(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.)

After Clown

Survived the clown cheer, won the cheer competition...I don't think I won any contests last year (I think it was either because I was loud and obnoxiously pointing at myself, or they wanted to see how I would react to winning.  I also kissed a couple of clowns, on the cheek, at some point, just to get a reaction.)  Still need to work on discovery and exiting.  It's the same as acting.  You enter and leave with presence, except in clown, you acknowledge what you give and receive the audience more so.  You never do anything until something makes you do it.  This is such a good reminder of that, especially when it's just you (me) on the stage facing the audience.  We ran late, but I got a ride home, otherwise, it'd be closer to midnight.  This class is short, only six sessions.  So far, has not been as scary as personal clown.  I think clown helped with Meisner, and Meisner (plus the clown jam) have definitely helped with this class.  I allow myself to take more risks.  Committing more.  At any rate, in class, I don't think about anything else going on in my life: I like that.  And even if it's scary at times (failing) it's a fun way to learn these things.

Everything else? I don't know what to make of anything.  Holding the sweet unexpected moments from strangers close to my heart.

These are from Sunday.  First is a view from Kite Hill, and the second is what our "emergency" snacks were wrapped in.


View from Kite Hill, July 20/L Herlevi 2014

You Are Safe, July 20/L Herlevi 2014

Read, read and more reading

Am loving Jose Rivera.  Almost done reading Marisol, reminds me a lot of Tony Kushner's Angels in America: apocalyptic, angels, New York, messages, although more chaos, more dystopian, (in that sense, closer to Kevin Smith's Dogma), and yet still with an aching, yearning hope alive.  The will to survive.  To want more, a world restored, maybe balanced.  I want to stage this.  (I read Zoo Story, Albee, last night.  Didn't grab me, I was hoping it might.)  Reading as much as possible, to find out what moves me.  What makes me feel awake and excited to be alive?  Whose writing thrills me?: Kushner, Rivera, Shanley, Mamet (because I had to dig), Auburn (Proof), Jon Robin Baitz (Other Desert Cities), so far, open to more.  Still reading.

In clown group last night, the last exercise we did made me think of Beckett, so I think I'll read him too, though, probably not something we can do for final scenes; just something to build a clown performance from.  I'm finding more "ins," more chinks in the solid wall that made creating something seem daunting and off-putting (because I couldn't figure out how to begin.)

Took pictures yesterday, but was too exhausted to upload them last night after getting home from clown.  Probably need to be eating more, (clown) used up more energy than I woulda' thought, it was less than two hours.  We ended early, partially because I was hungry.  There was talk of dismantling the group, but I hope we can get enough people to show up: I like doing the work (and people find us on line and show up, which is cool.)

I heard back from another place, an apartment, with a woman.  Will check out both places this weekend.  (And get rid of more stuff.  Should post the furniture on craigslist.)

Keeping my fingers crossed that something works out soon.  Cheers.

Dream about "clown"

Still not snowing.  Had a bunch of weird dreams about Meisner (invading all parts of my life now), last one involved being jealous of someone and realizing that I should just start calling it out and wanting for us to walk into class and go, but then realized we weren't scheduled for that day, and then later, that we weren't actually partners.  Still I wanted to run with it, because I was tapping a strong vein of emotion (more than jealousy) and I wanted to see where it would go.  It felt really alive and free.  Woke up happy, I guess because I'd hit an intensity of emotion I hadn't been able to, and even if it was at odds with who I might want to admit I am, I wanted it to be witnessed.  And why do I get mad if someone acts where I didn't?  Gets credit for an idea I had but sat on?  Time to act baby, instead of always waiting, thinking the opportunity will still be there way in the future.

Also had a dream about a clown routine, an idea for one.  The clown was polling passersbys and writing the results on a white board, but I wasn't sure what question the clown should be asking and I was asking for advice on that.  And the answer she kept giving me was to ask me the question, "What does it mean to 'wander lonely as a cloud'?"  Wordsworth (I wandered lonely as a cloud.)  Imagery of the poem fitting for the dream, and star-gazing, somehow.  Feel like I'm back in my college romantic poetry class.  I didn't think that answered the question I had, but maybe it does.  What does it mean, and how does that relate to the clown?  What does the clown do next?

This clown needs to learn lyrics.  Ciao.

(A blue jay just started hollering outside my window until I opened the blinds and looked at it.  Guess I should get up, it is after 9.)

Mid week

Just got home from clown group.  I was making up excuses earlier of why not to go, but I enjoy it.  Also, I realize how out of touch I get with that way of being in the world if I don't do it regularly, I forget how clown would react or move.  And again, I love the generosity of everyone that shows up.  Earlier today I was thinking about the next level class and if I was going to take it.  I'm leaning closer to "yes," still, it's a long way until July.  I have no idea what I'm doing this summer.

I'm volunteering for another theatre event this weekend, I had said I was available for any of the days (ushering) and they assigned me this weekend.  I want to meet people doing theatre in this city.  Anyway, as part of that, all the volunteers were invited to the kick-off event tomorrow night, I'm kinda on the fence.  I'd like to go, but if I'm the only volunteer that shows up (everyone else is an actor, writer, director, musician, artist, designer directly involved), I know I'll feel like I don't belong there.  And it's my birthday.  And technically, I should go to choir rehearsal as I really don't have a solid grasp of the Vivaldi piece.  But...my main reason for not going is lame, and if that were taken out of the equation, I'd go.  If I want to meet people, or at least match names with faces, this would be when to do that.  Plus, you know, we were invited.  I think I need to suck up my insecurities and just go.

I don't know why my camera records colors like this and not how they actually appear.  I guess I should read the manual:)

Walkway, Jan 8/L Herlevi 2014



Space Needle, Jan 8/L Herlevi 2014

Spider in my hair

Walked to and from clown meeting, only three of us showed up, but we decided to try to pull something together with our group since we just had a bonding experience. We have the option of meeting with another group, and all three of us were also open to doing that. I think there needs to be a critical mass.

When I finally got back home, I looked in the bathroom mirror and realized I had a wood spider hanging off of my ear. I walked through some trees about an hour ago, wonder how long it had been on my head? I did make an involuntary scream-like sound and knock it off of me when I saw it, but then put it outside. We have another one in a kitchen cabinet. That one is getting large, it really shouldn't be in the house.

Great Blue Heron/L. Herlevi 2013

I was having my once-every-few-month's freak out this morning. I'm fine now, emotionally.

I passed a soccer match on my way home, the blowing whistle of the referee drifted and dissipated like smoke. What I want from this continued practice is connection with the audience, and that I can figure out how to improve both that and the way I exit, keeping the energy of the stage; figure out why it doesn't register now. Keep the vulnerability open-it's hard won. That's my number one reason for wanting to continue doing this work on a regular basis. I commented to the other two today that there was a point that I almost lost it in class, but George backed away from it, he must've sensed he'd hit something. I think I woulda' cried all night had he not changed the tactic. Very grateful. That said, might very well come up in Meisner. Related to what came up in singing class, and I cried for a couple of days after that.

I was panicking earlier today because I don't have enough character work done for the play. I'll have to make my best guess, there isn't alot of background info in the play itself. Need to be in agreement with scene partner regarding ages, how we met, where we are from, etc, and then write in my own backstory. I need a reason, or I'm only reacting to what she (scene partner) does, which might be a bit shallow. She's (my character) got her reasons for why the scene is taking place...I need to find them. Soon. (My mom just called, to ask me how the clown class went and to tell me she saw a picture of a protester that looked like me. I told her about the play. She laughed. I would invite her if she lived here. She also asked me how I was going to use the clown...worth considering an answer for, I didn't have one to give. Still digesting.)

Caw!

Woke up to a single loud caw outside my window. With my eyes still closed, I lay there thinking, "Why is there a crow cawing at 3 am?" Finally opened an eye to see that it was light out. Looked over at the clock and it was almost 6 am. So, thank you Spot, for waking me up.

I don't know who put the idea in my head that taking the clown class would be a great idea. Must've been a conversation from over the winter quarter. I know that I came into spring break with the idea that I really wanted to take it, to study with George Lewis. I remember asking someone that also taught at the school if they thought the class would be offered again, and she thought "no" because he no longer had a home here. I did know that if given the opportunity to take it, I would make it happen. A few weeks later, I asked someone else, and she said,"yes" but as an intensive, and the day that it showed up on the schedule, I signed up. And then I heard scary stories about it. But a couple of years ago I met a woman (a classmate) who loved it, and she thought I should take it. I wasn't really interested then and I put it out of my head, thinking I could do it later. She said you'd love it or hate it...I'm aiming to love it, even if that's in retrospect. Anyway, that starts Sunday. I'm excited and scared. Only 36 hours of class:) (over three weeks.) At any rate, I've dedicated this year to transform what's not working for me in my life, or how I stand in my own way-and for the record, when you decide that, a whole lotta' shit comes up.

From instructor: "Comfortable clothes to move in, drinking water...an apple for the teacher...their courage strong like a lion, their heats tender as a lamb. Tenderloin of lamb. Yum!"  Assuming, that's a typo and it's meant to read "hearts." Yikes. Is this the next closest thing to boot camp?

Home

Just got home from the Meisner showcase. Somehow I thought it might run until 9 pm, but the scenes ended after 10:20 pm, and there was Q & A with the actors which I wanted to stay for, but needed to catch a bus, so ran out.  There were seven scenes, split into three groupings (3, 2, 2) the first and last were comedies, and the last one is the only one that made me cry. It's from the same play that I'm doing a scene from, almost the end. They did a great job with it, it runs hot/cold and emotionally all over the place. Sam Shepard's A Lie of the Mind really stood out for me as well.  And there was a whole lotta simmering heat overall.

Found out the Meisner interviews are on the 16th of July, and you have to have a resume. I'll need to look that up; what do you put on one when you are just starting out? Also, I was talking about the clown class (with George Lewis) to some other students and now I'm even more afraid. They were afraid to take it as well, but it's full. Someone said that they heard that if you survive it, you are afraid of nothing. (And that's a normal length course, this one is crammed into three weeks.) Yes, I'm scared. If I start to feel like I'm going to lose it, I give myself permission to quit (I never do that.) And I'm taking off the second week from work (the other class starts that week as well, that one might be intense, but it won't be scary.) I think he's the man to learn it from though, so I will.  Shit.

Anyway, this was the first night where the bus tunnel was hot, I'm usually freezing in there. The bus might have been late, but it was packed and a steam bath inside. Thankfully, someone finally decided to open some windows, they'd been fogging up and everyone was sweaty. The smell reminded me of the old busses we used to ride out to the strawberry fields when I was a kid. Summer jobs. I guess there was a baseball game earlier, which accounts for the crowd, more than usual.

My last class is this week, and then it all starts up again in two-and-a-half weeks. A short break.