WE ALL HOWL NOW

We all howl here now. Every night. I don't how it started. I saw a post on FB saying everyone howl at 8pm. Maybe it was to protest something. Or to cheer first responders and doctors and those on the front lines of this thing. Or to mock it. Really not sure at all. But, on April Fool's Day, as we were sitting out front at 8pm, people started to howl. All over the neighborhood. Like a large, spread out, insane pack of wolves under a magic moon. Or coyotes. I do love tricksters, so maybe it was coyotes. Spontaneously, we joined in the howling. It lasted for several minutes. Just letting our pent up fear and confusion and joy and love all out. Like a primal scream, which is a thing you sometimes have to do in acting class. No thinking, no affectation, just reach into your core of being an scream, letting whatever is in there out. So, each night since then, the neighborhood howls. So far, it still feels real, something that has just come to be out of the given circumstances. Soon, no doubt, it will be formalize, a thing to do like one of the many online challenges or watching Tiger King. There will be expectation put to do, and most likely the magic will be gone. Still fun and weird and different, but not quite the same. And later, after all this has passed, and the movies and tv shows and books come out, there will be attempts to recreate it. I wonder if they will succeed?

Last night, on the advice of A. O. Scott and Manohla Dargis on the NY Times, we watched His Girl Friday. One of those "here's something to do" articles, which suggested watching the film, having friends do the same, and then group discussion after the week end. Yes, formalized and not spontaneous, but still fun and weird different. So we did it. What a friggin' great movie! I can't believe how fast the dialogue is, how sharp and interesting and overlapping and exciting. Puts David Mamet to shame. Hell, puts all of us writers to shame. It is intense, funny, vicious, kind, and keeps you leaning in. It must have been an influence on so many actors and directors and screenwriters. It is one of those movies I have always meant to watch but never had. I think we all have movies, shows, and books we mean to get to but haven't yet. That's life, I suppose. One of the nicer things about quarantine lite is catching up on some of my list. There is this one scene in particular that seems like it could be on some cutting show on HBO or Netflix, where this woman is freaking out, crying and pleading with this rough group of reporters, and they are all treating her like crap because they need to keep their distance and be objective reporters, and they ignore her and make fun of her and it's awful, and then she rips them a new one and leaves. The scene is madness, lots of quips and accusations, all coming out very fast and intensely. Finally, the woman leaves, and it is suddenly very quiet, and all the reporters let their tough facade drop, and it is very sad and lonely in that room. So good. And Rosalind Russell is a rock star, as is Cary Grant. I highly recommend this movie.

Today, I start one of my teaching gigs back up, but online. Three groups of young film makers, all stuck at home, with a desire to create and a need to express themselves. I don't know exactly what will happen, but I'm excited. I think right now, we need to express ourselves, to vent and venerate, to scream and shout and sing made up madrigals on the joys of binge watching and news cycles and nature making a come back despite our best efforts to kill her. So we will create movies and clips and talk to each other and see where we are at and do what we can do.

And we howl.

Here's a song.

STARDUST AND LOVE

Last night's dream was epic, like Day After Tomorrow or Independence Day epic. Lisa and I were both in NYC, were working for the DCPA which was also NYU, the virus was going on but in the dream it was a giant system of storms. The city was still full of folks, as in this reality social distancing was not part of how to deal with it. We were both supposed to go to this large end of the year meeting in one of the theatre buildings, in a medium sized theater space that could seat about 300. I got there, and the place was full, and on stage they were trotting out set pieces from the season they wanted to get rid of. Lisa wasn't there yet, but had texted me she was on her way. I noticed all the teachers were heading for the door. And then an alarm went off. We all got up and headed out. It wasn't mass panic, more like when we had to evacuate during 9/11- lots of people trying to get somewhere, some freaking out, some in disbelief, some just forging ahead. I got to a hall with a long glass wall, and looked out. right outside, and coming downwards, was a huge tornado. I could see up into it. People were being directed one way to a shelter, but I knew Lisa was several blocks north of there, and nowhere near the shelter. I had to get to her. I ran down the stairs, and out across Union Square. The streets were now empty. Someone yelled out to me to get to the shelter. I tried to yell out how I had to find Lisa, how nothing else mattered. But all I could do was cry, and the more I tried to tell this anonymous person how much I loved her and needed to get to her, the more I cried. Then I woke up.

Can't believe we are going to be doing this for another month. Seems like we've all been in our homes, figuring out how to spend time ourselves, for a long time. Some of it I do not mind. Introspection, reading, calling old friends I should have called but haven't in ages, cooking more, meditating, this blog. Those are all positives, to be sure. Not being able to hug friends, have a rehearsal with actors in the same room, go to a movie in a movie and/or play in a theatre, have other people into our home for a meal- these things I miss. But it does make me realize what I miss, what I find important, and what I don't find so important. I really love seeing nature sort of come back a bit, with cleaner skies, more birds in the neighborhood, and even more wildlife venturing out. I wonder if this reassessment of what matters will carry over after the Duration? I imagine it will. I think our economic system will have to change, as well as our medical system and how we care for each other. And our planet too. In a weird way, I think a lot of us feel like maybe the world is chastising us for being so damn stupid- polluting our air and water, denying folks basic health care even though a healthy population helps everyone, and so on. Magical thinking, I know- and there are some who are using this to say it's God punishing us for liking the gays. Those people are nuts. They remind me of the group of rabbits in Watership Down who let the farmer who takes care of them kill some of them from time to time because he also feeds them and let's them live a nice life (until he needs to eat them) and create this weird cult out of the way it works. In the story, which follows a group of displaced rabbits on an odyssey as they search for a new home,  Fiver,  a rabbit with some psychic powers, says of these rabbits who have made up a belief system that allows for percentage of them to be killed off that"they are in love with death". I feel like I see some of those death loving rabbits on Facebook more and more.

Last night, we had an old friend over for a social distanced meal, which meant she sat in a chair on our front lawn while we sat on the porch. Lisa, who expresses her love through her cooking, made a fantastic pasta dish and a lovely cake. We had to be extra careful with serving the food, used gloves, and only put the candle on a slice of cake so that our guest of honor could blow it out without blowing all over the whole cake. It was a grand time. A few neighbors walked by, and we would say hello. Lisa kept wanting to give them slices of cake, but they all politely, and probably wisely, declined. At 8 pm, a lot of people started howling out their windows. We joined in, not sure if this was in gratitude for all the people working in the hospitals and at stores and such, or just an expression of life, but it felt great. Having been a life-long howler who has heard the Chime at Midnight many a time, I never pass an opportunity to howl into the night. After dinner, I did the dishes while Lisa turning into Gene Gene the Dancing Machine for my entertainment. A magic, unique night.

We are all still alive. We are all full of magic. We are all made of stardust and love.

Here's a song.