Monday, April 7, 2008
My first professionally produced play will be "Pride and Succubus"
Remember when I got dressed up as Princess Leah in her slave outfit? No? Well, I do. And I did it for Thunderbird. Remember when the bottom fell off on stage in front of everyone and there was no way to fix it? Well, now...right now...it was totally worth it.
As soon as I have dates for auditions and then the show I'll let you know. Everyone should come and see it. It's going to be great, or at least I hope it will be a good time.
Playwright, Actor, Director
April 11, 12 and 13th - Actor - What You Need by Megan O'Patry - GreenHouse Reading Series
June 20th-July 13th - Actor/Dramaturg - The Journeys of the Angels by Roy Conboy - Teatro de la Esperansa
July 14-August 8th - Playwright - Taking time off to work on "Untitled David Copperfield Project" in New Orleans
August - Playwright - Pride and Succubus - Thunderbird Theatre Company
October 30-November 23 - Director - Waiting Room by Gabby Gomez - show 1 of AMP's (Ann Marie Productions) first season.
And then there may be more in the spring. Possibly working with Stuart Bousel on one of his one acts, but maybe not. We'll see. I'd love to work with him, so it's up to him and the project. I'll go where he calls.
Also, AMP will present show number 2 which will be directed by Gabby and will probably be "Found Objects", way cleaned up since it showed in Brown Bag and longer, but I'm looking forward to working on it.
Finishing it up in May, AMP will present show number 3 before Gabby goes off to get her Master's degree. We don't know what it will be yet, but I'm looking forward to it, whatever it is.
So, I have a pretty full schedule...and I am soooooo happy!
As to that weight loss, it is all that is on TV and the internet right now. When the New Year rolls around it's all about New Year's Resolutions. Right now, it's about getting fit for the beach. Over the summer it will be about the tan and scars and age spots and staying toned. When we hit the fall and the holidays it will be back to food commercials. I heard on NPR an author who sort of equated news media with a man at a party with a bull horn. He monopolizes the conversation, but he doesn't add anything to it. I feel like the weight loss stuff is all like that. There is just someone shouting all the time "loose weight! loose weight!" But I feel like they are just saying it to make me buy things and feel bad about myself.
Never the less, I try to jog. What does that mean exactly? I go outside and I huff and puff and I blow my lungs out and I go home feeling down on myself. It's way fun! But, even more fun are the thoughts that go through my mind as I run:
1) Wow! I can totally do this! This is great. My feet picking up and going back down. Easy. The breeze in my hair. This is great!
3) When I'm thin, Matt and I are totally going to go dancing. I'll finally be able to wear that dress I bought in Spain. I'm going to be hot! I'll have to buy new shoes. And get a hair cute. Maybe even lightened.
3) Ok, here's the hard part. Focus. Stay focused. Just push through the pain. Look forward. Shoulders relaxed. Loose ams. Pick your feet up, and put them back down.
4) Holy Shit! What the fuck was I thinking! This was a bad idea! I can feel my fat bouncing up and down!
5) Just keep going. Just keep going. Just keep...fucking it. Just fucking walk!
All this happens in the span of about 1.5 minutes. I remind myself that running is hard and to not get down on myself. But I am comforted with the fact that all those thoughts (those nice ones about the dress and how much fun running is) will be back again when I try to "run" again the next day. All I can do is hope I will make it to the 2.5 mark some day. And as I lace up my shoes I try not to think about all those little old ladies I see huffing it down the road with their iPods and their nikes and their gold jewelry as they jog past me. And then as I head home, breathing heavily and beating the shit out of myself and calling myself a whimp...I'll see those old ladies again trotting along, their large breasts bouncing up and down with the weight of their histories. I try not to think about them, but they creep into my sweat pants that I wear more to bed then I do to jog. I try not to think about them, but they swim past me as I grab my keys and head for the door. I try not to think about them, but they meet me on my way out and say hello in their poor in English with kind faces and fake teeth. I try not to think about them, but they run past me as my face turns red and my lungs burn. I try not to think about the old ladies who could beat me in a foot race, but I can't help it.
Also, in a note to Pauline, my long suffering walking friend. Thank you for everything, but mostly for putting up with me. I will be able to find a schedule to walk again soon.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Anyway, so I came across Itamar Moses during such a search. To my surprise, I actually found him in the "New Paperback" section. Someone who shelves the books must have been a drama major. Anyway, I picked it up without thinking about it, proud for my fellow playwright, and took it to the counter.
It was fair. No big deal. I look forward to a Bay Area company doing it soon (surly I wasn't the only one to see it) and then I'll see it and judge it that way. Really, it was alright. It didn't grab me. Two guys, both writers, sort of feeling out success and jealousy. There were some good monologues. On the whole...blah.
But...I think you'll find this Vanity Fair article about it most interesting:
A high-profile literary feud is playing itself out on the stage of the Manhattan Theatre Club, but will any of the reviewers realize it? Or is everyone too busy whistling Gypsy to notice that Itamar Moses’s new play, which opens tonight, is all about his friendship, or lack thereof, with erstwhile wunderkind-novelist Jonathan Safran Foer?
The play, titled The Four of Us (get it?), traces the fraught relationship between a young playwright named David and a young novelist named Benjamin. They meet at Musicians’ Camp when they’re 17, spend a few months together in Prague in their early 20s, and end up pursuing divergent destinies back in New York. Over dinner, Benjamin—the stand-in for Jonathan Safran Foer—confesses to the as-yet-unpublished David that his debut novel has just sold for $2 million. “Are you fucking serious?” David blurts out, after spitting water all over his friend. “How on God’s green earth did such a thing take place?”
Oh, it’s no big deal, Benjamin explains: “that’s everything together, that’s with international rights … plus the film rights.”
David twists himself into a pretzel to conceal his envy, then finally voices his concern that such a windfall might prove to be, well, “totally spiritually corrupting.”
For those of you who weren’t doing spit-takes of your own when this deal was actually announced, back in 2002, Foer reportedly got a $500,000 advance and a $925,000 paperback deal for his widely acclaimed first novel, Everything Is Illuminated—which actor Liev Schreiber directed for the screen, using a script he himself wrote.
Sure enough, Scene Two takes place inside the apartment of the actor who has optioned Benjamin’s book. The scene opens with David remarking, “I’ve never been in an apartment where the owner has so many pictures of his own face on the walls.” Ouch! After asking David to write up a treatment, the actor ends up directing the movie using his own screenplay. “Sorry about the [reviews] for the movie,” David later has the pleasure of telling Benjamin.
Foer and Schreiber
(who could not be reached for comment) aren’t the only targets of Moses’s score-settling wrath. Charles Isherwood, the New York Times critic who halted Moses’s wunderkind momentum back in 2005 with a withering review of his play Bach at Leipzig, would seem to be the obvious target for lines like this one: “Okay, let’s be honest here, I mean, it’s not exactly like the people writing those reviews knew what the fuck they were talking about.”
Not long after those words are spoken, David catches Benjamin walking out of the play we’ve been watching. “How could you write about me?,” Benjamin demands.
David’s response says it all: “How could you not write about me?”
Update: Reached for comment, Foer denied that there is any bad blood between the two: “Itamar is one of my best friends, and is one of the best writers I know. His play is hilarious and great. I hope it’s bigger than The Lion King. Sorry I can’t be more feud like.”
More interesting news:
I look forward to whatever comes out of the project with Berkeley rep, I also look forward to sing "The Four of Us" to give it a proper chance.