AND I SHALL HAUNT JUKEBOXES

Sometimes, after a long day - and there are a lot of long days of late, full of doing what I love combined with insane schedule, squelching heat, a world that seems insane, inspiration, creation, writing, directing, acting, producing- the long day laughs and says "you're not done yet, my friend."

Such was last night.

Got home after a ten hour day of theatre camps and that long drive from North Boulder to Denver in a torrent and a near miss with a car veering away from a big puddle and almost killing me, somewhere after 10 pm, my mind full of the coming performances of Banned here in Denver and then Edinburgh and auditions for Rocky Horror at StageDoor and rewrites of screenplay and whatever else wanders my mind, I walk in to my home where my wife and one of our dear friends are sitting at the dining room table, laughing and listening to music and reveling in friendship.

And without hesitation, I leap into the fray.

I think life is entirely too short to let moments slip away like the last few episodes of some show you binge on Netflix but that doesn't quite grab your imagination but you watch anyway.

This is reality. 

A rainy night, a Nick Drake record playing full blast - yes, we do the vinyl thing, and love it- and that just rained feel on a hot summer night. 

So we just hang out and shoot the breeze and decide to turn on the jukebox - yes, we also have a jukebox, which when said sounds both awesome and absurd, like we're a bit precious with how we do things but who gives a shit it's cool and was Lisa's dad's and we love it  - and end up realizing in the blink of an eye that it's almost 2 am and we all have shit to do tomorrow/today and finally friend leaves, and we go to bed, and I wake up feeling bug eyed and head warmed and like a piece of old bread forgotten in the toaster.

And it is glorious. 

This is the life I choose. Full of friends and music and conversation. Children on the stage. New musicals. Drives in the rain.

I used to often say "I'll sleep when I'm dead", but I don't think I will. I'll just be a ghost in a record player or jukebox and keep on dancing.

So.

Things I am doing. 

First and foremost, I'm directing Banned the Musical, a new show about identity and gender and finding ones self. There is an Indiegogo campaign for it. Please check it out HERE, and if you can, kick in a few bucks. Producing a show and taking it to the Edinburgh Fringe is not cheap. And we are all doing this for love, and a little help for the starving artists is good karma. And also please share the link for the campaign on your social media. We are also doing three preview performances in Denver at the Vintage Theatre. Click HERE for info on that.

I'm also going to be directing Rocky Horror Show at StageDoor Theatre in Conifer. The auditions and callbacks are the two days before we head over the pond, because why have time to breathe? Info on that is HERE.

I think that's it for now. Here's some Nick Drake. Play it late at night with friends, dancing and laughing and talking freely and with gusto.

  

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.