Ghost, Ghost, in the Graveyard

On my way home from the Ghoulash show at the Upstairs Gallery I took a stroll through a graveyard. It seemed appropriate.

When I was young I was afraid of the night. The darkness. In the summer time the neighborhood kids would play Ghost, Ghost, In The Graveyard which is basically night-time tag meets hide-and-seek. I remember it feeling terribly dangerous and exciting.

It took me awhile to get over my fear of the dark but once I did it was gone completely. Graveyards never scared me, I think because I have always very much believed and wanted to experience something supernatural. They seemed a focal point, a good place for such things.

In high school I would periodically take dates on evening walks through graveyards. Not out of some morbid romanticism but because I felt comfortable there, it felt special.

Once I was driving out of a graveyard, it was probably 11 o'clock at night or maybe later, as I turned out I saw a dark haired woman in a long white dress. It was not Halloween. It took me a moment to process what a saw. When I looked back, she was gone.

I don't know if spirits congregate in graveyards. If I was one I wouldn't. But they may. They seem lonely places to me, not sad or scary, abandoned.

I like to walk through the stones. Visiting both ghosts and memory.

Graffiti 110

"Maybe you don't like your job, maybe you didn't get enough sleep, well nobody likes their job, nobody got enough sleep. Maybe you just had the worst day of your life, but you know, there's no escape, there's no excuse, so just suck up and be nice." -Ani DiFranco

"At home I am a nice guy: but I don't want the world to know. Humble people, I've found, don't get very far." -Muhammad Ali

"Truth is a deep kindness that teaches us to be content in our everyday life and share with the people the same happiness." -Khalil Gibran

It Is Seldom Enough

Friendship and family and romance.
It is not enough.
Books and bikes and smiles.
It is not enough.
Cool rains and sun through clouds and changing leaves.
It is not enough.
Past loves and present love and future heartbreak.
It is not enough.
New cloths and newer phones and ten course meals.
It is not enough.
More is not more.
It is never enough.

Boys Become Men

Once, when I was a young I played by a creek. I was with my friend Todd who, as I look back, was not much of a friend. There were many ducks and ducklings playing along side us, enjoying the sunshine and the water. Todd picked up a stone and threw it at a duck. He missed and threw more stones. Seeing him I threw stones as well. We missed all our throws. I did not want to hit a duck or hurt a duck. I did it because Todd was doing it and he was the type of friend who would call me wuss or weak or scared or dumb and tell me to go home if I did not do what he wanted me to do. There was also, I am ashamed to admit, a perverse pleasure I found in throwing stones at ducks, the anticipation of one of them being hurt or killed and I would be the one that caused it. Even so I do not think I actually tried to hit the ducks with my stones. Maybe that is selective memory but I do not think so.

Todd and I threw stones for some time. The ducks were not scared away which puzzled me. Eventually, inevitably, one of Todd's stones found it's mark breaking the neck of a large brown female duck. We stopped immediately, asking each other if it was dead. It floated to the shore, neck bent at an impossible angle. We stood over it staring.

Her eyes were glazed and the water running off her feathers made her look as if she wept. She closed then opened her eyes slowly and repeatedly. There was blood, how much I do not know, it mingled with her wet brown feathers. I had no doubt that she would die, I had no doubt she would suffer until her death.

The bottom dropped out of my world and I was sick. I did not feel powerful as part of me, I think, expected. I felt cruel and was disgusted by my cruelty. I turned on Todd berating him for what he had done. Asking him how he could do such a thing, he calmly reminded me of my compliance and I was shamed. We walked home in silence and never spoke of that day or that tortured duck.

Boys can be cruel and often are. They must learn compassion. If they do not they may become cruel men. And cruel men are fearsome things of little use save destruction.

Beanpole

Beanpole and his wife Jen came into Chicago early to have lunch with Nicole and I before their flight back to Denver.

I met Beanpole in 7th grade, he was a part of the cool kids clique and I was the object of a certain amount of antagonism, not his but some of his buddies. We started hanging out in high school but didn't get close until senior year when we both inappropriately took AP Physics. A class built on Calculus fundamentals which neither of us had. I would go over to his house and we'd work late on projects we barely understood, we constructed a "slow roller" which ended up sliding quickly, a failure on both counts. He worked at camp with me for three summers starting after our senior year, we once staged a mock pirate fight for the campers- I was Red Beard the villain and he was simply Beanpole, the hero.

Beanpole is the most kind, sweet, warm, patient, supportive friend I have. The only times I've seen him upset are when he's playing or watching sports. He has been steadfast in his loyalty and friendship to me even though I've, at times, given him reasons not to. He's also got a great sense of humor, during the course of our friendship he has been the butt of numerous jokes, but he takes it in the spirit in which its expressed- brotherly love. He's also been there a lot when I've needed him. From helping put up my families Christmas tree to making posters for different improv teams, he's always ready to do whatever favor I ask if he can.

Last year when I was in very rough shape we were talking on the phone.

Beanpole: I'm sorry man.
Me: Sorry for what?
Beanpole: I'm sorry I can't be there...I'm here in Denver...and you're struggling...I don't know what to say...I just wish there was something I could do...I'm sorry I'm not there.

He apologized to me for not being around when I was the one who could barely return phone calls. He's got a big heart. Even though he lives across the country and we only see each other twice a year we have remained close. His friendship is precious to me and seeing him today made me want to get out to Denver and hike the mountains with him again.

"It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them." -Ralph Waldo Emerson

'Carrie' A Review

Carrie is a supernatural thriller, a remake of the 1976 classic of the same name, based on the novel by Stephen King. Carrie a sheltered, religious, awkward teen gets her first period in the women's locker room and is ridiculed by her classmates. This event awakens Carrie's latent telekinesis which sets the plot and impending crisis in motion. 

The movie falls flat almost from the get go. What appears to be a scene by scene remake captures none of the terror or camp of the original, and loses most of the sympathy inherent in the story because of its incredible dullness. There is nothing new or fresh about this incarnation of Carrie, which begs the question- why? Presumably the answer, like the majority of remakes, is monetary. The studios bank on a reliable story as well as a new generation being unfamiliar with the source material.

The casting of Chloe Grace Moretz is in appropriate. When the movie was shot she was fifteen, a good decade younger than the actors playing her classmates, three years younger than the eighteen of Carrie White. Maybe because of her natural confidence she is unable to play "awkward" and "outcast" it simply doesn't read, it's obvious contrived. In scenes with her mother she's entirely too poised, too self assured, to courageous. She is not Carrie, she's who Carrie White wishes she could be and Moretz can't cover that up. Julianne Moore as Margaret White pales in comparison to the shadow cast by Piper Laurie and seems lost from beginning to end.

The movie culminates in a perfect storm of terrible CGI and Moretz conducting the carnage with moves lifted straight from Marvel's tired ceaseless superhero movie machine.

Don't See It.

'All Is Lost' A Review

All Is Lost is a survival drama featuring only Robert Redford. The film opens on Redford (billed in the credits as "Our Man") sailing in the middle of the Indian Ocean when a floating shipping container tears a whole in his ship. This starts a series of events that eventually leave Redford stranded on a life raft with no food or water.

There's virtually no dialogue in the film. We know nothing and discover nothing about Redford's character. We watch an old man deal with a series of accidents and unfortunate circumstances on a sailboat in the middle of the ocean. Redford does not express emotion further than surface frustration, anger, and stubbornness. We do not know why he is there, we do not know what drives him, we know nothing, we discover nothing. We simply watch an old man struggle to put his boat back together and survive storms. Redford's performance isn't bad, there is simply not much to it. Any old man in good physical condition could have duplicated the performance because Redford doesn't change in any way, does not reveal anything about who he is, he simply does the physical actions someone in that situation would do.

The film is mildly interesting because of the circumstances and Redford's age making them even more strenuous but it is too oblique for it's own good. The ending, especially, is entirely too precious leaving the audience to decide if "Our Man" has gone to heaven or been rescued.

Robert Redford status as a great actor and living legend is undeniable but watching him sail for two hours does not a great performance make.

Rent It.

A Disturbing Dream 15

I'm standing outside of an old theater alone. Just having seen something in black and white with Paul Newman. It's dark and I'm smoking a cigarette.

A short, fat, greasy man comes shambling down the sidewalk. He has a plaid blue and green flannel shirt on and food-stained grey sweatpants. His hair is a mess of black, white and grey plastered to his skull and falling in his face. His eyes are blood shot. He smells like booze and musk. He stops in front of me and turns.

"Do you know who I am?" He says.

"Yeah" I say "you're George Lucas."

"I'm the GENIUS George Lucas." He swayed, spit, and almost fell. "And don't fucking forget it..."

"Fuck off George."

"What kind of shiiit were they playing tonight?"

"Hud."

"Fffffffucking NEWMAN. Ffffffucking dressing-boy." His eyes bulged. "I created a religion. I created a mythos. I legitimized science fiction in cinema!"

"Kubrick did it first. You haven't had a creative thought in thirty years."

He drooled. "Fuck. You."

"Fuck you Georgie. Go sleep it off."

He stared at me, I stared back. A minute passed, then two. Neither of us blinked. Eventually he turned away mumbling and huffing to himself and disappeared.

Staggering, swallowed by the night.

Concealment

Be hole, be dust, be dream, be wind

Be night, be dark, be wish, be mind,

Now slip, now slide, now move unseen,

Above, beneath, betwixt, between.

-Neil Gaiman, The Graveyard Book

'12 Years A Slave' A Review

12 Years A Slave is a historical drama based on the true account of Solomon Northup. The film follows Northup, a free man in 1841 who is deceived in New York, kidnapped in DC, and sold as a slave in New Orleans. His time, 12 years, as a slave take up the majority of the film.

The film is lyrical, melancholic and visceral. Juxtaposing the beauty of the landscape, the quite fortitude of the human spirit, and the perverse day-to-day nature of slavery. The story is a much more subtle and complex portrayal of life as a slave than has gone before but no less brutal. Chiwetel Ejiofor as Northup anchors and guides the film, his dialogue is poignant but even more so his silence, his unspoken suffering and struggle, his rebellions, evoke a stark realism. The rest of the cast is superb with notable performances by Michael Fassbender as tortured torturer Epps and a stunning film debut from Lupita Nyong'o as Patsey. There are a significant amount of star cameo's what some may term "stunt casting" but these actors simply build out the film and provide depth, they are not distractions.

The score is a potent mingling of ominous modern interstitials intercut with spirituals sung on screen. It evokes dread and resilience simultaneously. A delicate weaving of long shots, close ups, and scenery bring the physical and emotional environment to life. The film seamlessly flows together, takes you on a journey, but so many elements harmonize in order to do so.

The story is important, the performances powerful, but what makes 12 Years A Slave a great movie is the authenticity it awakens, its attention to detail, to subtlety. Throughout the film the actors are noticeably sweating, their physical exertion is plain. The film is filled with small moments and surprises that it would only spoil to describe.

The story of one man illuminates the story of many. The singular scope of the film sheds light on the suffering of generations yet ends with hope.

Don't Miss It.

An Open Letter to the Guy Who Clogged the Toilet at Work

Dear Toilet Paper Addict,

Well, it happened again. I swung open the door to the handicapped stall here at work - the most spacious one of the four, up against the wall so there's only one neighboring stall - to see a sickening mass of wet, soiled toilet paper choking the bowl. Disgusted, I turned away and took one of the less desirable stalls.

This is not the first time I've seen your handiwork. Seems like at least once a week the toilet is wrecked. Are you to blame every time, or are there multiple offenders? I hope we don't have more than one person here who so grossly misjudges how much toilet paper even a commercial toilet can handle in a single flush. If you are the sole perpetrator, how is it you haven't learned from your mistakes?

I wonder if you're the one I heard wiping yourself a few weeks ago. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. First the metallic clicking of the toilet paper roll being advanced, then what sounded like a piece of wood being sanded. Back and forth, back and forth, multiple wipes with the same handful of paper! Again and again the roll was pulled, with no flushing in between. What were you doing in there? How many times must you wipe yourself before you feel clean? How many rolls do you go through a day at home?

I should bang on the door of your stall as I hear it happening. "Hey! What are you doing in there?! Knock it off!!" You deserve to be shamed not only for your bizarre obsessive-compulsive ass-cleaning ritual, but because every time you clog the toilet, you just walk away and leave it for the rest of us to see and for one of the janitors to deal with. It's not their job to clean up after grown men who behave like recently potty trained three-year-olds.

I will find you, I will expose you, and no amount of wiping will remove your shame.

Regards,
Ryan McClelland

You can find Ryan's excellent blog about fatherhood and family life here.

Scott's Back

Scott Nelson just got back from a couple months on a boat. Tonight was his first show back with Prime. It was great, he's been missed. When people come back from boats it usually takes them a couple weeks to get back into the groove of doing long-form. Out of all my friends that have gone on a boat I figured he'd be the one immune to that learning curve and I was right, he didn't miss a beat. He's the most engaging performer I know, he has that innate watchability, that undefinable quality you just can't look away from. Performing with him there's a sense of spontaneity and unpredictability, you never know what he's going to do.

We had a great show. Craig and I were covered in sweat by the end. There were moments where we completely gave up the pretense of improvising and dissolved in laughter. It was like dominoes. At one point Scott said something that broke Craig which broke me which broke Morehead which came back and broke Scott.

I'm very proud of our Prime shows and find them extremely satisfying creatively. We all have different styles but share a similar point of view about the work, about improv. We make choices, we land and declare, we move fast and with purpose, in pursuit of fat grins and belly laughs. When its working, when its really working, it feels like we're parts of a whole, tapped into that fabled and elusive group mind. With Scott back it feels complete again.

Timing & Bits

Tonight The Night Shift hosted the 4th incubator night at The Playground. Nine teams played short sets- some of them themed, some essentially a protracted sketch, some straight up classic prov. It was a fun night as it always is, a little rowdy but not overly so.

Each group had a limited amount of time and revealed some instances of varied comedic timing. There are two types of comedic timing- 1. the rhythm of a joke, when you pause/when you speak, the cadence of the punch line 2. the awareness of when a joke or bit has run its course. They are both equally important however it seems like a disproportionate amount of improvisers have the first ability not the second. I'll borrow from one of my favorite authors Jonathan Lethem and call the violation of this second kind of timing tugboating.

Desperado had a really fun set, what was essentially a protracted high-energy Taco Bell commercial. The team danced around to Simply The Best and threw out tacos to the audience. They ended their set by getting a suggestion and then taking a bow. They had ten minutes they only used five. They presented the bit, they executed the bit, they ended the bit. Simple, concise, fun.

Ghost Car did a pseudo-planned murder mystery where people died one by one and the killer delivered an outline to the audience(I'm wish I could remember it). They asked me to play the SNL outro music after and they all got up and hugged and congratulated each other like they do on the show. I let it go a minute or so then gave them a slow fade. Total probably about six and a half minutes.

The other improv sets had varying degrees of success. Mostly because of this ability to look at the set as a whole while inside it. How long are the scenes, what purpose do they serve, and how quickly or slowly are we approaching a conclusion given what has gone before.

The set before ours was a mash up of a couple teams and random performers some of whom are perpetual tugboaters. (It's not an insult, Joey Romaine the funniest guy I know is a tugboat.) The set started off fun and went quickly meta which with mostly performers in the audience audience can get a lot of traction. The set ended with the lovely Tim Joyce dancing with finger lights and singing. I pulled the lights and got down to do our set. Molly came on stage to introduce our team but someone from the mash up decided the set wasn't over and tried to delay ending by initiating the normal iO ending to a show, Freeze. Whether the intention was comedic or deliberately antagonistic toward my team it was ineffective on both counts. It was awkward and there was a brief sense of hostility, deliberate or otherwise, that has no place in a celebratory night of comedy and community.

It passed and we did our set, brief and to the point, the highlight of which was Damian coming onstage halfway through and getting a standing ovation.

The lesson: see the ending, feel it, and close. Don't wear out your welcome. Don't tug the boat.

Pre-Oscar Season Top 10 Movies of 2013

In response to Quentin Tarantino's Top 10 list here's mine.

Top 10:
The Act Of Killing
Deceptive Practices
Gravity
I'm So Excited
Mud
Stories We Tell
This Is The End
To The Wonder
The Way Way Back
The Wolverine
The World's End

Worst Movie Of The Year:
Blue Jasmine

Biggest Disappointments:
Elysium
Kick-Ass 2

Lonely Are The Brave

Tisher took me to the Patio Theater to see Lonely Are The Brave tonight. Its way out in the sticks, Portage Park, but the theater itself is beautiful, lots of molding and columns and a stary ceiling, although like the Music Box the seats are terrible.

Tisher and I share a passion for movies. There is however a significant point of contention. His knowledge and interest end in the 60's and that's where mine begins. I scoff at him for not having seen seminal 90's movies like Dark City, Batman Forever, Terminator 2, or 10 Thnigs I Hate About You and he coldly and quietly looks down on me for not being familiar with the cannon of Orson Welles or the creative arc of Robert Mitchum.

Every Wednesday the Patio Theater plays old movies in their original 35mm which of course scratches at Tisher's very specific itch. Lonely Are The Brave is a black and white modern western starring Kirk Douglas. I didn't expect to like it and went because I've never seen a movie Tisher wanted to see, I always drag him to movies made in this decade. The first time we hung out I made him see Pirates Of The Caribbean 4 followed a week or two later with Moneyball.

Despite my expectations I enjoyed the film. Kirk Douglas plays a charming care-free cowboy tough, a loner unbound by fences, walls. or boarders. There was a feeling of freedom and wry rebellion about the film I loved. It also had a young perpetually hang-dog Walter Matthau.

The only negative was the protracted introduction speech given by this short pretentious weasel-man.

Groh Show #16

Episode 16 provides some interesting insights on Danny's love life as well as his new passion project- an unnamed band tentatively called simply "mystery". Daniel and I also share a story for the first time and we all debate when a man should trade in his twin bed for a big boy bed.

'A.C.O.D.' A Review

A.C.O.D. is a dramedy about the lingering effects of divorced parents on an adult. Adam Scott is the adult child of divorce and his brother is getting married. His brother wants both of his estranged and angry parents to be at the wedding and Scott is given the task of insuring his parents presence. Scott reconnects his parents in order to insure their behavior at the wedding and they end up getting back together(despite them both being remarried). Chaos ensues.

The movie isn't funny despite having a stacked cast of proven comedians. It seems that it rarely even attempts jokes or humorous situations. It also doesn't delve deep enough into the emotional effect of divorce or the situations it presents to be classified as a drama.

The plot unfolds sluggishly with no progress being made and nothing resolved. All the forward action of the movie serves only to tear down Scott's life and render him more and more alone and pathetic. None of the characters, including Scott, are likable and show no real emotions other than jealousy, resentment, and selfishness. The movie ends with an ambiguity that is supposed to be affirming but falls flat.

There are no laughs to be had in the film, there are no lessons to be learned, and no emotional satisfaction.

Don't See It.

'The Summit' A Review

The Summit is a documentary about the ill-fated 2008 expedition to scale K2. The film is a series of interviews, actual footage from the expedition, and reenactments. A number of different international teams, national teams, and solo climbers converge to make an attempt at K2.

Eleven climbers died on the attempt and it was reported as irresponsible and ill planned. Through the course of the film the reality is shown to be something much more complex. Many different elements come in to play when climbing the second tallest and most dangerous mountain on the planet- preparation, planning, skill, provisions etc. As the film progresses strong personalities and characters are revealed and an unlucky series of events unravel that ultimately result in the tragic and untimely death of 11 souls.

The film conveys the formidable cruel beauty of nature and the courageous and obsessive drive of the human spirit. It details how extreme nature can be, how precarious life is, how a matter of inches or seconds can mean eternity, how when extreme danger presents itself we instinctually protect ourselves and only some people can risk it all to try to save another's life.

A somber elucidating telling of a tragedy relegated to headline blurbs.

See It.

Stark Reminders

In recovery I've become hyper-sensitive to certain things. Mostly drinking and drug talk. Before the show yesterday someone said to themselves a couple times "I really want a drink". After the show I was heading out and someone was saying to me repeatedly "I just want to do drugs! I just want to do drugs and dance!" Which is all fine. I don't mind that kind of talk(although its somewhat startling and unpleasant) and I realize that its a reflection of behaviors some people are capable of engaging in without consequence. But those kinds of statements are flares to someone with my particular condition. Bright, hot words that demand focus and bring back memories. It's a good reminder for me, it keeps my own personal reality at the forefront.

Tonight Nicole and I went to Ryan's birthday/housewarming party. It was the first party-party I'd been to in a long while and I had a certain amount of trepidation about it. The attitudes, the environment, and the vibe felt very familiar, very conducive to the get-fucked-up-now mentality I used to have. Not to say people were out of control, but just a fun atmosphere that if someone were to get out of control no one would make a big deal of it. Being clearheaded at a party requires a different type of rhythm but once I found it I had a good time. Seeing people around me imbibing with varying degrees of restraint was bizarre. Not bad, just odd. We left at the perfect time, when a lot of people were showing up. A must for me in that type of circumstance is to keep my exposure limited.

I've found myself in a number of conversations recently where people start discussing and describing the taste of different beers. Stout vs. lager, pumpkin ale vs. pumpkin spice, fall seasonal home brew vs. micro brew specialty mint holiday whatever. Blah, blah, blah. It's not that I don't get it- beer and brewing are big hobbies for a lot of folks. But for me its unsettling. It's like seeing an ex-lover you had a falling out with- unexpected, awkward, distasteful.

These instances and my reactions to them were fleeting, echoes from my other life.  I am grateful for these brief discomforts. I am reminded of who I am and who I am becoming.

Take The Note

Tonight I did something I hate. I denied Jamison's note. Jamison was giving The Hague notes after our show tonight, he was talking about our first game, James came out and did a handstand with his feet on the back wall and said "I'm a lawnmower" we slowly built the game around him, found it, and had some fun. A scene or two later I made a move to put Pants in a scene with a lawnmower by tagging out James and pushing forward a chair making the chair the lawnmower.

Jamison's note was a good one, when James makes a strong physical and declares "I'm a lawnmower" we should go out and support him by matching him. The game came together but it came together slowly, it was a bit tentative, and only Ellen matched him physically by doing a handstand with her feet on the wall. His next note was to me although he didn't call out me specifically. He said that since we've already set up that someone doing a handstand is a lawnmower we shouldn't switch it up and make chairs lawnmowers, use what we've already done.

For whatever reason, pride mostly, I took umbrage with these notes I felt like they were unfounded and unimplementable. I spoke up because in my mind I was right and he was wrong and I needed to say that. I said I wasn't physically able to match James's physical as a lawnmower in the game and logistically couldn't make the move of Pants doing a scene with a lawnmower unless I used a chair because it would have been too messy of an edit. After I said this in a very righteous tone it effected the dynamic of the rest of notes. I regretted it immediately.

The coach is there to give notes, that's their job, all they can share is their opinion and what they saw. Let them do that. If you don't agree simply don't take the note, ignore it. There's no need to defend your performance and nothing will come of it if you do. The coach isn't saying "you did this wrong" they are saying "this is what I saw" in Jamison's case and I think with almost all coaches there is nothing personal in whatever observations are made. No one thinks less of anyone else because of the content of a show or the way it's executed. I took it personally when Jamison said those things so I felt the need to set the record straight-totally unnecessary and counterproductive.

I apologized to Jamison right after and hope to never negate a note again. I may not agree but I won't actively disagree.

Shut up and take the note.

Mutual Appreciation

A lot of relationships evolve from or into an imbalance. One person likes the other person more. One person wants to spend more time with the other. One person is always chasing after the other. One person is always keeping the other at arms length, putting up a succession of boundaries, fences. One person always reaching out, the other always sliding away. That kind of disharmony is doom for a relationship. Many times its over before it begins. Technology can exacerbate this discrepancy. Being able to be in constant contact with someone creates the desire to be, which almost never deepens feelings but undermines them.

My connection with Nicole is relatively new but since the beginning there's been a sense of balance. Not only with our feelings for each other but with the amount of time we spend together and how much we talk and text. It feels even. It feels equal. I don't feel chased or like chasing. When we get together its because of a mutual desire to see each other but we also need and want time apart to recharge and build up that romantic magnetism. It creates an environment ripe for extensive emotional returns and little to no resentment.

It's refreshing. I'm very happy and grateful.

Romance can sometimes come in extremes, overwhelming personalities and tumultuous emotions can be appealing. But ultimately what you gain in intensity you lose in comfort and ease. Relationships shouldn't be a constant struggle they should be mostly easy. If you find yourself in a situation where you feel like you're doing a substantial amount of work it may be a sign its not working.

Graffiti 109

Jimmy and I were suppose to go to a movie tonight but he opted out because there was a Blackhawks game on. We went to dinner instead. Afterwards, walking to my bike I saw this. Signs from the universe.

"A good hockey player plays where the puck is. A great hockey player plays where the puck is going to be." -Wayne Gretzky

"Do you know what my favorite part of the game is? The opportunity to play." -Mike Singletary

Cycles 2

As the days pass Fall gets slightly more aggressive. I think this will be the last time my plants blossom before I retire them to the dark interior for winter.

I'm currently reading The Book Of Lost Things and there's a part where the Woodsman notices the main character David doing OCD counting and touching and talks to him about rituals and routines. Talks about doing small things of significance that make you feel good and have some tangible result.

My plants are part of my daily ritual and have brought me a substantial amount of contentment over the past spring and summer. Putting in time and energy, however limited, and seeing growth is a great feeling. Life moves in cycles-seasons-circles and now its almost time to take the plants inside and enjoy Fall things. Get ready for the cool and the cold, the holidays and the feasts.

To quote the great Stephen King: Ka is a wheel.

Some Love For Nick Stahl

Although relegated to straight to DVD releases recently, presumably because of his erratic behavior and history with addiction, Nick Stahl still has an impressive body of work.

He first came on my radar in Tall Tale the story of a boys friendship with American Legends Pecos Bill, Paul Bunyan, and John Henry. It's a story about growing up and standing up for yourself and what you believe in. It's really inspiring, a great adventure. I remember wanting to be Nick Stahl in this movie. Because I liked Stahl so much I went back and watched him pair up with Mel Gibson in The Man Without A Face a somewhat more tortured coming-of-age tale.

The summer after 8th grade I went to see Disturbing Behavior with my first girlfriend Erica. Most movies we went to during the summer of '98 were just veiled excuses to have protracted awkward make out sessions. Not so Disturbing Behavior. I was keen on seeing it because of the subject matter, a diabolical doctor brainwashing high school students, and even more so because of Stahl. He plays a wise, stoned, Virgilesque character who befriends the lead and shows him the ropes around the school.

2001 saw Stahl in one of my favorite movies of all time In The Bedroom. His subtle, realistic performance is overshadowed by the powerhouse tag team of Sissy Spacek and Tom Wilkinson but he rounds out and enhances a wonderful cast and an amazing story.

What solidified my love for Stahl was the short lived HBO series Carnivale. It had all the things that scratch my narrative itches- magic, tarot cards, depression era America, carnies, epic battle between good and evil, shadow figures- the show had it all. Stahl was the protagonist in the primarily ensemble driven show. His performance was conflicted, multi-layered, confused, tortured, and maybe redemptive. Unfortunately the show ended when it still had at least one more season left to tie everything together. Carnivale created an amazing dangerous world and Stahl along with Clancy Brown anchored it.

At the beginning of Carnivale Stahl appeared in the underrated Terminator 3 a movie I'll always watch when it comes on TBS, TNT, or FX. At the end of Carnivale Stahl appeared in Sin City as the sadistic sex predator son of a senator who turns into a yellow goblin creature. Both entertaining films.

Since 2005 Stahl has appeared in a series of mediocre straight to DVD releases(I watched The Night Of The White Pants and The Speed Of Thought just because Stahl was in them, woof)  and has come up numerous times in the media for drug offenses and rehab stays. 

He's a really talented actor with a lot of heart and a depth that he brings to each role. I hope he bounces backs and starts getting some more challenging material to work his magic on. In the meantime check out the titles listed above or go on your own Stahl hunt.

A Packed House, A Silent House

Tonight was a fun, odd evening of shows. There was a great crowd for Schwa because it was a new team's first show- Sonis. They had a good show, it was nice to see my friends Ryan and Ben on the cab stage, although it was a tad nerve infused as new shows tend to be.

There was nine of us for Schwa and because someone started saying "nine!" in a German accent we decided to do something German inspired. I flippantly suggested German expressionism, one of my favorite theater styles I studied in college, and everyone jumped on it even though it seemed Jeff and I were the only ones who actually knew what it was.

Our set was very weird and presentational. Lots of melodramatic pronouncements directed at the audience interspersed with scenes about death and futility. We at one point went through the nine lives of Danny's wheelchair bound character Donny ending with a chess game with Death. It was a lot of fun and a nice challenge to play within a certain genre. The audience dug it I think, they seemed on board and into all the bizarre transitions and content.

The Prime show afterwards was a different story. There were only about 8-12 people in the audience, not unheard of but relatively rare for our slot, small crowds have never really bothered me especially if I'm playing with people I love. We almost always win over small or reticent crowds because we play with an energy and volume that fills the room. Tonight was a rare exception.

After the first minute or so of the show we started ramping things up and gaining speed, doing fun physicals and playing multiple characters. I was having a blast and noticed laughs from time to time, not a lot of them, but I didn't think anything of it. When the lights went out and our show ended there was a thunderous silence. A good five seconds of no applause, no nothing. It felt like a full minute. Shock hit me in the face. Eventually there was a smattering of pained applause, we took our bow and got the hell out of there.

I found it kind of absurdly amusing. It was not as if the show was bad, it was in fact good, we put a lot of energy in it, so it was just the night or the crowd or the cold front that settled in. It was a nice reminder that most things are out of my control. I had a great time with my friends and that is all I can do, no sense in dwelling on it, just an interesting anomaly, another experience. Brett was the most bothered by it I think. He's one of those guys that is just so naturally funny, that audiences just inherently love, that he's use to getting laughs all the time so when he doesn't he's mystified.

It was a great night that ran the gambit, from energetic excitement to aggressive muteness.

'Gravity' A Review

Gravity is a scifi thriller about two astronauts marooned in space. The less information known about the particular machinations of the plot prior to viewing simply enhance the experience so I won't go into further detail. The visuals of the film are stunning and 3D or IMAX viewing are not a necessity but highly encouraged.

The action and visual scope of the film are immense and engrossing. It conveys a feeling of authenticity and truth rarely seen in movies involving space. The visual spectacle harmonizes perfectly with the emotional journeys and performances by the two leads Sandra Bullock and George Clooney. We are not only taken on a visual adventure there is a character/emotional journey interwoven in the film. The back story of the two characters is simple and is not overplayed or over explained hitting much needed counterpoint to the space catastrophe. The performances by Bullock and Clooney are subtle yet powerful drawing us in and enhancing the feeling of truly being there.

The film is an immersive and beautiful experience. All the elements come together to create a truly unique and complimentary thought-provoking space drama.

Don't Miss It.

Temporal Demands

A coffeepot bubbles
and well laid plans percolate.
The comfort of a bed beckons
for a moment only.
Fatigue closes in
to a single point.
Then the jaws of sleep.

Lights on, coffee cold,
a night slipped away.
The mind runs
but the body stays.

Lean On Me

We recorded season 2, episode 2 of Bubble Boys tonight. Bill was back to reprise his role as Uncle Gustus and we had Griffen in to play a 20th century scientific icon. I've been sick this past week and a bit worn out. While recording I could tell it effected my performance, my reaction time and my facility with dialogue. I was kind of beating myself up during and after it for not being able to deliver. After reflecting though I realized the session went great. Bill, the consummate professional, was on from the moment he got in the studio, and Griffen who I don't know that well, he was originally Tisher's casting inspiration, was wonderful. I didn't contribute a ton but what I did was funny and moved the episode along and Tisher was in good form throughout, having Bill in the studio, his favorite teacher, got his mode going.

At this point I can get a much better sense of what we can get out of an episode during editing. So any uncomfortable or long pauses where we(mostly me for this one) take a moment to come up with the next line can get cut out. The final product is going to have a steady flow even if the session came in fits and starts.

It's a great feeling to be working on a project I love and to know that even if I have an off night I can rely on Tisher and Tim and our guests. It's a collaborative project, we all contribute, we all share the creative responsibility and from time to time some people are going to shoulder more of it, and thats OK. The integrity and the end product are still going to be great even if I had a poopy week. That's reassuring.

We Get It! You're Funny!

Tonight I went over to Lynnae's to do her craft-and-conversation podcast We Get It! You're Funny! I'm not much of a crafter so I was relieved to simply color some pictures out of a couple of high-end coloring books.

We had a great conversation about performing, spirituality, relationships, and we told stories about our pictures. Listen below.
 

'Computer Chess' A Review

Computer Chess is a mocumentary about a computer chess tournament in the early 80's. The film is black and white and seemingly shot on a period video camera or digitally altered to reflect the poor video quality of that era. At first this affectation creates a nostalgic authentic feel but as the film progresses shot after shot is out of focus or has resolution so poor it's difficult to discern what is happening, It becomes incredibly distracting and detracting.

The performances range from realistic to contrived to surreal. The story flows without much structure loosely following the tournament as it progresses and focuses more time on the particular programmers participating.

Tonally the film is a little unclear. It's a comedy certainly but one that maybe asks us to take it too seriously or doesn't make it clear how funny we should think it is. The ideas of technological progress and artificial intelligence are discussed through out but with almost no weight. There are a couple of hard right turns into the absurd which are enjoyable but don't necessarily jibe with the over all arc of the film.

An engaging odd watch, which left a little too much up to interpretation.

Rent It.