Monday, March 30, 2009

"only you, you're the only thing i'll see forever. in my thoughts, in my words and in everything i do, nothing else but you, ever." shut up.

what's your favorite song, emma?
by the smashing pumpkins? really?
no, no. i mean, my favorite song today? it'll probably change in a few days or a week or so.
yeah, sure, today.
sure, whatever, right now. 12:02 p.m.
no, i mean, the song. "tonight" from west side story.
oh. okay. showtunes.
i guess the wild-eyed purity of it. the love of tonight, of that very moment. tony and maria have, in their minds, lived only for that moment at the gym, on the fire escape. that must feel fucking great.
i want a fire escape.
yeah, but it's kind of sad too, you know? not enjoying life, feeling consantly expectant.
no, no, it's great. i'm sure they've enjoyed life, and not enjoyed it too, no doubt. but every other moment just perishes in comparison. they would have to have known both happiness and hardship to know that what they are creating on the fire escape can bring them even greater happiness and even greater danger.
what? did you write this down? does that make sense?
yeah, i don't know. mostly i just love the pure immediacy and the living-in-the-moment-ness of that song. i guess i just want my own tony or maria.
oh, don't we all?
is that your favorite song in the show?
no. well, right now it is. maybe. i like the "jet song" too. and "the dance at the gym." and "cool", of course.
it's a good musical.
the best, baby. well, one of the best.
what are the other ones?
spring awakening. little shop of horors. rocky horror show.
go on.
no i'm done with this.
i'll see you later, okay?
yeah. thing is i can't even really see you now.
get a fucking hair cut already.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

sticks and stones may break our spirits but we're busy breaking our legs

closing weekend of my last high school show.

well, it's thursday.

so a day early start to most people's definition of weekend.

last show before closing weekend.

i'm feeling all sentimental. i'm regretting not being a better, closer part of the school theatre family. there will be more.

people seem to like the show at least.

it's better than the last one, i'll give it that much.

but then, we're just off to a better footing, with the very play and all.

little shop of horrors.

the play we did in the fall should never be produced by anyone ever. it is just that not good. however, people seemed to like it. some people. the (there is no gentle way to put this) um, less intellectual people. or the people with less of a discretion to the calibur of play they watch. while people like my mfa parents, and peers who intentionally read books either liked or disliked by the nebulous body of "intellectuals", and people with just a general sense of theatre and the ballpark of plot development and character change it usually shoots for - those people didn't like the fall play.

but not this time. there are weak parts. there are things that could have and should have been handeled better. there are many thing i would change "if i had more time."

but we didn't have more time.
now all we have is eachother and what was bought and built and rented and rehearsed. and from that we have the best damn little shop of horrors we possibly could have.

as a note: i'm the costume tech for the show. however, i and my costume partner are also the ones of our company with the best sewing skills and therefore also made significant and numerous contributions to the repair and upkeep of the falling-apart-at-the-seams audrey two puppet we rented.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

a letter to my anarchistic weetzie bat

March 5, 2009
Dear Simone,
What coincidence that brought my path past you today. you see i left school earlier than i intended so i could go to the Harold Washington Library to get a CD because i needed a particular song to put on a mix tape (that i've gotten into my head needs to be made tonight) for adrian (why i think he needs a mix tape is a whole other thing, that i'd prefer not to get into just now). and the weather was gorgeous today so i had biked to school, so i was then free to go anywhere i pleased. and i wanted to go to the library downtown. and from there i prefer clark st. to get back up north, because it's a lively street and i'm somewhat familiar with it. but: had the weather been freezing as itso recently has been; or had i left an hour earlier; or had the CD been checked out; or had i not gotten it into my head that adrian needs a mix tape tomorrow ... none of this would have happened.the world baffles me sometimes with its sheer coincidence.
i think i'm glad i saw you. you are so beautiful. sitting on that street corner with your friends, one guitar between the six of you, shouting the lyrics to songs about freedom. i wish i knew those songs. i wish i could have sat down with you and shouted along too. i didn't have to be home for another hour and a half. but you hugged me and sat back down and i stood listening, awkwardly holding my helmet and bicycle, which continues to stay embarassingly shiny and new-looking even though i've had it for a year (and even crashed a few times). and the song ended and you didn't look at me or say anything so i took that as my exit cue and gave a little wave and said it was nice to see you. because it was. adrian gives me little updates on you, you know, but real people are always better to see in reality.
i was glad to hear you sing again. remember that day last spring when i was sorting through bits and pieces in the costume room and you came up with the guitar that just lies aroung the theatre and sat down and played and sang? i was so happy then. i can't really put it into words.
i miss you. i think about you a lot. daily. in a sort of what-would-jesus-do way. i wonder what you would do and how you are. i always wanted to know you better than i did, you were, are, so interesting, a little bit of an enigma. you never seemed to take the same interest in me, and that's fine. i'm a bit bland, i know.
you have influenced me more than you know. i mean, i was on a bike, for one. that's definitely a product of your influence. and i love it. i love biking. i feel free and strong. so, thanks. and talking to you made me completely reevaluate what is good and right in this world and who i am and how i should live and how i can have an effect. thank you.
i wish i knew where to mail a letter for you, because you'll probably never ever find this here.
Little Shop opens in a week. will you come see it? will you make your way backstage at intermission, offering "hello"s and hugs? please?
even if you don't, i think i'll see you again. run into you somehow. and if i don't i have plenty of memories.
thank you for everything forever,
much love and static,
love always,

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

act 3 othello notes with interlude

ACT 3:
“honest” appears 20 times in Act 3
- the meaning/context of honest changes. first Cassio is “honest,” then he is not and Iago is “honest”
- layin’ it on a little thick there, Shakespeare.
theme: jealousy.
● Othello chooses to believe Iago over Desdemona
new characters!!!
- Clown + Musicians “discord” “harmony” music terms and relationship terms. foreshadows the discord to come.
- The Clown isn’t funny.
- Bianca
- another case of jealousy

“’Tis not a year or two shows a man.
They are all but stomachs, and we all but food;
They eat us hungrily, and when they are full,
They belch us.”
- Emilia Act III. Scene IV.

oh kathleen hanna were you listening? did you have to read othello in your 12th grade ap lit class? did you read this line? this sounds like you, baby. i want to meet you. i'm forgetting, darling, i'm forgetting. i need to read a bitch magazine and hear your music as more than just music to flail around my bedroom to. why am i not as angry at somethings when they haven't changed? am i growing up? this "maturing" thing is happening without my consent. i want everyone to know that. here at age seven - , no - eighteen EIGHTEEN i am in act 3 of my life. the changing part. i think this act will last many years. how many acts does my life have? maybe my life can't be quantified in regular "acts." i am fond of experimental theatre, after all. maybe my life is thirty, sixty, hundreds! thousands! of short metaphor-laden abstract plays. where the audience, i mean, the rest of the world, is involved. push, pull, choose.
what does the handkerchief symbolize? desdemona's virtue, all that really matters.