I NOW LIKE MONDAYS AND SO SHOULD YOU

Monday comes, and is different than it used to be. Long ago and far away, Monday was the Day of Dragging My Ass; the Day of Droop; Ragnorok Here on Earth. But I think that had more to do with my bad habits and wild ways than with the day of the week. Indeed, pretty much every morning was like that. 

 

How sad was that?

We all agree life is too damn short. There is never enough time spent with loved ones, ourselves, nature, or anything really. And yet, most of us manage to gripe about Mondays, Rainy days, Hump Day, Tax Day, Turkey Day- you name it. 

In my opinion, life is too short for complaining about it being Monday. You're tired? Don't want to go back to work? Boo hoo. Grow up. Enjoy the day anyway. Here's a photo of polar bears in an abandoned weather station. Lighten up. 

So yay Monday. Hello, I love you, and let's get this week going.

I probably feel this good because I felt so crappy last week. Had a cold of some sort present itself, then got my second Shingles shot later in the week, which kicked my ass three ways to Wednesday. It was like how people getting off of heroin is presented on most tv shows and movies. Hot sweats, aches, and a bit of delirium. 

And this was a week I opened a pair of one acts, was supposed to start rehearsals for The Wedding Singer up in Conifer, as well as more performances of The Wizard of Oz down at the PACE.

Yowsa.

But enough of me and my woes. 

I want to talk a little about Dopesick, currently streaming on Hulu. It's fantastic, engrossing, tragic, uplifting, and mind blowing. It's based on the book of the same name, and is all about the Oxycontin epidemic and greed and need and human beings and all the crazy things we do. It is well written, never dull, and has some of the best actors out there doing some amazing work. Watch it. Now.

My wife wondered, after we finished the series, if maybe one of the reasons there are folks out there who are vaccine hesitant is a result of the lies that Purdue Pharma shoved down people's throats via the doctors who prescribed their poison. 

Maybe we should separate money and medicine. To paraphrase Jesus, money and the constant want of it by powerful assholes fucks up the world over and over.

Okay. That's my sermon for the day. Now I am off to work on Indie script for possible shoot in Texas this fall. More on that soon. 

Also, my production of Wizard of Oz got some good reviews. You can read them HERE and HERE.

And you can find info about the pair of one acts, which we call Dates with Death, HERE.

Oh, and about the Book of Boba Fett. Last week's episode was all about the Mandolorian, and was exquisite. A must see.

Here is today's song. It's I Don't Like Mondays by The Boomtown Rats.

 

WONDER IS WHERE YOU FIND IT

A cold Wednesday morning. I am sitting in my den, listening to the soundtrack to a movie that was once called Star Wars but is now called Episode Four: A New Hope.  I love it. I first saw Star Wars as an 11 year old boy, and it was love at first sight. Actually, I fell in love with it the first time I saw the trailer. We all did. I remember it so clearly. It was at the old Century 22 theatre in San Jose, one of those movie dome type structures so popular in the 1970s. Back then, there were a lot of movies that were sort of depressing. It seemed like whatever the film, by the end of it, the main character would either die or sell out or learn something sad and depressing. Not that they were bad movies. A lot of them were amazing, and hold up well. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Bonnie and Clyde. Who Slew Auntie Roo? 

Still, there was this sense of dread. Or corruption. And no wonder. America at that point in time was dealing with itself. We had just had the Viet Nam War, the whole 1960s, with it's cultural upheavals and generation gaps. Watergate came along, and everyone was either angry or high or drunk or otherwise lost. 

As for me, my family was a few years into a very dysfunctional time of alcoholism and denial. 

Things were bleak.

And then along comes this film, full of heroes and wonder and space magic. 

And the Force. 

Now that was something appealing. A sort of marital art that anyone can tap into, a power that connects all the universe, every rock and being and speck of dust. 

I saw that movie 21 times in the theatre. 

Where has that sense of wonder gone? I don't think I've ever lost it. I am a sucker for a good story, a rousing heroes journey, and all things fantastic. Hence my love of the Lord of the Rings movies, the Harry Potter series, and so on.

As for the Star Wars franchise, it has become... well, not the same. It's a whole universe. Some of it is still spot on and brilliant. Some not so much. After watching and loving the first two seasons of The Mandalorian, I was very excited for The Book of Boba Fett. 

It sucks. 

A lot.

But then I started watching The Bad Batch, an animated series following a group of clones in the Star Wars universe.

I fucking love it. 

A lot.

Wonder is where you find it. And usually not where you expect. It's in that movie you stumble across that already started but grabs your attention. It's in a conversation with a barista while you wait for your coffee. It's in the act of writing a blog. 

So off to today. I also think you should all watch Dopesick on Hulu. It's a bit depressing, so watch that, and then cleanse the palate with The Bad Batch.

And May the Force Be with You. Always.

Here's Luke watching the double sunset, a moment that spoke to the world of yearning.

MONDAY PLAYLIST: SPIKE, HELA, TROY, & KILL ME NOW

Monday morning, cold and bright. Clear as can be, really. Took our morning walk, and the mountains were so perfectly visible it didn't seem real. Snow capped and pink in the dawn, they seemed to exude glory and hope and magic, while maintaining the aloof mystery that nature keeps at all times to remind us we are but fleas on the backs of giants. I'm sitting in my little den, listening to suggested songs from Apple Music, an eclectic mix based on what I've played before, a little Courtney Barnett, a bit of Jane's Addiction. The songs wander my mind, mixing with the coffee and toast. 

And I stare at the screen. 

I jumped back into this blog when the lockdown happened. Back in that other dimension known as the past. Isn't time fucked up these days? In every sense, I think time has gone out of joint, that we've all taken Billy Pilgrim's cue and gotten unhinged, bouncing back and forth from then to then, now to now, with no rhyme or reason or proper sense of the season. Some days last a month. Some months come and go unnoticed. 

And I don't even care that much that I live in a different universe than I once did. I still hear the music. I still see the mountains. I still enjoy the warmth of my covers when the alarm goes off each day. And somehow, even within this disjointed timey-wimey reality, I wake up three minutes before the alarm, with out fail. So maybe somewhere in my brain, in my soul, in this Elseworld, a little timepiece clicks on in precisely measured steps.

Who knows?

Whatever the case, I am working on several projects, and I think the next chunk of this blog will be about a new script I'm working on, my journey while I create it, and all that jazz.

The script has no title as of yet, but I am leaning towards Kill Me Now. It's loosely based on my play Burning the Old Man. And when I say loosely, I mean it. 

But the spirit is there. The essence. The idea of how we are all haunted and crazy and in need of love. Not very new, but what is? I find most movies and shows that claim over and over how they are new and different are anything but that. Let's face it, when someone has to tell you what they are, how what they are selling is the next step in evolution, it is more often than not a bunch of bullshit wrapped in glittery paper.

So Kill Me Now. Set in Texas. Funny, sad, maybe exciting. It's the result of meeting a director at the Austin Film Festival and hitting it off and deciding we should do something together. From there, director introduces me to producer, we have some phone calls, and next thing you know, I'm working on getting a draft out by the end of the month.

End of the month. Fuck. That's soon. And in this month, I've opened a large production of Wizard of Oz down at the PACE, am about to open a pair of one acts, and began a high school production of the Wedding Singer up at StageDoor. 

The one acts start Thursday, at Chaos Bloom, a little performance space on Broadway here in Denver. The first is a play called Spike, and it is intense and brilliant and written by my good friend Shannon Brady. It's about a woman coming to terms with her past in the form of an old friend coming to town on a dark mission.  The other one act is Hela and Troy, by yours truly. It's about what happens when the Norse Goddess of Death goes speed dating. 

If you want to come see it, click HERE.

So yeah. 

That's me today. Hope to see you at the theatre, or on the street so we can gaze at the mountains in wonder, or in my eclectic mind as I write these stories of lunatics and poets.

Until then, here's a song from this mornings suggested playlist. It's I've Been Down by Haim, a group I've been listening to a lot lately as I just discovered them. 

I'M POPEYE, YOU'RE POPEYE, WE'RE ALL POPEYE

So a year ago, things were bad. The riot, of course, Trump still in office trying to become President for Life, and the Corona Virus all over. A lot has changed, and a lot hasn't. I watched President Biden's speech this morning, and I thought he said all the right things, but I wonder if it will change any minds. People seem determined to believe what they want, regardless of what is right in front of them. I've seen this on a macro and micro level, over and over, particularly this past year. 

When I was a kid, there was this Popeye cartoon where Wimpy, the burger loving friend of Popeye, decided it would be better to be Popeye for some reason, so he got a disguise to make him look exactly like Popeye. And of course he runs into the real Popeye, and they get into this argument over who the real Popeye is. From one level, this made me question reality and if we are truly who we think we are. But on a very basic level, I found it hilarious because the real Popeye actually engaged in this debate with someone pretending to be him. 

How can there be a debate? 

I figured Popeye was your typical grown up, stupid and crazy. I know it is a bit harsh, but I think also accurate. We got a lot of stupid and crazy going on these days. Biden won. The virus is real, and killing people every day. The vaccine works, and doesn't have microchips to take over your mind. (also, if there are microchips that can take over your mind, it's game over anyway). Climate change is real, and the fires everywhere are real, and the super storms, and the droughts, and the floods. The rich are super rich and the poor are super poor. 

We have a lot of Wimpy's lying their asses off to get free hamburgers, at the expense of friendship, honesty, and integrity. 

All those things are real and terrible, and if we don't do something, we are toast. And not delicious cinnamon toast, or fresh sour dough, buttered with a bit of sea salt on top. 

No. I mean Dodo bird toast. 

It is frustrating, because, stupid and crazy as we all are, I do love the human race. We have so much potential. We make music and art and poetry. We dance. We laugh. We hug. 

I felt this a year ago, and I will feel it a year from now. Love and sorrow. Hope and fury.

So. On we go. 

Love to you all. Happy New Year. If you haven't, please, pretty please with sugar on top, get vaccinated. Do everything you can to address climate change. Be nice to strangers. Listen to music. Dance in the kitchen. 

And if you come across someone who looks just like you, or who insists up is down and wrong is right, do not let them have your hamburgers.

Here's a song. It's Ladyfingers, by Herb Alpert and The Tijuana Brass, which a student played for me the other day and gave me hope and joy and a belief there are still good things to come.