I COULD AND HAVE GONE CRAZY ON A DAY LIKE TODAY.

I think there is a power in the universe, a creative force or mojo or zone of some type, that visits us at certain times, giving us clarity of purpose and vision, joy in what we do, and a feeling of being exactly where we are supposed to be doing precisely what we are meant to do. I've been thinking about that a lot lately, because I think I am in one of those times, one of those eddies in the cosmic river. I think this run started with the production of The Addams Family I did down in Parker with Sasquatch. One of those shows where everything clicked, top to bottom, and we all spoke in psychic shorthand to each other. It carried on into SpongeBob at StageDoor, Sound of Music also at the PACE, the Shakespeare Fest, and on and on. Even with a second round of Covid in the middle of that, I feel this connection to something larger than me. I don't know why, or really how, but I am not questioning it. 

It's here now. In Eigg. In Burning the Old Man. In the Infinite Hallway. And I raise my cup of coffee to it with glee.

I am going with the flow, and consequently reaching my flow, my zone, my place.

Maybe it kicked into high gear the the Austin Film Festival, when I got pulled up in front of hundreds of fellow writers for a live recording of ScriptNotes and lost my mind and had a crowd chanting my name while I paraded up and down the floor like a Mad Dog Poet Visionary Lunatic.

Jesus, I am in love with myself, aren't I?

Well, why not? I think I love the Vibe in me, not me in the Vibe, so karmically speaking, I should be ok.

And if I'm not, I am sure at some point soon, Life will say "okay, enough of that, McAllister, here's a big steaming pile of sorrow. Enjoy."

But that hasn't happened yet. 

No. I keep connecting, with myself, with my cast, my crew, my friends, my wife, and the universe in general.

This feeling is always a surprise to me. A miracle. A gift. 

And also makes me say to myself "Of course! This is how it is, stupid! You really can make the best of life, and should, because as far as I know, this is it. Once around, and then off to Oz. So live it up, live it well, live it now, and sing as loud as you can."

There is a lot in this world that is crazy. So much. Death and War and Famine and Plague. As a species, we seem bent of destroying ourselves and the planet, with a sort of insane glee. The sky is poisoned, the oceans are warming, and there is so much awful shit we could and probably should run up and down the street all day every screaming, weeping, gnashing our teeth, and so on.

But I don't see the point in bemoaning our fate. 

I think we have to remember what it is to be alive if we want to live. We have to revel in what joys are afforded us. We must embrace the mystic wonder of being a human being if we want to save humanity. 

We need to get, and keep, our shit together.

This involves: listening to music; dancing at every opportunity; calling old friends we haven't called in forever; picking up instead of letting it go to voicemail when they call back; speaking up when we are hurt; calling out ourselves and our friends and loved ones when doing stupid shit like we all do from time to time; forgiving as much as we can; listening; letting go; being in the moment; not faking a thing.

Man, I might as well get out a soap box, whatever that is, stand on it, and be a street preacher of some sort.

I don't mean to be didactic, but I somehow manage to be just that, often.

Sorry. 

I just feel so much energy and joy and love right now.

Also, it's my blog, and I can say whatever I want. I can  post various photos from my life showing times of awareness that have meaning to me but might just look like random shots to you. 

So be it.

May the photos and the Force be with you.

So here's a song from the summer of 1994. A seminal year in the story of my life. It's Mystery by Indigo Girls, and I dig it immensely. Still, after all these years. Still crazy. Still. 

BIT BY BIT, PUTTING EIGG TOGETHER

Marching on, regardless. What choice do we have? Things are crazy, always.  World overheating. Unrest in Russia. Global Economy sort of uncertain. UFOs on their way. And most of us seem to pretend the shut down never happened, or was just some sort of nuisance that happened and is over.

Time for some musical theatre.

Which sounds a little crazy, I know, but that's how it is.

In October, I got approached by Heather Westenskow, a friend and frequent collaborator about directing a new show, EIGG THE MUSICAL,  that would be going to Edinburgh Fringe. That's the biggest theatre festival in the world. Thousands of shows from all over the world. And it's in Scotland, land of haunted castles and Nessie. I've wanted to go there forever. I became a playwright at the New York International Fringe Festival, which was modeled in large part of the Edinburgh Fringe, and had some of the best experiences of my life doing shows there. 

I with April Alsup, the show's composer, and she told me about the Isle of Eigg, a tiny speck on land in the Hebrides, which in 1997 became the first island to be bought by it's inhabitants from their overbearing landlord. Or Laird. So about five years ago, she teamed up with playwright Mark Sbani and they made a new musical all about it. I listened to the story, the music, the basic pitch, and said "yes, please".

I started gathering the cast. Had to be people who are super talented, funny, strange, and perfect for the show. I felt like Nick Fury, putting together the Avengers. Happily, being the Left Foot of Sasquatch Productions means I have worked with a lot of actors in the greater Denver area. Folks who I worked with on Addams Family, Sound of Music, Little Shop of Horrors, Wizard of Oz, to name just a few. Actors who I first worked with in high school shows up in Conifer at StageDoor or at the Denver JCC.  

I know people.

It's quite a treat to call someone you've worked with and say "Hey, want to do a show in Scotland?". 

Some of the cast I've worked with since they were in high school. Some I've met more recently. The criteria was simple. Be uber-talented and not crazy. If we are going to create a new show, fly across the ocean and spend two weeks together in Edinburgh, we need to all get along. One hundred percent. I have learned over my many years that surrounding yourself with people who challenge you, excite you, make laugh, and so on is not just something to say on an Instagram post, but the smartest thing you can do. Indeed, it's one of the guiding principles we use at Sasquatch.

And now, we are in the midst of it. Working out scenes and songs. Making those breakthroughs that come out of nowhere. Hitting those bumps in the road that frustrate to no end, only to find a way past them when we least expect it. Getting it together. 

And I love it.

Every now and then, no too often but enough to keep me going, the universe will open up and say "this is where you are supposed to be, and this is what you are supposed to do." The night I met my wife. The summer of 1994. Now. 

I lead a charmed life. I don't know why, but I'm not going to question it. 

I bring all this up because the next month is all about the Eigg. You will be hearing more about it. About our show, our Indiegogo campaign, which will be going live later this week. About our previews at the Vintage Theatre.

About all sorts of shit involving Eigg.

Here's a song. It's from one of my all time favorite musicals, Sunday in the Park with George. 

LOOKING FOR SOUL FOOD, TRYING TO BE LIKE BOY GENIUS

Having one of those mornings where I realize that what we really need to do, we writers, artists, thinkers, parents, children... is remember that we are human beings, first and foremost. We are at our best when we take care of each other, because that's part of the deal. When we deal with both the world we dream of and the one we live in now. When, on top of satisfying our immediate, usually no so brilliant needs like having a cookie or doom scrolling or whatever it is that isn't all that important and we know it isn't but still do it, we take a step back and deal with the here and now. We ourselves and each other. With both the pain and glory of life. And I know that seems simplistic, and of course it is-- super clear, obvious, a no shit Sherlock vibe-- 

And yet, I often forget that.

It's hard to not fret about the little things when you aren't sure what the little things are any more.

This happens to me all the damn time.

And then, also all the time but not quite as often, I'll remember that being alive is groovy. That I have lived a life, have friends, stories, moments in time. That I am genuine. That we all are. I do not subscribe to the idea that if everyone is special, no one is. That's a bullshit phrase born in fear and encouraged by people who want to sell you something that, according to them, is the thing you need to be special.

Fuck that.

I'm thinking on this for three main reasons.

Number One: I'm working on a show that's going to Scotland for the Edinburgh Fringe. Eigg.  (for more info on that, go HERE) And it's reminding me of why I chose to live the life I live. Because making theatre is hard, crazy, and at times, once in a while, magic. And the secret sauce to the magic is to just be in the moment, leaning in, using all the skills and structure while at the same time letting myself into the process- who I am, warts and all. And encouraging/celebrating everyone else in the show doing the same thing. We are doing that, kicking it in the ass, and having a hell of a time in the process. There will be come shows in Denver late July, then off to Scotland! More info will be on these pages soon.

Number Two: I just started work on a short film/proof of concept for Burning the Old Man with Tim McCracken. It's based on my play of the same name. Tim and I met for coffee, talked it over, and something in my brain exploded. I came home, started writing-- and I felt like some sort of magician, conjuring worlds and people. I haven't felt this creatively excited in a long time. A lot of writing is keeping structure in mind, format, using the logic of plot and all that. Which is vital. But I think without that spark that got you there in the first place, with out the vulnerable, strange me/you of it, whatever you're working on becomes a knock off, a bit of the same old thing, and not so exciting. I am finding the me/you in this. The words are flowing. More on this soon. 

Number Three: I saw a movie yesterday. A big Hollywood blockbuster kind of movie. And it was fun. But it didn't have that organic, specific and therefore universal moment, that made me believe. And I need that, both in what I watch and what I write. If there isn't some moment that makes it clear, on an emotional level, that this thing is being made not just to make money but to express some aspect of the artists life, why should I give a shit. 

Often, I find movies with flaws very inspiring. 

So. that's today. 

I plan to write more blog entries between now and Edinburgh. So stay tuned.

Here's a song that I think exemplifies sticking to the rules while not sticking to the rules, baring one's soul, and using the very specific to make the very universal. It's BoyGenius, who are fucking awesome, and the song is "Not Strong Enough".