NYD

I went yesterday to the home of Rochelle Denton and Martin Denton to review the proofs for American Badass. Man, that was a trip. Nita Congress did a great job copy editing and it looks great on the page. I only had 3 small changes. One was in the intro, one was an addition of a character’s name for clarity and the last was to add the word “it” to a sentence. I was majorly tired from pulling 19 hours in 2 days in front of a computer for work and then putting in another 8 finishing up the latest draft of Rabbit Island.

I hope that there weren’t any other mistakes I missed. Reading pieces over look that is tough for me. The part of my brain used for performing takes over and the part for grammar and spelling quietly sits down on the bench and sips Gatorade. “What are doing? Get back in there!” My mental coach yells at the goldbricker. Then I’m kind of lost.

The Dentons are very gracious hosts offering me Mallomars and fancy cookies. It was snowing while I was there. They both were very busy with lots of work for nytheatre while I was there. I got the feeling it’s like that most of the time with so much to cover. It’s amazing how on top they are of what everyone is doing.

Bride’s Maid ‘R’ Us

So I’ve been put on hold for the last week of Jan./first week of Feb. for a series of commercials. Or maybe it’s just one. I’ll know if I have it by the 15th. This is my 5th hold this year. Hooray! Zero bookings. Boooo. I’ve decided to just have more fun with them. Not worry about whether or not what I’m doing is good or using any camera technique or in any way appropriate for the copy. Just go with whatever I’m feeling. They want an improv feel to it. It’s helped so far.

Momentum

Not to kill the magic before I’ve had a chance to use it all up but I’m 9 scenes into a decent stab of a first draft of a new full-length play. I’ve got a loose outline, which is rare for me. Usually I grope in the dark through most of this time. Actually, it’s not so much an outline as it is a Lonely Planet’s Guide to My Latest Play. It gives me some of the sights and the culture of the place as well as the kinds of people I will encounter there. They are telling me things now. There’s a world that is opening up. It’s very exciting.

It’s a play I’ve been meaning to write for several years now. That’s par for the course. I have an idea but don’t get around to it until much later. It percolates. Hopefully that makes it more robust rather than an oily mess with lots of grinds on the bottom.

I write best after 10 p.m. I used to be most creative between 2 and 4 a.m. Probably still am but it’s been awhile since I’ve tried. Actually, earlier this year I worked ’til dawn a few nights and they went rather well.

It’s the deadline that gets you. I decided to submit this piece, warts and all, to the Reverie Productions’ Next Generation Playwriting Contest. The submission deadline is the 15th. I know it’s 50/50 I’ll have it done and even slimmer that I’ll make it to the reading level but it’s worth a shot. I’ll keep you posted on how it’s going.

Don’t Try This at Home

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The other night I was on the roster of performers for Until Midnight. I was kindly requested to appear by Bricken Sparacino and Samantha Jones in this night of music, comedy, variety, burlesque, and theatre at the Zipper Factory Theater. Because of my publication submission deadline for Plays and Playwrights, I decided to do one of my untried pieces in which I emulate Karl Rove speaking to a room of conservative scholars.

That was all well and good but I was tied to my desk until 9:35 pm. And I could feel the allergy/illness/bodyache/fever/sore throat that’s going around overtake me. I arrived at the theater 10 minutes before I had to hit the stage and was told by Bricken I would be following the woman blowing up balloons. Then Mistress B walked by me. As you can see she cuts an unforgettable figure. That red thing at her nipple area is what was used to inflate the phallic balloons to techno music that said, “I’m making a penis” over and over again to a pulsing industrial beat. By the sound of things offstage where in futility I was running my lines, she seemed to have the crowd right where she wanted them.

To top it off, I found out there was someone on stage with a bell to ring when you hit 5 minutes. This was to keep the pieces brisk and not go over time. I had no idea how long my monologue would be. I figured it couldn’t have been over 5 minutes.

Being next to last, I could feel the audience fatigue coming off in waves. So I went out there and, true to form, got none of the reactions I expected. It would be a lot easier if audiences just did what I expected them to do.

I had recently read an article about comedy in Rolling Stone magazine. A few different people talked about how comedy is changing. People are looking for things other than punchlines. I think this piece went that way. Maybe it’s the reception of things that’s changing and I’m stuck in another place. Couch potatoes being replaced by laptop faces. I gave the last bit straight to Martin Denton. Sorry Martin. I felt I was slipping off the mountain and grabbed onto you to keep from falling to my death. Also, I thought Rochelle would, deservedly so, yell back at me if I did it to her.

Or I might be a little neurotic. I don’t feel I get to know how to play a piece until I’ve done it 10 or 12 times in front of an audience. In a “just shows to go ya” several people told how much I frightened them, including the bartender who grew up not far from Liberty University, where the monologue was set. I thought it was funny. Maybe my sense of humor is weird.

Until Midnight also has a post performance fun component. That night we went to the bar Stitch. As a performer, I got to have my hand stamped for $2 off drink specials. Everyone else looked like they were part of a LES Mardi Gras with balloon vulvas on their heads. I looked like a banker. Bad time to look like a banker. Someone had to vouch I was a performer.

Btw, Maryanne Ventrice did a bang up job on the photos of the event. Also, I talked to Mistress B later out of costume. What a sweet lady.

Dose on Wire


I saw an incredibly inspiring film today at the Landmark Sunshine called Man on Wire about wire-walker and street performer, Philipe Petit. It was great watching this one in New York City. It recounts the planning and execution of his spectacular 45-minute walk between the Twin Towers in 1974. You’ve probably heard about him doing that and thought, “ok, so he snuck in and shot a rope across and did some walking. So what?”

But it’s so much more than that.

He read about the towers being built when he was 17 and sitting in a dentist’s office in France. In a flash came the idea to walk across them. He wasn’t even a tightrope walker at this point.

He trained, he planned, he enlisted the aid of others who believed in this idea. He made several trips to the buildings to look at them. They invented so many things to achieve the rigging through trial and error until they figured out how they would make it work. He drew pictures so he could see how it might look. They made models. They rigged a wire in his garden in France and would bounce him the way it might happen as he went across. Not to mention how they had to disguise themselves and pass themselves off as workmen or businessmen.

There were so many ways this could go wrong. Not just getting up to the top of the building but in the walk itself if it happened. There was all this improv and hide and seek things they did to avoid the security there. He said the act of the walk is “framed by death” so if one loses concentration or takes a wrong step….

The movie is a testament to the creation of a piece of art. The risk and the adventure. Taking an idea for something that doesn’t exist and making it happen to share the wonder of it with others who wouldn’t or couldn’t do the same.

This act stands as evidence that humans can make miracles happen.

The film never mentions 9/11. It was nice to see footage of New Yorkers excited about things happening around the World Trade Center. And it was kept entertaining by Petit’s storytelling combined with accounts of all the major players. After the movie I did a much safer version of walking over New York and hoofed it across the Williamsburg Bridge thinking about what inspiring act I could give to others. Here’s the trailer for your enjoyment.

Like a Complete Unknown

Got home from work. God the F train was crowded. The Prospect Park Concert Series was ending tonight with Bob Dylan. Usually tickets are a $3 donation there. His tickets were $50-$100. When a big name plays the park, this nabe turns Manhattan busy.

I went to the gym. All the machines were crowded. Ten minutes later, I look up and the room is empty.

So I went with the salmon up the 9th St. stream and wandered the path near the bandshell. The perimeter was covered with 9-foot high green masking. I guess that makes sense. I bet 2,000 people were on blankets and whatnot even though they had absolutely no view just to hear Bob wail. I heard his first two songs, “Everybody Must Get Stoned” and “Lay Lady Lay”. He sounded good.

I hate that I was working on the evening of June 12th. I got back just in time for the season opener at the bandshell to be finishing and to watch a sea of happy people stroll away from the park. It was Isaac Hayes. Here’s a taste of the good stuff from that night.

When we were digging through pictures for his obit in the paper on Sunday, I came across one with Bernie Mac and Isaac Hayes sharing a big laugh on the set of the Bernie Mac Show. Eerie. I don’t know how we’re going to replace the giants of funny and cool.