Thursday, July 24, 2008

Did they just make.... a baby?

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Thursday, July 17, 2008

twenty plays and bitterness...

It has been over three years since I dropped out of college. I think I've been bitter for those three years. Someone recently asked me if I still thought about acting. My honest response was I hadn't. I said it so quickly. It had to be true.

My recent battles with work, career, and life goals have made me realize some things. I no longer want to be a victim. I no longer am one. When you're not a victim you can change the future. The past still remains never fleeting, but it doesn't have to bear any weight on the future.

In the past it has never been my fault. Nothing has been. It has been easier to just blame others. Not to say that I was always at fault, but I'm at least half to blame for everything that has happened to me. I was there too wasn't I?

Everyone learns this lesson in their own time. I won't be 28 until October, and I've got a lot of life left. At least I hope I do. No longer will I let being a victim, leave me out of the things I enjoy.

Isn't that just pathetic? That I have stopped doing the things I used to enjoy because I was burnt once or twice.

I understand now that I am flammable. If I'm going to get burnt in the future it's going to be on my own terms.

I went to the Sacramento Public Library two days ago. It had been about three years since I had been into a library. My friend asked me what I was looking for. I didn't even know. I actually had followed him into the library. But what I said so quickly and uninhibited was one word : "plays"

You should see the theatre section in this library, it puts a lot of others to shame. It was sort of bittersweet, there they all were. Shaw, Begosian, Willy Shakes, Silversteen, Checkov and others.

It had been a while, and I didn't really know what I wanted to read, or what I even liked anymore. So I picked up one of those 20 in one books. Twenty off Broadway plays from the seventies.

I've read about three of them. And I haven't forgotten how to read a play, even after all this time. Backwards then forwards. Isn't that right David Ball? And these plays are horrible. None of them are good.

I wonder if it's just me being older, or not being a victim anymore, but I'm noticing things in the plays that I didn't use to notice earlier in my life.

Scenes in plays are supposed to be about the best and worst days of life. People in those scenes do everything that we do in real life. Everything.

People in plays tell bad jokes.

And the other people in the scene make fun of them when they do.

People are racist in plays.

People play practical jokes in plays.

People are always doing something in a play. To each other, to themselves, or to nobody in particular.

A long time ago the word "playable actions" was introduced to me. And I didn't get it right away, and maybe I still don't. But I'm noticing an entire level of consciousness that I never used to notice on paper before.

There's the things people say...the script.

There's the motivation for that in the plot.

There's the playable actions beyond that.

And then there's this thing that I'm only starting to notice.

Their suspicions.

Maybe I don't know what I'm talking about. After all I don't have a degree in theatre or anything. But everyone in every scene, on top of their playable action, lines, and motives also have suspicions. And it's making reading; even the most horrible off Broadway plays from the 1970's bearable.

I need a one minute monologue and a cattle call.

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

I moved and America had a birthday

July 3rd was 103 degrees in Sacramento, CA. It was the day that I had to move out of my old apartment and into the new one. It was such an unbearable heat. I'm still sun burnt from the experience.

Aside from the heat the move was actually not a bad one. Everything was done in a matter of hours, and it was the first time that I had ever moved that I didn't do everything at the last minute. I had a plan and stuck to it. I never did more than two hours of work on any day leading up to the move, and when it was finally time to move it took about three.

I've been in the new place a few nights now, and I've noticed some things already. I guess I've just been spoiled living near a college, in a college apartment complex. All of my neighbors have been hot young girls, who have always invited me over to play twister, or rock band. That sort of thing won't be happening at the new place. I don't want to say that I live in the ghetto, but it's a distinct possibility. The other night I was fortunate enough to see two homeless guys get into a pretty nice fight. One guy in the fight lost his vision out of one of his eyes. And he wasn't dealing with it well. Not that anyone would, but he was freaking out. I think for a moment, it took his mind off of being homeless though.

While there aren't any hot or admirable neighbors, there are a few diamonds in the rough. There is a guy with one arm. Well OK he has two arms, what he doesn't have is two hands. I met stumpy (a name which he told me to call him) when I was taking out some trash the other night. He wants the recyclables, and won't take no for an answer. He's very pushy about it too. Sometimes I'm just not in the mood to recycle. I tried to explain it to him, but I think it will just be easier if I leave all of my beer bottles at his door.

Then there's a lady named Gloria. A sweet gentle soul. She reminds me of my grandmother. And she's probably just as old as her. She's very down to earth. She's a little too curious for my likes though. I don't always want to have a conversation with an old lady in a house dress. Not that she's boring, or that I don't want to talk, but sometimes I just want to do my laundry. That's it. I suppose I'm being hypocritical though, I bet if Gloria was a 22 yr old hottie, I'd make the time to let her interrupt me anytime she wanted.

The idea of America is 232 years old. And I celebrated it in a grand fashion. There were a lot of fun times had with fireworks. We went all over downtown Sacramento setting off fireworks and then jumping through them like they were sprinklers. One time while I was jumping through a larger one, I kicked a nice piece of flame up into my eye lid. It burned I won't lie. But not so much as to get me to stop. Just so much so I had to think about it extra hard before the next time.

I shot a Roman Candle into the side of a building. Not something that I'm overly proud of. But something that, after it happened and nobody was hurt was hilarious. We got it on film. I was kind of hoping to have the film of that by now, but I just don't.

The best part of the evening on July 4Th, was jamming. We had sort of a rag tag band going on for a good part of the night. We had a banjo, a ukulele, a guitar, and a harmonica. We kept passing them back and fourth, and it was a pretty good time. We kept meaning to go out and sit on J street and play for people walking by, but it never cemented.

Haven't posted in a while, and I'm sorry. Hope this keeps you biting. Catch you on the flip.

your mom

:)