RUDY CAN FAIL. AND DID.

This morning, I am thinking about Rudy Giuliani, and how as a character in a play he is quite interesting. Here is this public figure, who was given this global spotlight at a very dramatic time. He could have become some kind of political super hero, a person who through this horrific experience finds complete moral clarity and salvation, and then uses his powers for good.

Sort of a political Spiderman.

But when his chance came, after Uncle Ben gets killed by the crook he let run by, Rudy doesn't connect the dots. Doesn't realize that with great power comes great responsibility. No. Instead, he tries to join the Sinister Six. But he can't even get into that group of super baddies, because he instantly loses his super powers. 

I am thinking of him and his odd fall from momentary grace because of two things. First and foremost, he is in the news a lot thanks to his trying to help the former Lunatic-- sorry, former President -- steal the last election. A lot. He actually wanted to overturn a democratic election in the land of E Pluribus Unum. I always thought that when someone tries to stand for Law and Order, they should do just that. Stand up for the law. And order. But no. Rudy just wanted to keep his buddy in power, regardless of who actually won. 

He wanted to cheat. 

A lot.

And thus, became more of a joke. And man, what a joke. Hair dye running down his head during a press conference. Farting on mic during a hearing. Holding that other presser in front of that run down warehouse. You can't make this shit up. It's too weird. Too on the nose, to use screenwriting speak. 

Besides his clear involvement in the attempt to kill democracy in America, I am also thinking of Rudy, who I think looks more and more like Nosferatu, because of the series Dopesick, which is where I learned that shortly after 9/11, he became a lawyer for Purdue Pharma. He decided, after being declared America's Mayor, to represent a company that pushed some very addictive and not good for you drugs, through lies and more lies, into the mouths of millions of his fellow Americans. 

What a dick.

What a sad, pathetic, waste of space dick.

I lived in NYC when 9/11 happened. I did not think he was a good mayor. He was clearly in bed with landlords and corporate interests. He pursued laws against small time crime, but was never that good going after corporate goons. 

Then that horrible day came, and he stood up. Briefly. And became a true leader. 

It didn't last long, but he had a shot, a chance to wash his hands of his past imperfections and become something better.

And he didn't. 

He failed. 

How sad.

So, on this Tuesday, I am going to try and remember old Rudy, how he failed when opportunity knocked, and do my best to not make the same kind of mistakes if I am lucky enough to be given a chance to do something good.

Here's a song. It's Rudy Can't Fail, by The Clash.

BEAUTY AND TERROR

The dreams all ran off this morning. Jumped over the moon while looking for the dish and spoon. And I woke up extra early for no reason. Well, I did go to sleep a little earlier than usual. But only a little. I always feel a bit robbed when I can't remember my dreams. Like a message from my spirit guides got lost in the mail or something. Sometimes, as I wake, I can feel them fading, can remember them for just a moment, and then they're gone. As if they had substance and were physically taken from me. I wonder if there is a cabin out there somewhere, full of forgotten dreams. A country sized cabin, a world, full of me flying and being in old places that aren't really those old places but an amalgamation of other places that only make sense in the dream world.

We watched JoJo Rabbit last night. I've been wanting to see that since I first saw a trailer for it at the Alamo Draft House (my favorite movie theatre). I blew me away. So funny and original and exciting and sad and tragic. That's the kind of film I would like to make. Sort of a farcical magic realism period fable from a modern perspective that's both intelligent and heartfelt. And so damn funny. I think it's streaming now, so if you can, watch it. Fables of courage in times of madness seem like a good idea right now. And it has a fantastic quote in it which I think applies to us all more than ever.

“Let everything happen to you
Beauty and terror
Just keep going
No feeling is final”

― Rainer Maria Rilke

Speaking of which, it's almost the end of the month. Bills are coming due. Energy, water, phone, internet, cable, credit cards, and mortgage. What are we going to do? I know, the stimulus. And yes, that's a good thing and I'm glad it passed, though I'm not sure yet what all it means other than that one time check. I hear artists might be able to apply for grants. And that there are small business loans at zero rate. I hear lots of things. But what will actually happen? How hard will it be to get these things? What will we all do at the end of next month? I think I heard that we will be in isolation until at least the end of April now. So much for the Easter uprising. I think, as this grinds along, we are going to have to rethink our economic system. Completely.

I remember, shortly after 9/11, standing on the balcony of a friends apartment in NYC, talking about the world, what had just happened, what to expect, and so on. This was right after, when you could still smell the electrical fires from downtown and there were army dudes in the subway stations and it felt for a brief moment like wartime. My girlfriend had just gotten a radical masectomy and was in chemo, and had caught pneumonia after that day of the attacks, being young starving artists we had no insurance, and things looked a bit bleak. My friend conjectured that the world would either go in one of two directions: towards the anarchic dystopia of movies like The Road Warrior, or towards the Utopian world of Star Trek. I think about that conversation a lot these days. I vote for the Star Trek world. We can start by doing the Andrew Yang thing of guaranteed income paired with the Warren/Bernie thing of universal healthcare. Seems like a huge portion of the world would be better off, happier, and healthier- and this would trickle up, down, and all around. I'm sure there would still be problems- Klingons, Tribbles, and such- but we would all be better equipped to deal with them.

So. Another Monday. Only it's not like Monday used to be. Not going back to the grind Monday, no sleeping in Monday, no it's-a-whole-week-until-the-week-end Monday. It's just a day that starts with the Sun rising, the dog needing to be let out, and a world that seems cleaner of late quietly spinning.

Time to explore the inner soul a bit, tend to our garden, and write my story.

Here's a song. It is a bit of a spoiler if you haven't seen JoJo Rabbit. So watch the movie first!

YOU'RE JUST FREAKED OUT FROM 9/11

My first play, Last Call, was sort of a 9/11 play. I guess. What really makes a play a 9/11 play? A story about the particular events of that day in regards to the terrorist attacks? A story about people's reactions? A story that takes place anywhere in this world after that day, since we are told over and over how the world changed forever that day? I don't know. I do know it was a weird day, and that the country went insane for awhile. On the advice of Jack Halpin, I took an unfinished play and finished it. I put people in it who were tired and scared and lost. I put in a bartender who took a crucifix and wrapped an American flag around it, so that it looked like Jesus was wearing the flag as a loincloth. And I set the play far, far away from NYC, in the town of Salinas- which might as well have been the other side of the world that day. People seemed to like the play when it got produced by hope theatre, inc. as part of the 2002 New York International Fringe Festival. It won an award, and then got published. Here's a little bit. If you like it, you can buy the whole thing at IndieTheaterNow.

VINCE

Oh, you’re just freaked out from 9-11.  Everything’s gonna be fine.  Relax.  This is a natural reaction.

DAVID

I’m not talking about 9-11.  Not exactly.  I mean, yeah, that freaked me out, and it sucked, and still sucks, but that wasn’t the deciding factor.

JERRY

What the fuck are you talking about?

DAVID

I’m talking about blood and guts and life and death.

JACK

I don’t understand.

DAVID

It’s a long story.

JACK

What is?

DAVID

What happened to me.

JACK

What happened to you?

DAVID

Well, I guess it all started the night I tried to kill myself.

JERRY

You tried to kill yourself?

DAVID

I was going to.

VINCE

So first you’re dying, and now you’re trying to kill yourself?

JACK

What the Hell are you talking about?

           DAVID

It was about three months after 9/11.  After everyone started acting like their normal, boring, creepy selves.

VINCE

Including you?

DAVID

Oh yeah.  Especially me.  Thousands of people dead.  A war on terrorism that just gets curiouser and curiouser.  Anthrax, some kid putting pipe bombs in mail boxes- things are totally fucked up. And there I am, buying this and selling that, closing deals like nothing ever happened.  Keep going on like before.  That’s what everyone said to do to fight the terrorists.  Keep going on like before.  Even if you’re an asshole, keep going on like before.  It’s all so fucked and weird.  You ever feel like nothing makes sense, that time and space are all warped and you’re just sort of floating through it, powerless?

JACK

All the time.

ONE MORE THING...YOU HAVE TO GET NAKED

It's funny how memories unlock each other.  After writing a little bit about how Last Call came about as part of small way of promoting my plays on Indie Theater Now, all these moments from that show came flooding back- rehearsals, performances, feedback, etc.   Memory is it's own Pandora's box, I suppose- once open, it's own set of devils and angels fly out.  One of the devil/angels that's been flying around in my head these past few weeks is nudity- full frontal male nudity, to be exact.  How I came to have it in the show, how actors re-acted to it, and how the public responded to said nakedness.

You see, in Last Call, the character David has come home to Salinas, California after having an existential crisis in NYC, prompted in part by 9/11, and also by witnessing a man kill himself by throwing himself in front of a subway train.  David freaks out, quits his high paying job, and goes home in search of truth and understanding.  When he arrives home, all his old friends are stuck in ruts of their own, and not interested in what he has to say.  In an effort to shake things up, and in a nod to their younger days when skinny-dipping was part of their lives, David takes all his clothes off in the middle of the bar, and invites his pals to go streaking with him.  They decline.  All except the character Jack.  He likes the idea, and strips down to the essentials.  Hilarity ensues.

I should probably mention that there was a time in my life when I got naked in public.  A lot.  Not for any sexual fetish, or to be an exhibitionist.  I just think we, as a culture, are sort of uptight, and need to be nudged towards a more loose way of being.  And I thought that getting naked and running around laughing was a good way to do that.  So it's not that surprising that I write a scene where a guy gets naked.  Write what you know.

Originally, this was not part of the play.  When the show was accepted into the Fringe, it was still not part of the play.  When I asked Jack Halpin to play the part of Jack, (and more importantly, when he accepted the role) it was not part of the play.   But then I wrote the nude scene, it felt right and more than right, and that was that.  So I called Jack, who was on tour with another show at the time, and told him he was going to be sharing a lot of himself with the world come August.  At first, I think he thought I was joking.  I assured him I wasn't.  He paused, said something about doing more sit ups and taking up jogging, and that was that.  Cool.  One naked guy in the show down, one to go.

Now, at this point, we hadn't held auditions for the show.  Most of the parts were still up for grabs, including the character David.  So, when it was time for try outs, we put an addendum on the audition notice that the role of David would have to get naked.  No ifs, ands, or buts.   So we have auditions, and this one actor, Brett Christensen, shows up and reads for the part of Vince.  At this point, the part of Vince is pretty much locked up by Vinnie Penna, and that's all there is to that.  But Brett does a great job reading for the part.  And I think he'd be a great David.  So I ask him if he'd read for it.  He asks me if that's the part that gets naked.  I say yeah.  Brett thinks for a moment, shrugs, and gives a fantastic audition.  The part is his.  He too says he is going to take up jogging.  And I have my two nudists.

Now it's close to performance time, and we need to send out a press release.  We put all the usual stuff in, and add a disclaimer how there will be full frontal nudity.

FULL FRONTAL NUDITY

It's amazing how one little sentence can get so many responses.  People call from all over, from places I've never heard of, asking me about the naked people.   When I tell them that it's two men who get naked, some get disappointed.   Some get excited.  What's funny is, nobody asks why the characters get naked as it pertains to the story- just how many naked people, what sex they are, and for how long.

As for the show itself, the nudity works perfectly.  It's just part of the story, and we kind of forget about it as being anything but another scene in the show. (except for the day R. Paul Hamilton's daughter, who is about 13, comes to the show and sits in the front row)  Also, I think it's unfair that more women always seem to have to get naked in films and on tv and stage, but hardly ever men.  Why  should women have to be naked so much more than men?  In a way, I'm doing my part for equality among the sexes.   Of course, there are a few guys who show up for the show, and afterwards come out saying things like "nice show, but you should have told us it was only male nudity".  Oh well.

I don't regret for one minute putting that scene in the show- in fact, I'm proud of it.  No doubt, there will be fewer high school and college productions of it due to the nudity- but so what?  It's my play, and I know it was the right thing to do.  The scene is beautiful, and the play would be less without it.

Now go here, buy your own downloadable file of it for about a buck fifty, and see it you agree.

Lovers Leapt

So it was ten years ago that we all went crazy.  As Mr. Nelson said, ain't it funny how time slips away?  I remember a lot from that day, and the many days afterwards, being in New York, going to Union Square and seeing all the candles and flowers and people, and how people kept painting the boots on the statue of George Washington pink- which seemed very appropriate at the time.  It was a strange time to be alive.  Like most times.  Last night, I was at the Broncos game, and there were all these ceremonies going on about 9/11, and I heard a boy ask his father if we were celebrating 9/11.  It was a strange choice of words, but taking a step back, not too strange.  The ceremony had the air of celebration and spectacle, with just a pinch of gravitas strategically thrown in.  And of course, there were thousands and thousands of people chanting "USA!  USA!  USA!" over and over- which gave the whole thing a sort of pep rally feel.  It was kind of creepy.  Happily, the day before, I went to something far more interesting, and to my thinking, appropriate in regards to 9/11.

Sunday, on the tenth anniversary of the attacks, we went down to Colorado Springs to see a production of Leslie Bramm's Lovers Leapt, directed by the intrepid Scott RC Levy for for the Fine Art Center's Theatre Company, as part of a special event to commemorate 9/11.   The play is a one act, written shortly after the attacks, that brings to the stage what goes through the minds of two people as they jump out of one of the burning towers.  It's tough, and sad, and beautiful.  It's starts with their initial leap, and ends abruptly in the only way it can.  In the time between, we journey with the actors to ideas of what might have been and will never be.  If you would like to read a section of the play, or purchase it outright for less than $2, it is part of the 9/11 collection of plays offered at Indie Theatre Now.  Just go here.  The play was presented in front of a display of 9/11 art by Joellyn Duesberry, with no set to speak of, no lights or sounds- just actors, words, and heart.  I found the spartan staging to fit perfectly with the material, letting the audience imagine all the flames and smoke and horribleness from the plethora of images we seem to be inundated with every year around this time.  The performances by Steve Emily and Kara Whitney were superb- I completely believed I was watching two people falling through space, toward certain doom- which is kind of amazing when you think about it.  If this production is any indication of what Mr. Levy is going to doing with the company, I expect to be making the drive to Colorado Springs a lot.  After the show, there was a talk back, led by Mr. Levy, along with Sam Gappmayer, CEO/President of the center, and Blake Milteer, Director of the Taylor Museum.  One of the main points of the talk back, aside from comments on the show itself, was how the one question we all seem to ask each other when discussing that horrible day is "where were you", and why is it that we ask that question.  I thought about that a lot, and I think that maybe the reason we ask that question is that it is one of those moments in our lives that sticks out as a time when all facade slipped away and we faced the unknown.  I think beyond that, we have taken many different views about the attacks and what they meant- but the unifying moment, I believe, was not a wake up call to terrorism, or a justification for war, or a justification for peace- it was just a time when we all had to face death and mortality.  And it seems that most of us connect to that moment instantly when we think of it, and lose all our inhibitions and pre-supposed ideas of self, and are able to connect with one another.

Joellyn Duesberry, Memory Time Lapse

For information on more plays about 9/11 that I recommend, please go to Indie Theatre Now's 9/11collection.  And please, leave a comment about where you were, and what you thought on that day.