ANYBODY SLEEPING?

Day 3. I wake up a lot at night now. Sometimes it's because Lisa has woken up. Sometimes it's me. We both just wake up a lot. Bad dreams. Scary thoughts. Sort of like there's a global pandemic or something. Yesterday was... Well, I can't say new normal yet, because nothing seems normal, each day is an odyssey through emotions and memories, phone calls to people I haven't called in forever, rechecking our stocks yet again, chores around the house (mostly cleaning, but also some gardening), checking my phone for some sort of new headlines besides "shit is getting worse", commenting on social media every hour about how we need to freeze mortgages and rents, cover all bills, and so on. And then we went to Lisa's dad's house for some corned beef and cabbage, keeping 6 feet between us at all times. This was the highlight of the day. Well, that, and our daily walk, where the world sort of makes sense.

Oh! I also wrote a one act play for the Quarantine Bake Off. That was fun. Went with having a group of playwrights meeting to read their pages. They break into Coors Field, cook some soup on a camping stove, make home made sanitizer, sing some Air Supply, have a run in with ball park security, and then get down to reading their stuff. And I had good talk with a producer friend about a musical we are working on. And also wrote up a bunch of exercises kids can do for Reel Kids while stuck at home. Vlogs, music videos, short films, all tailored to the current situation. So did get some actual stuff done. Fed the soul. We should all write more. And not comments on social media. I mean plays, stories, poems, songs.

I think that's key. Feeding the soul.

To that end. I thought of a game we can all play. I used to play it back in that other world called the past. Get some friends on a group chat, or in person, or whatever. Find a book of poems. Open to a random page. Have someone read the poem out loud. Discuss. Did this once with Jack Halpin and Christine Goodman and came upon "To My Old Addresses" by Kenneth Koch. It blew us away. I've read that one at a few dinners when it seemed right. A poem that starts sort of silly, then takes a left turn and opens up the world. I'd post it here, but can't find an online version of it, and don't have time to write it up. Maybe soon. Who knows. Maybe that will be today's odyssey.

Although we are most likely going to go up to the mountains before it snows. The mountains don't seem to worry about the virus.

Things that have meaning these days: Nature, music, friends, family, my dog.

Ok. More tomorrow. Love, laugh, learn. I hope your day's odyssey is kind.

DAY TWO OF WHO KNOWS HOW MANY?

So. Got up today at 6:30. I suppose I should add "in the morning", or "am", so that it's clear. I could totally see sleeping until 6:30pm. Why not? No work to do. Nation shutting down, bit by bit. End of the world and all that. But that just doesn't feel right. I like getting up like I normally do.

First thing I do, pretty much every day, is go downstairs and make coffee. I do the French press thing. So I get up, microwave a cup of coffee left over from the day before. (note, if you want to do this, always leave a cup for yourself to use the next day while waiting for water to boil) So I grind the beans, put the kettle on, and either read or write. Of late, I've read the NY Times live coverage of the virus. But that doesn't really wake my soul right. So that can wait.

And here I am, in front of the computer, typing out whatever pops into my head.
This is kind of like what I did after 9/11, when I lived in NYC. At the time of the attacks, my girlfriend had just been diagnosed with breast cancer two months before, and we had no insurance. So I took a second job for JP Morgan, working on their trading floor on the support staff for emerging markets. I would have to be at work by 7:30, and spent the first hour in front of a computer, usually doing nothing but there in case a call came in. After a full day, I'd either head home, or head to my restaurant job for a dinner shift. My mind was mush, and I was tired, and stopped dreaming at night. I'd just lay down, and when I slept, it was pure oblivion. Life was about 60 hours a week of work, plus whatever else got thrown at me. By the time of the attacks, the idea of the world changing and nothing being the same was already reality. So, I'd get to work after an hour on the subway from Brooklyn, and stare at the screen. And I began sending myself emails, letting my brain go off. No editing, no filter. Just me.

That's sort of what this is. I think.

So.

Walked the dog last night. Took one of our usual routes. Saw a few folks, but kept a safe distance, which annoyed Padfoot to no end. He wants to smell those other dogs.

Called my buddy Jack out in Jersey City. He needs to go see his dad in Oregon, who recently had a minor heart attack. I often call Jack. We go way back. I might do a whole entry on that. Maybe do entries on various friends and my history with them. That might be cool. What do you think, people out in the ether?

We talked about the usual stuff. And about how this will effect movies and plays and books. The things we like. What kind of film will be popular after this? What won't be so cool anymore? I look at all the projects I have- currently, a limited series, two screenplays, a musical- and wonder if they are still relevant.

Got home, worked on a play challenge- the Quarantine Bake Off. Might finish it. First stab, I have a group of writers who have broken into Coors field to BBQ and read scripts. Kind of fun. And fun is important, isn't it? Fuck yes it it.

That's the thing we have to keep doing. Live.

When my mom got sick, I would often get high and plead with the Moon to somehow change things, to make it not be so. The Moon did not comply. But one night, begging yet again for her to be ok, I had a bit of an epiphany. The only thing we can do to combat death is to live.

So let us live. Let us sing and dance and tell bad jokes and walk our dogs and make coffee for each other.

Let us live.

LIFE DURING WARTIME

Ok. It's been two years since I wrote an entry for this blog. Times change. Holy shit do they change. So, why now? Well, as I'm stuck home, with time on my side and a computer in front of me, I figured what the hell? Also, I have a script to work on, and this puts that off. At least for a bit.  Yes, even in times of virus and madness, procrastination in regards to writing is a thing.
So, I'm just going to write whatever pops into my mind, share it with the world, and see what happens.
Today. Got up, wrote in my journal, made coffee, watched the news. Always fun these days. Got on FB, saw some funny things. And a few folks still in denial. Considered writing nasty comments. Refrained. Called a few friends I should have called years ago, but hadn't until now.
Why does it take the shit hitting the fan for us to reach out to those we love?
Got word my brother-in-law has a fever, and if it goes above 100.5, he has to go in to get tested. Because, why test someone who is sick, has a fever, and spent last week in Vegas? We need more tests. So many more. And I have read WHO offered us some, as did Germany, but we said "no, no, we got this". So much winning.
I don't want to play the blame game, as the talking points call it.
But then again, if the captain of the ship is steering us straight for a fucking ice berg, it's time to relieve him of duty. That's not blaming. That's self preservation.
Somewhere today, I watched the Andrew Cuomo, the Governor of New York, give a speech, and remembered what it's like to have a leader in charge.
Why can't we just put him in the White House? Or Obama?
I'd even take George W. Bush.
Shit, I'd even take George H.W. Bush, in his current state.
Anywho.
e end is a bit of a downer.
Still, I hope there will be a season three.
Tonight, going to listen to new vinyl we got in mail today as part of Vinyl Me Please.
Very awesome.
And yes, I will work on script.
Well, scripts. Top secret musical project, as well as limited series I've been working on forever, working title: American Spirits.
Read some Lovecraft. Because, you know, Corona.
And going to catch up on McMillion$ on HBO.
And call more old friends.
That's it for now.
Here's a video for a song I have been listening to a lot:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kjrUOlK2714

WHAT ELSE CAN YOU DO BUT KEEP ON KEEPING ON?

Sometimes of late, I hit a bit of a wall. Things seem bleak out there. People are sad. Some projects only go so far. Shows close. Jobs end.

Such is life.

Whenever I hit that wall- and I've hit it several times in my life and no doubt will hit it several more times before I check out- I let myself feel blue for a moment, then press on.

Too much in this world that is amazing, fun, different, numinous, and magic.

For instance, I finally got the final cut of my short film Strong Tea. Here it is:

STRONG TEA

I have been meaning to finish that sucker forever. And finally did. And you know what? It wasn't really that hard to do. Seems like the first step is always the hardest.

I also finally put together some footage Lisa and I took up at Rocky Mountain National Park and made a short about searching for Sasquatch. Here it is:

MAY THE SQUATCH BE WITH YOU

And to top it off, I was in a short film made by one of my students, the super talented Ellie Griffin. I play a guy who has gone off the deep end. Here it is:

LOVE IS PATIENT, LOVE IS MINE

Sure, it's a short entry, and most of it is video clips.

That's the way it goes sometimes.

THANKS SHIA- NOW I'M GONNA MAKE AN EVEN BETTER TITLE

Well, I finally have something to be mad at Shia LeBeouf about. Not his weirdness or acting or whatever it is that so many people seem to have issues with him about. No. I am pissed because he has a new movie, some sort of autobiography, and it's title is "Honey Boy".

Why does that annoy me? Well, I'll tell you.

As most of you know, I am a writer. Kind of obvious, I suppose, since I am writing a blog. But then again, many folks write blogs who I wouldn't really call writers. But that's just me being snooty and a tangent. Apologies.

Back to the thing. I have been working on a script, a pilot for a really weird series about a rust belt town haunted by assholes. Originally I was going to call it "The Wastelands". And while that is a great title, and also a fine poem by T.S. Eliot, it doesn't exactly scream "Watch me! I'm fun! I'm exciting! I am the perfect thing to pop on Netflix and spend hours on the couch absorbing while munching on pizza." So I went back into it, and hit upon "Honeyboy", which is the name of one of the central characters, is kind of unique, evocative, and all the things that can make for a good title.

And then I read online about this damn movie. (click HERE to read article)

Wasn't he retired or something? I thought he had some sort of breakdown and was living in the Himalayas. But no, the fucker has to go and get a movie together with my title.

Well, thanks a lot, Mister LeBeouf! Thank you very fucking much.

Actually, it's cool. I think this will just force me to come up with an even cooler title. One that grabs people and doesn't let go. Makes them think "Holy Shit! I must see this! Now! I'll order Hulu if I have to, just let me see it!"

And they should. It is a cool idea, a cool script, and one hundred percent me. Weird, funny, at times prescient.

In other news, there is a Kickstarter campaign going for a documentary about FringeNYC. The film is helmed by Francis Kuzler and Jeffifer Larkin, both super talented and awesome. I would not be where I am if not for the Fringe. Seriously. It is why I met my wife, how I got my start as a playwright, how I first got published. My plays Last Call, Muse of Fire, Some Unfortunate Hour, and April's Fool all had their first productions there. And now they are making a movie about it. Not my life, stupid. The New York International Fringe Festival.  For more info, go HERE.

Last but not least. I teach playwriting here in Denver at the DCPA. Summer class is Thursday nights. If you have ever wanted to write a play, have a play you want to work on, or are a full flung playwright looking for a workshop, this class is for you. Go HERE for more info.

That's three HEREs in one posting.

Good things come in threes.

KEEP ON, KEEP ON, KEEP ON DANCING ON THROUGH THE NIGHT

That's a lyric from a song the Brady Kids sang. From the later years, when shit got weird and cousin Oliver showed up and for some reason all the men and boys in Brady Bunch Land got perms. You know, when they took trips to Hawaii and the Grand Canyon and Greg got his groovy pad in the attic. The world had grown wiser, hipper, and far more accepting of adventurous style. I don't know why that song popped into my head as I sat down to the computer, but it did. So there it is, and that's all there is to it. And folks, we do need very much, to keep on rocking on through the night. There is just way to much sorrow and anger and lost souls on the highway of life for us to wallow in self pity, despair, or grief.

Life is for living.

I was thinking today- I know, a rare activity, but there I was, thinking. And I realized that the seven so-called sins are really just a waste of time. Too much to do. Write poetry. Dance strangely in public. Go to the movies. Kiss and hug and make love. Listen to Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack.

Yes, I think our current President is nuts, and needs to go. But we have to keep living, to remember what it is that makes life worthwhile, worth struggling for, worth living.

If I thought it would help to freak out, I would. But so far, in my long strange trip, I have not found that to be the case. So I am doing my best to see the light, the dark, and everything in between. I invite you all to do the same.

FUN HOME AT FAC

Fun Home, currently running at the FAC in Colorado Springs, is a funny, compelling, brilliant, and much-needed show that everyone should go see. Why? Well, first off, because it's a great production, a tony winning musical with a genius script, fascinating characters, a perfect cast, excellent direction, and fantastic music performed excellently. It's a sad but uplifting story of family, love, and desire. Secondly, we need more love in this world. And Understanding. And peace would be awesome as well. I think the way we find those things is by listening to each other, to finding the beauty and magic that goes with being a human being, no matter how different one human being is from another. And if you go to this show, I think you will find all those things, and more.

I don't want to make it sound like this is a show you should see because it's "good for you". It's a solid piece of theatre, entertaining, diverting, and fun. Yes, I do think it will also feed your soul, but don't let the fact that it is important sociologically scare you away. This is a whip smart, funny, engrossing family story that everyone can relate to on one level or another.

The story centers on Alison, who narrates the play from the present, an tells us of her life growing up in rural Pennsylvania in a funeral home run by her father, a strong, interesting, demanding man who has a problem: he is deeply in the closet. We see Alison at three different ages in the play: there is ten year old Alison, who is funny and smart, young enough to play airplane with her father, make up commercials for the funeral home with her brothers, and enjoy The Partridge Family on tv but also old enough to know life is becoming quite complicated; there is also college age Alison, coming to terms with the realization that she is a lesbian and entering her first fully realized relationship; and the grown up Alison who is working on a memoir and leading us through her memories. The ten year old Alison lives in very tense household. Her mother is in manic, tragic denial of her husband's not-so-hidden desire to be with other men. Her father, unable to fully realize himself, can be quite demanding on the rest of the family. It would be strange enough to live in a functioning funeral home, but to have so much tension between her mother and father is just insane. And, of course, a situation rife with drama perfect for the stage. College age Alison has come to realize she is gay, and has her first encounter with a woman, which grows into a full fledged romance. She also comes out to her parents, which leads to some of the of the most amazing moments in this show. I don't want to give too much away of the plot, but suffice to say things go from complicated to tragic to transcendent. (for more of the plot itself, you can go HERE)

The cast is uniformly excellent. As Alison's father Bruce, Patrick Oliver Jones is a revelation: he makes Bruce alternately tragic and comic, mystic and mercurial, and always magnetic. His voice is unbelievable, and his presence undeniable. As Alison's mother Helen, Megan Van De Hay is exquisite, portraying woman living in a world that is not quite what she thought it would be or hoped for, sadly in denial and trying desperately to maintain some form of dignity in a messed up situation. She is as complex a character as Bruce, and Ms. Van De Hay delivers a powerful performance. All three of the Alison's are amazing. As Small Alison, Kelly Tanberg is electric- she portrays a kid who is going on an extreme emotional roller coaster with aplomb. As medium Alison, Jessica Kahkoska is a joy to watch- full of excitement and curiosity. Her song "Changing My Major", is a stand out; and as Alison, Allison Mickelson is outstanding, going through the entire, agonizing experience of a person trying to reconcile herself to her past with equal parts compassion and comedy. The three Alison's are seamless, connected to each other on all levels and perfectly bouncing from one age to the other. As Alison's college lover Joan, Mackenzie Beyer is lovely, kind, and awesome. It is easy to see why Alison falls for her. Atticus Baker and Gabe Levy, as Alison's brothers Christian and John, are both outstanding, giving us two more lost souls in this dysfunctional home who are trying their best to enjoy their childhood. And as multiple objects of Bruce's attention, Parker Fowler rounds out this amazing cast. Each and every character he portrays is specific and unforgettable. This is such a strong cast, so talented, so full of life and empathy and humor. Truly one of the strongest ensembles I have seen on stage in years.

As for the direction and choregraphy by Nathan Halvorson, it is (as I have come to expect from this overly talented artist) exquisite. Always moving the story forward, finding the humor and tragedy in each moment. The shows feels like a memory, intense, connected to your bones, and evocative of so many emotions. Each character is given dignity, mystery, and love. And each song is a journey, a dream, and thrilling. Music director Stephanie McGuffin gets stunning performances out of each actor and each member of the orchestra. The sets and costumes by Lex Liang, are perfect- adding to the tone, theme, and mood in subtle but effective design. And the lighting, by Holly Anne Rawls, is beautiful.

I left the show moved, crying, happy, sad, and full of wonder. The play brings to mind ones own family, ones own memories of mistakes, miscommunications, and loves. I highly recommend it for anyone who has a family, a heart, and a soul.