Simplicity

I wrote about this whole thing in the post before last, but I was reminded in my Shakespeare workshop this evening how hard acting is. We were doing a simple excercise, to say across a room "I like you, I love you, I adore you, I worship you" with all the different connotations involved with each phrase to each individual person saying them, and to make them truly "land" with the other person, that is to make the other person hear and feel the sentiment, which is just, you know, what acting is all about. And it's hard! It reminded me how I've come to rely on not just my tendencies to "perform", but also stuff like character, subtext, backstory, the moment before, etc, to power my acting. That stuff doesn't really work the same way in Shakespeare, you have to understand the situation and the meaning, yes, but you really need to get the words TO the other person, and bring with them all the built in meaning and scantion work you've done. Telling someone you don't really know "I love you", saying it TO them and not to someone else, as yourself, because only YOU can say it to have it mean something and really meaning it, is difficult. It requires taking a risk. I knew that coming into the exercise, but I figured, you know, I take risks all the time. Stepping on stage is a risk, I do that a lot. But it was still hard, and reminded me how far I have to go, and all the reasons why I find acting so fulfilling.

Political Post

As a younger person, I would say I was "into" politics and the philosophies involved. I do sort of take pride in my familial and cultural background in that I come from two strains of social progressiveness, one of which is southern and working class (yes political and social progressives existed in the south, and probably still do) the other jewish and intellectual. I find this kind of ironic, that my mother's family, which is the southern, working class part, had very progressive politics, intermarried racially, supported the Union during the civil war, etc and on my father's side is the old American left of Jewish pinko types, my grandfather was a lawyer involved in various labor disputes in the 20s, 30s and 40s on the side of the laborers and was a founding member of the Lawyer's Guild, the first integrated lawyer's union in the United States. I think all that's super cool, and I choose to take pride in it.

When I was in middle school, I fancied myself a communist, I had a notion of the kind of injustice which permeated our civilization, and our history as a country and a society, and I thought that to do away with it we ought to institute socialism, perhaps by any means necessary. As I got older, I became disenfranchised with communistic ideals, especially revolutionary communism, and my political views generally mellowed into some vaguely formed sense of democratic socialism. I certainly don't want to do away with democracy, but I'd like it if the social structures which are meant to serve the state and it's citizens were socialized, medicine, education, the prison system, etc. And if you haven't noticed, in the post Reagan era, the opposite has increasingly been the case to the point where the military is practically privately owned and ventures like the invasion of Iraq, in which millions of people have been killed or displaced, are not for the benefit of the people of America or the world, but corporate entities.

That's another post altogether. I told you that story, so I could tell you my feelings on memorial day. If you followed my Livejournal from the ages of 15 to 17 or so, I'd make some kind of socialistic rant about killing babies, that is not my intention. I find myself increasingly apathetic to politics and the news, unlike many members of my generation I was never all that impassioned by the prospect of Barack Obama's presidency, I was cautiously optimistic but deep down I had a sense things would turn out like they have, for the most part. I don't really read or follow the news, I read or hear about horrible things happening in far away places, the bureaucracy and corruption of our government, and I begin to feel bad. CNN or MSNBC gives me a headache, Fox News is absolute rubbish. It's a selfish thing, but I find my quality of life is higher if I avoid all the information on current events that's out there, because frankly here on my laptop there is absolutely nothing I can do to make a difference and that is the cold, hard, grotesque truth. I don't like facing things which are grotesque, I'd rather avoid it, again my quality of life is subsequently higher and I find being and staying happy challenging enough on my own, although no longer impossible as I previously thought it was.

What was I going to talk about? Oh yeah, Memorial Day. Today we remember fallen soldiers, by going to the beach and drinking beer and eating meat or do we watch a specific sporting event? Something like that. Certainly, it must be much more meaningful and reflective if someone you know is a veteran or was lost overseas, but for most people it's a day off and that's fine, I'm not judging that. Life is short and if something causes people to live it a little more, and to enjoy one another, well that's good. I for one went to see my parents, I drank some beer and grilled some steak, I haven't had a home made grilled steak in a very long time so I enjoyed the pleasure of it, as well as waxing philosophical with my father on a sunny day.

But what about this other thing that's going on, where we reflect on fallen soldiers. I struggle with an ambiguous attitude toward's our countries armed forces. Thomas Jefferson famously said the tree of liberty is watered by the blood of patriots. Upon reflection, there is something very Aztecan about that notion, "the roots of the tree of life are watered with blood", the Aztecs believed that without blood sacrifice the sun would not rise. Further inquisition has proven this is not the case. I feel a similar philosophy permeates and justifies today's military-industrial complex. We build jets and bombs and aircraft carriers, we kill innocent people, to water the roots of the tree of liberty. Then again, in the case of at least one modern war, WWII everybody's famous war because we were the unambiguous good guys against pure evil, that was more or less the case. Other things happened, Japanese internment camps, that sort of thing, but overall that is a war we can feel good about (if one can feel good about war its not a good thing). The Korean war, Vietnam, the Iraq wars, etc, not so much, eh? So what are we going to do with the history we are creating, the scarred individuals coming back from these conflicts, to say nothing of the people on the other side who were told they could expect democracy and prosperity but then again maybe not, how about instead a pile of rubble and cradling your dying children.

I don't really know where I'm going with this, these are just the thoughts that have come out as I've typed. That's how I'd like to structure this thing, just to let things flow out and try not to censor or edit anything. Just press "publish" when I've run out of things to say. Let me see, can I find an appropriate poem for the occassion... hmm. There are lots of inappropriate ones, more than I could count. Well, here is one I always thought was better than it actually was, but the metaphor I was trying for is kind of pertinent.

And neither did Joshua, the walrus

Made aquatic martyr of all underwater

Sacrificed, an aquatic lamb of god

Nailed ten times to a seven sided crucifix

Left hanging, until he bled a river of red

That stained the sea cucumbers crimson

Fed the fury and hatred in the hearts of sharks

And travelled across the city of sea lions

Until it roused the coming legion of clams

Rising to take revenge against the Carpenter

In tribute to their shucked and devoured brethren

By forcing him to build a fortress of walrus bones

A new mecca for crustaceans and mollusks

And holy pilgrimage for all the creatures of the sea

To shelter them from man kind's poison and pollution

The scent of his corruption, his misbegotten god

When from the depths of a trench rises a throne for Trident

So he may preside over a new oncoming age of oysters

Creeping to the beaches from the ocean, to over take us

Riding on the blood soaked waves of Joshua, his sacrifice.

So, what now?

Well, that's it for the show I was doing. It was kind of stressful, for a variety of reasons, more so than I usually like a show to be, and it was bittersweet that by the time of the performance today we'd finally found our groove as an ensemble, I felt, but that it was our last show. None the less, I made a room full of new friends, and people I hope to work with in the future, and that's always good.

But what now? Like I said in a previous post, I've done six shows in 2011. I don't think there has been a week this year where I didn't have at least one rehearsal for something, as well as numerous auditions, tech rehearsals, and performances. For a second I thought that now, finally, I'd come to the end of this run and that I didn't have any more performances scheduled on the docket. But nope! The Muse, a show I did as part of a one-act festival this January, the first show I did this year, is going to a short play competition in New York this July, which we'll start rehearsals for sometime in the next few weeks.

But starting this week, I'm free! Sort of. Not exactly. Well, no. Let me break down everything I've got going on, I'm taking a Shakespeare with Actors Shakespeare Project, which meets on Mondays usually but is happening on Tuesday this week, Wednesday I'm going out for Shakespeare Now's Romeo and Juliet, and then I have training in Kendall Square to start running a bar quiz over there, Thursday is more training, Friday I'm auditioning for a student film.

Regardless, I feel like I'm going to have a lot more time, and soon enough I won't be sure what to do with it. I can be preparing for Stagesource, that'd be a productive thing to do. I think I'd like to work on my guitar playing, I really enjoy the guitar, and I know that I'm on the verge of a breakthrough with the instrument, but a breakthrough with anything isn't usually really a breakthrough but a long, slow process towards advancement. Regardless, if I start playing more and with more FOCUS on learning new things and not just noodling on 7th chords and the pentatonic, I can definitely get better.

Still, I can't shake this feeling of being something at a loss with what I'll do with myself. I'd really like to turn it into a period of growth and productivity, I'd like this whole summer to be like that. Things to do, start writing my own material, stand up, sketch, etc, learn new monologues, become more athletic, get in better shape, start taking dance/movement, and get more limbre. I think the "get in shape" part is particularly significant, for my career and overall well being. It's been kind of on my "to do" list for a while though, and I haven't made significant strides yet. Maybe this will be my summer! Here's hoping.

---

A poem from when I wrote poems.

My oatmeal is screaming in pleasure

As I sprinkle brown sugar and raisins

Across its porous and mushy surface

Did my oatmeal experience orgasm?

What biological excuse could exist for this?

Does oatmeal need motivation to reproduce?

Or is its pleasure purely arbitrary?

But now the oatmeal is screaming in terror,

When I scoop its flesh into my mouth,

I had no idea it could feel pain,

I suppose I should have figured

When it ejaculated into my OJ.

Performer's instinct

I think I was drawn to acting by some inherent instinct I have towards performance. I remember being in kindergarten, and wanting to tell improvised stories I would make up to the class to try and entertain them. This, combined with a powerful sense of imagination and the desire to use it, is what ultimately drew me to this art form. I remember the first time I ever saw a live performance, it was in Davis California, it must have been my Mom's students performing at the local community theatre, I remember some vague science fiction theme and being utterly enchanted by the prospect of performing onstage. I imagined they were making it up, and deciding the situations, I immediately fantasized about being Batman.

I've always liked making people laugh, always. Shortly after seeing that play, my Mom signed me up for a program at the same community theatre, and I made my stage debut as a vain oak tree who refused to give shelter to a lost baby bird. Really sophisticated shit, I know, I was keeping it real as a four year old. That same instinct made me tell stories to my class, and to try and entertain people whenever possible. It always made me feel good. I think part of it was the sense of connection I felt. I wonder what would have happened if I'd continued performing as a little kid, doing children's theater and stuff like that, but instead I didn't do any performing until middle school when we put on an end of the year play, and I rediscovered it.

But I've always had that instinct to perform, to entertain. It's ironic now that in my craft as an actor, I'm actively trying, in a way, to subvert that instinct and move past it. My natural mode of performance is to "perform", to create the affectation of the character, to do things to entertain the audience, to sort of "mug" or "ham" but in own specific and refined way, where I don't think you can immediately tell. But I find that when I turn that off, and put my energy into authentically communicating and affecting the other person in the scene, that my acting becomes ten times better, I just have to flip that switch. It's hard sometimes though, when my acting teacher isn't there to say "that was good, but now do it this way" and I truly act from myself, and not from this instinct to create this other, performing entity, but from my own humanity to the humanity of the other person. I define acting for myself as the search for what is essentially human about every character I play, but I need to find that in myself, and bringing that to the stage, as much as is possible.

On a less heady note, a television program which I've been enjoying is Dual Survival on the Discovery Channel. Why? Because it's god damn entertaining. I used to be a fan of Man Vs Wild when it first came out, but after a while Bear Gryll's schtick became well, schticky, and then all that stuff came out about him staying in hotels and making up the gasses on a hawaiian island as being deadly poisonous. Not that I watch these kinds of shows thinking that there is a whole lot of "reality" in a "reality show" where a guy wanders through the wildnerness with helicopter shots, close ups, medium, and wide shots all over the place, I mean clearly a fairly sized crew is following him around and when he goes into that "cave" someone went first to make sure it lead somewhere, etc. But, I don't know, I just got bored with it. Dual Survival I continue to be entertained by, largely because of the personalities of the two hosts, one of which is gruff and rednecky, the other being this hippy dude "primitive technology" expert who never wears shoes, no matter where they trek out to, hilarity just ensues no matter what. If you haven't seen it, check it out, it's entertaining and somewhat informative, not that I'm planning on wandering out into the wilderness with a machete, a piece of flint, and a glass jar anytime soon.

Before signing off, I should mention I'm doing a show this weekend, and so far so good. I don't think I'm going to refer to productions by name in this space, unless I'm really specifically promoting something because I feel it needs promoting. I'm not promoting this particular project, because I doubt anyone will actually go and see it because they came here from a day old link on Facebook, etc.

Here is another poem from my collection.

I heard as a murmur ran across the curtain

The stage creaked and distant pipes clanged

A theatre recalling it's favorite production

Of Shakespeare's Scottish Play, felt it resonate

And with it, sensed the age of the place,

Saw ghosts emerge from the lighting rig

Filling the balcony above me, and these

Spirits of past productions inspire me

To take possession of the empty age

And act out my own remembrances

My fleeting moments of glory, as Hamlet and Lear

Once again, taking my turn with these famous words

Giving personification to the theatre, watching me,

Watching it.

Clever enough title for you?

I think, therefore iambic pentameter. Clever, no?

I was trying to think of a title, and the phrase "I think therefore I am" came to mind. I remember first encountering that phrase in a chincy Star Wars expanded universe short story collection my Mom and I read when I was 8 or 9 called "Tales of the Bounty Hunters" (if you were at one time as much of a sci fi/star wars geek as I was, you may have seen or read it) and it had this super awesome IG88 short story about how he gains sentience and does all this cool stuff and takes over the second Death Star, at which point it kind of goes over the rails for me, but it was a cool book and I remember when he first breaks out of the imperial lab where he's created he stabs a scientist through the chest and his robotic hand comes out the other side clutching his still beating heart. This was like, the most violent thing I'd encountered in my young life at that point, with maybe a few exceptions but in general really extreme violence kind of freaked me out, but in this case it was pretty thrilling.

What does that have to do with my starting a new blog for the first time in several years? I don't know, I just want things to talk about. In general, I want to reflect my mental state and events as they occur to me, primarily around my budding acting career, but also more generally. If I can't go off on a tangent in my own blog, where else can I do so? In conversation with strangers? That does happen, I'll admit.

I hear someone shouting what sounds like weirdly militaristic commands outside the open window of my apartment. Probably a crazy person.

Back to the short story collection, I associate that memory very vividly from my childhood visiting California with my family while my brother must have been going to UC Santa Cruz. My earliest memories are of California, even though I was born in and consider myself to be "from" Boston, where I've resided since I was about 7, I suppose. I remember loving the place for the time I spent there that Spring or Summer, and wanting to get back to it for a long time after. Before becoming fixated on New York as my eventual future place of residence, I wanted to go to college and/or move out to northern California. I remember I was going to be a scientist, and marry someone in the arts, that was the plan at the ages of 12 and 13. Ironically, I'm pursuing the arts, and my girlfriend wants to be a pharmacist, ten years later.

I miss allowing the associations of moments and memories to bounce around and on to the page. I used to do that in my poetry, but then I stopped writing it, I think because I worked through what I needed to work through, my loneliness, the passing of a very dear friend, among other things. But this blog can be that! And more topical, as I chronicle my transition from student to starving artist, hurray!

Artistically, a lot has been going on this year. I've counted, and I did *counts on fingers* six plays from January to now in 2011, that's so much acting! And I didn't make any money for it! Actually, that's not true, the other day I did a shoot for the Dana Farber Institute, playing a medical assistant demonstrating how not to abandon a cancer patient in a hallway by... abandoning a cancer patient in a hallway! Played by one my fellow Harvard Extension acting classmates, which I thought was funny. That paid $40. Next month I start running a bar quiz in Kendall Square, that'll pay $50 a night plus $25 in free food and drinks, my first real income. I've also shot some cool film stuff, I played a character on drugs for a webseries, and half of a podcasting duo, a leading role (!) in another webseries which was super awesome fun cause I got to do whatever I wanted in the scenes, within the framework given, and ohhhh I did.

Now that I've graduated, I'm starting to think about how I can expand my craft. In particular, I want to learn to start writing and performing for myself, possibly by doing *gulp* stand-up, or writing and filming or performing my own sketch stuff. I say gulp, because in case you weren't aware, stand up is fucking difficult. How do I know that!? I've never done it! You say! Well I've been listening to hours of WTF with Marc Maron, and before that The Sound of Young America, and from my podcasting that is the impression I get. It takes a lot of time and effort to do it well. But then again, I'm really funny. And I do improv, and I'm good at that, and that's basically like writing spontaneously, so if I can get the juices going in the right direction, shouldn't I be able to apply that to other forms, ala sketch and improv?

These are the things I've been thinking about. Also, auditions. I have a bunch of them coming up. Including Stagesource, which I'm yet to start seriously preparing for, tick-tock, tick-tock, etc. I've been trying to arrange some monologue coaching and kind of failing, if all else fails I can start emailing professors or director/actor friends and generally preparing on my own. I have a callback for a kind of wonky sounding production of Hamlet this Sunday, then over the next few weeks, Rosencratz And Guildenstern Are Dead, a short film at the Art Institute, Boston Actors Theatre, Happy Medium Theatre Company and... Stagesource. Probably more will pop up too. I sort of feel like I should take a break from acting in plays, being in so many over such a short period of time has kind of drained me. But after a week or two of not doing anything, I'll probably be hungry to get back in rehearsals and on stage.

Oh shit! I'm burning through topics for future blog posts! Better cut this off. I think it'll be nice to repost old poems from when I used to write, in tribute to my former livejournal. Until next time. If there is a next time.

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California Murmurs

From my memory, murmurs of California

Snippets of people and places surround me

Consuming what serenity I possess.

I'm haunted by voices from the playground

The sand beneath my feet at Santa Cruz beach.

Sealion's song rises to the boardwalk

Raising with it nostalgia to take me

And sweetly overcome my five senses,

Pulling me back to San Francisco Bay.

A chilled wind comes in on the ocean tide

I pull in the woolen cloak of memory

To keep whatever warmth will remain

Before the breeze brings back the present.