The Goat. The name of the show was "The Goat." Screw legal ramifications.
So, The Goat just closed with its final performance today, and I am definitely mourning its loss. Grieving is a phase that's part of any show that you're really invested in (especially when the material is as heavy as The Goat ' s), but its a bit more painful with a Brown Bag Company show. We rehearse nonstop for about a month, at breakneck speed, and quickly grow close with our cast and director (out of neccesity, for the benefit of the show). It all amalgamates to only 3 public performances (and 1 preview performance), and then we move on: to the next show, with the next cast, and the next director. It's sort of like adopting a child, with the knowledge that you'll only be able to keep it about a month, but you let yourself fall in love with it anyway and forget. When the end of that month creeps around, though, you remember (with great despair) that you must give up your baby. I've given up many babies, all of whom I've loved unconditionally, and I will continue to give up new ones for the rest of my life.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Sunday, October 21, 2007
You know what THAT means...
So I am in a very weird place right now; at this exact moment. So it seemed very appropriate to write about it.
The only way I could possibly describe what I'm going through right now is by means of interpretive dance. Which I will do so... now. I wish that you all could see it, it's quite informative, or dare I say, "enlightening."
I feel like someone is aggressively channel-surfing the television of my brain. Choose a fucking channel and watch it! Make up your mind!
As some of you know, and as the rest of you don't know or probably care, I'm doing a play this coming week at SF State. It's titled The *, * * * *, by American playwright ****** *****. I am afraid to release the actual information due to possible legal ramifications. It's a Brown Bag Theatre Company production, and I'm absolutely elated to be a part of it. It has been nothing but a joy working with both the director and the cast. They're wonderful.
Enough for now,
JSM
The only way I could possibly describe what I'm going through right now is by means of interpretive dance. Which I will do so... now. I wish that you all could see it, it's quite informative, or dare I say, "enlightening."
I feel like someone is aggressively channel-surfing the television of my brain. Choose a fucking channel and watch it! Make up your mind!
As some of you know, and as the rest of you don't know or probably care, I'm doing a play this coming week at SF State. It's titled The *, * * * *, by American playwright ****** *****. I am afraid to release the actual information due to possible legal ramifications. It's a Brown Bag Theatre Company production, and I'm absolutely elated to be a part of it. It has been nothing but a joy working with both the director and the cast. They're wonderful.
Enough for now,
JSM
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Jump In
It's about time that I find a healthy output for my thoughts, and I believe this new blog may be it. I miss putting semi-private things in writing, online, for the general public to read. I miss that. So this is a new beginning of me doing just that. I may write some things that intrigue you. I may write things appall you. I may write things that shamefully arouse you. We shall see.
First things first: when did they start making days go by faster? Last year, I felt very in-control and well organized, and it seemed like I had ample time to attend to all my responsibilities. That feeling seems to be slipping away from me this year. It is true that I've taken on a larger work load this semester, but it's not that much different than the last two semesters. So what is it? Well, maybe it's me. I'd like to think that I've been growing and maturing, but maybe I've fallen behind. Maybe I'm not as sharp as I used to be. Here's something that happened to me other day, and though it may not seem to be relevant initially, I promise you, it is: I went to a pool. I went to a public pool to swim laps. I haven't swam in anything for a year. Not for any particular reason, it just never came up. I move my towel, shoes and shirt off to the side, and climb in, goggles in hand. As I submerge my entire body in the water, I feel refreshed and alive. I adjust the straps of my goggles, place them on and check the suction. I kick off the wall of the pool, propelling myself into what I intend to be The Crawl. Face in the water. Kick, kick. Right arm, left arm. As I cock my head slightly above water, I inhale. No: I attempt to inhale. What occurs instead is merely a sharp intake of breath--akin to quick gasp. My abdomen is tight, my chest is constricted, and I feel the breath only enter my mouth, hardly making it to my lungs. I have forgotten how to breathe. Oh fuck. For a second I panic, desperately trying to move forward. But another gasp--and a guttural wheeze. I float there, stunned; resign to doggy-paddling. It's seems to be the only way I can still breathe while swimming. Slowly, I discover that I can do the Breast-stroke, if I focus very intently on my breathing. And that's all I do for the remaining 20 minutes that I'm there. As I walk away from the pool, the smell of chlorine making me recall past memories, I consider what just happened. I forgot how to breathe; I had to teach myself how to breathe again. Remember how I promised this would be relevant? Well, maybe it is. Then again, maybe it isn't. I hope that it somehow resonates for you in your own, individual way. Which may just be a story about a dumbass who forgot how to swim.
First things first: when did they start making days go by faster? Last year, I felt very in-control and well organized, and it seemed like I had ample time to attend to all my responsibilities. That feeling seems to be slipping away from me this year. It is true that I've taken on a larger work load this semester, but it's not that much different than the last two semesters. So what is it? Well, maybe it's me. I'd like to think that I've been growing and maturing, but maybe I've fallen behind. Maybe I'm not as sharp as I used to be. Here's something that happened to me other day, and though it may not seem to be relevant initially, I promise you, it is: I went to a pool. I went to a public pool to swim laps. I haven't swam in anything for a year. Not for any particular reason, it just never came up. I move my towel, shoes and shirt off to the side, and climb in, goggles in hand. As I submerge my entire body in the water, I feel refreshed and alive. I adjust the straps of my goggles, place them on and check the suction. I kick off the wall of the pool, propelling myself into what I intend to be The Crawl. Face in the water. Kick, kick. Right arm, left arm. As I cock my head slightly above water, I inhale. No: I attempt to inhale. What occurs instead is merely a sharp intake of breath--akin to quick gasp. My abdomen is tight, my chest is constricted, and I feel the breath only enter my mouth, hardly making it to my lungs. I have forgotten how to breathe. Oh fuck. For a second I panic, desperately trying to move forward. But another gasp--and a guttural wheeze. I float there, stunned; resign to doggy-paddling. It's seems to be the only way I can still breathe while swimming. Slowly, I discover that I can do the Breast-stroke, if I focus very intently on my breathing. And that's all I do for the remaining 20 minutes that I'm there. As I walk away from the pool, the smell of chlorine making me recall past memories, I consider what just happened. I forgot how to breathe; I had to teach myself how to breathe again. Remember how I promised this would be relevant? Well, maybe it is. Then again, maybe it isn't. I hope that it somehow resonates for you in your own, individual way. Which may just be a story about a dumbass who forgot how to swim.
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