new stuff
There are two new plays available on the See For Yourself! page of my site. WHISTLE and HANGING FROM THE ROPE.
October 27, 2007
October 24, 2007
Symbolism! Brilliant!
I'm to the point where I am deliberately placing obvious symbols in my plays. I'm also to the point where I have written nine plays so far this year. So... pretty good year. Although, with this strange new direction, I am apparently trying like the dickens to write plays that can only be performed on stage, going along with my whole idea that the theatre should be the theatre and exploit things theatrical instead of attempting to compete with other mediums.
As irony would have it, I'm currently (and again) watching the filmed versions of Samuel Beckett's plays. Which is great since you don't often get to see them, but... dude, it's been filmed, so it takes you away from the stage environment. And despite the arguments, Beckett would not have approved.
There are two plays I have written that do not appear on my site. One is because I need to rework the ending. The second is of a personal nature, and I will probably have to seek permission of a certain ex of mine before putting it out there.
Also, I'm probably going to start deleting chunks of my blog. I feel as if I'm talking too much, and have so in the past. I don't necessarily feel as if I need a record of my rises and falls, so it really does no good to keep them around. I have a right to some mystery.
As irony would have it, I'm currently (and again) watching the filmed versions of Samuel Beckett's plays. Which is great since you don't often get to see them, but... dude, it's been filmed, so it takes you away from the stage environment. And despite the arguments, Beckett would not have approved.
There are two plays I have written that do not appear on my site. One is because I need to rework the ending. The second is of a personal nature, and I will probably have to seek permission of a certain ex of mine before putting it out there.
Also, I'm probably going to start deleting chunks of my blog. I feel as if I'm talking too much, and have so in the past. I don't necessarily feel as if I need a record of my rises and falls, so it really does no good to keep them around. I have a right to some mystery.
upcoming performance
In just two short weeks, RISE UP YOU BLOODY ANIMALS will be premiered at the Yale Cabaret. So, if you want to see something other than BOISE, IDAHO, feel free to come on out.
October 20, 2007
So it goes
I knew this would happen.
After writing a few pieces, there is at last the drive to do more. Unfortunately, at present time, I have run out of subjects. I even tried to bolster my internal resources by picking up literature about the theatre, something I haven't done in a long time. That doesn't seem to be helping. With a lack of people discussing them in a classroom setting, I find it difficult to gain any true inspiration. As anti-social as I am, comfortable in my little pocket of New York, it just figures that one day I would actually crave that kind of conversation.
I read an old play of mine last night, THE HERRINGBONE MAN. I had recently described it in loving terms to a friend of mine who was interested in reading it, and has recently discovered theatre for herself. After reading it, however, I probably shouldn't have started her out with that one. I found it to be reaching for heights of ridiculousness without actually being able to pull it off with a semblance of a storyline. Not that that's a bad thing, I'm in favor of absurdity and extremity and lack of plot, but wow. I was really pushing hard with this one, possibly in love with the concept more than the story I was trying to tell.
To put it in historical context, I wrote this play in 2000, a year in which I wrote 22 plays. That would be the year I wrote the most plays. The next year I wrote 15. Then I calmed down somewhat, and started turning out maybe between 2 and 5 a year. I think in 2000-01, I snapped something.
Anyway, 2000 was also the year I wrote BOISE, IDAHO, SLAB, FLESK, THE STRAIGHT POOP, and the second EARL THE VAMPIRE play, which has never been performed. I remember liking this play very much after writing it, and liking it several years later, but now... not so much. Too many characters, too many strange plot twists, and the ending even tries to make sense of it all by explaining itself in a broken fourth wall kind of way. There are parts of it that I absolutely am in love with, but as a whole, I seem to have been pushing myself too much. Hence, 22 plays in a year's time.
What to do? Rewrite it with the sensibilities that I have now acquired, which are ever-changing? Or does it fall to the fate of the three SPIRIT BABES plays I wrote, which do not appear on my list, because even though they are finished works, they were in direct opposition with how I began to write in 1998. Besides, the second in this cycle may be lost forever, trapped in a laptop that I can no longer access. In reality, I written 86 plays, I suppose. It's so hard to keep track.
Now, here's the rub. I am notorious for writing a play, then doing some edits if I feel it's necessary, then leaving it alone. Whether or not it is ever performed is of no real concern to me. I'm done with it, it's time to move on to something else. And that may mean that THE HERRINGBONE MAN, despite all of its good points of being both funny and horrific, may just fall by the wayside and become more of a statistic on my resume, than an actual to-be-performed piece.
Maybe I'll just try to write it from scratch, just to see how I would approach it this time. The original impetus was the Jon Benet thing, but maybe I could eek something out from a different perspective.
You see? This is how starved I am to engage in conversation about theatre and work. I'm having a one-way with my blog. If you will excuse me now, I'm going to crawl back into my darkened corner and wait for Netflix to arrive with my Beckett DVD's. Got five plays out of that viewing. It's worth another shot, perhaps.
After writing a few pieces, there is at last the drive to do more. Unfortunately, at present time, I have run out of subjects. I even tried to bolster my internal resources by picking up literature about the theatre, something I haven't done in a long time. That doesn't seem to be helping. With a lack of people discussing them in a classroom setting, I find it difficult to gain any true inspiration. As anti-social as I am, comfortable in my little pocket of New York, it just figures that one day I would actually crave that kind of conversation.
I read an old play of mine last night, THE HERRINGBONE MAN. I had recently described it in loving terms to a friend of mine who was interested in reading it, and has recently discovered theatre for herself. After reading it, however, I probably shouldn't have started her out with that one. I found it to be reaching for heights of ridiculousness without actually being able to pull it off with a semblance of a storyline. Not that that's a bad thing, I'm in favor of absurdity and extremity and lack of plot, but wow. I was really pushing hard with this one, possibly in love with the concept more than the story I was trying to tell.
To put it in historical context, I wrote this play in 2000, a year in which I wrote 22 plays. That would be the year I wrote the most plays. The next year I wrote 15. Then I calmed down somewhat, and started turning out maybe between 2 and 5 a year. I think in 2000-01, I snapped something.
Anyway, 2000 was also the year I wrote BOISE, IDAHO, SLAB, FLESK, THE STRAIGHT POOP, and the second EARL THE VAMPIRE play, which has never been performed. I remember liking this play very much after writing it, and liking it several years later, but now... not so much. Too many characters, too many strange plot twists, and the ending even tries to make sense of it all by explaining itself in a broken fourth wall kind of way. There are parts of it that I absolutely am in love with, but as a whole, I seem to have been pushing myself too much. Hence, 22 plays in a year's time.
What to do? Rewrite it with the sensibilities that I have now acquired, which are ever-changing? Or does it fall to the fate of the three SPIRIT BABES plays I wrote, which do not appear on my list, because even though they are finished works, they were in direct opposition with how I began to write in 1998. Besides, the second in this cycle may be lost forever, trapped in a laptop that I can no longer access. In reality, I written 86 plays, I suppose. It's so hard to keep track.
Now, here's the rub. I am notorious for writing a play, then doing some edits if I feel it's necessary, then leaving it alone. Whether or not it is ever performed is of no real concern to me. I'm done with it, it's time to move on to something else. And that may mean that THE HERRINGBONE MAN, despite all of its good points of being both funny and horrific, may just fall by the wayside and become more of a statistic on my resume, than an actual to-be-performed piece.
Maybe I'll just try to write it from scratch, just to see how I would approach it this time. The original impetus was the Jon Benet thing, but maybe I could eek something out from a different perspective.
You see? This is how starved I am to engage in conversation about theatre and work. I'm having a one-way with my blog. If you will excuse me now, I'm going to crawl back into my darkened corner and wait for Netflix to arrive with my Beckett DVD's. Got five plays out of that viewing. It's worth another shot, perhaps.
October 19, 2007
Auf Wiedersehn, Herr Turner. Danke.
This morning I received an email from David Turner, my friend in Germany who has been my go to guy as far as getting my plays done in Germany. Unfortunately, this email announced David's own passing by David himself.
I admit having to read it a few times before understanding that this wasn't a joke. He must have anticipated his passing and written a farewell letter to friends.
My last actual communications with David were discussing the closing of his theatre, an unfortunate effect of the army base it was surrounded by closing down. I was sad to see it go, but was always hoping that somewhere down the road we would have the opportunity to work together again.
I was lucky enough to meet David face-to-face once in Germany during a production of "Don't Talk to the Anthropologist." I believe he had altogether done five of my pieces, and even premiered "The Straight Poop" for me. David was a very kind man, very positive, instantly likable, and I gained a great amount of respect for him in a very short time. He was always open to reading material and was excited to be able to put them on. I feel privileged that I was able to meet with him, and am saddened because we will never be able to again.
David loved theatre. There seemed to be nothing else he would rather be doing with his time. How many people are lucky enough to say that?
He made it possible for my parents to see work of mine. That was key to me. In some twist of fate, David found me while living in Germany, and it had nothing to do with my parents, living in Germany as well. My parents just got to enjoy the result.
I have much to be grateful for in having known David. I hoped he considered me a friend even with our short time in knowing each other.
Thank you, David. You will be missed.
I admit having to read it a few times before understanding that this wasn't a joke. He must have anticipated his passing and written a farewell letter to friends.
My last actual communications with David were discussing the closing of his theatre, an unfortunate effect of the army base it was surrounded by closing down. I was sad to see it go, but was always hoping that somewhere down the road we would have the opportunity to work together again.
I was lucky enough to meet David face-to-face once in Germany during a production of "Don't Talk to the Anthropologist." I believe he had altogether done five of my pieces, and even premiered "The Straight Poop" for me. David was a very kind man, very positive, instantly likable, and I gained a great amount of respect for him in a very short time. He was always open to reading material and was excited to be able to put them on. I feel privileged that I was able to meet with him, and am saddened because we will never be able to again.
David loved theatre. There seemed to be nothing else he would rather be doing with his time. How many people are lucky enough to say that?
He made it possible for my parents to see work of mine. That was key to me. In some twist of fate, David found me while living in Germany, and it had nothing to do with my parents, living in Germany as well. My parents just got to enjoy the result.
I have much to be grateful for in having known David. I hoped he considered me a friend even with our short time in knowing each other.
Thank you, David. You will be missed.
October 06, 2007
as if...
Just wrote another play. It matches my mood. This one is called HANGING FROM THE ROPE. Very old school. We just have to wait to see what Rob says, then I will consider throwing it up on the site.
See? I won't stop writing.
See? I won't stop writing.
October 01, 2007
wait, wait, wait--what?
Again, I cannot stress enough how things conspire to keep me in place.
Dave Roberts, director of the New York premiere of SLAB, just called me with news. The Yale Cabaret has accepted his proposal to do RISE UP YOU BLOODY ANIMALS next month. So... another show.
Details to come.
Dave Roberts, director of the New York premiere of SLAB, just called me with news. The Yale Cabaret has accepted his proposal to do RISE UP YOU BLOODY ANIMALS next month. So... another show.
Details to come.
ad amendum... dumdum
After posting the last one (and only Michiganders may care), I spotted my guestbook signed by none other than miss Alexa Marsh, the only woman who I ever did a scene from BURN THIS with. Because... well Todd's a dude. He don't count. And I have no idea what ever happened to him.