THERE WILL BE HALLOWEENS

Thirty years ago tomorrow, I took my first step into Manhattan. Seems like a dream, a long time ago, and yesterday. I had just graduated from San Jose State University, done summer theatre at the Barn Theatre in Michigan, gotten my Equity card, done a show in Japan, and taken a cross country trek from my home state of California to New York. I took the PATH train in from Jersey, and got out at 34th Street. 

It was the most excited and terrified I had ever been up to that moment. 

Ever since seeing the original King Kong on Creature Features when I was five or so, I had this unquenchable thirst to drink in the air of Gotham. I don't know why. Maybe a past life, or my guiding angels, my tribe of spirit guides who I've always relied on. Maybe it was the fact that I was a theatre major, an aspiring actor who wanted to make it on the stage, and NYC was, and still is, the city in America for live theatre. Yes, there are regionals theatres, and tons of good theatre all over the country. But NYC is the one place where you can see a show every day of the year with no repeats, and at least half will not be terrible. 

So off to NYC I went. 

That first night, Halloween 1990, was magic. But it was a coarse magic, wild and unpredictable. My future room mate, a guy I had worked with over the summer, was my tour guide that day. He turned out to not be the best room mate, but I was glad to have him with me that day. He lived in Jersey, and knew the city fairly well. We of course went to the Empire State Building, to see where Kong fell. Then down to Union Square, where we met up with another friend from the summer, a young actress who was in her senior year at NYU and lived in a dorm. The plan was to dump our stuff at her place, roam the city, and then meet up later to go to the Halloween parade. And of course, being in our early 20s, to drink a lot. 

Which we did. 

I remember Blackberry Kamikazees at a joint in the village called Rock Around the Clock. And getting cheap Japanese food at Dojo's on St. Marks. And feeling like I was in a dream or movie or hallucination. I was in NYC! I was leaping into the unknown. Besides a handful of people I had met over the summer, I didn't know a single person who live there. I didn't have a job. I didn't have a ton of money. I didn't have an apartment. 

And I didn't care. I was alive, and doing what I wanted to with my life. 

We drank and wandered all over, a bit tipsy and very ecstatic. It felt like the entire world was my personal Disneyland. The parade was magnificent, strange, and to this day the best I have ever been to. And there were these giant skeleton puppets of blue whales that were truly amazing.

Then we all went back to our friends apartment. And things go funky, a lovers quarrel broke out, and at around 6 in the morning, we were asked to leave. 

Wandering though NYC in the early hours after Halloween is a surreal experience. Felt like I was in a dystopian 1970s movie. I was hung over, tired, and hungry.

And I was alive.

And it was glorious.

There will be more days and nights and mornings like that. There will be new cities, and situations, and parties and parades. 

There will be Halloweens.

And there will be more dreams for all of us to follow.

FIND SOME JOY

It's TEN DEGREES outside. Hath Hell frozen over? I like cold weather. I love it. Snow, icicles, having your breath steam out of your mouth. All awesome. But when it gets down to single digits, I find I prefer staying inside. I'm glad it snowed. I'm glad it might help mitigate the nasty fires. I see all sorts of metaphors for the year 2020, Trump's cold heart, etc. Even so. Enough. Enough of this. 

Enough of seeing the numbers rise and rise of those who have gotten sick, and those who have passed, from this virus. Enough of people closing their minds and hearts to their own best interests. Enough greed, fear, anger, and sorrow. Enough.

We live in this amazing miracle of a world. We have so many wonderful things to experience: love, friendship, music, art, theatre, movies, dancing, laughter, nature, pets, cooking meals, reading books on cold days, finding a parking space, finding a dollar bill in an old pair of jeans, complaining about cold weather. We have all these things, these moments, these experiences, that are free and open and available to all of us. Why spend our time gnashing our teeth, living in fear, worrying about the other person? 

I watched Sixty Minutes last night, because I wanted to see this interview with our current president, see if it was as bad as I have read it was. And it was. The president, the most powerful person in the world, came across as a petulant, insecure, neurotic mess. And this guy has the nuclear codes. And in in charge of the federal government, which is in charge of our nation's response to the virus. And on and on. Then I watched the interview with Pence. He just seems like a yes man. What some would call a KissAss. And a robotic one at that. 

I think Trump and Pence need to take long walks, listen to more music, laugh more, try to tell jokes more, look at the stars and see if they can remember any constellations. Maybe they should take a camping trip together, get some bonding time in. Be human beings. Find some joy. 

They just don't seem to have any joy in their lives. None. And while it is sad, it is also dangerous, given their positions and power to shape the course of current events. 

I have had many people influence my life. And the ones who have had the best and longest effect, who I remember to this day when I need guidance, are the ones who always found the good in this world, the magic, the joy. 

The Love.

I think whomever wins the elections next week needs to find some joy in being alive. In their friends and family. In themselves. They have to remember that in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. They have to publicly hug their children and spouses more. They have to sing loudly and off key at least once a month on live national television. They have to do an improv game with the Cabinet. Write poetry. Put out their top ten album lists. Make a playlist for days their legislation gets stalled in congress. 

They have to bring humanity and humility to the Oval Office. 

And if it gets cold, write long, meandering blogs about life, the universe, and everything.

Here's a song. It's The End by The Beatles. 

THEY SAY THE MEEK SHALL INHERIT

So, in the midst of what sometimes feels like the end of the world, I am directing a production of Little Shop of Horrors at the PACE with my company, Sasquatch Productions. I am the left foot of Sasquatch, and the right foot is my buddy August Stoten. I love having a theatre company. It has been one of the great joys of my life, profession wise. We started out a little over a year ago, and have done three shows so far: The Full Monty; Little Women; and Matilda. Matilda in particular did extremely well- garnering huge crowds, many nominations for awards, and setting our bar very high. We were all set to do Sound of Music in the fall, and then along came Covid.  So we're doing this weird little story of temptation, madness, and doom. 

It's awesome.

I've done this show several times, and I alway dig it. Because it's about those on the edge of society, the poor and oppressed. The damaged and lost. The meek.

My people.

In this production, we have to socially distance the actors from each other, and the audience. There will be masks. It will be different. And I couldn't be happier. Theatre, and art in general, is supposed to be about the world we live in. I suppose some theatre these days can be the equivalent of comfort food, thick and filling and giving momentary bliss that slowly morphs into fat. But I am not interested in that. 

Frankly, I never am. If I want comfort food, I'll make myself some Mac-N-Cheese and revel in the processed goo, and vow after to eat nothing but greens for a week.

But I care more about theatre than I do about my diet. 

So, I'm heading to Skid Row, where Seymour makes a deal with the devil, and Audrey can't find a place that's green. And I'm going to rock out, and explore new terrain, and hopefully share something pertinent to these mad times.

And they are mad. Our president has lost his damn mind, and seems to be holed up somewhere in the White House, tweeting away while watching several TV shows at once. 

But I feel hope. I think there is light at the end of the tunnel. And that light is the election. 

We have had the shit kicked out of us this past year. And it ain't over. But we have had enough. On top of that, we were forced during the lockdown to find out what is important to us. And it ain't money, or burning fossil fuels, or doing better than the folks next door. What's important is living in a world where we can hug each other. Where we can breathe fresh air and marvel and the miracle that is our planet. Where we put down our phones and listen to actual voices in the room.

They say the meek shall inherit. Let's see if that's so.

Here's a song. It's The Meek Shall Inherit for Little Shop of Horrors.