)

Had really disturbing dreams last night.  The first being about a man holding women captive (one of which I was) and his glee in appearing each day with how he had tortured (and killed) them-unclear which came first.  No idea where that came from.  When I woke up from that, someone was trying to help me escape.  (Might be one of the most creepy dreams I've ever had.  Do I feel trapped somewhere?  I guess I did read a story about a woman that was sentenced to life in prison for torturing a family in her care...deplorable.  Still, subconscious, what the heck?!)

Had another dream about doing some cheerleader routine (outside, in a field) as part of some clown thing, and finding out that that mentor was married.  Someone I know did get married yesterday, somewhat of a surprise.  Seemed sudden.

And the last one had to do with a bunch of cats, and my saying something about #1 and #5, I must've met them individually, but then they were all in the room and I was trying to sleep-they were crawling around my head.  There was a woman across from me on the bus last night that had three dogs in a bag on her lap, and they were licking her hands...maybe that came from that.  Also, always cat posts on the internet.  Cats are everywhere.

Ugh.

I'm gonna apply with the show I've already written (from the solo class), it might change under direction, it could get more solid, at any rate.  I need the eyes, and I need to let go of control.  I was thinking I wanted to work with someone on the singing part, but then I changed my mind:  I want it to speak to the frame of mind of the character, and to flow from that character, who isn't perfect, so it should come from the same place.

Need to start the other piece.  I've made excuses of needing more research first (since it's fiction, not autobiographical at this point), but writing anything would give it a framework.  I can always get more or less accurate as I go along.

Saturday

The damp air continues to drop across my skin from the open window, there's been a coolness in the air flowing over the heat of the sun all day.  Planted seeds in the garden, watermelon (probably too soon, though I'm hoping to make the best of a hot summer) and broccoli raab, to feel like I'd done something.  Had coffee with two other clowns to talk about upcoming show.  (And fingers crossed, I asked one to direct me.) Walked home.  Napped.  And went to work for a while.  Red and orange setting sun turning the stained glass of the library into copper.  Later stars bright in the sky without a moon to block their light.  In all, a lovely day.

Done

I tend to stew on things...for a very long time, usually without speaking about it much.  The end result being that it can seem to anyone besides me that I've made a rash decision, because that was the first they'd heard of it.  And frankly, it's because I can't imagine they're all that exciting.  I just don't like change much, and so I tend to sit on things for a long time before committing to them.  Anyway, I made four major (for my life anyway) decisions in the past two-and-a-half weeks.  One, I'd thought about years ago, and then forgotten about.  When I went to the doctor right before Christmas for the allergy testing, she kept bringing it up.  I didn't have any plans, but the timing was suddenly right, so it was done.  The second my hand got forced, so I jumped; I was pretty sure I was making that one, but I'd been waiting.  The third one I needed to do, for a long while, and events nudged me to jump on that one as well.  The fourth is the consequence of the others.

I mention this because I feel like I'm losing my mind.  I half-joked to a co-worker that I was wondering if I'd had a stroke, or a tumor, from how jumbled my thoughts have been.  (Seriously, considering seeing a neurologist.)  I mean to say one thing, and a completely wrong, really unrelated, word comes out instead.  I can't remember things, things I know, basic things.  (And yet we were singing really challenging music in rehearsal tonight, but if I go on autopilot, I can sing the notes right.  If I try to think too much, I can't.)  And I can't give an example, 'cos when I search my brain it's like walking into an empty room.  And I've lost my train of thought.  And I'm super irritable (but I'm aware of it, so I try not to take it out on anyone.)

On the brighter side, it's like switches flipped.  Places where I'd been stuck, released.  Possibility opened up.  I'm having a lot of insight (even if I can't always remember if I don't write it down.)  My emotional range broadened tremendously.  (And I thought of a revenge fantasy, a year too late for Meisner.  Yet, I understand how it would be useful in a scene.  In fact, a lot of the Meisner stuff has made more sense to me in the past few months than it did when I was learning it.)  So, that's all good.

The decisions in-and-of themselves weren't major, at least they probably wouldn't be to most people, that fact that they changed everything, is.

So, now what?

Show

Saw Wayne Rawley's "Live! From The Last Night Of My Life" at theatre twenty-two, tonight.  Believe the hype: it's fantastic, best show I've seen in Seattle.  First off, the script was original and had a perfect mix of pathos and humor, the comic elements never being used to distract from the pain, and in fact heightening it, partially due to Ryan Higgins as Doug Sample, always remaining in that excruciating place of hopelessness and knowing that he made a decision that he plans to follow-thru with.  (Gist is a man working the graveyard shift at a convenience store, a man "full of potential," who has decided that he will end his life at the end of the shift, and he narrates this to the security cameras.  There are flashbacks of the people in his life - his parents, his sixth grade friends, meeting his college girlfriend - and also the people who come into the store that night.  And a certain amount of fantasy/delusion in his head: the way things could play out, his own dance troupe, Danny Zuko.)

The play kept me off balance as to how it would end.  And there were places where it could've ended, albeit cliche (not the play, but a type of ending it might've taken), where it happily did not.  (It took me a while to realize the clock was actually counting down the shift, and that the play wouldn't end before the clock reached 6 am, which also made me realize how essential every part of that set was, no fluff.)  The end was unexpected (by me, at least. I hadn't seen it the first run in 2011.)  Looking at the audience after, everyone looked a bit emotionally wasted and subdued.

(I want to add that the other option for an ending, the one we ultimately didn't get, would also have been believable: it had been earned.  Again, what an awesome script.)

And I will add the caveat that if you've ever been suicidal, you might avoid the show.  There's a point near the end, where Doug is talking to "Danny" about his decision, and "why", and the "why" is so spot-on hopeless that I wanted to plug my ears and sing "la, la, la, la, not listening" so I couldn't hear him.  It's the downward spiral of thought, the one that's hard to break, the one that should have a "do not enter" sign.

I'll write a little more later. It's late.  (Remainder of run is sold out.)

One more

Just got home from Louis Gervais/shapeshifter at Velocity.  A solo performance, where he uses his background in dance, improv, mask work, and character work.  Each act was a different character: himself; Randy MCrae - a carnival worker; and Iphelia - a fairy godmother; all of them working with the same basic framework of story, with differing results, based on how they interpreted the directions.  Acts II and III included the audience, those of us sitting on the side of the stage ("You look adventuress, why don't you sit on the side." "Okay.") and in the front row of the risers. What are you gonna' do?

(When Iphelia asked various audience member what they had wished for - this is a fairy godmother afterall - the answers were: "To find my God-given path in life." "Inner peace." "Joy." "An authentic life."  I think about the deep things too, but last night I was also thinking: "To get in a show," and other more mundane life things.  She also asked what was getting in the way, and we all fought those things off.)

Very moving, even with all the humor.  You could tell the source material was still pretty raw (the contents of his heart.)  I'm glad he did it though.  A friend had posted info about it in the clown group.  Loved the show.  Plays one more night, tomorrow, at 8 pm, I think.
http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/1220293

Saturday

Started a post on Wednesday, still haven't finished it, I feel the weight of it, the need to finish it before starting something new.  This is in defiance of that.

Thunder storms and rain predicted, but the day dawned sunny and cold.  When the clouds lifted in the west, you could see the Olympic Mountains covered in snow.  Better late than never, I suppose.  Went out to a volunteer meeting for the Seattle International Film Festival.  Not quite sure how I want to be involved yet.  Pretty sure I will have some time free, decided not to take any acting classes this quarter, first time in over two years, just can't make the schedule work for me.  Considering a tap class, but it will depend on when they are offered, no schedule has been listed yet.  Could use it for the clown showcase though.

Last night, went to go see a band, but they ended up playing an hour later than I thought they were, so could only stay for one song.  Left to go see a friend perform up the street at another venue.  An actor whose work I like was also in that show.  Meant to tell him, we caught the same bus after, but didn't work up the nerve.  At any rate, we (everyone at the stop) had encounters with a violently, ranting man.  The bus driver threatened to call the cops if he harassed us anymore, he continued to rant, slinging derogatory words that the actor and I both thought could be directed at either of us.  Apparently, he had body checked one of the other passengers on the sidewalk, and when the bus finally pulled up, and I was walking past him, looking down and noticing all the trash strewn about (I had kept my distance while waiting, so hadn't noticed his behavior, only heard him), he hucked some at me, which grazed me in the chest.  Thankfully only a cigarette package and not glass or dog poo.  There was shattered glass all over the sidewalk, so he had been smashing bottles earlier.  The actor wished me a safe night when I got off; I wished him the same.

At lunch, I'd gone to a presentation on someone's recent "Civil Rights Pilgrimage" that had ended in Selma for the 50th Anniversary march across the bridge.  Powerful stuff.  So moved to hear again of the injustice, but also the dedication and commitment and courage of those who had stood against it for justice.  I had to lock myself in the bathroom after to decompress from it before returning to work.  I need to go visit those places. (There's an organized trip, that goes to the towns, and meets with people from the Civil Rights movement, 1950-60's.  It's sold our for next year, already.)  Meanwhile, the struggle continues.

Tuesday

The trees line up in their Sunday Best.

Waiting for the bus to get to rehearsal Monday night, looking longingly at the park and wanting to have some free time.  I thought though that as nice as it would be, to go for a walk then, that didn't get me to Finland, or singing at Benaroya, or singing better.  It didn't write my solo show, didn't frame any shows, or print photos.  You gotta do the work, put in the hours of practice to get anywhere.  And so, I waited and got on the bus, and went.

Most of the time, everything feels like a slog.  There aren't a lot of shortcuts to growth.  I often need that reminder when I rebel against my (own set) schedule.  It's not a trap or a cage, you get out by going through it.

Monday

My stomach is killing me.  Been hurting since Friday, keep hoping it'll get better on it's own, I'm not worried, it just hurts.  (Like someone tied a knot in my gut and then started pulling on it.)

Learned a trick for hitting high notes, and that is that instead of thinking "high" (which can pinch your throat), think about throwing the sound to the floor.  Makes a huge difference...how have I never heard this before?  Better volume, too.

We have a concert next week and then we might be done for the year, I'm pushing for a couple more rehearsals, to look at Oma Maa, see if it's feasible to sing it next fall.  I really want to sing it, but we might not have enough rehearsals to get it down.  Will free up Mondays though.

Still haven't decided if I'll take a class this spring.  Leaning heavily to the intensive in the summer, which will be most of June.  Would like to do a scene study class, too, because I haven't done scene (or much partner) work in a while.  Have a spark of an idea for another solo piece (possibly two), but nothing for the clown showcase.  I need to move, too, I tend to generate more ideas through movement than thinking.  (Move, write, and speak, move, write, and speak.)

And find a director.

(Good) Friday

Time passes so fast.  Looking at a picture, seems recent, but it was already six months ago, a warmish October afternoon, sun glaring on the water, birds aggressively begging for bread, a boy cautiously peering down toward them, no bread in hand, the birds tense and ready to spring at the slightest offering.

Tonight, the moon so bright, soon an eclipse, though I don't know how visible here.

Earlier, sang at Good Friday service, probably my favorite service all year.  (Mostly) music I love, the one I haven't liked has been growing on me, I've tried to find things to like about it.  It's supposed to be meditative, and the words are beautiful, it's just very long.  We also sing a chant as the lights go completely out, and sing "Were You There" from the balcony, acapella, in the dark.  There are many moments of total silence.  My favorite piece of music to sing, Ave Verum Corpus, is sung on Good Friday.  Overall, I think it's seven readings (from arrest to crucifixion) and nine pieces of music, lights go off after each section, and everyone leaves in the dark.

And in all that contemplation and somberness, I had a clown moment.  I came home to get my music and change into black clothing, and ran out the door to catch a bus.  I did take my jacket off while we rehearsed.  One of the other sopranos fixed my tag that was sticking out.  But right before the service, I was trying to put a tissue in my pocket, and I couldn't locate a pocket.  And I thought, "Weird, I could swear this dress had pockets."  I made a joke about putting it on backward or inside-out, and the women on either side of me, said that it wasn't either.  When I got home, I looked at the dress in the mirror, trying to figure out why I couldn't find the pockets.  I even lifted it up to look underneath...no pockets on the sides.  Then I looked in the mirror again, and realized I somehow managed to put the dress on sideways...how is that even possible?  The straps were somehow still crossing in the back and one over each shoulder.  At least I haven't completely lost my mind, there are pockets, just happened to be at the front and the back tonight.  Been a bit spacey today.

Been reading Small Victories, by Anne Lamott, and It's Not You, by Sara Eckel.  Both, in a way, dealing with forgiveness and acceptance.  The latter seeming like irreverent dating advice, but in the end, refuting that idea that if you are single you must have some glaring fault you have to fix first.  And it is refreshing to hear once again, that you don't have to be perfect first.  No one is.  Those people who are not single, are also not perfect.  Not that you can't change if you want, but how many times have you heard "You're not ready." "You're too independent." "You need to love yourself more." "You're too needy." "You need to work on yourself." etc.  No more than anyone else.  You are good enough already.  You are as much worthy of love as anyone else.  And then Lamott dealing with forgiveness, especially self-forgiveness.  For all the bad choices that you made; for loving too much, or not enough; for silence, for lack of silence; for treating yourself poorly; for playing the martyr; for trying to solve everything; for walking away or for staying; for loving those who treated you badly, and running away from those who didn't; for wanting things you couldn't have; for holding out hope; for anything else: you don't have to pay penance forever, crawling on your knees through the desert.  You can get up now, and live.  It's enough. (You've done enough.  You are enough.)