On this silver Camaro we installed a Solo Performance Exhaust system. This kit is different than most as it only has one muffler in the middle of the system. Looking at the system, it seem like it was going to be a loud kit, but once getting it on the road it was actually pretty mellow. Check it out!

Hello Friends!  The latest News is my up-coming reading at this month’s Essay Fiesta!  7:00 PM, Monday, February 15, 2010 at The Book Cellar, 4736-38 N. Lincoln Avenue in Chicago’s Lincoln Square neighborhood.

Essay Fiesta is a new FREE monthly reading series (which kicked off this past November).  Raffle tickets will be sold to benefit the work of the Howard Brown Health Center, Chicago’s leader in GLBT health.  Check out Essay Fiesta’s Facebook Page for more info, to become a Fan, and to RSVP (Official Event to be posted soon, I’m sure….)

The line-up will be announced bit by bit.  So far, myself and author Randy Richardson have been made official.

I will be reading my piece, Playing Guns, which has its tiny roots in the Arlene Malinowski’s solo performance class at Chicago Dramatists in 2005, and was later workshopped for real via my coursework at Indiana University-South Bend.  I’ve written about the piece here on this site a coupla times.

Join us for a Valentine’s Day hangover cure, or to celebrate President’s Day, or for whatever old reason you feel.  Can’t wait to see you!

I suppose this post will also cover some of October to fill in all those gaps between cookie baking, Kathy Griffin, and Miley Cyrus.  I know your lives feel empty without knowing the scoop.

This photo here was taken on my pre-birthday road trip to Gebhard Woods State Park and the Illinois & Michigan Canal Trail in and around Morris, IL.  I had a window of good October weather and time off work.  ‘Twas a lovely quiet day of hiking and talking to myself and the voices in my head.  Lots of writerly conversation.   While only an hour away or so, it fulfilled my wanderlust in the tradition of past October trips to Vermont, Oregon, and Europe.  Took many photos, most but not all of which have been uploaded into my Flickr.  This was one of my favorite finds! All the naturey stuff was cool, but this find made my day.  As I say in the photo’s Flickr description, it’s not 100% accurate and fair to say that All Mormons Hate Us, but they sure as heck have been making a name for themselves lately. I’m feeling the pain of Maine (& etc.)  I definitely felt a kinship with the trail walker who came before me.  So, yay to whoever you are….

My birthday on the 25th was a good one.  Mellow, but wonderful.  Brunch, then later dinner and drinks with Ernie and friends.  Some time to myself in between.  I made a trip to the Art Institute. It had been a while, a few years.  I always love their photography gallery.  They’re currently showing a collection of Victorian photo collage works.  SO cool.  I also hadn’t been to the new Modern Art Wing.  Breath taking.  I dig all that stuff.  Had a moment with Picasso–it was his birthday too! I also enjoyed the student/journalist/etc. interviewing the gallery worker in the section with the clown abuse film, light installations, and other very contemporary work (sorry for the general terms here).  I wanted to hang out and listen more, but that would’ve been creepy. Like the clown.

NewTown Writers goings on are winding down for the year.  Our October NewPlay Readings event was a success.  I know the authors, actors, and audiences had a good experience.  I put my producer brain in overdrive, which was good for me, though I’ll tweak some things for next year.  I attended the final workshops of the year (and met a couple new writerly friends), my 2009 Artistic Director report has been written and sent out, and we have a Board meeting this weekend to talk 2010–the group’s 30th Anniversary.  Oh, and you can become a fan on Facebook, too.

I’ve attended a couple writerly events in the City in the past couple weeks.  As always, the amazingly fun 2nd Story had an event on the 8th at their home base, Webster’s Wine Bar.  My Solo Homo pals, Byron and Sara, read and directed respectively.  Last night, Essay Fiesta, a brand new series held its inaugural event at the Book Cellar.  Essay Fiesta features personal essays and comedy.  It’s a free event, but with the opportunity to buy raffle tickets to benefit the Howard Brown Health Center.  They had an awesome turn out last night.  You should go to the next one in December.  It’s right around the Holidays, but if you’re around and inclined and want to hang out in the way cute Lincoln Square neighborhood, do it.  I’m looking to hopefully be involved in future editions.  And of course, 2nd Story’s December deadline approaches….

I’ve recently gotten in the habit of tracking my writerly activities on my private/Friends Only blog.  I call these entries “Writerlogged.” I jot down every day-ish what I’m doing, working on, attending, etc.  They’re keeping me in check.  And they’re things that don’t necessarily need to be posted in a public forum like this–jottings of works in progress, process, hopes and dreams I don’t want to jinx by announcing them to the world.  Etc.  When I feel like my life is being taken over by laundry and my restaurant job, I can be like Hey, this is what I did and this is what I need to focus on and stuff.    The posts also apply to reading and watching which feed the writerly stuff.  It’s good.

So I have been working on various things.  I’ve been giving some love to a handful of short stories that are in various stages of life.  Also working on a CNF/Essay/Solo piece.  I like going back and forth with this.  Sometimes I really don’t want to deal with myself and my own life.  So I write about others.  Beyond this, there are always photo, media, etc. projects that want love too….

Organized my reading list.  I wish I could read all the books and all the lit mags and all the blogs, but you know, I can’t.  Listed are things we have in house, things I need to acquire, things to finish.  In the middle of the Best American Short Stories 2008.  Realize the new one just came out.  Oh well.  Also, my Walt Whitman collection.  The latest issue of MAKE Magazine.  All in due time.  Recently finished Band of Brothers, the Ambrose book, that I borrowed from my brother.  Having my base of knowledge from the film was helpful, and I was able to fill in any gaps and experience the source material. Waiting in the wings is my copy of With the Old Breed, E.B. Sledge’s memoir which was used in HBO’s The Pacific, which can’t come soon enough.  Recently finished Richard Peck’s Past Perfect, Present Tense Young Adult story collection.  Cool to have a perspective from that genre.  I also received Kathy Griffin’s Official Book Club Selection for my birthday.  Started that because Kathy’s awesome.  I need to acquire and start the new John Irving soon, too.  I won’t bore you with the rest of the list, but know I’m reading stuff.

And writing too.  I’m not a speed writer, though this time of year many are.  While I’m not participating in NaNoWriMo this time around, I am with all my NaNo friends and others in spirit as I work to accomplish something writerly every day. Whether it’s updating my writerly site, or swooping the editing comb through a story, attending an event, or just walking through UnAbridged Bookstore to be surrounded by tried and true printed real books.  Etc.

With that, I’ll end this, but hope to post other bits soonly.  Happy Creating, Everyone.

Cheers.

]]> http://manyfacesofwayne.wordpress.com/2009/09/17/going-solo/ Thu, 17 Sep 2009 17:03:05 +0000 Wayne C. http://manyfacesofwayne.wordpress.com/2009/09/17/going-solo/

 Tonight I’m off to a media performance of The Syringa Tree at the Great Canadian Theatre Company. This is an award winning and internationally acclaimed play and it therefore seems a good way to begin the GCTC’s season. I will also be writing a review of this play for Cult(ure), and this time I decided to do a quick Google search to find out at little about the show in advance.  This is actually the first time I’ve taken this approach. I believe strongly that a play should be taken on its own terms. For this reason, I prefer to go into a show as “fresh” as possible. It’s worth noting that I still carefully avoided all the reviews of other companies’ performances of the play in an attempt to remain unbiased.

 Naturally in my Googling one of my first stops was Wiki. While Wiki has its issues, I find it pretty reliable for a very general synopsis.  Wiki had this to say about the play:

“The Syringa Tree[1] is a deeply personal memory play of a childhood under apartheid. Written and often performed by Pamela Gien it has received excellent reviews in New York and across the USA as well as in London.[2][3] Also very positively reviewed[4] in Dublin, the play has received several awards.

Originally, the play was intended for one actress only, with no props besides a swing and one costume. However, it can also be performed with two or multiple actors.” (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Syringa_Tree)

I find that last line particularly intriguing and I’m really curious to know if Pamela Gien has made that allowance in her script. I would suspect not, as she performed it solo in the original off-Broadway version. I think it’s fair to assume that she would have performed it the way she felt it should be performed. (I could be wrong.)

I fully understand, however, why a company might decide to add other actors to a Solo actor show.  There is something very compelling about “the chemistry” that happens between two or more actors when they perform on stage that is always missing from solo work.I usually prefer the performances of multiple actors over solo actors because I enjoy this chemistry so much.  

That is not to say that solo performances aren’t worth seeing. Many of them are quite excellent. Pierre Brault’s Portrait of An Unidentified Man, for instance, is a great example of one that did everything right. It was unquestionably one of the best shows I’ve seen this year.

I’m not sure how I feel about converting solo actor scripts into multi-actor scripts, which brings us to Wayne’s question of the day:

Is it OK to take a script intended to be performed by one actor and turn it into a multi-actor piece? Judging by the Wiki entry, this is precisely what someone did at some point with The Syringa Tree.

 (Bonus points will be given to anyone who has read the play and can therefore illuminate us on whether Gien has actually made allowances for this in her script.)

It’s almost the middle of August, and summer is definitely trucking along.  We had a delightfully cool July but are definitely feeling some dog days this month.  A hot summer makes the relief of Autumn even more special.  For those who know me, Autumn is high holy season around here.  It’s my first back in the city.  I’ll definitely miss Indiana for it’s Autumness, but will seek out the city’s delights–but that’s a nerdy post for later.

To follow up on my Band of Brothers Revisited post, shortly after I posted it, a fellow WordPresser lead me to Alan Sepinwall’s blog, What’s Alan Watching?  He’s the TV critic for the New Jersey Star-Ledger.  This summer, he did an amazing series on Band of Brothers. I recently finished going through his posts and many of the comments.  Had I know about it (we were watching it at the same time!), I would’ve definitely joined in the conversation.  Alas, he wrote his last post about the same time I wrote my own BoB post.  I still want to comment on his final entry.  The whole thing is an wonderful in depth conversation for BoB nerds everywhere!

I’ve spent part of the last month haunting neighborhood used book stores (plus my indie bookstore down the street) looking for Malarkey’s and other related books. I think I want to read at least Malarkey’s before I borrow my brother’s copy of the BoB book, which I still haven’t read.  I want to despite the gnawing voices of the Ambrose haters on Amazon (which does have everything I want…).  I should stop reading things like that.  Just upsets me.   I’m also interested in reading E.B. Sledge’s With the Old Breed, which is one of the sources for the upcoming The Pacific film.  How exciting that Sidney Philips will be a character in the new project!

I’ll save my WWII reading for the Fall, as I’m trying to focus on other reading this summer. My “To Read” list is growing with older and newer books (like, I still need to get to Sarah Vowell’s latest!), recent acquisitions, and books on Ernie’s shelf.  I’ve taken a couple times to sit outside–even go to the lake–and read my Walt Whitman collection. Perfect for summer on a blanket on the grass with the lake’s breeze.  Definitely won’t finish it this summer, but it’s good to have at my side when I’m inspired.  I also have the Best American Short Stories 2008 collection at my side when a dose of short fiction is in order.  I finally finished the 3rd (with six more to go!) Sookie Stackhouse book, Club Dead, and totally loving the new season of True Blood!  My current non-fiction reading is Michael Davis’ Street Gang: The Complete History of Sesame Street. What a joy!  And it had me in tears in the first paragraph of the prologue for real.  I’m three chapters in, which is a fascinating account of the history of children’s television in general.  The Captain Kangaroo stuff is cool.  I’m trying to make more time to read actual books.  Less sitting in front of this computer and more reading, yo!  But the computer is good too.

On the writerly front, I’ve been focusing on two short stories this past month or so.  I’ve also been working to organize all my works in progress.  I’ll always be adding ideas, but I’m trying to focus on further developing my most developed work so I can start taking it to the next level.  One story is inspired by my neighborhood in South Bend.  I really love this piece (which I started in November for my short story edition of NaNoWriMo) and am getting more and more into it.  It’s also been good to harness my Indiana experience creatively–something I want to continue.  Another story is more fantastical and quirky and inspired by an Indiana friend of mine.  That’s all I’ll say for now.   These stories are written in 1st and 3rd person respectively, and if I’m going to flip flop between strories, I like that variety.  On the CNF front, I made it through the first draft of a story about Truman’s bar in Indiana.  I’ve also rebounded from Playing Guns rejection and am preparing it for another submission–to a place that’s perhaps a better fit.

I’ve also typed out my grandfather’s journal like I said I wanted to.  Very cool.  With that, I’ve registered another WordPress site which will be more family oriented.  Not sure how public it will be, but it will definitely be a cool place for family and friends hopefully.

With all this Indiana talk, I did take the time to reflect on my time there.  Here’s an excerpt from my Friends Only blog:

It was this random, amazing, frustrating, weird, beautiful, creative, inspiring, annoying experience in our lives. While we can definitely tell our “Indiana stories” boiled down to some laughable cocktail party tales, I get a little Stockard Channing at the end of Six Degrees of Separation where she seeks to make sure her experience truly becomes a meaningful part of her life. I know I will continue to do this myself in my work–whether in short stories, solo pieces, journal entries, or what have you. Just like I try to do with everything else. I can’t deny the new perspective our time there offered.

All the wonderful people I met along the way–those I’m still in touch with and those I’m not–will not be forgotten.

Finally, in NewTown Writers news, after a successful Solo Homo 7, the Fall 2009 event is in the works.  We wanted to do some sort of short plays event, and it looks to be gearing toward a Reading event with some brand new works.  I’m currently working with a number of members on developing their pieces–and looking to include a few more.  I’m wearing my producer & director hats on this one so I can focus my writerly energies on other things.  We’re looking to go up mid-October.  Will post more later!  I’ve also started attending the bi-weekly literary meetings.  I’d never done that before, mostly because of my old work schedule and not living in the city for a few years.  It’s been fun–I’ve been able to workshop one of my current stories as well as hear some of the work in progress for the fall.  And now that meetings are looking to be at the Center on Halsted, that’s a bonus since I can walk there.  Awesome!

Upcoming fun things are in the works. Looking forward to them and to getting more work done.  Will tell  you all about it….

Onward—->

]]> http://thirdrootproductions.wordpress.com/2009/07/09/wkb_lapena/ Thu, 09 Jul 2009 18:15:51 +0000 Lisa Marie http://thirdrootproductions.wordpress.com/2009/07/09/wkb_lapena/

Kamau' SF Weekly cover May 09!

BUY TICKETS HERE! (yes you can purchase a ticket in advance, and bring your person of a different race to get in!)
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JUST LIKE SKINNY JEANS, superhero movies, and frozen yogurt, racism continues to make a comeback. In 2007, The W. Kamau Bell Curve: Ending Racism in About An Hour opened big and came out swinging against big targets. Back in 2007, it was celebrity racism that was all the rage. (Imus, Kramer, Rosie O’Donnell, Dog The Bounty Hunter, etc…) But two short years later, America has amazingly elected the first black president… of the Republican National Committee — Michael Steele. Oh, and also we elected, as president of the United States of America, Barack Hussein Obama. All this MUST mean racism is over. We’re officially in Post-Racial America… Right?… Right?

WRONG! Because now that a black man — or a half black/half white man if we want to split not so nappy hairs — is leading the free world, the stakes just have gotten higher. Racial injustice has become more insidious (thanks to Rush Limbaugh, the continued broadcast of BET, black and Latino people being blamed for the passage of Prop 8, Teabaggers marching in lock step with white supremacists, and most of the comments on Kamau’s YouTube page). That’s right. Racism has redoubled — no, re-quadrupled — its efforts. Well, W. Kamau Bell is here to make (non)sense of all of it all. And because racism is always attacking in new ways and from new angles, Kamau attacks back by adding new material at every performance. The Curve is a seamless mix of stand- up comedy, video and audio clips, and solo theatrical performance.

The W. Kamau Bell Curve is inspired by the work of several different comedians: the passionate, agenda driven comedy of Bill Hicks, the free flowing, “talking shows” of Henry Rollins, the soul baring honesty of Margaret Cho’s “I’m The One That I Want,” the take no prisoners and leave no stone unturned style of Dave Chappelle, and the ripped-from-the-headlines relevance of The Daily Show with Jon Stewart.

And as always…

BRING A FRIEND OF A DIFFERENT RACE & GET IN 2FOR1!

The W. Kamau Bell Curve has played to sold out houses all over San Francisco, Oakland, and has also played The Jewish Community Center East Bay in Berkeley. And this summer will appear at The La Pena Cultural Center and The New York International Fringe Festival.
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Read his great article in that came out in the SF Weekly on May 13, 2009! or watch this video of Kamau on KQED’s Spark!

This afternoon, I finished watching the special features in the Band of Brothers DVD set.  Thus completing my 2nd full viewing of the film. I’d been keeping an eye out for a discounted copy since last time I watched it, I borrowed my brother’s set.  While back in South Bend for a day trip to teach class, we ventured over to the Best Buy, and there, on the shelf in the HBO section were new copies at 50% off for a limited time.  So for only about $30, each episode plus extras was mine.  Score!  AND with cheaper Indiana sales tax to boot.  Once upon a time, Ernie had expressed interest in watching it with me–mostly I think because of Ron Livingston and his Sex & The City connection.  When I brought it up with this purchase, he’d forgotten about his initial interest.  So I was on my own.  While Ernie was down in Kansas City this past month working down at the Coterie Theatre, I had plenty of time.  Watching it solo means I can rewind parts and get as obsessive as I want.

I’ve written about the film and its connection to my writing & family projects–and general WWII interest before.  So I guess this is a follow up to previous posts: Workshopping “Guns” and  The War. I’m not completely sure if this follow up will have a conclusive point, but we’ll see.

I’ll report that I’ve recently revisited my piece, Playing Guns. This past May had me working two deadlines.  I had my Solo Homo piece to work as well as my 2nd Story submission.  I wrestled with starting from scratch for this submission, but given the state of Life and Art I had to make some executive creative decisions.  I ultimately didn’t get a slot for the next round, but I feel good about my work on the piece.  I received some solid feedback and totally agreed with the things to work on as far as fitting the piece into the 2nd Story aesthetic.  I’ve also chatted with my new 2nd story pals and don’t feel discouraged at all. I love what the group does and hope to be more a part of it down the road.  This latest revision process found me restructuring and slicing and dicing (for both time and focus) and really had me looking at things with a magnifying glass.  I feel part of my problem, though, was that I was in a way trying to cram a non-2nd Story into a 2nd Story mold.  Some of it fit–and some of it didn’t.  Next time I can work on the piece with new found focus, but without any restraints (and I’ll have a better idea of what I’m doing for my next submission!)  Getting the piece readier and readier for Battles with Boys. It’s coming….

Back to the film.  I mention it indirectly in the piece.  War films and images play an important role in the story.  My interest and into obsession are a part of the story.  It’s so damn good.  I know it has its detractors and people who get their panties in a bunch over various things (various inaccuracies & poetic licenses, the anti-Stephen Ambrose camp, etc.), but I don’t get into that, and don’t let it bother me.  I appreciate and celebrate it for what it is (and before I forget, I can’t wait for the follow up, next year’s The Pacific!)  I love the story.  I love learning the stories behind the stories.  I love learning about the real guys behind the “characters.”  I love learning more about the actors (especially the lesser known ones.)  It’s EASY (pun intended) to become just a little obsessed. My “BoB” bookmarks are filled with things like THIS and THIS and THIS.  Though I do have my limits.  There are those who know which weapons came out when and who had what and noticed how they changed in the film and all that (even I, a huge Cure fan can’t rattle off remix titles like they were my own children as some fans can.)  But each to their passion, I say.  I haven’t read ALL the books.  The new one looks interesting.  I am interested in reading Tech Sgt. Don Malarkey’s (adorably played by Scott Grimes in the film), though.  I’m happy to have this film in my collection and will revisit it when inspired to–and continue to let it (and its gorgeous score) inspire me in Life and Art.

This all keeps me thinking about family and history and our own stories.  I caught Diane Rhem’s show this morning (not on Chicago Public Radio, but on Michiana Public Radio–yay internet!).  She featured Vincent Cannato, author of American Passage about the history of Ellis Island.  The subject of immigration to Canada also came up–which is what my Grandpa V’s parents did back in the day (making me part Canadian, ya know!)  I have his handwritten story about his growing up there and his move to Detroit.  One of my projects for the near future (I thought maybe today, but we’ll see…) is to start transcribing it into a Word file.  If for nothing else but to preserve and share it.  But there’s also some tidbits of inspiration in there for other projects.  It’s good stuff.

All this is connected. Other people’s old photographs and stories; MY old photographs and stories. Maybe getting a feel from their lives can add to an understanding of my own history.  I still have access to some things, but unfortunately not to everything.

Right now, I feel like I’m at the borderline of public musings and private journaling and things that will become other things.  So I’ll end here and wish you all much love.

Thanks to everyone who helped make Solo Homo 7 a success! A huge thank you to everyone who came out to see us.  We received some lovely compliments.  A big thank you to the cast: Lisa, Timothy, Joe, Deb, Mike, Byron, Sara, and Cookie.  David, our tech guy.  Thanks to Strawdog Theatre Company, 2nd Story, and all our fellow NewTown Writers.

I had a good time in the producer’s chair.  Thanks to Joe for all his help!  Robert too.  *Whew*

Onward to our Fall show and Solo Homo 8 next year!

Cheers!

Call for FREE tickets!!

Tuesday, June 30, 2009
8:00pm – 9:00pm
The Comedy Central Stage at the Hudson
6539 Santa Monica Boulevard (@Hudson btw Highland and Vine)
Los Angeles, CA

Black president or not, racism continues to make a comeback in America. Whether it’s Rush
Limbaugh’s daily treason OR teabaggers marching in lock step with white supremacists OR people of
color being blamed for the lack of legalized gay marriage in California OR the continued
broadcast of BET — racism hasn’t run this rampant since Martin Luther King, Jr. had that dream.
Well, Kamau is here to make (non)sense of it all, with a seamless mix of stand-up comedy, multi-
media, and personal stories. Established in 2007, the Curve is constantly updated in order to be
as fresh as the news is skewers.

For more information go to www.wkamaubell.com

Absolutely FREE! To RSVP, Call 323.960.5519

Hello Friends!  You should come see my latest show.  I am co-producing it with the wonderful Josef Steiff, as well as performing a “new” piece, Is Jimmy Stackpool Singing Too? I say “new” because it’s something I’ve been working on for a while now, on and off.  Like writers do.  I hope you like it.  Here’s all the official info:

Solo Homo 7: NewTown Writers (newtownwriters.org), Chicago’s oldest GLBT writer’s group, presents the 7th installment of its hit solo performance series, Solo Homo.  Mon-Wed June 22-24, 2009 at 7:30.  Join us in Strawdog Theatre Company’s Hugen Hall at 3829 N. Broadway, Chicago.  Tickets may be purchased at the door or online at strawdogtheatre.com.  Please, no phone calls to the Strawdog box office.  $12 or 2 for $20 on Tues-Wed; $6 or 2 for $10 for Monday’s “Preview.”

This year’s line up of storytellers includes Cookie Crumbles, Byron Flitsch, Sara Kerastas, Deb Lewis, Timothy Rey, Mike Rogers, Lisa Scott, Josef Steiff, and Michael Van Kerckhove.

And there will be a cash bar too!  Can’t beat that, yo.

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Here’s a shot of me reading at this past weekend’s Printer’s Row Lit Fest.  NewTown Writers had a slot in the Arts & Poetry tent.  I read a pieced called Out of the Collective Blur. The events in the story took place in the spring of 2000.  I’ve revisited the story a handful of times over the years.  Still looking for a home for the story.  Interestingly, it’s about the homeless in general, and more specifically about a homeless woman I would often see in the Grand Avenue Red Line station.  It will find a place.  Even if I post it here on this site.

And here’s another photo.  Cos the Chicago Tribune banner makes me look more important, right?   My photomate is Jill, NTW’s current president.  She’s cool.

Alright, off to do more show stuff….

So, much going on in the past month. First off, Ernie and I finished our semesters at IUSB on May 7.  My class presented their awesomely creative group projects–their productions of Oedipus Rex.  We had one set at Woodstock, a sci-fi production set into the future, a production set in the world of LA gangs.  And a Greek tragedy meets Dr. Seuss.  The parallels are actually quite fascinating with that last one.   I had another solid group and I felt things went well even as my focus was split there for a while between packing and everything else.  I received my last pay check from the university last Friday, so now it’s really over.  The teaching, my coursework, the experience was an amazing (if sometimes bumpy) ride that I’m feeling will be better served in more private reflection.  Whatever the ups and downs, I don’t regret our time in “the SB” one bit.  I’m glad we did it, and I’m beyond glad we’re back.  Somtimes I’ll be riding my bike home from work and think Wow, I live here again.  And the last 3 years feel like a dream.  Like that season on Dallas when Pam walked into the bathroom and Bobby was in the shower and he wasn’t dead after all–and the next season they had to pick up from the one before.  Crazy!  Like I almost have to pick up  my Chicago life from 2006.  And then there’s the finale of Newhart when Bob wakes up with this previous series’ wife.  That whole Vermont thing was just a whacky dream.  Yeah, I feel like that sometimes.  But I know I contributed for real.  For real.

Both Fiction and Creative Nonfiction/Solo Performance work inspired by my time has a Hoosier has already begun….

“Operation Chicago Re-Boot” is going well. I’m actually looking forward to what I’m referring to as “Operation 2nd Wave.” A friend is buying my futon which used to be in the guest bedroom at the Country House.  It currently lives in our storage unit.  Once she is able to take it to her new place, we’ll be able to tidy up around here–put some stuff downstairs.  And do some cleaning.  That’ll be good.  I’ll feel more settled then.

I’m figuring out my post-South Bend masage.  Grad school, teaching, both moves, etc.  It’s all in my neck and shoulders and the rest of me can use a tune up too!

I’ve been focusing on two stories this past month.  First, Playing Guns, a piece about childhood play, friends, family, war, stories, etc.  I made a recent submission deadline.  Yay!  I won’t say who or what cos I’m supersticious like that.  *Fingers crossed* just in case.  I’m not really focusing on Is Jimmy Stackpool Singing Too? for Solo Homo 7. We open in just shy of 3 weeks!  Click on the link for more, though I know I’ll be giving it its own post soon.  I’m also co-producing/co-directing as well.  That’s been a lot of good behind the scenes grunt work.  Love that I have the opportunity to do it.  It fits peachily into “Operation Chicago Re-Boot.”  It’s been fun and we have an awesome group.  Can’t wait to see the culmination of all our work!

Finally, I recently finished reading Kevin Wilson’s short story collection, Tunneling to the Center of the Earth. I got a copy in my Easter basket from the in-laws.  I love it!  I appreciate the quirkiness that to me does not slide into ridiculousness.  Many of his characters have–unique–occupations and I love how he explores them and connects them to their lives.  His fantastical elements are grounded in reality and sense, a balance I work to achieve as well.  I wish I’d written some of them!  One of his stories, “The Museum of Whatnot,” deals with similar themes to one of my works in progress–our relationship with objects–but they’re still, you know, different.    While all the stories are different, you can definitely sense Kevin’s sense of humor, his voice, etc.  If I had to pick a favorite, I’d go with “Mortal Kombat,” which interestingly is one of the less “quirky” ones.  It’s an honest and raw piece about two high school friends in the early ’90’s and their relationship and discoveries.  A looked forward to event is the release of the home version the Mortal Kombat video game.  What an amazing cultural phenominon to connect to their lives.  That one got me reaching for some tissue.  I look forward to reading more of his work down the road….

Other reading material this summer will include the 3rd book onward in the Sookie Stackhouse novels.  Can’t wait for the 2nd season of True Blood to start!  I also have my Walt Whitman to read, other story collections.  Etc.

When I’m finished with working on my current Creative Nonfiction, I’m looking forward to diving into some of my own fiction.  I want to make stuff up again.

It’s fun.

That’s right – it’s Swiftsure weekend this weekend, and if you want to come to Victoria to see one of the most exciting sailing races on this coast, you’d better hurry and book your rooms now. They’re going fast, and we’re filling up. We’re close to several of the start and finish points of the races, so you’ll be able to get a good view of the vessels without much travel time.In addition to the races themselves, there are parties and events going on all week – beginning Thursday and going until Sunday. You’re going to regret it if you don’t come out for this exciting annual event!

We still have our May and June specials on so if you book now, for two or three nights, you get a really great deal! Don’t forget our complimentary continental breakfast – with home baked muffins (and oh, are they ever GOOD!) Check our Specials page for details.

Uno starts on May 21st and runs until the end of the month. In its 12th year, UNO showcases solo performance artists from around the world. Held at a variety of venues in the city (most within walking distance of the Admiral), it’s a wonderful collection of comedy, dance, and drama. Additionally, there will be performance workshops and new shows in development. Just a few of the talented artists you will enjoy: Anusree Roy, with a terrific show about an untouchable dishwasher in India, Carly Yeates plays a cowgirl so determined to ditch her hometown she’ll even join the ‘Teenage Jesus Girls Camp’ in Honduras – and then watch the sparks! Brian Fidler is the genius behind “Cam and Legs”; a puppet show with a difference, wherein a headless, gotta dance, gotta move puppet works toward his dreams of being a DJ and being featured on the cover of DJ magazine. “Fidler tells the story of the aspiring DJ with perfect, whimsical, heartbreaking pitch. And this puppet can move it, move it, move it!” (Calgary Herald). And those are just a few of the amazingly talented and creative performers who will be appearing at UNO. Be sure to book with us for several nights, and let us know how you enjoyed the performances.

Check him out NOW!  He’s dope. It gives me hope that there is an audience for brutal honesty mixed with hilariousness…

Here is the Official press release (written by myself and sent out to the world, or at least the group’s mailing list and our Facebook group):

NewTown Writers announces the appointment of Michael Van Kerckhove as the new Artistic Director of the performance wing. Michael returns to Chicago after he and his partner, Ernie Nolan, spent three years working with Indiana University at South Bend. His affiliation with the group dates back to the inaugural edition of Working Stiffs in 2002.

Michael and long time member, Robert Klein Engler, have found a new home for their performance endeavors. After a number of years at the Bailiwick, stops at Live Bait and Chemically Imbalanced, the 2009 season will be presented in Strawdog Theatre Company’s Hugen Hall cabaret space located at 3829 North Broadway.

Plans are in the works for the 7th edition of Solo Homo in June and an evening of short plays in October. Stay tuned for details…

Pretty cool, huh?  In my reintegration into the city, dubbed “Operation Chicago Re-boot,” I became a board member of the group last fall and an “official” member of the performance wing.  Even though I’ve been involved with the group and have been published in both publication arms, I really do feel this sense of official-ness.  I haven’t been involved as much with the literary wing, though that could change now that I’m back, depending on Life and Everything Else.  Either way, the group has my support.

There was a noble effort to regroup and re-focus the theatre wing this past December.  The Holidays and New Year unraveled that a bit.  I was asked to step into the AD position and approved by the rest of the board.  Yay approval!   When recently asked my goals as AD, I basically replied “Focus and Process.”  Solo Homo will have some familiar faces, a few new ones, and will get back to its roots of writing & performance–that magical blend of the literary and theatre worlds I love so much.  How we get there should bring out the Best in all of us.  I like that.

Now, I just have to figure out what I’m going to do for my own piece in the show.  You know, the writing part.  I have a couple pieces I’d love to do, but they may be a little long.  So maybe this will be a good way to impose a deadline upon myself for new material.  The other pieces will definitely be incorporated into my full length solo show that maybe I’ve mentioned around here a few times.  It has a yet to be determined unleashing date, for sure.  But Battles With Boys will arrive….

NewTown Writers continues its bi-weekly workshops, and as in the past should have a table at the Printers Row Book Fair, also coming up in June.  Will definitely let you all know about that!

Happy Writing and Happy Spring.  It’s wonderful to be back!

Tomorrow we will have our Staff Party (sort of Company Outing) but actually not an Outing cos we don’t go out of the office but just share some dinner together and activities including raffles from our friendly neighborhood suppliers. We were supposed to go out of town, everything is settled and booked. Unfortunately, because of the recent turmoil where we feel it is best that we do not go too far and not to mention our Operations do not permit cos we operate 24/7 and business cannot stop, so we finally decided to just have the party inside the office. Anyway, it is the memory that counts…

Come May, I’ve worked in the office for 1 year now. Maybe already considered an Old staff but still new in some ways. Our Office tradition is that every Staff Party, all the newly-hired will have to perform something and show their talents. Being one of the 2 foreigners in the office, of course they want to see what I am made of…lol.

Of course the ever-jolly me consented on this sort of dare. I actually had a choice not to perform being a senior in the office but I decided anyway this party is just once a year and might as well showcase to everyone my so-called talent so I obliged.

The new staff were grouped into 2 and my team decided to dance 1 modern number an 1 traditional dance. Immediately after, the most sought-after performance will take place..That is my Solo Performance. Ha ha ha!

My team finalized the concept last night and practiced today. I will be singing a Filipino song cos they find it something new and unique and they want tohear the way we sing our song..My song will have a guitar accompaniment which makes the song to be acoustic style.

It will be the first time I will be singing solo in a big group like this with all the anticipation and curiosity…Yikess!!! Now I am starting to have butterflies in my stomach. At any rate, I am also excited. Who knows, this might be a start of a new career for me..something that would really make me BIG. Well, I don’t look like Susan Boyle or William Hung but I am keeping my fingers crossed..so I can be popular in the future too.

A solo performance script in progress
4.18.09

[Pauses get shorter and more abrupt as piece progresses and the threads blur, but they always signal a shift: in consciousness, in time, in space, in memory, in something.]

My name is Coleman Crenshaw. Genetic: GCATGTA. I was born what was Jackson Hole, WY before the reconciliation. I’m not sure why I’m here. Um. . . They said I would know more once I got in here, but, if you’ll forgive me, I am still a bit unclear. Can you help? Please. What do you want?

[pause]

How do you know? What makes you assume I am anything? Maybe I am a member of the NRA. Maybe I voted republican. Maybe I just got out of jail. Yeah, I am a capitalist. Maybe I believe hard work can get you everywhere. Yeah, welfare is for the lazy. Huh? Yeah, yeah, right: I follow Jesus Christ. And how would you know, eh? Is it written on my face? Do my clothes betray some sort of ideology? Does my hair reek of fundamentalism? Slam of head on table

Alright. Alright. Damn.

[pause]

Yes, I went to a Christian College. But only in name. I mean, it was founded by a church way back in 1880. But not all the students were Christian. You didn’t have to be Christian to go there. That would be crazy, right? Some sort of cultish and discriminatory college. Nope. Just historically Christian. Well, I mean, sure there still were Christians that went there because it was founded and loosely affiliated with a church, but those people had the right to their opinions. What? Yeah, um, they had services and stuff. But I studied it, it was academic… I know, I know. Religious fanatics are dangerous. Christianity deludes the intellect. Extremism is the root of disobedience. Citizenship above affiliation. Reconciliation is salvation. Believe in leadership, in people, and in country above all else. See? I studied as diligently the next guy. Anyway I went to that college before the reconciliation. It wasn’t wrong then. I didn’t know. You can’t tell me I’m here because of that! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… wait. Please don’t leave me here, I’ll answer whatever… please, why am I —

[pause]

I open the door to get a better look at the storm fading away. I always loved storms in Kansas: seeing the huge clouds building over the fields. You can see a storm coming in over the plains for hours. Flatland gives you such a long view of everything. Watching a storm come in over such a long time gives you a chance to live with it, get to know it, feel its subtle changes in mood and electricity, you begin to think of it not as an event, but a companion. —-

“Wake UP!” Um, ok. From the beginning. Sorry, I’m a bit nervous. Um. My father is a worker: a rancher. He works hard until the job is done, feeding the cattle, fixing the combine. He doesn’t pay much attention to the time, I guess, and only comes back inside after he finishes something. “A break is for after you finished.” So we can have anything we want for lunch. The easiest and the bestest is quesadillas. Alex and I (he lives with his dad in St. Louis, that’s east of here, just like I live with my mom most of the time. He is visiting his mom here in Teton Valley, like me. Except I’m visiting my dad.)… Alex and I are really good at making quesadillas. We can make them really fast and without even talking to each other cause we both know where all the food and stuff is without asking. I grab stuff from the fridge: the cheese from on top of the hamburger container and the hamburger container and the lettuce from the bottom drawer and the hotsauce from the door (I don’t like it spicy, but Alex does) and the sour cream and by the time I close the fridge door Alex is setting all the other stuff from the pantry on the island table. He even found the hot chocolate mix that is so good to put on the quesadillas that you don’t put meat on. It’s like we are a team of expert quesadilla makers. We have to take turns using the microwave cause otherwise one person’s quesadillas would be cold by the time the other person finished making their’s. (Even though sometimes Alex takes too long to put his together so before you get your third quesadilla in the microwave your first quesadilla gets kinda hard on the ends.) It’s ok though, cause you have to take you turns when you’re on a team. We have to make everything finish at the same time and fast so we can go back out together really soon. It is no fun to have to have one person… trailing off

[pause]

Yes, the storms are companions: Dangerous, but expected, and welcome. Most of all welcome. Like a conversation between you and something larger… God maybe. Drops in temperature, changes in light, rhythm, noise. A debate, a threat of destruction, a comfort, a promise of new life. The ebbs and flows of fury and excitement. And finally, the easing of energy, not gone, merely moving on trailing the same murmurs and echoes of the building of the storm. The wind has just faded away, leaving a profound silence and I can feel the cold refreshing greenness of the air and the newness of the tailing edge of the storm. And I suddenly see her. Her blonde hair matching the rhythms of the wheat. She had been in the house with me. How is she outside? I must have dozed off. I know her, the way that I know myself, the way I am familiar to myself. I am attached to her, she is my love. But not yet. Or maybe she was. But somehow I don’t know her, I can’t see her face in my mind, in my sleep. — “Wake UP!”

Sorry. I sometimes lose track of the time. I mean I meant to tell you about my parents. That’s what this is about, right? I haven’t done anything wrong. That isn’t to say my parents have. Really. It’s just… Why am I here? I promise you that there is no interesting story here, just boring, regular people stuff. Can’t I just- Right. Sorry. The point was that you don’t need to worry about my dad. He was a hard worker and didn’t coddle us at all. He believed in hard work and was very rational. Now, um, I don’t mean to say that he was a machine who only lived to work. He was, absolutely, as efficient as Alex and I were when it came to making food and cleaning up and that sort of thing. But he didn’t simply rush back out to the fields like we kids were eager to… After finishing his meal he would sit and read big, thick books for a while. I learned that habit from him. I love to read and eat. It is very filling, I think. But this made my father better, not weaker. He would talk to us about things far away from the cattle ranch in Idaho: about exotic places like India and Asia, strange concepts about euthanasia and cultural indoctrination. He was full of ideas that made us – what I mean is, he helped my sister and I understand that rational thought was as important as hard labor. That’s ok to say, right? It wasn’t like he was shirking his work on the ranch to read. He was taking the break that he had earned with sweat and he knew what other work needed to be completed today and he always got it done. That is what I learned from him: understand your job and how much time it takes and how much time you have and get it done. Just get it done. I suppose it was time management combined with self-reliance. My dad believed that you always had to make a choice and you were free to make whichever choice you wished, but each choice had consequences that you were also choosing. That’s very rational, isn’t? I don’t think this, um, business is about him. It isn’t is it? Right.

It is about my mother, isn’t it. That is why I’m here? Look, could I have a glass of water? Just something to drink? Please. We can talk about my mother. Promise. But I’m just a bit thirsty. I— Right.

My mother. My mother is a little absent-minded. She forgets things. Not anything big, it’s not like a disease or disorder or anything, just forgetful. Come to think of it, so am I. She forgets things like movie titles, mixes together store names: Wal-Meyer’s or McArby’s, or what kinds of foods my sister and I liked, or (most maddeningly) where the conversation was going or had come from. “Wake UP!” She really had a single minded purpose when we were growing up… Um, I know that I’m not really supposed to talk about stuff like this, but, it was a long time ago, so it’s ok, right? She’s a good woman, ok? Just a little, um, she just sees the world… it harmless, she’s harmless. The world is different now, she doesn’t know, um, I’m just talking about the past, my mother’s past. The past is ok to talk about right? It’s not like… And anyway, I imagine you want me to tell the truth here, right?

[pause]

Burton lived in the apartment next to mine. One day he found in the bottom of his deep freeze a cross buried in the ice. So he called the local relic squad to find out if was genuine. I could hear their boots on the stairs up to the landing. Nothing sounds quite like actual rubber soles; the hard, dull thud of official business. They must have thought it could be an important find because when I snuck a curious peek through my peephole I saw both of them: one was Elijah, the other Mohammed. Usually, around here, we rate the local Barnabus or Damien. Never had seen such high profile clones in our crummy building. Burton must have been expecting them (I think we all were, just not so late at night) because they didn’t even have to knock. I just heard his door open and close. We were all curious, cause no one had found a true religious relic in the city in years, nothing with any real power anyway. So I waited with my eye pushed up against the door for hours, my cheek kept getting sweaty and the sweat kept tickling my neck. But I never saw them leave. —

Ok. Ok. Ok. I’m awake, I’m awake. Um. My mother? My mother was completely focused on getting my sister and me to be religious people; to go to church, to sing praise songs, to, you know, speak in tongues. Even now, I imagine she is praying for me to get through this. She is probably tithing in secret, on penalty of…. Well, you know…. Tithing an extra %10 to try and convince God to use his power to get me into a church somewhere, attending three times a week. She has forgotten that the entire world has figured out that religion is just an antiquated opiate. But she isn’t hurting anyone thinking that. Certainly she isn’t making me do anything that isn’t allowed. I’ve grown up. You don’t have to worry about me. I have the appropriate distrust of religion. Praise songs make me retch. The words “Altar Call” make me want to scream. Zealots are ridiculously ignorant. See? I agree with Martus. Religious fanatics are dangerous. Christianity deludes the intellect. Extremism is the root of disobedience. Citizenship above affiliation. No worries. What? She lives in Seattle. I don’t know the address, she just moved, and I haven’t been there. Honest. She didn’t make me believe in religion. She didn’t win. I don’t even like religion, who likes what was forced upon them?

I know I talk a lot about it. But, trust me, religion isn’t for me. Reconciliation is salvation. Believe in country, in people, and in leadership above all else. But I do… I mean there is a reason I talk about it, I think about it—not like that. Not like you think. I have, um, I guess I have faith. I… Sorry. I don’t mean to… um, I mean, not faith in religion. Faith in, um, faith, I guess. Um. Sorry. But I’m supposed to be honest, right. I know we aren’t really supposed to talk about stuff like this, but…. I try to wake up, I do, I promise… please- Oh. Sorry, right. Um.

Right…. In my dreams I search for religion. Not a church or a leader or a revelation from God. No, I guess I try to understand it. There has to be a reason. People have believed in religion for… well, I guess, for forever. How can I be, at 27 years-old, more enlightened than 4,000 or 40,000 or 4 million years of human belief? And that is where my belief, my faith, begins: I have faith in the history of the human experience.

[pause]

I never saw Burton again, after that night. But I did notice an icon hanging on the door across the hall, two doors down, so I resolved to warn them. The local relic squad overlooked stuff like that as long as you didn’t claim it had any significance beyond a family tradition, but I was worried about these more important relic hunters. So the next morning I walked across the hall and knocked. The oldest woman I have ever seen, clamped on to my elbow, pulled me inside and steered me over to her coach surprisingly quickly for someone who looked like she was like 150. And she began to talk. She never stopped to check if I had been listening or if I had any comment. It was like I had simply interrupted her monologue and she had always been talking and always would be talking and was oblivious to the fact that someone was sitting in her living room. She said she had been a scientist when the government decided to recreate the religion that had died so long ago. I had heard, of course, of the rebirth. It happened before I was born. That was where the relic squads had come from. “The government decided that without something to believe in the people had lost the ability to hope and without the ability to hope they lost the ability to be governed. They gathered me and so many of my colleagues to form a committee filled with the brightest minds thinkers and scientists. Our job was to clone the early saints and ancient theological authorities from gathered DNA so that the government could write down the text of the official religion straight from the source. After we had gathered the thousands of stories we began to whittle them down into one narrative.” –

What? No, I wasn’t saying anything. I don’t know what it means. Sometimes in here I forget if I am awake or asleep. Sorry. Right. Back to my father. He—Oh, yes, of course, back to my mother. Right. Um. I have faith in the history of the human experience? I didn’t mean…. I, well: I didn’t always pin my belief so rationally on some extrapolated bits of the collective unconsciousness. I started to become a religious person because of my mom. She yells so hard she coughs: “Get out of bed. We are NOT going to be late for church!” On Sundays 9am feels like 5am. “Wake UP!” And I am a martyr. How can a mother so interested in a religion professing tolerance be so interested in forcing at gun point people (namely me) to convert? I hate church. I hate opening my eyes during the inevitable altar call to see who had sinned, who had backsliden, this week. I hate that feeling of tremendous guilt, knowing that I sinned, and that equally mortifying shame that would come if I walked down to the altar call every week. I hate that resulting feeling of self-loathing: not only am I a guilty sinner, but I had too cowardly to admit my mistakes in front of a church. And I hate all the people in the church for refusing to go down to the altar call also, surely they didn’t have a sin-free week, hypocrites. “All have sinned and fallen short of the Glory of God. All must ask for forgiveness.” Why isn’t the whole church going down for the altar call? I hate the altar call. I hate being forced to go to church. Dad is so much more a free willist. Do what you want. People always should. But I don’t live with him. “Wake UP!” He, apparently, no longer wanted to live with my mom (I can understand), let alone go to church. So, ever since I left with my mother and sister after 1^st grade I imagine my dad sleeps in on Sundays. Funny how much hate I got from religion; from something that is about love. That is what you want to hear right? Religion fucked me up? But I know that my faith is in love. My faith is not churches and religion, my faith is in— “Wake UP!”

Sorry. Um. My childhood really wasn’t just church torture. And my mother isn’t a religious crazy. I remember a time when my mother and father were together and things were different. I don’t mean to imply that my mother and father divorced over church-going habits… Wait!  Dont leave!  Don’t…

[pause]

I can’t see her face. Her blonde hair is matching the rhythms of the wheat. I can feel the wind on my face. She stands naked in the fading storm, in the faint beginnings of twilight. She stands, back to me, watching the departing storm. She is so unashamed, so peaceful, she looks so pure, as if there is nothing so natural as nakedness. No awkward sins of lust to make the simple perverse. She had had a revelation, she says.

[pause]

“We ended up throwing out so many: some of them had castles and fairies in them, some with sword fights and poisons, some with unicorns and dragons, some with talking animals and giants, some we simply didn’t like the sound of. There are so many of them I can’t really remember. Wait. One of the stories, told to us by a one-armed, Chinese Witch stands out to me. It was almost exactly the same as the final version except it called Christ the “God of Lambs” instead of the “Lamb of God”. “God of Lambs”, ha! That would show them, eh? Anyway, the morning after we had finished the final version we called the Bible, we were torn. Many of us lamented at how wimpy most of the narrative made religion sound. The final version was so watered-down. So broad and amalgamated. I always thought there should have been a troll in it.” – I am awake.

I don’t mean to imply that my mother and father divorced over church-going habits ( I’m not even sure that my mother was really into the church thing when they were married). They preferred adult parties, alcohol, marijuana, and the relaxing life of a ski-bum. (That’s better than religious zealotry, isn’t it? Much more normal.) At these parties, in the kids’ room, we watched, endlessly, the Princess Bride, The Neverending Story, The Secret of Nimh and The Dark Crystal. We were happy.

[pause]

She said she had had a revelation. An epiphany. “We have carried our sin around for so long,” she says. ” I won’t anymore, I stand clean.” And she is. Every word, every movement, every moment of her existence rings, vibrates, with utter peace and purity in the clean and muted crimson of the sun setting behind the storm. The rain has washed everything. —

Right: The Dark Crystal. The Never Ending Story? I must confess being slightly unnerved by the distressing and scary moments too often found in these oddly dark children’s movies. The wolf was nothingness. How terrifying! In the free time between parties, I followed the lead of my father and read, with growing alarm, about the shrinking rainforests and the hordes of animals going extinct; never to be seen again except in my copy of My Own Backyard in hypothetically-colored artists’ sketching of these poor, extinct animals because no one will ever see what they really look like cause they are all dead just like we will be when the rainforests disappear because no one is supporting the efforts of greenpeace and the world wildlife federation and the evil corporations are cutting down millions of rainforest trees a day and without them the world won’t make any more oxygen and all the animals including us will be dead… just like the dinosaurs.

[pause]

The rain has washed everything. I am overwhelmed, I believe, I am …… transfixed: I just stand and stare, unable to move. I believe and I long to join her there, unashamed and in surrender. And I am beginning to understand. The simplicity of surrendering all of this guilt and sin and shame, how simple it is to just decide that you are finished, that you won’t do it anymore, to simply stop carrying it around; constantly carrying: I think that I am beginning to understand what faith means, what it all…

My eye is drawn to a flicker of movement over her shoulder, at the edge of the barn, the ancient barn, miles away from her epiphany, millions of miles away from this rebirth. Suddenly the world comes sharply into focus and the barn is close, 75 yards, and I am on the porch and she is just on the edge of the field and the world is silent except for the sound of the man frantically fumbling, mindlessly trying to load the film into his camera, stumbling forward around the edge of the barn, eyes wide drooling and fixed hungrily on her nudity. His desire has robbed him of all stealth. But she doesn’t notice and I stand terrified and frozen.

I can’t move. The flash. “Wake UP!” The awkward flash. “Wake UP!” The sharp, imposing flash. I am overcome with embarrassment for her. “Wake UP!” I am so angry at this lusting, foul, greedy visitor. I feel betrayed by her for allowing herself, her purity, to be so exposed. “Wake UP!” I rush to her with my green, threadbare jacket. I drape it over her shoulders and try to explain, try to justify my encroachment, try to cover this purity and beauty, try to cover this shining perfection of grace and faith and unashamed simplicity. She looks at me uncomprehendingly, her eyes calm and peaceful. I turn back to the barn, the man is gone. And the world looks the same as it did yesterday.

[pause]

I’m awake, I’m awake. It is just a dream… it doesn’t mean anything. I promise. It’s just a dream. Just a dream. A dream. I promise. Promise. Please. Please let me go. Please.

Today I saw it in the news: “Erotic Farm: New Nature Cult Arising in Kansas”. Now it seems I have been uncovered as a child-molester in my youth. I am the door keeper for Barn/Temple where, after a naked walk in the wheat under the consecrating rain (photos on page 6), worshipers enter the bestiality chamber. I can’t read the rest.

I haven’t seen her since the rebirth. And the temptation to turn to page 6 to recover, hidden somewhere in this pornography, the shreds of holiness I have lost is unbearable. It’s fading already, the memory of her and the understanding of… of… of how it is supposed to be.

Reconciliation is salvation. Believe in country, in people, and in leadership above all else. Christianity deludes the intellect. Extremism is the root of disobedience. Citizenship above affiliation. Reconciliation is salvation. Believe in country, in people, and in leadership above all else.

Hi There!

I am here today to let you know (or remind you if already know) about an upcoming show that is NOT TO MISS!

You Are Here by Margot Bordelon
April 19th & 20th @ 7:30pm
Victory Garden Biograph Theatre

“Last fall I dropped everything to spend three months breaking out of my liberal bubble and exploring the country at a politically charged time. I documented my journey with digital audio, photography, and video and have shaped the material into a multimedia story that debuts at the Victory Gardens Biograph Theatre on April 19th and 20th.”

Reviews of past performances by Bordelon:
[Love, Valor & Technology] Named “Top 5 Solo Shows of 2007″
-NewCity Chicago

“Bordelon…is in total command of her airtight material. She also is pretty, funny, observant, fast-talking and knowingly sexy — with a 1950s girl-next-door allure that disguises a mischievous, naughty-girl persona. Highly recommended”
-Hedy Weiss, Chicago Sun Times

Many of you know Margot from Theatre Seven of Chicago, or Serendipity Theatre Collective’s 2nd Story or Around the Coyote or Collaboraction or Lookingglass or Steppenwolf – the list goes on and on. I have included you in this email about “You Are Here” because you have either come to shows I have recommended in the past or because you know Margot personally and I am 100% confident you are going to enjoy this. All the info is below and a discount code for $5 off when you purchase your ticket ahead of time.

See you at The Biograph,

Cassy

Victory Gardens Fresh Squeezed Series presents
YOU ARE HERE
April 19 & 20, 7:30pm, $20
Written and performed
by Margot Bordelon

Directed by William S. Rogers
Sound by Mikhail Fiksel, USA
Video by Sean J.S. Jourdan & C.J. Arellano
Dramaturgy by Christopher Devine

Use the code “MARGOT”
when you order online or by calling 773.871.3000

Read more at Victorygardens.org
$3 PBR and $1 Girl Scout Cookie Flights

Tickets available by clicking here
or by calling 773.871.3000
Victory Gardens Biograph Theater
2433 N. Lincoln Ave.
Chicago, IL 60614
victorygardens.org

Tonight I went to a solo performance show, featuring four performers who are showcasing their work after a solo performance class that I used to take. It’s great to go to these shows, to check out the new and amazing talent as well as to see old friends and “alums” from the class. It’s truly a fantastic community and one that I dearly love and appreciate.

The show tonight featured two old friends of mine and two “newbies” whom I knew nothing about. I was really anticipating the new stuff.  The third performer opened her act by coming out on stage and whispering, “Shhh……it’s 3 in the morning in a small town in the Midwest. There’s a 13 year old girl in there sleeping, or…?” She morphs into a mother, bending over her daughter’s bed, yelling somewhat hysterically, “HONEY! ARE YOU HAVING A REACTION?!?”

I froze for a moment. Reaction. Reaction. OMG. This was going to be a piece about… could it be? Diabetes. Oh god.

Yes indeedy. It was a piece about diabetes. The actor stepped to the front of the stage to narrate the goings-on. “Yes. I have had diabetes since I was eight years old. I have TYPE ONE diabetes, not to be confused with TYPE TWO diabetes, of which there is an EPIDEMIC these days, because people are running around eating too many Big Macs.”  And then she went on to tell her diabetes life story, getting lots of laughs along the way.

This is when I officially left my body, my back pressed as far back into the seat it would go, and I think I probably missed the next five minutes of the show. I felt attacked, embarrassed, mortified, defensive, shocked.

I’ve only been part of the “diabetes community” for, um… five days now? And in my surfing around on various forums and websites I’ve detected a distinct feeling of animosity and hostility from Diabetes type-1 people toward Diabetes type-2 people. The sentiment seems to be something like, people with type-1 Diabetes are innocent children who did nothing to deserve this terrible fate, while type-2 Diabetes people are obese, sendentary pigs who BROUGHT THIS ON THEMSELVES.

Look. I know that being overweight is a risk factor for developing diabetes. I was overweight for many years (and still am, to a lesser degree). But jeez.

There is so much ignorance and misinformation out there. So of course D1 people feel outraged and indignant when people who Don’t Know Any Better say things like, “you probably ate too many candy bars!” But then to take it out on other people who have diabetes?

Suddenly, I feel tired. And sad.

hmm this fancam isn’t really shaky so its much better ^.^

credits to http://wondergirlsthailand.com/ + mandoosohee.wordpress(upload)