IT'S NOT A CONCERT

I am on a journey of music and mojo. Of theatre and haggis. Of life. I can feel it in my bones, in my skin, in my soul. I don't dream so much as have visions. I don't walk so much as float through fields of energy. 

I am sitting in Brooklyn right now. Got in last night around 2 am after driving down from Newport. We were there for the folk fest. 3 days of music and feeling like a hippie. Being a hippie. And the best kind of hippie. Not the weird, stupid, bullshit version of hippies as portrayed on shitty tv shows and old movies. I mean feeling connected and kind and happy with everyone as you dance along. 

Being a hippie is all about trust. Both in yourself and in everyone around you. Newport Folk has been around forever. Or at least longer than me. And anything older than you is ancient and forever. It's where Dylan went electric. Where Joni came back last year. And where I went this year wide open for anything and everything.

It did not disappoint. First up, caught a little MDou Moctar. A magician on the guitar. A mystic. A revelation.

It was insane. There are 3 big stages at Newport. And a couple little ones. And everyone everywhere is happy to be there and for the most part cool. So we wander through the notes and chords, catching My Morning Jacket and Caamp, Goose and SistaStrings.

Then someone gets sick, and at the last minute, James Taylor walks out to do an impromptu set. At first I thought it would be okay, hearing JT. Like mellow, old timey music or something. I had his greatest hits on a cassette when I first moved to NYC after college. Back when I was on the starvation/walking diet and the world was brand new exciting and crazy and I wrote in my journal every day and listened to that album oh so much. And so James Taylor comes out and starts playing Something in the Way She Moves, and I start to cry as that time fills my soul and I am 24 and I am 57 at the same time. It's funny how much those songs have been a part of my life. Fire and Rain. Good Night Sweet Baby James. And everyone in the audience seemed to feel the same. Like something holy was happening, something real and fine. 

So good. And on it went. The Heavy Heavy. Nickel Creek. Maggie Rogers & My Morning Jacket doing a cover of Fleetwood Mac's "Say That You Love Me". Chance Emerson, young dude who grew up in Taiwan and Hong Kong and plays some sweet tunes. Jobi Riccio. The Backseat Lovers! The Hold Steady. And for those who don't realize it, we are all The Hold Steady. Jason Isbell. Angel Olson. Jon Batiste and Friends. 

Now that was something else. He said, many times, that the show was not a concert. 

I was a spiritual practice. 

I believe that to be so. I know it is. Same goes for theatre, Lana Del Rey, writing, The Earls of Leicester, gardening, Madison Cunningham, Remi Wolf, taking long walks, The Black Opry Revue, writing in my journal, moving to NYC, Los Lobos & Neko Case, Gregory Alan Isakov, moving to Denver, Billy Strings who I am fairly certain has a little door to the cosmos in his mind lets the spirits in who guide his playing. 

All of it if a spiritual practice.

So. I walked and rocked and swayed and swung, and now I am gearing up to journey on to Edinburgh Scotland to present a show I directed and act in a the largest theatre festival in the world. 

You can read about it here:

https://www.westword.com/arts/local-creative-team-premieres-eigg-the-musical-at-the-edinburgh-festival-fringe-17324241

And here:

https://igg.me/at/eiggmusical/x/3385268#/

More on Eigg later today. I plan on doing part 2 of this little jaunt from the airport. 

For now, Rock-a-by Sweet Baby Jane, Keep on Rockin' in the Free World, and don't forget to Feel the Earth Move Under your Feet.

 

DUN DUN DUUUUNNNNNN

 Ever have one of those songs stick in your head but you only remember a tiny part of it? Happens to me all the time. And then I'll ask anyone and everyone: Do you know that songs that goes doo ba da do da da do da da-aa-ah?

And whomever I've asked will look at me like they think I just farted.

It's pretty much been that way my whole life.

A prime example. Fire on High by Electric Light Orchestra, or ELO. It's this instrumental song that you'd hear on FM radio back in the day. It's sort of scary and awesome and not one you find on a lot of top 40 stations, but I always thought it was cool. It wasn't one of my favorite songs. Not one I'd put on a mix tape or anything. Just a song that lodged itself in my brain long ago, to sleep like Rip Van Winkle, waiting to come back to the forefront of my mind and drive me to distraction.

That song came out in the other world known as the 1970s. Land of Happy Days, Viet Nam, Watergate, and leisure suits. A world I navigated on my bike and/or skateboard, traversing the streets of San Jose, obsessed with comic books, KISS, and after the Ralph Bashki animated version of it came out, the Lord of the Rings. I can recall hearing that song in my friend Chris Carver's family's garage. It had this backward tracking section that made you think maybe the devil could hear your thoughts while you listened to it. 

If there was such a thing as the devil. And ever since The Excorcist came out, we were all pretty sure there was.

So, the song was part of the fabric of my childhood.

Cut to many years later. I'm in NYC. I haven't thought of that song since forever. I'm a starving artist, waiting tables at Bryant Park Grill behind the main branch of the New York Library, doing theatre down town, struggling to make ends meet, having the time of my life. 

And that song pops into my head. Well, not the whole song. Just this one section where the orchestra goes: DUN DUN.... DUUUUUUUNNNNNN. 

I start asking people if they know it.

And I get the "did you fart?" look everytime.

Years go by. I'll be at a party. I'll meet someone who seems knowledgeable all things music. I'll ask the question. I'll get the standard response. 

Now, I was still drinking back then, so maybe my question was asked a bit more off key than I'd like, and a tad more garbled. At any rate, no one had a clue.

Was I mad? Had I invented this fake memory of this song with backwards tracks and a section that goes DUN DUN DUUUUUNNNNNN?

Years go by. I'm driving a rental car back to NYC after going to a wedding up in Connecticut. It's summer, and some radio station is playing all things seventies. And the song comes on the radio. The song! Now this is before cell phones, and there wasn't a note pad in the car, and I was on a bridge over the Harlem River in very heavy traffic. And worse, the song was in a long set of songs with no interruptions. I waited and waited, praying to the radio gods that they'd say who it was. 

And they did! Finally, after what felt like hours. 

Fire on High! I said it out loud, over and over, making sure I'd remember. My girlfriend at the time, who was in the car with me, did not find this amusing, and told me so in no uncertain terms. 

So I stopped the car, opened the trunk, pulled out my backpack which had a notepad in it, and wrote the name of the song down. 

The cars behind me didn't appreciate this.

I didn't care. I had found the Great Lost Song of the 1970s. I had found a dimensional door to the Carver's garage, to bell bottom jeans and AC/DC before Bon Scott died. To a piece of me.

I collect those pieces, work them into my various projects, shows I direct, roles I perform, scripts I write.

It informs who I am.

A deranged seeker of lost moments, an Indiana Jones of my own soul.

Here's Fire on High, by ELO.

Bonus track:

Two things: First, I'm doing Rocky Horror Show with Organic Theatre up in Boulder this week end. Info Here: https://www.onthestage.tickets/show/organic-theater-dba-reel-kids-and-dba-boulder-music/64b20c8f3d38220e4092f78c

I'm taking a new show, Eigg the Musical, to the Edinburgh Fringe. I'll be writing another blog on that next, but wanted to let you all know we have an Indiegogo campaign, raising funds to feed the actors, cover expenses, and all that. More info here: https://igg.me/at/eiggmusical/x/3385268#/

And here's one of the numbers from the show:

 

I COULD AND HAVE GONE CRAZY ON A DAY LIKE TODAY.

I think there is a power in the universe, a creative force or mojo or zone of some type, that visits us at certain times, giving us clarity of purpose and vision, joy in what we do, and a feeling of being exactly where we are supposed to be doing precisely what we are meant to do. I've been thinking about that a lot lately, because I think I am in one of those times, one of those eddies in the cosmic river. I think this run started with the production of The Addams Family I did down in Parker with Sasquatch. One of those shows where everything clicked, top to bottom, and we all spoke in psychic shorthand to each other. It carried on into SpongeBob at StageDoor, Sound of Music also at the PACE, the Shakespeare Fest, and on and on. Even with a second round of Covid in the middle of that, I feel this connection to something larger than me. I don't know why, or really how, but I am not questioning it. 

It's here now. In Eigg. In Burning the Old Man. In the Infinite Hallway. And I raise my cup of coffee to it with glee.

I am going with the flow, and consequently reaching my flow, my zone, my place.

Maybe it kicked into high gear the the Austin Film Festival, when I got pulled up in front of hundreds of fellow writers for a live recording of ScriptNotes and lost my mind and had a crowd chanting my name while I paraded up and down the floor like a Mad Dog Poet Visionary Lunatic.

Jesus, I am in love with myself, aren't I?

Well, why not? I think I love the Vibe in me, not me in the Vibe, so karmically speaking, I should be ok.

And if I'm not, I am sure at some point soon, Life will say "okay, enough of that, McAllister, here's a big steaming pile of sorrow. Enjoy."

But that hasn't happened yet. 

No. I keep connecting, with myself, with my cast, my crew, my friends, my wife, and the universe in general.

This feeling is always a surprise to me. A miracle. A gift. 

And also makes me say to myself "Of course! This is how it is, stupid! You really can make the best of life, and should, because as far as I know, this is it. Once around, and then off to Oz. So live it up, live it well, live it now, and sing as loud as you can."

There is a lot in this world that is crazy. So much. Death and War and Famine and Plague. As a species, we seem bent of destroying ourselves and the planet, with a sort of insane glee. The sky is poisoned, the oceans are warming, and there is so much awful shit we could and probably should run up and down the street all day every screaming, weeping, gnashing our teeth, and so on.

But I don't see the point in bemoaning our fate. 

I think we have to remember what it is to be alive if we want to live. We have to revel in what joys are afforded us. We must embrace the mystic wonder of being a human being if we want to save humanity. 

We need to get, and keep, our shit together.

This involves: listening to music; dancing at every opportunity; calling old friends we haven't called in forever; picking up instead of letting it go to voicemail when they call back; speaking up when we are hurt; calling out ourselves and our friends and loved ones when doing stupid shit like we all do from time to time; forgiving as much as we can; listening; letting go; being in the moment; not faking a thing.

Man, I might as well get out a soap box, whatever that is, stand on it, and be a street preacher of some sort.

I don't mean to be didactic, but I somehow manage to be just that, often.

Sorry. 

I just feel so much energy and joy and love right now.

Also, it's my blog, and I can say whatever I want. I can  post various photos from my life showing times of awareness that have meaning to me but might just look like random shots to you. 

So be it.

May the photos and the Force be with you.

So here's a song from the summer of 1994. A seminal year in the story of my life. It's Mystery by Indigo Girls, and I dig it immensely. Still, after all these years. Still crazy. Still. 

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. 

LOOKING FOR SOUL FOOD, TRYING TO BE LIKE BOY GENIUS

Having one of those mornings where I realize that what we really need to do, we writers, artists, thinkers, parents, children... is remember that we are human beings, first and foremost. We are at our best when we take care of each other, because that's part of the deal. When we deal with both the world we dream of and the one we live in now. When, on top of satisfying our immediate, usually no so brilliant needs like having a cookie or doom scrolling or whatever it is that isn't all that important and we know it isn't but still do it, we take a step back and deal with the here and now. We ourselves and each other. With both the pain and glory of life. And I know that seems simplistic, and of course it is-- super clear, obvious, a no shit Sherlock vibe-- 

And yet, I often forget that.

It's hard to not fret about the little things when you aren't sure what the little things are any more.

This happens to me all the damn time.

And then, also all the time but not quite as often, I'll remember that being alive is groovy. That I have lived a life, have friends, stories, moments in time. That I am genuine. That we all are. I do not subscribe to the idea that if everyone is special, no one is. That's a bullshit phrase born in fear and encouraged by people who want to sell you something that, according to them, is the thing you need to be special.

Fuck that.

I'm thinking on this for three main reasons.

Number One: I'm working on a show that's going to Scotland for the Edinburgh Fringe. Eigg.  (for more info on that, go HERE) And it's reminding me of why I chose to live the life I live. Because making theatre is hard, crazy, and at times, once in a while, magic. And the secret sauce to the magic is to just be in the moment, leaning in, using all the skills and structure while at the same time letting myself into the process- who I am, warts and all. And encouraging/celebrating everyone else in the show doing the same thing. We are doing that, kicking it in the ass, and having a hell of a time in the process. There will be come shows in Denver late July, then off to Scotland! More info will be on these pages soon.

Number Two: I just started work on a short film/proof of concept for Burning the Old Man with Tim McCracken. It's based on my play of the same name. Tim and I met for coffee, talked it over, and something in my brain exploded. I came home, started writing-- and I felt like some sort of magician, conjuring worlds and people. I haven't felt this creatively excited in a long time. A lot of writing is keeping structure in mind, format, using the logic of plot and all that. Which is vital. But I think without that spark that got you there in the first place, with out the vulnerable, strange me/you of it, whatever you're working on becomes a knock off, a bit of the same old thing, and not so exciting. I am finding the me/you in this. The words are flowing. More on this soon. 

Number Three: I saw a movie yesterday. A big Hollywood blockbuster kind of movie. And it was fun. But it didn't have that organic, specific and therefore universal moment, that made me believe. And I need that, both in what I watch and what I write. If there isn't some moment that makes it clear, on an emotional level, that this thing is being made not just to make money but to express some aspect of the artists life, why should I give a shit. 

Often, I find movies with flaws very inspiring. 

So. that's today. 

I plan to write more blog entries between now and Edinburgh. So stay tuned.

Here's a song that I think exemplifies sticking to the rules while not sticking to the rules, baring one's soul, and using the very specific to make the very universal. It's BoyGenius, who are fucking awesome, and the song is "Not Strong Enough".

IN PRAISE OF GHIDORAH

I watched a lot of monster movies growing up. Anything weird, scary, strange, and I was in. This included all the Godzilla movies. Not just the big guy, but Rodan, Gamora, Baby Godzilla, Mothra, and Ghidorah, the three headed monster sometimes just called Monster X. Very weird shit but I loved it. All of it. And Monster X was just... sort of like life. The three heads sort of flopped about, shot lazer beams every where, looked absurd, but managed to kick the living crap out of everyone and everything in its path. 

I think King Ghidorah eventually ended up living on the moon, like you do.

Of late, I think of the beast with three heads.

Because I lack focus, blaze a path of destruction, and feel like I live on the moon.

I just took over a job at one of the schools I work at, going from 4 hours a week to 32. I am directing a new show, EIGG the MUSICAL, that is going to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival this summer. I have summer classes coming up at DCPA, StageDoor, and Reel Kids. I am finishing a new pilot that I hope to submit to the Austin Film Festival, which has a hard final deadline of May 25. (more on all those in future blogs)

AND I AM STUCK IN ACT THREE OF A FIVE ACT STRUCTURE.

Yes. I am Monster X. I wake up dazed and confused, looking at three things at once, roaring nonsense and dusting things up with Godzilla, Gamora, Mothra, and some unnamed monsters that look large but fuzzy at the edge of my peripheral vision.

And I love it. 

I am not able to sit still. It makes me anxious. I hear silence and I don't like it. I crave it at the same time. Silence.

Maybe that's why Ghidorah was always pissed off. It wanted and didn't want the same things at the same time, and was furious at those with seemingly simpler desires. 

Godzilla wanted to kick the shit out of some buildings and then go back to the sea. Baby Godzilla wants to blow smoke rings. Mothra wanted those miniature women to sing her theme song. What did Ghidorah want? Deep down inside its heart? Who can say? 

Also, did it have three hearts, one for each head?

I don't know. 

All I know is, like Bilbo, I am too little butter spread over too much bread, and I want to see mountains again, Gandalf.

We are all lost monsters, I think. 

So, that's it. My first blog entry of the year, I think. Better late than never.

Now I'm off to find Godzilla.

Here's a song. It's Mahra Mothra, and God Damn is it awesome.

PS: The classes I am teaching are:

Playwriting at DCPA, this June & July, evenings. 

https://storage.googleapis.com/dcpa/pdf/EDU23_Summer-Adult-Catalog_V4.pdf

Broadway Boot Camp at StageDoor Theatre in Conifer, June 5-9, days.

https://www.stagedoortheatre.org/

Web series, Acting Improv, and D&D at Reel Kids, June and July

https://www.myreelkids.com/projects-3

I EVEN SAW A GHOST

Well, it's almost 2023. How the hell did that happen? Didn't I just arrive in NYC fresh from college? Aren't I still a student at San Jose State? Aren't we all still living every moment of our lives, from as far back as our memories can travel, to now? 

What is going on here?

I have no idea. But, if I do indeed exists and this isn't all some sort of strange dream, then things are good. Life is fine and dandy. And since it is almost the end of the year, it is time for a little evaluation of the past year, of where I went, where I'm heading, and all that.

Isn't that what we all do? 

So, this year. 

I think I directed a few plays. And by a few, I mean a lot. Wedding singer. Wizard of Oz. A Midsummer Night's Dream. Rocky Horror Show. The Lightning Thief. SpongeBob Squarepants. The Addams Family. 

I like directing. Let's me boss people around. 

I also taught theatre, speech & debate, playwriting, and the basics of life, at places including The Denver Center for the Performing Arts; The Logan School for Creative Learning; and Reel Kids. 

I like teaching. Let's me boss people around.

I also wrote. Mostly worked on Lunatics and Assholes, a pilot for a show that is sort of a paranormal metaphor for the past few years. And also worked on Out of the Past. That's more fantasy, another pilot that's a monster of the week kind of thing, which I am digging immensely.

I like writing. Let's me boss my little made up worlds around.

I suppose I like to boss.

Keeps me off the streets. 

I also traveled quite a bit. California. New York. Wisconsin. Texas. Avalanche Ranch here in Colorado. Traveling, I think, is necessary in this life. Even if it's just a day long road trip to some town a few hours from where you live. You need to see something you don't see every day. Eat somewhere you've never eaten at before. Talk to a stranger. Look at mountain. Take a walk in a city you don't know.

It fills the soul. 

Also went to a wedding in upstate New York. That was amazing. Weddings are another time when we all reflect on ourselves, where we've been, what we've done, and all that, but through the lens of our relationships. 

And also where we stay up late dancing and laughing and having the time of our lives.

I always think of that line from Fiddler on the Roof. It takes a wedding to make us say let's live another day.

I say let's live another ten thousand or more. 

Let's just live. 

Let's travel and write and do what we love and talk to each other more and try to forgive and be forgiven, to hug more often, to be kinder when we talk about movies we didn't like, or a meal that maybe didn't go off as well as we had hoped.

The world is in a constant state of flux. 

Let's be cool with that. 

Also, I saw a ghost this year.

This is the second time I can say for sure I saw one. I wrote about the first one here: 

https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/7891430757253929065/770461654933686503

The one I saw this year was during the Austin Film Festival, which is a thing I love and plan on doing every year for the rest of my life. Just fantastic. Anyway. I was watching the film The Lost King, which I really enjoyed, when I noticed a tall figure out of the corner of my eye, standing in the aisle, like they were waiting to enter the row and find a seat. I turned to see them better, and nobody was there. About half an hour later, I saw the same person out of the corner of my eye yet again. And again, when I turned to look, nobody was there. And then, a little later, I saw someone in white, tall, clearly walking up the aisle towards me. 

And then they vanished. 

Now, it was dark, and the theatre was packed, and I figured maybe I was mistaken. 

But then I figured "No". 

I saw something. 

When the movie was over, I found the manager, and asked, feeling a bit ridiculous, if the theatre was haunted. 

She smiled this knowing smile, and asked me what had happened. When I told her, she informed me that things happen there from time to time, and that yes, the theatre was indeed haunted.

I shouldn't have been too surprised. I had some kind of mojo going during the festival. Things kept happening to me that didn't seem real. I was on a live podcast and somehow got a room full of hundreds of screenwriters to spontaneously start chanting "Kelly! Kelly! Kelly!" over and over. I met some shockingly cool and distinguished members of the industry. And I made some great friends. All in a matter of days.

You can here that podcast, which was an episode of the excellent ScriptNotes, here:

https://johnaugust.com/2022/live-at-the-austin-film-festival-2022

I think, to a large extent, my whole year was like that. Full of wonder and magic, friends and family, and a bit of the paranormal.

So. Happy New Year. God bless... Us. 

Everyone.

Here's to more blog entries, and screenplays, and shows produced.

To life.