CAN'T STAND IN THE SHALLOWS

All right. Brain still Covid-fied, world still mad, life still exuberant and strange, rising and falling like waves at the beach, and I still try to ride those waves like I did when I was a kid in the oh so cold waters of the Monterey Bay, usually at Natural Bridges State Park. The routine was always the same. Walk out, up to your knees, get up the necessary courage, then run in all the way, feeling the shock of the water with both glee and agony and above all an unbridled sense of being alive, in the moment, all other problems and thoughts banished by that cold cold water.

It is the only way to do it.

It's the same in the morning. The alarm goes off, and you wade in the shallow water of not quite awake yet, which can last an hour even though it only really lasts five minutes, and then, as your dreams run off in all directions to wherever it is dreams go, you get out of bed. At least I do. I get out of bed, heat up some old coffee, put the kettle on for a fresh pot, break out the journal, and pour what remnants of dreams are still in the noggin, and try to figure out on paper a sliver of my eternal soul.

It is the only way to do it.

Today, however, I did not do that. I let the alarm come and go like a show on my Netflix cue that I keep meaning to watch but never do. I slept another hour. When Lisa asked me if I was going to make coffee, I said no. 

Very strange.

Like not breathing or being alive strange.

But I think the Covid is giving a good fight and not quite ready to cede the battle yet.

To which I say "fuck that". 

I can't stand being in the shallow water, seeing waves in front of me, enticing and frightening in equal measure. People think I do a lot. I am always directing plays, teaching classes, working on a script. It's not that I am industrious or ambitious or have some wonderful work ethic handed down to me by some fairy tale version of Puritans. 

No. I just can't stand in the shallows, feeling the tide on my legs, and not rush to those waves. I can't resist the ice cold water that reminds me I'm alive. I can't. And I don't.

This stupid virus has slowed me down for a week or so. It's done a number on the planet. On all of us, and that's just the way it is. 

But the waves still crash, the water is still cold, and I am still alive. 

Here's a song. It's the theme from The Rockford Files. Because it's bitchin'

I'M KEIR DULLEA. FOR AT LEAST FIVE DAYS.

Well, I finally got Covid, and I can confirm, it sucks.

Happily, I have been vaccinated and boosted and kept up with current thought on what to do and all that, so I am not in the hospital or anything like that. Still amazed at the Narnian Dwarves out there who insist that it was all some sort of hoax or secret plot. Not only is that stupid, it takes all the fun out of conspiracy theories about JFK, aliens, and the real Men in Black. Not to mention Area 51. And it seems, for the most part, that these same people who are willing if not anxious to believe that there is a secret cabal determined to control us by faking a worldwide pandemic and then putting microchips into us via vaccines turn a blind eye to actual dangers to all of us like climate change that have been brought around by a group of powerful, rich, secretive corporations. 

It boggles the mind.

Anyway, I have Covid. I was feeling feverish Sunday after rehearsal for The Addams Family - which is produced by my company Sasquatch Productions and opens soon at the PACE Center and looks to be an amazing show and I hope you all come see it because it really is joyous and funny and a touching reminder of what love and family is all about- and Lisa noted said fever and suggested I take a Covid test just to be safe, and so I stuck that Q-tip thing up my nostrils, swished it in the solution, put the three drops on the test pad- and where I had been so used to watching nothing happen for fifteen minutes, there was a second line, in way less than fifteen minutes. 

Sometimes, it is hard to accept reality. Sometimes, you become a Narnian Dwarf yourself. (it's a reference to a scene in the last book of C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia, The Last Battle. I go over it in an earlier blog and you can search this page and find it and read it and I hope you do) 

After a few seconds of denying reality, I said "Shit". 

And then called every job I have and every person I've been in contact with and let them know what was up.

Current protocol is to quarantine for five days, then mask for five more. And of course, do not go out until you test negative. 

This is day four is sitting at home, and let me tell you, it is no fun.

I feel like Keir Dullea in the last part of 2001: A Space Oddyssey, when he is in that weird alien assimilation of a human abode, all alone, waiting for the monolith to come.

I have had time to write and to watch shows I somehow missed that have been sitting in queue. Shows include: Killing Eve, What We Do in the Shadows, which are both brilliant; also catching up and current on: Andor, She-Hulk, and Rings of Power. Also pretty great.

Now, writing wise, I have deconstructed Lunatics and Assholes and put it back together, and while I think plot wise it is tighter, I need to inject some humanity and magic back into it. I don't want to merely push all the right buttons, with tension, reversal, and release and such. I want to create the world as I see it, full of nobility and tragedy and misguided heroes and misunderstood villains. I want to make something that tells hard truths while inspiring hope. 

I want to kick the shit out of it.

On a continual basis.

So. To surmise, Covid sucks. Denying reality is not healthy. And magic is important.

Here's a song. It's That's Entertainment by The Jam.

 

MEDITATION, ANOTHER WEIRD DREAM, LINES, AND A SICK FRIEND

Another theatre dream last night. This time, we were getting ready to perform Annie. This is a show I was about to open last week end at one of the schools I work at. But the show was being performed at the main stage theatre of San Jose State, where I went to college lo these many years ago. The kids were excited and running around, house was about to open, when I noticed a bunch of sand on the stage. I looked around, and upstage, behind the scenery, was this huge diorama of of beach of some sort, and. this classic old professor who was working on it. I asked him what the hell he was doing. He told me, due to budget concerns, that he was told to do his work there. Then my tech director/choreographer and I began sweeping up the sand, and we got ready for the show to begin.

So, yesterday we started meditating to this audio thing by Deepak Chopra that a friend sent to us. Takes about 15 minutes, and then there is a little task to do. The task was to write down at least 50 people who have inspired and/or mentored me, alive or dead, someone I knew or an artist or whatever whose work had an impact on me. And that was a great list to make. I have had so many wonderful people in my life, and the world is full of inspiring teachers and artists. And the meditation itself was peaceful, grounding, and a welcome break from all the news that is assaulting us on a minute by minute basis. I think there is going to be more and more people going on spiritual journeys of one type or another as we sit in our homes, not able to do the daily grind.

Here in Denver, we are now on a shut in, don't go out, nobody move, put your hands in the air as you enter Funky Town kind of thing. So we went out to get a new land line phone, and get Lisa some wine before the liquor stores close. The line for the booze was out the door and around the block. I wonder how many jokes there will be about that, like there were about toilet paper. I suspect little to none. Making fun of toilet paper is just so easy. I mean, you get to say the word toilet. I personally don't care about people hoarding toilet paper. I do worry about all these people who think they're being rebels by hanging out in large groups on beaches and at parties,  thinking that by doing so they are sticking it to the man. I get the desire to hang out, and the need to stick it to something these days- but come on. There have got to be better ways to do that besides exposing themselves and everyone they come into contact with to a virus that seems hell bent on taking out a good chunk of the world's population.

Today, we are going to work on the garden, work out, take a long walk while maintaining social distance, do what work we can from home, read to each other, clean out yet another closet, and try to maintain our sanity. And I will write a bit, and make a video with my dog.

Also, I think one of my best friends in this world might have it. That's what his doctor's think. He seems to be ok. We play Dungeons and Dragons via zoom, and played last night. I am hoping it is just a really bad flu, like what that weird orange guy says it is. As much as I can't stand our dear leader, I would be just fine if his bizarre predictions came true. My friend is healthy in general, and I am certain he will get through this. But holy shit. So, if you are getting funky with meditation or religion or tarot cards or Jesus or whatever floats your spiritual boat, put a candle in the window and think good thoughts.

Ok. Here is a song. More later.