TURN AND FACE THE STRANGE

Slept in today. It's funny, there was a time I would not consider getting up at 7:30 am sleeping in, but those days are long gone, part of the many other worlds I once lived in that have vanished with time and tide. There was the me in NYC before 9/11, and the me after. The me before I met Lisa, and the me after. The me before my mom died, and the me after. And now this. I've been turning to face the stranger all my life. I think most of us have. And yet, we all seem to fight against change as if it is some evil, unexpected and new that brings bad things. Sometimes change does bring sorrow. Sometimes it brings joy. But it's just part of the deal, the eternal wind that blows us dust particles along. I vaguely remember an Aesop fable about called The Reed and The Oak that was part of one of the first kid's shows I directed out here. The moral was about being bendable our you will break in two. Which makes sense to me. I mean, don't just drift along with no purpose. Strive for things, aspire to greatness. Go for the gold. Whatever cliche you like. But don't suppose for a moment you are in charge of the universe, that things won't happen that you can't change. That way lies madness.

Which makes me think of those people in Michigan yesterday, storming the capitol with rifles, demanding their lives back. I understand activism. I think being involved in a movement to bring about change that will make life more harmonious is groovy. But there is something missing when I see the footage of these folks with their rifles. At least it seems that way. Like there is this rage at not just the lockdown, but at the idea of the virus in the first place. Indeed, it seems like some are willing to entertain the wildest conspiracies, like it was Bill Gates or the Chinese Government or George Soros, who created this virus. Because the thought of it being something that naturally occurs, that the world has agents of death and destruction the visit us all from time to time, is too awful to contemplate. Their anger seems to be at the universe itself, which doesn't favor one people or country in the long run. It's like the guy in the movie Momento, who can't bring himself to accept a world where he did something terrible, and opts to live in a nightmare world where he can't remember more than a day in the past, living a miserable existence rather than face the truth.

And there also seem to be some folks on those steps, holding those ridiculous signs, screaming and yelling, who don't seem to be agitating against change so much as they are taking advantage of this time to let their inner selves out, to voice anger at their scapegoats, who can be government, or liberals, or immigrants, or whatever. They have cultivated a system of thinking where there are people they can blame for their ills, and can finally get in their cars, drive to town from their homes, and yell and scream and threaten. It doesn't feel like revolution so much as a temper tantrum. I'm all for revolutionary thinking, for new thoughts and ideas springing up to deal with the constantly changing world. But I can't think of a single revolution in history that led with people screaming "Hey, don't change! Keep things exactly as I believe them to be! " Revolutions need to move a society forward, not drag it backwards. Doesn't it?

There is change happening. And we are all changed, already, forever. We can bend like the reed, and survive, or not budge, like the oak, and shatter.

Here's a song. It's Changes by the late, great, David Bowie, who was a master of metamorphosis.

FATE, IT SEEMS, HAS A SENSE OF HUMOR

That's the tag line for April's Fool. And I dig it. I've been writing this play for a little over a year, and I am in love with it. I am in love with all my plays, of course. When you write a play, it becomes one of your children- and you love it unconditionally. Whenever people ask me which play is my favorite, I truly can't say. I love them all.


April's Fool is set to have it's world premiere this August at the New York International Fringe Festival, and I am soooooo excited. The Fringe is where my first play, Last Call, premiered. It's where I became addicted to writing. It's my birthplace as a playwright- and something about this whole experience feels so right it's more than a little freaky-deaky. First off, the director- Bronwen Carson- gets me and this play like she's psychic or something. Second, the show is being produced by my great friend Craig Nobbs- who is just such an inspiration to me with his attitude and work ethic and general awesomeness. Third, we are performing in the Connelly Theatre, where I had one of the best theatrical experiences of my life playing Boxer in a puppet version of Animal Farm. Fourth, we just cast this sucker, and the cast is mind blowingly perfect. Fifth, the Fringe is good mojo. And beyond all that, my gut is telling me that this is going to be special.

Sometimes, when working on a play, you get this feeling in your gut that something magic is in the air. I remember when I was writing Last Call I had this feeling. I was in my apartment in Williamsburg, talking with good friend Jack Halpin about the show- and we both noted that there was something in the air, some sort of electric charge about the show. Something was happening that was going to change our lives, and somehow we knew it.

I feel that way about April's Fool.

And I just hashed out the ending- or new ending, as there have been several incarnations- and it feels right. Like something clicked and now I get it and there's the ending I've been wanting/needing/striving for- and now it all makes sense. It's weird, and exhilarating, and a little magnificent.

So get on board with me. Join the team. Enlist in April's Army, as a Fool, Magician, Lover, or Star. We are setting the course for points unknown- but we have a cosmic playlist, plenty of snacks, and an open road. For more info, click HERE.

And on another groovy note, my play RIDDLE LOST has just been published on Indie Theater Now. If you want to check it out, click HERE.

Onwards, and May the Fates Be with You.

IGNATIUS' CAT

It is an amazing thing to be alive. I find the universe full of wonder, mystery, adventure, and joy. Yes, there is ample supply of boredom, anxiety, and sorrow- but I am fairly certain that those are part of the equation that need not be the rulers of our personal galaxies. I remember once, riding in a taxi home to Brooklyn shortly after learning that my mother had been given less than two years to live because her body was full of cancer, I was looking out the window at the moon as we crossed the Williamsburg Bridge, pleading with whatever gods were out there to make what was happening not be happening. I had been having variations of this scenario for weeks. But on this particular night, out of the blue, this thought hit me like a bolt of lightening- a bolt that was full of positive energy and some kind of peace. The bolt, which entered my soul like a downloaded computer program, told me that the only thing to do to combat death was to live. To seize the moments we are given, to listen to all the music of the world, to hear all the laughter and get to the point where your own laughter is part of the mix. To listen to children who have important things to tell you, to notice how beautiful the moonlight is as it passes through the clouds. To realize that we are indeed all connected, all part of the bigger picture, all part of the mind of God. Mom still was dying, and all the horrible things out there in the world were still happening- pain, desolation, cruelty, madness. The list is endless, I suppose. But what am I to do? Give up, lay down, and weep? I think not. I have never been able to do so, and I hope I never will. One never knows, maybe some day this life will wear me down to the nub and I'll give in to despair.

So far, that just hasn't happened.

I bring this up because of late I am working on a new play, and it's drawn me to quantum physics, fate, and perception. And the more I work on this latest project, the more I am convinced that Bertrand Russell was right when he said the universe is full of magical things, patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper.

Maybe I'm a fool, inclined to what some call magical thinking- you know, in denial; not facing reality; chasing rainbows and unicorns. If that's the case, no doubt I'll read this someday in the future, and think "Ah, what a fool I was!". Or worse, I'll have been killed in some horrific manner, and someone else will read this and think "What a moron! Too bad he didn't see what was coming!" Well, if I am doomed to some nasty fate, I prefer to gather my rosebuds while I may- the bad times will come when they come.

But I digress. The main thing I want to mention today is a moment, a quirk, a suggestion made to me that put all the pieces of a puzzle together.

As I mentioned, I'm writing a new play, working title "Don't Get Too Comfy, Pal". It began as an entry in the Rough Writers program at the Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center- but has taken a life of it's own, and will have a long life. Anyhow, at the same time, I've been wanting to write a play that somehow addresses the theory of Entanglement, which I learned about while watching Ancient Aliens- a television show about UFOs and history that I enjoy. I dig all that paranormal stuff- Bigfoot, ghosts, the Loch Ness Monster, etc. But what would you expect from a magical thinker? Anyhow, Entanglement, as I understand it via this tv show, is something Einstein espoused, saying that if two objects are joined at an atomic level, and then separated, they still are connected. They still affect one other. To me, this sounded like a great metaphor for human relationships. Now, in the new play, I have a scene involving a hot dog cart which is a blatant reference to the classic book A Confederacy of Dunces. This play is a weird, serio-comic story that touches on the idea of String Theory and multi-verses. All told via four New Yorkers who are each kind of lost and crazy. So I send this new scene with the hot dog cart to my brother, and he writes me back, mentioning how in Confederacy of Dunces, the anti-hero Ignatius J. Reilly kept a cat in his hot dog cart.

And this, of course, makes me think of Schrodingers Cat. This is the part that gets freaky, even for someone like me who bounces from tangent to tangent like a happy kid in a room full of trampolines. Schrodinger was this guy who posed a question in response to Einstein's writing on Entanglement. He basically said that, according to Einstein and quantum physics, if a cat was in a box, and had a 50-50 chance of being alive or dead due to this complex device, until someone opened the box and observed the cat, it would be both alive and dead at the same time. This sounds a little odd- but then again, two things that are diametrically opposed existing at the same time isn't really all that weird, is it?

So I thought, cool, I'll put a cat in the hot dog cart in my play, and have some clever dialogue on the nature of the universe, or multi-verse. And then I looked up some info on Schrodinger, and it turns out he actually came up with the term Entanglement. And maybe that means nothing to you- but to me, it was like a sign, like that bolt of lightening that hit me in the cab, saying all is well, you are on the right path, and you need to keep on trucking with the dooh dah man.

ENIK'S CIRCLE

So Sunday, like a lot of people, I watched the Super Bowl and all of it's bonus features- the pre-show, the post-show, Bruce Springsteen- and the commercials. All of it was pretty cool- and I especially like seeing Obama having the guts to actually say he was for Pittsburgh- as opposed to some equivocating "may the best team win" baloney that you would expect from a politician- but what got me the most excited was the trailer for the new movie version of The Land of the Lost starring Will Ferrell. I used to watch that show when it first came out, and I really loved it.
And I have this weird memory of a certain episode that I wasn't sure I had really seen, or only imagined or dreamt I had seen- the storyline seems so strange, so over the top for Saturday morning early 1970's fare. As the years have passed, I've become less and less sure as to whether I ever really saw the episode in question or had made it up due to an overactive imagination coupled with a fascination and fear of death.

Here's what I remember from Land of the Lost in general, and of that existential episode in particular. Marshall, Will, and Holly, on a routine expedition, met the greatest earthquake ever known- and were sucked down this giant toilet bowl in granite of some sort to this place with several moons, lots of odd flora and fauna, and dinosaurs- not to mention monkey people and the dreaded Sleestack- or maybe it's Sleezstack- these bug-like lizard people who hiss a lot and don't take kindly to the Marshall clan. How the Marshall's survive in this strange world is basically the show. But that was just the beginning. Soon after their arrival, they meet Enik (whose name just happens to be the Greek word for cinema spelled backwards)- a tan looking sleeztack who can talk and is groovy and not quite so mean as his cousins- who turn out to be his descendants, as he comes from a distant past, and for some reason (like voting Republican too often) his people have become a bunch of cranky assholes. Among the cool things Enik can do is move these power crystals around in these funky little pyramids called Pylons that are all over the place. Ok- Marshalls, dinosaurs, multiple moons, monkey people, sleeztacks, and funky ass Enik. That's the general stuff about Land O' Lost.

Now the weird episode. Somehow, the Marshalls and Enik end up in this particularly powerful Pylon, and Enik is like "Hey, I have some serious shit to tell you about", and Mr. Marshall says "Oh?" and Enik is like "Yeah. It's pretty heavy. You better sit down." Picking up on the heaviness, Mr. Marshall tells Enik to give it to him straight, so Enik tells him "you don't belong here, amigo- something is all wrong with you being here". At this point, Marshall is getting pretty pissed off, and Enik can tell, so he shows him some stuff- telling him "this is not going to be so nice, but you asked for it, so here goes". Then Enik moves some crystals around, and on the screen in the Pylon they see the accident that brought them to the Land of the Lost in the first place- and Marshall gets all serious and says "there's no way we could have lived through that", and Enik goes "You didn't". Then they see the three dead Marshalls, and talk about some variation on Nietzsche and his theory of eternal recurrence. End of show.
Now that is a weird thing to have on a kiddie show- and you can see why I thought maybe I had dreamt it up.

But after seeing the trailer during the Super Bowl, I was reminded yet again of that strange episode- of how it dawned on me that the Land of the Lost was really the Land of the Dead- and I turned to Google.

Turns out it really was an episode, called Circle, written by Larry Niven and David Gerrold. It was the final episode of the first season, when they thought there wasn't going to be a season two. Oddly, the show got picked up and the whole they're all dead thing went away- but I never forgot that. I was eight when I saw Circle. Weird.

So what has that to do with things today?

Not much- except for this- I think we are kind of in a Land of the Lost right now, a crazy place where the past, the present, and the future are all happening at the same time- there are deadly dinosaurs running around in the form of greedy CEOs and senators against stimulating the economy, preserving the environment, letting gay people marry, etc.- there are Sleaze Stacks like Madoff and Cheney and Bush- who are like devolved, smelly versions of human beings-
and if we don't stop all the madness that has reigned over us for the past eight years, we'll be looking at ourselves sprawled on the side of a riverbank, realizing that we're the walking dead.

Change feels good

i woke up this morning feeling exceptionally wonderful- like i was about to go on a trip to Europe or had just won the Pulitzer Prize or something. i don't know why, exactly. i just feel great. Maybe i'm in the middle of a mood swing, and in reality i am in dire straits, psychologically speaking. But i don't think so. Part of it has to do with Barak Obama winning the election- no doubt. i didn't realize just how down these past eight years had gotten me until Tuesday night. It's like we all were stuck in a horrible situation and were pretending it wasn't so bad- like we were collectively the Black Knight from Monty Python and the Holy Grail or something. And i mean after Arthur chopped off all his limbs and he said "it's just a flesh wound." That was us every time we watched the news and some new terrible decision had been made by the Decider. "Just a flesh wound". But those days are gone. When it was announced that our long national nightmare was over, i sat there on the couch at our friends Tim and Steph's house, and had the most complete catharsis of my life- it was just insane. All these pent up feelings of joy and sorrow and hope and fear came flying out, like all those vices that flew out of Pandora's box back in the days of myth. In a nano-second, i cried, laughed, gasped, cheered, wished my mother and father could have lived to see this day, jumped up and down, and cried some more. All in a nano-second. My soul felt better- feels better- is better.
Whoopee.
i've always kind of felt like there is a specific path i am supposed to follow- like there are things i am meant to do. i know, it's magical thinking. Whatever. i still feel that way. There have been times when i've known i was in the wrong place- like when my boss at the restaurant where i worked as a singing waiter told me that if i had to shovel shit, i should be the best shit shoveler there was. No, i thought- if my job is shoveling shit, then it's time to seek other employment- which i did. Sitting there listening to that bizarre advice was a moment when i knew i had strayed from my path. Something was wrong- the world was not working the way it was supposed to. That's how i've felt ever since the nightmare in Florida that gave us the current Pretender-in-Chief. Like something was amiss. Now, there have also been times when i've known, with absolute certainty, that i was where i was supposed to be, like the day i got married. There we were in Prague, the City of Magic, saying our vows while the ancient clocked chimed and thousands of passersby cheered and took snapshots. i was where i was supposed to be, doing exactly what i was supposed to be doing, and all was well with the world.
When the election was called for Obama, i knew that the world was back on track- and that somehow, i too was on the right path.
And things are starting to click in my life. Final paperwork is being signed in Prague right now for a production of Burning the Old Man set to go up in April at Vaclav Havel's old theatre, Divaldlo na Zabradli. The latest book i'm featured in, One on One- The Best Men's Monologue's for the 21st Century, hit the bookshelves this week, and i am very proud of that- especially since it also features such stellar writers as August Wilson and Spaulding Gray. Work on the tv project about Edgar Cayce that i'm working on with my buddy Myles Reed is coming together- whole new stand alone episode set to be sent out, and i am confident some wise producer will read it and say, "yes, with the way those glorious winds of change are blowing, now is the time to green light this baby!". Oh yes, it will happen.

In short, things just rock right now.

i'm even excited to rake the leaves out back.

So thanks, Mr. Obama, for helping put the world back in order.