Poems

These are some poems that I hammered out on my typewriter over the last couple of years.

Click to enlarge and read.

Good Men get lost in the dark

So.

A Few Good Men.

No adequate words for this experience, as always.

I will say that the cast is amazing. Some very talented actors.

And if not extremely talented, at least very interesting.

I'm very proud of this show, and my work in it.

It's a huge step for me.

Also, Life. That's been happening lately, too.

Lots of events and feelings and such.

As Life tends to have.

What are these darker parts of ourselves?

What lies in these crevices, dark caves, deep, murky pools of our being?

Lately, I've spent more time than I like rappelling down these crevices,

spelunking, and free-diving a little too far down.

What if, one day, I rappel too far down, explore too deep, or swim too far below the surface?

Will it be too far to climb back up?

Will it be too dark to find my way out (with every turn appearing the same as the last)?

Will I suffocate before I reach the surface?

All important questions.

I hope I never find the answers to them,

but I am afraid that someday, I will.

Then what? Is there any coming back?

In the darkness we find our vices,

the Dogs we pet and coo

as they sink their teeth deeper and deeper into our flesh,

with no intention of letting go.

And what can I say:

I love my Dogs.

Roles I'd like to play

So, I've started to make a list of roles I'd love to play.

Here they are, in no particular order:

Hamlet

Konstantin in The Seagull

Hal in Proof

Stanley or Mitch in Streetcar

Eddie Carbone in A View From the Bridge

James jr or Edmund in A Long Day's Journey Into Night

Hal in the Henry plays

Austin or Lee in True West

Garcin in No Exit

Oswald in Ghosts

Jean in Miss Julie

Biff in Death of a Salesman

Tom The Glass Menagerie

Discuss.

So, so, so...

So.

Words cannot express

I've been wanting to talk about the work (Meisner work--from now on, that's what I mean when I say "the work") less and less lately.  As in, speaking with someone about it, verbalizing my thoughts on it.  It's funny, before I found this work, I wanted to talk about acting all the time, discuss theory and dissect the process.  But now, to talk about The Work, to try to articulate my experiences with it through spoken language, feels almost dirty.  It feels guilty and shameful, as if I'm betraying the work, myself, and everyone who is dedicated to it.  It's very strange.  My experiences with it continue to be so powerful, I feel that if I talk about it, I objectify it.  

I can say this about the class: I've never had an acting ("acting" no longer feels like an adequate word...) class with such a minimal amount of talking about the work.  So much doing.  There's an unspoken understanding that there's no need to discuss it.  The work is so human--so honest, so personal, so genuine, real, vulnerable, that discussion is not necessary.  Everyone in the class understands it--it's a visceral understanding--no need for words.  They just complicate things.  It's all so unbelievably beautiful--human and beautiful.  

Thank you, Sandy.  I owe my life to you.  Words cannot express. 

"Just art"

This is hard.  The Meisner work, it's very difficult.  I'm not making a generalization; the work is difficult for me, personally.  It requires a serious amount of vulnerability and emotional honesty that I struggle with.  At the same time, I am, and have always been seriously dedicated to pursuing that honesty, that truth.  It's almost hilarious that my passion, my near-religion, is a conflictual pursuit for me.  It's very frustrating and upsetting.  In order to do this work, to really learn how to do this kind of work, I have to directly confront my socially-conditioned, deeply psychologically-rooted fears.  And it's terrifying.  I get very scared, and very ashamed.  I do have moments where I step back and really ask myself: "Is it really worth it?"  Rationally, it's not.  It's just art.  But, there it is.  "Just art."  I would give my life for "just art."  I would never forgive myself if I gave up.  So, I must believe that I will come out of this (whatever that means) stronger, more at peace with myself, and healed in someway. 

I love reps. 

Flying

After staying awake the entire night obsessing over where I want to be in the work, I've decided to turn my focus and attention to where I am, from now on.  It's for my own sanity.  As a teacher and mentor of mine put it: "It's like baby bird trying to imagine how to fly."  So, I must accept that I am still, very much, a baby bird.  Time to focus on my basics.