Speeding towards the big finish

I'm working on a new play. It's a big play and it's not following a...well...a dramatic structure. In a lot of ways, it's more novelistic. It's the stuff that's happening in between two events. Whereas a dramatic thing writes a little faster, we're heading towards a climax, the character may get what they want, etc, etc. This one, this novelistic one, is taking it's time, it's moving slower in it's development.

...but wait, didn't I just say that I'm speeding towards the big finish?

Yes. I have a reading on Sunday, and I want to get this puppy totally written. Even if it's bad, I want it to be done and done.

It's that time of year when you look back AND look forward...

I've written quite a bit this year...I reworked a play in production, I did a draft of an old play, I'm writing a draft of a new play, I wrote a short play, and I wrote a screenplay for a tele-film (coming to a pakistani TV network in your area...) AND, I've co-written stuff with my friend Mozz....he and I worked on a screenplay together...

That's a lot of pages.

Which is good.

So, what about next year. I want to write AT LEAST the amount I've written this year. Not sure what though. I've toyed with only writing comedies. That could be fun. Or just doing adaptations.

Not sure. Must ponder.

Job

Hey!
It's not so bad being a white collar worker!

Now, I just need to figure out a crime!

Tomorrow

FYI. I start a new job tomorrow.
I'm working at the Dramatists Guild in the office.
It's been a little while since I've had an office job, and I've grown rather used to the lifestyle that I've been leading...but, let me tell you, the idea of getting health insurance and a 401K...in these times, it sounds pretty good.
But, then, that means I have to be there. And that's the part I don't like so much.
It's not the work, that'll be interesting. It's definitely the showing up I don't like.
*sigh*

Election Night...

After voting...I went to Rockefeller Center to watch the results.




I brought the wife.




And a few others came along.




The Center was lit up like a big graph...as one got more votes...it went higher...Obama in blue, McCain in Red.




And over the course of the evening...




And it also got a little chilly....





But...it kept climbing higher...




Until finally...





And then...





Ah....victory.

Voting...

I voted.

ELECTION!!!!

Holy crap.
I couldn't sleep last night.
It's like Christmas morning...but you won't know what you got until like Ohio and Florida stop voting.
ARGH.
Now, I guess I had better go stand in a line.

CLOWN!

ARGH!
For the past three weekends I attended a FABULOUS clown workshop as taught by the equally fabulous Jane Nichols. Did I mention it was fabulous?

It was.

Imagine spending 8 hours Saturday and Sunday sitting in a studio LAUGHING. That's basically what we did. Laugh. Sure, sometimes we weren't, but most times we were.

Clown asks of the performer generosity of spirit and of play. And it takes a helluva lot of guts to get up there in front of people and try to make them laugh.

And our group had a lot of guts. No one gave up, and sometimes, Jane would keep someone up there for 15 minutes...letting them swing in the wind.

Because in failure comes great ideas. It may not feel like it, it may feel like you haven't found anything...but...some little wiggly idea comes out. Maybe it's how someone turn their head. Or a little silly physical joke. Something. All of us failed to get laughs...but something would always spark a little giggle. And a giggle is a beginning.

Clown, to me, is play. Playing free, with abandon, and for US, the audience. One needs imagination, a willingness to reveal that playful side, and lots of energy. Even standing there in your clown character takes energy...you have to be ready to jump...metaphorically and really, at a moments notice.

Everyday we started playing these real complicated games...like tag. And I sorta mean that...for some reason these simple games at the beginning would seem complicated to us adults. But, finally, we would settle into the game and then play hard to win.

Sweating, we would begin with more play...simple entrances, tricks...I brought in my yo-yo, and Jane from the audience would play, ask questions, tease, provoke...And it was fantastic fun to watch.

(I haven't written a blog in ages, it seems, and I'm trying to get back into the habit, so forgive my poor writing skills...I'm not going to blame it on me, but the time of day...DAMN YOU 9:28!...and the coffee...DAMN YOU COFFEE!)

Anyway...the whole thing ended with performing in front of an invited audience. Without any sort of rehearsal...just things pulled from exercises and improvs. It was scary, intense, and a tremendous amount of fun.

Why, Larry, why did you take this incredibly fun class? Well...internet, I took the class because I've been talking about performing again, getting back out there and in front of an audience. I've always liked this kind of work and I get such a kick in the (big) pants from it.

Maybe next time I'll write better about clown...but it's tough for me...clown...and not the stupid birthday party clown...is a sort of mystical intangible creature for me...it is or it isn't.

And I'll write more soon...

PART FIVE!!!!

First draft done.
Off my plate.
Onto other projects. Let's see if I have to do any rewrites!

In the meantime...I start doing a Clown Workshop this weekend. I'm all excited and nervous. Terri fed really. Clowning, and we're not talking your Birthday Party clowning, demands complete honesty of a performing. And trust that the Heavens will open up and the ground will be there.

Oy.

So...a TV movie for Pakistan...PART FOUR!!!!

A draft is done.
Lordy.
Now.
Editing.
Because...it's a pretty crappy first draft...but...well...it's a first draft.

Alright...Part 3...I'm Writing a Pakistani TV Movie...*sigh*

Well.

Here we are again. Me writing about writing...rather than off and doing the writing.

There's something a little sick about that I suppose.

The Update: I think I'll have a finished draft done by the end of this week...that is if I don't start obsessively blogging. (And given my track record, I doubt that'll happen.)

I don't know if I'm built to write the straight up family drama. Meaning the family drama where just the ordinary troubles of family are the main source of the conflict. (Yep. I said ordinary). Jealousy, the past, etc. I don't know if I'm the best writer to do that sort of story.

Now...I do believe every writer can write all kinds of stories...but each writer is going to have a unique take on that particularly kind of story and each writer will have certain kinds of stories they gravitate to more than others.

With this movie, I'm a little bit limited...and normally, I have no problems with limitation, but I'll get to why I'm frustrated with some of the particular limitations...

First...this is going to be a low budget affair. Locations are limited. Personnel is limited. This is going to be in a foreign language...and if this was made in Pakistan that wouldn't be a trouble, but even here in a New York, actors who speak Urdu aren't common. (That's so WEIRD, right? Not really.) Anyway. Three actors, that's pretty much it.

Second...Well. Hm. I don't have a second limitation.

THIRD...third would be the style and subject matter. And this is the most constrictive for me. Basically: a family drama where I can only hint at certain things, a family drama where I can only go so far, a family drama that's...restrained in some ways, and melodramatic in others... It's what the audience will accept in Pakistan that sort of limits me.

(For all the outcries...American audiences LOVE it when boundaries are pushed.)

With these limitations, it's hard for me to be enthusiastic about writing the story. It's all me really. This particular story isn't playing to my strengths as a writer. It's going to have limited humor...(which isn't something that's universal--only slapstick really is...and cartoons) and it's not going to have something...unusual.

If I was going to write about someone having an affair I would do something crazy, like the guy is having an affair with...I don't know...something like...a goat. yeah. A GOAT. That's what I would do.

What's that? Edward Albee did that? In a play called The Goat. Shit.

Anyway. I guess what I'm saying, I feel like I'm muting my own voice to write this, so it's a challenge to engage.

(All of my writer friends are reading this saying: Don't cave! Use your voice! Make it yours!)

I think the audience in Pakistan might be a wee bit confused if the man has an affair with an Alien from the planet Xenon.

But, I know what you're saying.

Alright. Enough of this whining. Back to the grindstone.

Out in the Wilderness: Writing a Pakistani TV movie part 2

Seriously, what am I writing?

That's the general response I get from people when I tell them. Yes. A TV movie for Pakistan.

Oh. You mean...WHAT am I writing? As in, what's it about?

Right. Well. It's a family drama of an affair that I think is going to end badly. Basically: a young woman arrives in America after the death of her father, to come and live with her sister and her husband. The young woman begins an affair with the husband and the results are tragic.

How tragic? I'm not so sure. But pretty tragic.
How do they start their affair? I'm not so sure...but it should be pretty romantic, until, well, it becomes tragic.

Love the details, don't you?

The story is going to be told from three different points of view, each time from the beginning. So we're going to be playing with narrative. And playing with narrative is a tricky thing. If you gonna do it, you should do it for good reasons. Don't just muck around because you can, it won't serve you, and it will only serve to confuse the audience. And that's like, you know, the LAST thing you want.

So, we're mucking around with the narrative. We're doing it to show truths behind the lies, motivations and behaviors may mean something else, etc.

Oh, I really hope we're not mucking around for no good reason.

Since it's being told from three different points of view, I've decided to change my method (or madness) a little bit. I'm writing all three pieces at the same time. I was afraid that if I just wrote it straight through, then I would repeat myself in the following sections, or contrive reasons to not repeat myself. But, if I write all three parts at the same time, then I can really give each main character their own strong point of view and really make them individual.

I think it'll work. It seems like it will work. It should work.

Yeah. I think it's going to work.

next time: part three? Really...there's more?

Out in the Wilderness: Writing a Pakistani TV Movie Part 1

A new project: A TV film for Pakistan.

From time to time, I get an opportunity to work on a project that helps pay the rent. And this particular one is a TV movie for Pakistan. It'll be shot here in New York. Probably in September. That is if I get the script done (I will.)

When I'm writing something I always seem to change how I write. I don't always reinvent the wheel, but I certainly change up my habits. However, there are two general ways of going about beginning: to outline or not to outline.

Outlining can be extremely helpful...it gives one a road map, a general shape, and it's great to have in case you get stuck on a scene...you always know where you are headed.

Not Outlining can be great too. You can grab onto the sense of mystery...as you write you discover what the story and characters want and do. There's a surprise to the writing that doesn't always come from outlining.

Now, of course, with outlining you can feel trapped.

And with not outlining you can get stuck, lost.

Goods and bads.

Now with a movie...it's sorta best to outline. Well. That's not true. For ME it's best to outline. Personally, I think movies are a little more structured than plays...or conversely, plays have a lot more flexibility than movies.. (At least linear films and plays...I don't want to open a can of worms and he said, she said...this ain't science.)

So, I outline. And with this new movie...I wished I had done more.

Don't get me wrong, I have a shape for the film. A general shape. However, in this case, I think it maybe a little TOO general.

See. I'm in a bit of a time crunch. It's mid-August. The director wants to shoot maybe mid-September. There's a little but of pressure.

This is where a good outline comes in handy. As I've been writing pages, I've just been writing pages, people are talking, doin' stuff...but it's not particularly dramatic, nor germane to the story. (Did I use germane correctly? Maybe.) The characters are just sort of...being. Drama is about compression. Of time. Of dialogue. Of events.

This is where an outline comes in handy. When I start wandering, I can turn to it and sharpen the scenes, heighten the drama.

Though, I suppose, I could also just meander and then do it all in the rewrite...

Though, though, due to time, I need to have great pages faster...the director wants to see some work...and film is a director's medium. Because it's a visual medium.

Which frankly is another reason to cut out dialogue. And make scenes shorter. And it's also the biggest difference between stage and screen: who wants to watch someone yammer on and on on TV? I know I don't.

Enough rambling...I should've made an outline for this blog.

Next blog: Seriously, what am I writing?

A Picture is worth a thousand bucks in this current market...

Ah. There I am. In the hospital.
With a hat on.

I know what Irony is OR DAMN YOU BUNDLE OF HIS! OR Hey all this and all I got was a pair of socks? OR STRUM AND DRANG, signifying nuttin'

Tuesday has come and gone. And oh what a Tuesday it was.

Tuesday, of course, was the day I had my procedure to finally take care of my WPW Syndrome. SYNDROME!

And it was a long Tuesday coming. Back and forth with the doctor and the hospital and the insurance people to finally get THIS Tuesday. First my doctor wasn't ON my insurance, then the hospital I was going to go to didn't accept my insurance, then my insurance wanted more paperwork to prove that I should have the procedure, and then, finally, Tuesday.

Tuesday. Deepti and I met at a park near Macy's and went to the hospital together. By this point, I wasn't nervous. I had made the decision to be curious rather than nervous. It worked a little bit.

We get to admittance. I check in. They check my blood, four vials they take from me, FOUR VIALS, then another EKG. And then it's up to Cardio.

We check in there, lots of checking in at a hospital. Joan, a gruff no nonsense wicked sense of humor loves her job nurse, yes, Virginia they do exist, gets me to put on the silly robe with the slit in the back. And socks with little rubber stuff on the feet. I hop into bed and Joan starts the questions.

Do you do this? Do you do that? How often do you do this? Why do you do that?

I answer them.

Deepti clarifies my answers. Deepti and Joan got a long.

And then I wait. I wait some more. Deepti calls my parents. We wait again. There's a patient on the table...because it's a special table...ok, really, it's a special table in a special room, and he's taking a while.

Finally. He's done. Two hours after I was supposed to go in...he's done and up and a few beds from me.

One of the doctors whose going to do the procedure comes in, introduces himself, talks me through the procedure and then asks me some questions: Do you do this? Do you do that? How often do you do this? Why do you do that?

Do Doctors read?

We find out that the procedure could last anywhere from 2 to 4 hours. We tell Deepti to go see a movie. She's not sure, she doesn't want to wait at the hospital--and really, it makes sense, waiting there would be maddening.

Brian, another nurse, the sassy kind, and Paul, a nice guy, quiet, come to wheel me down, and Deepti follows. She mentions that she might go see Mamma Mia...Brian tells her not to, that it's bad (Sorry ABBA fans.)

I say good bye to Deepti and then it's into the room.

It's a small room, with an even smaller room inside...which is a monitor room for the x-ray machine...or a DJ booth, either one. In the center is a narrow table with the flat disc above it, the x-ray machine itself, and surrounding the table are computers, monitors, etc.

I'm wiggled onto the narrow table and that's when they start slapping on the patches...cold, cold patches, which will be hooked up to the monitor so they can...monitor my heart rate, blood pressure etc. Beep...Beep...Beep...

I got oxygen, some meds, and then...they shave me.

Well, they shave me after Brian convinces the little Coffee Klatch that was going on at the door...people chatting, catching up...to perhaps close the door. I appreciated that.

The catheters were going to go in on both sides of my groin muscle. Two on one side, three on the other. Two shots of meds later they started putting in the catheters. Which I could see. Up to my left was the tv monitor for the x-ray...and up they went to my heart.

Basically, the catheters were going to produce electrical signals in order to find out where the extra node was that was causing the problem.

(Just a quick reminder...we all of a node, Bundle of His (or Kent?) that controls the beating of the heart by sending out electrical impulses. WPW syndrome are for those of us that have an extra node, the electrical signal sometimes gets stuck in a loop between the nodes and produces a rapid heart rate...the solution, destroy the extra node.)

So the catheters were going to poke around in my heart trying to produce the tachycardia or rapid heart rate.

And you can feel it...it's weird...generally you don't have a LOT of control over your heart rate, but to have someone else control it...with a computer...the doctors were sitting on my right staring at a computer, poking a keyboard making my heart beat in strange rhythms...it's just weird.

At this point the Black Eyed Peas song Don't Funk With My Heart passed through my head.

I also found the experience intensely funny...could be the meds...but I was pretty conscious...and perhaps a little to chatty. But I was seriously trying hard not to laugh. Not just because of the song in my head, but this image of a doctor poking my heart with a stick trying to make it beat funny.

Which it finally did. He found the node, caused the tachycardia and then turned it off. More whispers from the doctors...and the whispers weren't good. I knew they weren't good...because they kept saying "this is really interesting..." No one wants to hear that...because that means your case is extraordinary. In this case, I want to be the most ordinary cat in the room.

And here's where I learned a dose of irony...after MONTHS of getting this arranged, after YEARS of having this, here I am, on the table, plugged in, naked and shaved, and the Doctor says to me, "We aren't going to do it."

Crap.

Here's why. My extra bundle is about 3 mm from the Bundle of His, you know, the important one. The catheters they have are about 3 mm, and if they try to burn away Mr. Extra Bundle there's a good chance they would burn the Bundle of His. Which would mean, I would be left without a means to regulate the beat of my heart.

In other words, I would need a pacemaker.

They decided at my youthful age, I didn't really need a pacemaker, that my particular case wasn't life threatening, that...well...it wasn't worth it.

Alright.

So, they took the catheters out. And if I didn't know irony before...then I knew it again. Because on the way out, the catheters triggered an episode.

At least in the hospital they have a med that can stop it...and it's a freaking rush through your body. But, yeah, it stops it right away.

Up to Cardio. Because now...I have to recover from the procedure...even if they didn't actually do...anything. Because they went in through the femoral in my groin, I wasn't allowed to sit up for a few hours, I had to lie flat on my back...or I would bleed.

They called Deepti, who didn't go see a movie, and she got there as quickly as she could...and we hung out. And hung out...and hung out. There's really not much to do when you're lying flat on your back. With tiny little wounds in your groin. In the hospital.

So. That was the day. Lots of waiting. Lots of laughs. Lots of electrical impulses into my heart. And not much else. Back to where I was...except NOW, I have an inOPERABLE Syndrome!

FEEL FOR ME!!!!!


;)

ps--yes. I kept the socks.

FALLOUT being PRODUCED

Working Man’s Clothes Productions, as a part of their Binge Olympiad, is going to produce my short play FALLOUT. They are a great company, doing LOTS of work, you should check out their site here.

FALLOUT is a short comedy about two roommates waking up from a night of binge drinking only to find a mystery. Why is there aluminum foil over the windows? Why did they write notes to themselves to not going outside? And who got laid?

The BINGE OLYMPIAD is over two weekends, but FALLOUT is on August 15^th and 16^th…more details below.

I hope to see you all there!

Working Man’s Clothes Productions Presents…

BINGE OLYMPIAD

the final annual NYC Binge Festival

Fridays and Saturdays,
August 15th, 16th, 22nd, and 23rd
11PM - 3AM

ONLY $5.00 ADMISSION
Keg - Masters in the aisels!

in the West Village at
WINGS THEATER

154 Christopher St
(between Greenwich St & Washington St)
West Village, NYC

Short plays
MINERVA'S MUSCLES by Bekah Brunstetter,
LUNA by Jason Grote,

FALLOUT by Larry Pontius,
THE BREAK-UP by Tommy Smith,
TAKE OUT CHINESE by Casey Wimpee,
TURNING by William Meny,
DYING OF CONSUMPTION by Delaney Britt Brewer,
THE FART COLLECTOR by Kalli Newman

Directed by Michelle Bossy, Alexandra Hogue,

Jake Witlen, Stephen Brackett, Matthew Hancock,
Justin Swain, and Steven Gillenwater.

Special Guest Performances by The O'Debra Twins, Lumberob,
Carla Rhodes, Sputnik Sweetheart, C Phineas, Everywhere Theater Company, The Wild Yaks, and more!

Neighborhood: Manhattan/West Village
154 Christopher St Ste 3B
(between Greenwich St & Washington St)
New York, NY 10014
(212) 627-2960
W 4th St (A, C, E, B, D, F, V)

Syndrome BE GONE!

So.
As some of you may know, I got a syndrome...WPW syndrome to be exact...something that every so often makes me heart beat accelerate to speeds that suck. (Did you know there is a Speed of Suck? Oh, yes, there is.)

Finally, it's going to be taken care of. On Tuesday I go in for a catheter ablation...which means sticking a wire up my femoral artery, going to the heart and burning out those troublesome extra nodes that cause the problem.

It's my first over night since...well...since I was born.

And then I hope to go see The Dark Knight the next morning. All I see is win win here.

Babies...

Last week I saw some babies. Now these weren't just random babies. I see random babies all the time in New York. And random babies are the reason to NOT have babies. Random babies are the ones who are screaming, puking, and pooping...each an act to garner attention from the parent.

THESE babies were babies of my friends. So, in other words, special babies. Babies that make you go...Aw....and....Ooo...and Can I hold her/him?

Within a month two close friends had babies. Two close friends who are also in the arts. It's possible! That's what my wife and I realized. But, how possible is the ongoing discussion...

I think, often in the arts we talk about sacrifice and that we must "suffer" to be good artists. That we have to make a choice between a life in the arts and a "normal" life. As I'm getting older I'm finding that idea patently...stupid. Why can't a life in the arts be normal?

And besides, wouldn't it only benefit your art to have a more full life, a more well rounded sense of the world?

If you only do one thing, if you only have one thing in your life...your art...isn't that tunnel vision?

There's a difference between dedication to something and the willful exclusion of everything.

Sure, the course of my life is going to be different than most, and it's even different than those in the art world...who writes Pakistani TV shows, show of hands....I should be able to have it all. It's the challenge that EVERYONE has, really.

Art and a family. It should be interesting...

I saw a great play the other day...

My friend, and director of Umbrella, Padraic Lillis, just recently directed a one-act called Sweet Storm for LAByrinth Theater Company.

It was a sweet story (and how often do you get to see that?) of a young couple who just got married, he's a preacher and she is the love of his life who suffers from Polo and can't walk anymore. The future they once thought was going to be so easy is now a whole lot harder.

It was a play in development, so they only performed it three times, with a simple set, costumes, etc. But it was so lovely to get lost within the characters desire to make everything alright, to press on with life, even in the face of everything.

And in the effort of full disclosure, I was so incredibly jealous: the writing was great. The language, the characters, the tone, was just...it was so full the work. Lush maybe the best way to describe it.

Honestly, it was great seeing a great play. Bad plays put me off. Mediocre plays put me off more--don't just assume because you're doing theater it's great. But seriously, when I see work that stinks, I don't want to go back to the theater, I don't want to waste my time or money. I would rather watch a movie or a TV show. Or, and you can ask my wife, I have a stack of books with my name on them (scribbled in) that I should really get to.

So, I beg, just do good to great work.

Website update

Hey...a quick one...

My website has been updated!
Deepti, my lovely wife, has redesigned the site and it looks great.
Take a look.

And I promise, I'll write here more often.

An Addendum: Who are we writing for?

Who are we, as playwrights, writing for?

Ideally, ourselves and an audience.

But, I think in reality: the intern. The intern who has the task of first reading the plays, grading them, making notes, and then they are passed up and depending on those grades perhaps read by someone in authority.

I know this to be true, because I have BEEN that intern. I have had to read through stacks and stacks of plays, put my comments on them and pass them along, and from my write up (my opinion) it may or may not move forward.

I know it's impossible for the Literary Manager to read everything, there are just so many people out there who want to be playwrights (which constantly surprises me) submitting work.

But the real gatekeepers...are the interns. Be nice to the intern.

(Also--for those playwrights out there who haven't interned, I would recommend it...being on the other side of the table, see how playwrights submit work...you learn a lot.)

Submissions.

If it's one thing I hate about being a playwright (and a writer in general) is submissions. It's the least exciting part of this business and it's the one where I have the least amount of control. Did I mention it's my least favorite part?

It’s true.

Personally, I hate writing the letter: Dear So and So, I would like to submit my play…

Submit. Bleh. I hate that word. Submit. It sounds like I’m giving up. Like I’m giving them POWER. Which, in a way, I am.

Maybe I should use the world share. Dear So and So, I would like to share my play…

Well. I don’t know. I’m not in kindergarten. I ain’t sharing the play, I want them to pay me to do it. Exchange? Dear So and So, I would like to exchange my play for cash…

I don’t think anyone would go for it.

So, let’s put semantics aside, maybe someone smarter will find a better word.

The thing is: you have to play to pay, you have to submit your work, send it out, share it, whatever or no one is ever going to see it, read it, produce it. It’s like buying a lotto ticket, you can’t win if you don’t play.

Now. Personally, I don’t play the lotto, because I have the same chances as any Joe Schmoe has. And I don’t like those odds. I would like to have BETTER than average chances of winning. So, I don’t play the lotto. (Alas, I will never be tremendously wealthy and then lose it all because I made really dumb purchases.)

BUT, when I’m submitted my plays, I try to increase my chances…how? I edit and I research. First I edit out all of those things I’m not right for. For example, I’m not a Latino writer, so I probably shouldn’t submit to that theater or competition.

Once I have narrowed things down a wee bit, I do some research. I look up the companies who I might submit to. Who are they? What do they do? Do they do what they SAY they do? For example, a theater company says they like doing new work, all kinds of new work (thumbs up, right?) Well, then, why is it in their season history a list of abstract new work? Because really when they say they love new work, they only love a CERTAIN kind of new work. (Which is fine, great, but, please be specific.)

Now the list is narrowed even more. (And yes, I judge a theater company on their website. If it looks cheap, then, yeah, it reflects poorly.)

There are other things to consider. Money. Sometimes I have to pay to submit. I think that’s stupid and I rarely do it. Theater companies feel it’s the price of doing business. But no one would ask an actor to pay to audition. No one. So, why should I have to pay to audition my play? (And, for you theater companies out there: reading submissions is the price of doing new work, you shouldn’t demand a fee.)

So, once my list is made…print out the plays, fill out the forms, type the letters. It’s dreary and boring. And that’s that.

Though…I have to say…companies doing email submissions…I love it.

More another day.

New news...A reading...

Hello everyone...

This year seems to be rolling a head in a very productive way.

On Saturday, May 31st, a short play of mine, Some Mixed Signals, will be read along with other one acts as a part of the Manhattan Theatre Source's new Writers Forum, of which I am a member.

The reading is Saturday, May 31st, at 3:30 at the Theatre Source located at 177 MacDougal Street (between 8th and Waverly Place.) And of course, it's free.

The other writers are going to be Elizabeth Urello, Pamela Yaco, and Bill McMahon. Great writers all, it should be a fun time.

The Theatre Source started the Writers Forum a few months ago, meeting on a weekly basis, in order to create a home for writers and to ultimately have a source for material to go into production. The exciting thing for me is to have a theater associated with a writing group. It’s important to realize for WHAT we are writing (the stage) and that it is not just happening in a vacuum (the stage is RIGHT next door to our room.) We hear people rehearsing, we see audience go into the theater. It’s a powerful reminder.

We don’t write in a vacuum, we don’t write for our desk drawers.

We write for us and for the audience to come.

So: come check out the readings, soon public readings will be a part of the Writers Forum, and later workshops and productions will follow…

Troubling Plays...

So. In my last blog I mentioned something about plays that give me trouble. I want to talk about that for a second. Or two. Or three. Now this is all about the FIRST draft of a play, I'll talk about drafting another day.

Sometimes a play comes out onto the page pretty well formed, no problems, easily done. That's a blessing. More luck. Well, a dash of preparedness, and bit of thinking, and then a bunch of luck as I'm writing that the whole thing seems to come together without much hemming and hawing.

Then there are the other plays that seem to come together mysteriously. Like stepping out of a fog they sort of arrive. That's not to say I sit back and just wait. I wish it were that easy. I have to keep plugging away at the play...writing scenes, doodling lines, thinking, writing...madness.

The trouble...well...let's talk about what trouble means: trouble is my confidence being shaken. And when it's shaken those ugly things start popping up: I don't know enough about my play, my play is boring, I don't know how the play is going to end and it will go on and on and on forever, and who wants to watch that.

Trouble.

The troubling plays begin with a tickle in the back of my lizard brain. They begin with an impulse that won't go away. An image or a feeling or a line. These keep returning and returning, perhaps each time bringing a little more information or just more questions. But the nagging prevents me from NOT writing about the image or the line, etc. I have to pursue the play, the characters. And it takes time. And patience.

Umbrella took me five years to write--pulling teeth slowly. A Thousand Yard Stare and New Horizons, both new plays of mine, have been in my head for over two years. They both circle my brain slowly, each time a tiny bit of information is revealed, or an idea on how to tell a story I don't know how to tell pops up...

It can be a battle. My conscious mind versus my sub-conscious mind.

Sometimes I'm convinced the play is even purposefully, willfully being obtuse in order to torture me. But I think that's just the story of a paranoid mind. But what if it were true? And my plays WERE out to get me...hm...

All of this is to say, however, as troubling as these plays are to create, I think they are my most rewarding. Not just in the final product, but also in what I learned on the way towards the final draft. The mistakes, the wrong paths, the experiments gone wrong, all eventually become solid choices, the right path and the experiments that glow.

I just wish I could do it in my first drafts.

Where DID Dar and Matey come from?

There's a lot of Dar and Matey fans out there. I know, because I'm one of them. Where did The Lunar Adventures of Dar and Matey, Estuary Pirates, Episode Two: Danger in 1/6th Gravity come from?

And ultimately, where DO my plays come from?

Generally, I start with an image or a hook that gets me excited to start writing.

With Dar and Matey, I got an email asking if I would be interested in writing a play for a dark night series. I was in the middle of writing a play that was really challenging me...it happens...I'll write about that another day...I'll just say this: each play presents it's own unique challenges and you have to choose to rise to it or not.

So. I said yes. I'll write a play for the dark night series.

And now, I needed an idea.

Two things came together in my head...one...Dar, see the above photo. Dar is a coconut that I bought in Mexico this past January that had been cut and painted to look like a pirate. Now. I've always been interested in pirates. Who isn't? (And this was before Pirates of the Caribbean.) I thought the coconut was hysterical. When I got home, it went right on the book shelf staring at me. I named him Dar...to some amusement in my home.

And the other thing that went on in my head: I wanted to do a play that was just adventure. No reflection, no belly button staring, no single set. I wanted adventure. In the 19th Century they used to do plays that had volcanoes erupting, floods, earthquakes...the things that seem only reserved for film nowadays. At some point, theater turned away from telling those stories.

So. Coconut head meet a Desire. Mix. Blend.

A lot of my plays come from a collision of ideas and things I bump into. Forms, images, words overheard, they all come together during the process of creation. Each process is unique. With Dar and Matey, it came a desire to tell an action-adventure story on stage and an object. Umbrella began with the image of two people walking late at night. And with another play, On the Night of Anthony's 30th Birthday, Again, it began with the idea of writing a single door farce.

And that's the exciting thing: I have no idea where a nugget for the next play or screenplay might come from...I have to keep my eyes and ears open...

Dar and Matey on STAGE!

So, I went to a run through last night of my short comedy The Lunar Adventures of Dar and Matey, Estuary Pirates Episode Two: Danger in 1/6 Gravity. It was awesome.

The play itself is a silly adventure romp about two pirates who have been transported to the Moon and in order to get back to the Earth have to help King Kuna Luna get his daughter back from the Terrible Titian on the Moon Tim.

Stolen Chair Theatre Company is putting it on as a part of their show The Accidental Patriot. They are putting up on their dark nights short plays that are in theme with the show.

Emily Otto, an Associate Artistic Director, asked if I would be interested in writing a show for their dark nights and I jumped. I had been working on a new play and it was giving me problems, so any opportunity to NOT work on that and work on something else was not to be missed.

I wrote it quickly and emailed it. Now...not to pat myself on the back, but I think the play is hilarious. Sometimes, though, what I think is hilarious, isn't to others. (That's because they are wrong...but that's a blog for another day.)

Anyway. Deepti and I snuck into a run last night. And it WAS hilarious. The cast are having a lot of fun with this silly adventure. Serious fun. They are playing hard and it works, it really really works. It was great to see.

I hope you all get to check it out...it runs May 7th and 14th...click here for more information.

And ALSO go see Stolen Chair's The Accidental Patriot.... I know I am...

Bull!

My mom and dad came to New York City for a few days, to come and see my show.

You remember, I got a show going on? (Check it out soon, it's in the final week!)

They were only here for a few days, so we tried to pack in a lot. My mom was feeling better after X number of surgeries on her back...I could here it in her voice when I talked to her on the phone, she had her energy back. And it was nice to see, after a few years of having terrible pain.

We tried to get in the Statue of Liberty...and it was a PERFECT day to do it...of course, everyone else thought the same thing, so there was an hour and a half wait to get to the Statue. So, we did the next best thing...We went to Staten Island.

It's a free trip.

Over there...well, we didn't see much. Is THERE much on Staten Island? We did see...what they called a museum...but was really an abandoned lighthouse factory. The buildings were falling apart...which was sort of heartbreaking...they must have been so beautiful once.

Staten Island done.

Next. The Bull on Wall Street. That's the picture. We sort of had to fight to get it taken...French Tourists were putting their kids on the Bull's head, as Japanese Tourists were getting their pictures taking with the Bull's balls. A metaphor? If so, it's bigger than me.

Lunch, nap. Then dinner with my Uncle and Aunt.

Next day...Central Park. Another perfect day. At least we didn't have to wait in line to get in.

Flowers, trees, castles, ponds, musicians and hotdogs. Awesome.

Then, they saw the show and packed up and went back home...soon, they are going to Sweden for two weeks, while I continue to slave away here in New York...

(I have to apologize for this blog...there wasn't much meat to it. Just a laundry list of stuff that happened. It wasn't very good. You know it, I know it. Let's just move forward and hope that the next blog is better.)

Enterprise sucks.

Enterprise. The car rental. Sucks.

I was going to rent a car from them here in Harrisonburg, VA to drive back to Reagan National airport...they were going to charge me a drop fee. Of a dollar a mile. About a 150 bucks.

Was this on the internet? No.

Did we rent the car? No.

There's a Hertz in town.

So, I'm in Virginia

So, the wife and I are in Harrisonburg, VA. She's here to do some work, you know, the kind that pays you money. She's going to be one of the voices on Rosetta Stone's new Hindi computer program. Me...well, I'm tagging along for a few days, getting out of the hustle of New York...I traded it for the hustle of Harrisonburg, VA.

Except. There's no hustle. No hustle at all. And no bustle either.

It's sorta nice. There's not much to do...except shop. Eat. Walk around...where people say hello to you. And smile. Well, I think it's smiling, it's what I remember smiling to look like. I'm pretty sure it's smiling.

One of the things we did when we got here was drive over to Monticello, the home of one Thomas Jefferson. That guy. You know...writer, scientist, President, all around smart guy...when did we stop electing those types?

It was a beautiful drive over...winding through some small mountains, great views.

Monticello is...not what I expected. I thought it would be bigger. Well, the estate itself is big. But the house...is smaller than what I thought. The rooms aren't that big and they open up into each other, few hallways, it's room, room, room. Gorgeous, luscious rooms with views and light, but still...they aren't the mansions that we see today.

Still. Just to imagine that Jefferson and who knows who else walked these rooms, sat in that chair, died in that bed...Jefferson...who wrote the Declaration of Independence. This was truly a Founding Father...someone who really thought about Government, Freedom, what is is to be an American.

Perhaps we have exalted these Founding Father too much...but I don't know...as this election season keeps going on and on and on...and both parties look like idiots because they seem only in it for themselves and not the larger ideals, I keep thinking about the start of my country. The men (and women) not only fought a war, but, more importantly, thought. They had the intellectual rigor to ask the big questions, to debate the answers, to really try and make something that would last. It's lasting...but if we keep leaving the idiots in charge...

Also:
I don't know if any of you have been watching the John Adams mini-series on HBO, I haven't, but I caught the last episode here in the hotel. Now, SPOILER ALERT, when Adams and Jefferson DIE...bet you didn't know they died...they use Monticello. Clearly. It was so strange for me to see...the actor playing Jefferson, walking around the office and library...the same one the day before where I wasn't allowed to touch things. It was kinda cool.

And a bit of trivia. John Adams and Jefferson died the same day, the 4th of July on the 50th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence.

Reviews...

Alright. The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

Actually, most have been pretty good, but I'll put them all up...

Variety
NYTheatre.com
TheatreMania.com
Backstage
Broadwayworld.com

Onward...

A quick one before I run off...!

Opening night went very well...Lots of people responding very well. I'm very excited.
There are reviews out there. Some good. And some not so good.
I'll post them later tonight.
And as a bit of final information: it's really challenging to sit next to someone who clearly isn't liking your play.

Oh, well.

Open Night!

Well. It's here. Opening night. Weeks of rehearsal, preceded by months of prep, preceded by years of writing and developing...

And it's all come to tonight...Opening Night.

I wish I could say that I'm nervous...and probably if you caught me at a still moment, I admit the truth, but I feel like I have all of these things I need to do before tonight, and tonight is just HOURS away.

Gifts, emails, scripts to read, a shower to take, food to eat, meetings to run to.

The biggest problem for me isn't being nervous...it's being nervous, sitting in the audience. I don't know what to do. Yes, the obvious answer is to watch the show, but, well, I've seen it, so I keep listening and watching the audience. Wondering what THEY are thinking.

Thoughts that went through my head during preview:

Is that guy with the tilting head sleeping?
That woman who keeps whispering, does she hate my show?
Is that old guy asleep or dead?
Is that the reviewer? Or is THAT the reviewer?
Why didn't they laugh at the cold hands line, I always laugh at the cold hands line...
Is it cold in here or am I dying?

So, for me it's tough sitting in the audience. I'm nervous, and when I'm nervous, I get chatty. And no one likes a guy whose chatty during a show.

But this is the truth: It's a good show, it's a really really good show. I'm very proud of everyone who has worked on the show, I'm proud of MY work on the show. I hope it's hard to get a ticket it's so popular.

And speaking of tickets, you can go to Ticket Central to buy them online.
Go to Alchemy's Website for more information...
Or mine...

The show opens tonight, I'll post some reviews when I can...hope you can make it...you have until May 4th to do it!

Umbrella...the previews...

Last night, I saw the final dress run of my show Umbrella...It went great. The show looks great, the direction is great, the actors are great. (That's Christa Kimlicko Jones in the photo, she plays Helen.)

I'm really proud of this show, I hope you can all come and see it.

Tonight's the night...tonight we start previews...we have a LOT of shows this weekend, it makes things tight, and I'm hoping we have big crowds.

And it's weired being the writer, after the last few bits of rehearsal today, to clean up some tech issues, I don't really have anything to do. Except tell people to buy tickets ( go to Alchemy Theatre's website, use the code AHLS for a discount!) and tell all of their friends to see the show.

I may wander the street of New York, try to pick fights with tourists...it IS that season again, and I wouldn't want a tourist to leave New York City with the idea that New Yorkers are friendly...don't they know the proper way of walking is quickly and NOT stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to take a picture of a building...a BUILDING???

Or I could see a movie. But there's nothing this boy wants to see until the summer (really, have you seen the previews for Iron Man? Or the new Indiana Jones Movie?)

I could watch the show...nah. That's impossible. There won't be an empty seat in the theater.

Hm...I'll have to give some more thought to this...

I'm Getting Rid of My Bundle of Kent...

So...as long time readers of this blog might remember...I have a syndrome. But to catch up those long time readers...I'll explain...so you don't have to read again.

I have what's called WPW Syndrome. Basically, the heart has an electrical system that regulates the beating of the heart. I have an extra one...and according to Wikipedia (i know, i know) it's called the Bundle of Kent. This Bundle sometimes takes over, throws the whole shebang out of whack and the heart starts beating rapidly. Very rapidly. Basically, no speed control.

I had another little incident a few weeks ago...it lasted a little bit to long, alright, it lasted 8 hours. 8 hours of a racing heart I think will get to any one. And some where in the back of my head a thought popped in...hey, maybe I should go back to my heart doctor get this Bundle of Kent zapped.

And so. I have. Well. Not the zapping part. Not yet. That's in about a month.

Basically, I'll be sedated, thank you, and they will insert a catheter into my femoral artery...that be in the leg for those keeping score, and send little wires up to my heart. While I'm sedated, thank you very much, these wires will poke around and the Kind Doctor will start my arrhythmia...in order to find my Bundle of Kent.

And once located...zap. And I'm cured. All while I'm sedated, thank very very much.

It's an over night stay at the LOVELY Mid-town hospital of Mt. Sinai.

Anyway...I'll let you all in on a little secret...even though I'm showing a bit of bravado...I'm a wee bit nervous.

More info as it comes...

Damn you Spring!

Spring is teasing me. For the past few days, it's been sunny outside. Somewhat warm. All the arrows have been pointing to: the Arrival of Spring.

And then it gets cold at night.

Damn you spring for teasing me.

It's not like this has been a bad winter for those of us living in New York City. Well, actually, yes, it HAS been bad if you like things like snow, ice, slush, and falling on the ground. But if you DON'T like those things, it's been pretty good.

I personally have been disappointed. I don't need a lot of snow, but I like it. And New York City has gotten zilch, nada as far as snow this winter.

So, I'm done with winter. Done with it like last decades fashion. (I would say last years, but let's be honest, I still wear last years fashion.) Winter has disappointed me, so I'm ready to move on.

However, spring has chosen it's own arrival time.

And it's making me mad.

When the hell does summer come?

I've come up with another great excuse not to write!

It's a perfect excuse!

I'm preparing to send out invites for my show! It's publicity! Of course I can't take the time to work...it's a lot of work to get the letters written, the resumes printed, the labels put on envelopes.

There's just NOOO time to get that stuff called writing done. Nope. Not a lick of time. Because I have got to get the show advertised.

You know...that show called Umbrella. (www.AlchemyTheatre.org for tickets...)

*sigh*

Alright. I know. It's a poor excuse, really isn't it?

The sad thing is how aware I am of it, but then I keep making them. I admit it, it's sometimes hard for me to just sit and write...especially at the beginning of something...or if I'm rewriting something I haven't touched in months.

Sometimes, it's just about the momentum.

I used to roll my eyes at the idea of writing every day...I used to think...nah...it's no fun, I need to write when I feel like it.

I was young and stupid.

You DO need to write every day, you need to write if you want to get better, if you want to make this your career...it is about momentum and not waiting for some sort of Muse or when I feel like it. It's writing because that's what you do, not because it's a hobby.

Ugh. I suppose I should write something. Man...that's what I get for listening to my advice.

Working: A poem.

Off to work.
Starbuck's opened late.
The vanilla latte...upset my stomach.
At least, that's what I blaming for the stink my bathroom.
Is that a good excuse?

Now...

Now NYC has a falling crane problem.

A crane fell off a building, hit a couple of buildings and then crushed a townhouse, at least four people are dead, and I don't know how many are injured.

When I was working at American Express, a crane fell off a nearby building.

I remember a few years before I moved to New York, parts of a plane fell on the city.

It's not the crime, it's things falling from the sky.

Tired this morning

Up late.
Up early.
Ish. Earlyish.
Have to run some errands in the morning.
All I want to do is watch America's Next Top Model.
I'm so glad there is such a thing as DVR*












*No. This is not a plug, nor an endorsement. I watch too much TV as it is, and this just makes it so much easier.

First Rehearsal!

First rehearsal last night!
It felt great getting as many people together who are a part of this show and hearing the play for the first time in a LONG time.
And, to pat myself on the back, it sounded great.
And, I know this, because I didn't feel like throwing up. That's the a good signal for me. If I didn't want to hurl my cookies on the table--and what a waste that would have been, they were excellent cookies, it means the rewrites I did are pretty good.
Everyone was excited after the reading and the discussion was great.
I didn't say much. I didn't want to. I've been with this play for five years and I have certain answers to questions in my head. But I wanted to hear what others were bringing to the table.
This isn't a vanity production.
If it was just my point of view...well...I don't think the production, the play would be as rich, I don't think it would be served.
The talent and the care that everyone is bringing to this production is quite thrilling.
And I am excited.
More updates later...

RUN!

That's what I feel like.
Yesterday I was running around New York.
Today I will be running around.

Ok. Not really running.

No one runs in New York. Except for Marathoners and thieves.

Ok. Add potential terrorists to the list.

And I don't need to be shot or tackled to the ground by some over zealous NYPD.

Which does bring to mind: We were BOMBED.

Sure, it wasn't a BIG bomb, but a bomb nonetheless. Someone bomb the recruiting station in Times Square at the wee hours of the morning this week.

And they don't know who did it.

Someone rode up on a bike, dropped off a bomb, left in the heart of the busiest city of the world and the Police and FBI have no idea who the person is.

So much for the department of Homeland Security...

RUN!

Pain in the Neck

Getting older. It sucks. I'm only really beginning to understand it.

This morning I woke up with an impossible pain in my neck. It's not like I went out, ran a marathon or hiked a mountain or saved a girl from a burning building. I was sleeping. What could I have done in my sleep to hurt myself? Don't answer me. I don't think I want to know.

I'm also realizing it's not just about my body falling a part bit by bit, it's also the things that I loved as a child are becoming more and more distant...and I scratch my head and wonder, why did I like Buck Rogers in the 25th Century? When it was on TV, I loved it...that 6 year old couldn't get enough. Watching it now...well...I still like it...but I think it's that 6 year old inside of me screaming to get out.

Last night I saw my first commercial for Apple's new super thin laptop. It looks pretty cool. And the words tumbled out of my mouth, "The future is now."

Things become a necessary part of our culture so quickly now. Cellphones, MP3 players, laptops.

At 34, I feel out of date sometimes...unable to keep up with the whirl of arrival of new technologies. I feel like you have to constantly by 22 years old to understand what the hell all these new things are for and how to fully use them.

My God, have I become that old man, screaming for you kids to get off of my lawn?

Look out!

Blank

Sometimes I'm lousy with titles and so today is one of those days.

When I'm working on something I either come up with the title right away or spend weeks, months on coming up with the right title.

And sometimes, I just settle. I don't know if titles make a play/movie/story or not. Perhaps. I think they hook but I don't think they reel in an audience. A title can stop someone from moving on, but if the story sucks, a great title won't save it.

Anyway. That's just an lengthly explanation of why I have no title for this entry.

It rained, I tried to work out, had a meeting, ate at Chipotle, and now, finally arrived home, just in time to watch People's Court. Mmm. People's Court. Where people have there disputes settled. I feel like an expert in the law because of it. The prime lesson: always always have something in writing.

And, on a final note...to make this entry COMPLETLY a mish mash with no sort of focus--it's that sort of day, sorry...I need to say something about the previous blog entry.

My wife was not stingy with her internet connecting phone. She was quite generous, in fact, allowing me to use it to blog on the bus. Then, she read the blog and didn't find the idea that I had to get the phone back in order to write more--in some sort of dramatic banter battle--funny. She thought me making her the tough mean wife for comedic effect a cliche and that I could do better.

But the secret is...I can't. Sigh.

blogging on a bus

my wife, sister in law and I popped down to DC for a day to see cousins of my wife. Now we are on a cheap bus back to NY.

Technology rocks. Or is scary depending on which side of the gun you are standing. I'm on a bus, writing a blog. I can report to you my queasy stomach, my head ache and the fact my seat is broken.

At least the driver turned off the Foreign film with its foreign subtitles.

Where IS the bathroom?

More when my wife gives me her smart phone again.

Dar Matey

Just a quick one...as I'm going to get on a bus and go to Washington DC tomorrow morn...

Had a few good days of writing, got the pages done of the screenplay I'm working on with my friend Mozz.

AND, I started writing a silly play about Pirates on the Moon called The Luna Adventure of Dar and Matey, Estuary Pirates, Episode 2: Danger in 1/6th Gravity!

Dar Matey, there be pirates on da moon....blood thirsty they be...

I'll post it when it's done...

Now if only...

I'm back in New York. Working at home. Frantically trying to get pages done for a screenplay I'm working on with a friend of mine (I promise, Mozz, soon, very soon.)

And now I have to deal with the landlords.

First it's the bill. They keep adding this 15 dollar charge to our rent. I called, expecting to be on the phone for some time...but they picked up...the charge is removed.

Success!

Now, I have to get someone on the phone to talk about the lease renewal...grr.

The problem is I have to go through this computerized phone tree...and then endless cycles of the same quasi techno hold music.

In order to make things easier for them, maybe for us, we now have to deal with a computer long before we can deal with a human being. Something, though, gets lost in the equation for more efficiency.

I don't know...maybe it's...humanity?

Back to the phone tree.

My Pakistani Serial...

So...I got this job...I'm a writer, right?
Well, one of the things I've written is a 13 part serial for Pakistani TV. It's been shot. It's been made, and it's about to air. The link below is the first trailer for it.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=HiqR04kZlr8

That's right. Written by me.

Now, all those in Pakistan...please, tell me it's good. No. No. Tell me it's GREAT.
Because I get the giggles watching the trailer.

I wrote a car exploding, but I didn't think it would happen! Watch it! A car explodes!

AWESOME.

And for everyone...

I've set what needs to be set...so now people, whether or not they belong to Google, can post a comment.

Including my mom.

And because I listen to my wife in all things...I've put the Umbrella poster back at the top...

Letters to the editor

Just a quick one.
Letters to the editor is a reason I don't think I could live in my home town on a full time adult basis.

In one letter to the editor, one man, whose ultimate point was that everything was falling apart and that's why we need to get back to the word of God, or in this case the original King James Version of the word of God, this man wrote "Global Warming is a sham. Why is it so cold recently?"

Because it's the WINTER?????

Global Warming means the AVERAGE temperature is going up, not that seasons are going to disappear tomorrow.

That's ok. He's believes in the "Word" of God. But just the King James Version. You know, the one that was created 400 years ago for political purposes. Not the one that's like 2000 years old.

Ugh.

I'm not even going to go into the letter to the editor a few months ago that seriously suggested burning Harry Potter books because they taught witchcraft.

Welcome to Middle America.

My only hope is that Middle America is to busy to write in and that it's the crazys with to much time on their hands.

Not all of Middle America wants to burn Harry Potter or wonders why it's so cold in the winter.

Home flat Home.

I'm at my parents house for a few days.

My mom had surgery a week or two ago on this back thing that she has been having problems with. Long time fans might remember a snarky comment in a previous blog this son made about my mom being rebuilt. The rebuilding continues!

My dad travels for work so he's gone for a few days. And since I'm carving out a career sitting on my butt at home, my wife and I figured I could do that in Illinois. So here I am.

I was just at the grocery store picking up some stuff for dinner. It was weird. The grocery store.

Well.

From my perspective it was.

It was a normal grocery store. For the Mid-West. But for those who live in New York City it was acres and acres of so many choices to make, boxes and boxes of pasta, row upon row can goods.

And it wasn't crowded.

And the aisles were wide.

And the lights were bright.

And the staff was cheerful.

Like I said. Weird.

I got outta there real quick.

...after I paid for my food.

To much space is beginning to freak out this New Yorker. I need walls! I need buildings that block out the sky! I need to have people constantly in my way!

All this silence and space! It's enough to drive one MAD!

That said. It's nice to have a break from New York.

Crap. Writing this in the morning again.

I don't know why.

And I don't have much to write about.

Oscars are on tonight, but I can't say I'm excited. I haven't seen many of the movies. I keep wanting to, but my desire to do nothing but stare at the internet has cut into the desire to leave the house. Perhaps I am slowly becoming Agoraphobic. That would be sweet.
Living in a city like New York--it's so easy to get everything delivered.


Actually, I do have to say, one of the things I AM excited about regarding the Oscars: Jon Stewart hosting. I'm by far more interested than that than the movies nominated.

Alright. I'm done.

I have to go to some conference/get together today. Maybe I'll write more about it. Maybe not. It's been fun, but pointless. And the fun hasn't made the pointless worth it.

Yeah.

(Man, I feel like I'm a crappy blogger. Crappy in the sense I'm like every other blogger out there.) Bleh.

Morning.

In a few weeks, I'm heading into rehearsals for my play...Umbrella.

Poster to the left. It's pretty cool.

I have to admit I'm a little nervous. Because...it's an Off-Broadway show.

Off-Broadway! I hear you scream. And then...silence.

Off-Broadway? What's that mean?

It means the kind of contract the theater company has with Equity Actor's Association to pay their actors, the size of the budget for the show, the amount for a ticket, and where the reviews are put into the paper.

It's kind of a big deal.

It's also scary as all hell. Scary because my play is being paid for by someone else's money. Because people are going to be paying a lot more for a ticket than they have for before for a show of mine.

Deep down, I know this is a good play and there are talented people on board. So, I shouldn't be nervous.

But I am. Because I keep thinking about what happens AFTER the show...

I am taking a few steps to mitigate that nervousness.

1. I'm working on another project or two. The major rewrites are done, I may tweak here and there, but, I'm done. So, I'm turning my creative self to something else.

2. I'm not going to read any reviews. Not until after the show opens.

3. I'm going to enjoy rehearsals.

4. And I'm going to talk and sell this show to everyone I know. I want butts in the seats. I'm proud of the work others and myself have done. People need to see this show.

That said. Still nervous. But excited.

SO. Come and see my show. Umbrella. It previews April 11, opening night is April 15th, closing is May 4th.

Go to AlchemyTheatre.org for more info!

Or turn to this blog...I'll tell you more as more happens.

Now. It's finally snowed in New York City.
It's probably going to melt in about 5 hours.
So, I'm going to go play in it while I can.

I'm sure some of you are thinking...

...my god...how many posts did he just put up?

Well. I'm getting rid of my blog at MySpace...and I didn't want to lose all the blogs I had over there (my mom would kill me), so I brought them over here. Besides, does anyone really still use MySpace anymore? It's like SOOO 6 months ago.

Read through them. Play catch up. There are some great little bits of traveling.

And...I have to admit, I've been a bad blogger.

I hope to be a better one. This place seems easier to use. More accessible. My mom can even post.

So. Fans. Old fans. New Fans. I'll blog more here.

Tomorrow, I'll write about the show that I got coming up. Something I've VERY excited about.

Larry

Last one to move, #21...

View From My Apartment...21

Recently...I got back from India, having celebrated my first Diwali there (a few pics will be uploaded), and I was going to write about that.

And then, Thanksgiving happened, so I was going to write about Diwali AND Thanksgiving.

But. Then. I haven't. Not that I won't in the near future. But. Well. See.

Alright. I'm suffering from Momentum. We all have momentum. It's just a question of whether or not it's a moving sort of momentum or a sit and ponder what's coming up next on Turner Classic Movies. I suffer from the later.

Lately, I just haven't been able to get motivated to get up off my ass and go put my ass back down at the keyboard. And I think it's becoming a circular problem, the less time I spend in front of the computer working creates a bigger desire to NOT want to be in front of the computer working. What IS next on Turner Classic Movies...?

I think, honestly, I have become a little afraid. Afraid that I may not be as good as I think I am. Afraid that I won't have any more great ideas. Afraid that I'm to lazy to do this as a career. Afraid that time is running out. Afraid that I won't be able to make the big push that's required to really make writing a CAREER. A living. A life.

And so of course, the easiest thing to do is to do nothing. Well. Not nothing. I AM watching Turner Classic Movies after all....

But it's time for a change. How many times can one watch A Touch of Mink?

Next year I'm proposing not a New Year Resolution, but a New Year Revolution. (Oh, stop rolling your eyes, Butch.) A Revolution, a change of heart, a change of mind. To finally get off my ass and write more, go and see more.

Frankly, to practice what I preach: to write bravely, honestly, and with an open heart.

Oh. Hell. Why am I waiting until next year?

Vintage View #20

View From My Apartment 20

This is just a quick one...

...So. I have a job. Some of you may know about it, others may not. It's a rather silly job as jobs go. I update the rolodex of a CEO of a major corporation. I won't say who, because that wouldn't be right. Let's just say it's an AMazing EXperience and leave it at that.

Basically: I go through the rolodex and call and confirm the information is still up to date.

This job affords me some time to think.

Which I guess is ideal. Though, what would be trully ideal would be the view that is right outside my door: All of Manhattan. But...no. I get an office with no windows.

But I have time to think.

And one of the things that I was thinking about was things I've said in job interviews. One thing pops to mind and it's particularly relevant to the job I have now.

I have said, "I like the office environment. It's a good fit."

Now. Let's be honest. I was lying. Of course I was lying. Who FITS an office environment? I was lying because I want the job...not because I want to update rolodexes, but because I want the pay check.

Who fits an office environment? And I'm not talking about the people who are doing something they care about that happen to work in an office, I'm talking about the paper shufflers, the phone answers, and the copy makers...Why, why, why?

I guess it's the paycheck too.

I have had some office jobs that really are about collecting paper from a group of people, putting into one form and then sending it out to a different group of people. I am just a funnel. Well. No. I'm the guy that operates the funnel that is the computer.

And when this world becomes paperless...I'll be doing the same thing, just not touching paper, which sort of further removes me one more step from reality.

I don't know for certain what the people on my floor do. I know they answer phones. They take messages. And I see them typing. But I don't know WHAT they are typing. The whole floor, save for the executives are just made of Admins. But what are they doing in there, in their offices and cubicles?

Me? I'm calling two thousand names asking: Is this you? Is this still your number? Do you still live here? And what exactly is YOUR job title?

It's a living.