Saturday, September 26, 2009

go to a parking lot, sit on the ground and cry; you'll never know why.

tonight i appeared on stage
wearing only my underwear,
for the first time.
(please note that "first" implies that there will be subsequent appearances of me on stage in only my underwear. maybe you will be there for the next one.)
well, okay, i'll level with you.
i don't always wear bike shorts under my pants.
i never wear bike short under my pants.
i do however wear that particular red brassiere several times each week.
see, i had to keep my real underwear dry,
so i could change back into it after i sat in
the large clear plastic tub full of water.

i wrote a short play.
i have written several short plays.
i have now performed three of them.
one of them, half-naked, sitting in a tub of water.
(i fucked up the lines badly in that one.)

i joined a little theatre group, here at school.
i joined the very first week of school,
after watching them perform at orientation week.
a theatre group called "midnight cabaret."
they are based on the neo-futurists.
imagine a very "student-run" (in the bad way), un-professional, goofball, and not always based in total honesty
and you kind of have midnight cabaret.
they - we? -
start on monday, getting ideas,
which we write into plays on tuesday and wednesday.
on wednesday we choose the 14-17 (15 is average) plays that get into the show.
thursday is rehearsal,
friday at midnight (technically very early saturday)
we perform.
all plays change each week.
the cast changes depending on who shows up on monday.
it's very chill.
sometimes it gets a little too goofball and disorganized for my taste.
but i like it.
they accept me at least.
that's not nothin'.
and the plays (they all call them "pieces" but i always say "plays")
aren't always great.
but i think that as an audience member,
your time (about an hour) is well spent to
get to see the handful of gems,
good well written plays that do make it into the show each week.
i'm biased,
but i usually think my play (i've gotten one play in each week)
is one of the better ones.
at least i hope it is.

the shows aren't heavily attended.
the space we perform in can only hold maybe seventy people.
some people think we suck,
like we're the non-theatre kids trying to be
theatre-y or funny or something.
i see that point.
i don't agree with it, but i see it.
the audience that does show up is an odd one.
a fellow ensemble member broke it down like this for me tonight:
1/3 of the audience is close friends
1/3 is present/past cast members, who, for whatever reason aren't in the show that week
and 1/3 are out of their minds drunk or stoned.
i told him that tonight it seemed more like at least 1/2 was inebriated.
he agreed.
the fucking audience needed to shut up.
i like audience interaction and i like them getting into it,
but they were rude tonight.
it's like a fucking fifth grade play where you see your friend on stage and you figure that you can talk to them and give them feedback because, well, they're your friend.
you shouldn't though,
right now they're benjamin franklin,
holding a kite and discovering electricity.
or they're just sarah,
doing her best to move the show along.

i didn't mean to rant about audiences.
without them i would be nothing.
without them i wouldn't have gotten to be half-naked in public
(exempting swimming obviously).

i liked that,
it was confidence building.
i should write more parts like that for myself.

the videos of each show will be on youtube someday.
when that day comes i will put them on here.

for now, i think i'll just put the text of the play i wrote/performed this week.
it was/is entitled

two young women. #1 is stage right, #2 is stage left. 1 is sitting upright in a bed with a headboard and footboard. she has cup of tea overflowing with steam next to her bed. 2 is sitting in a large clear plastic tub full of water in her underwear (though the tub is big, she should look cramped, her knees should be at her chest). they speak to each other through cans connected by a string. they should speak as though their connection is bad, yelling a bit. deerhunter's "twilight at carbon lake" plays at a low volume throughout.

1: i said, i’m sick. and i’m at home.

2: huh?

1: i’m sick.

2: homesick.

1: no, flu-sick

2: i got homesick the other day. you know that pancake house on the corner, a block from where I live?

1: no. not really. (her mother enters, says “good morning” and leaves a plate with several pancakes on it on 1’s lap. 1 thanks her and the mother exits.)

2: it’s there and it’s got a big yellow sign. the Golden Nugget. a big golden sign. pancakes and waffles and open all day. it’s so beautiful to me. i wanted to see it the other day. i wanted to see it so fucking badly. and it was raining that day.

1: when?

2: the day I got sick.

1: you’re sick too?

2: no, the day i got homesick. it was raining and foggy. (from 2’s side of the playing space, a person with a spray bottle begins to mist her.) like if you walked out the front door you were suddenly covered in mist. so I wanted to wear a heavy sweater and hold my cat. but my cat isn’t here. he wouldn’t like it here. i’m all wet. (Slosh, uncomfortably.) but i wanted to press my hands and cheeks against his warm body. and tea. i had a lot of tea that day. i was filling the cat void.

1: i’m having tea now.

2: good, good your voice sounds rough. (the misting stops.)

1: that’s the connection.

2: huh?

1: and I’m coughing.

2: coughing.

1: and the connection.

2: huh?

1: connection.

2: listen you’re falling out. are you still there? i can’t hear your coughing. hey, feel better okay? drink a cup of tea for me. i’m so cold.

blackout. the music plays for a few more seconds then fades out.

i'm really tired. if i stay up much longer i'm just gonna eat all the oatmeal raisin cookies my mom sent me from home, which i received on thursday. finish this vanilla tea, and i'm out.

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