american angel notes from amsterdam – 7

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sunday, september 17, 2006

this dutch way of life planted deeply in the soil of lower manhattan. threatened by the puritans and my brother and sister Catholics and by the present Christian right’s simplistic theology. “here’s a song charles manson stole from the beatles, i’m stealing it back.” preached bono before “helter skelter”.

i (and i believe we) have to solve the problem of the public in our performance. the audience. who is the audience? i have always loved the dancing around and even the proposed annihilation of the 4th wall in the theatre. the ending of the lie. the messing with the contract between the public and the performer in the theatre. but. . . this play is messing with me in regards to this. messing with the reality that i am trying to create for my performance.

it is so powerful to walk about the stage and “not be seen” by the “human” actors.

one of the key ingredients i am finding in being an angel is the freedom of not being watched. this invitation away from self consciousness. ola wants us to address the audience as angels. to speak about the history of our contact with humans while looking into the eyes of the public. this is causing me problems.

it feels i have to make some solid choices to deal with this. i like what ola is trying to achieve. “try acting it, stupid.” olivier’s advise to a young hoffman.

so do i pretend that they are not looking at me, these humans. or do i pretend they are not human.

or do i choose this; that they are looking at me and they think they see me, but i know the truth that they do not. they do not see my angelic nature. perhaps only the fellow angels in the audience see damiel and cassiel, the angels. everybody else sees two actors pretending to be angels.

but we’re all in on the joke. they’re pretending to see us. we’re pretending to be angels. they’re pretending that we’re angels, also. this is real matrix stuff. hindu maya stuff. reality and illusion.

boy, the sooner i get out of my head the better. the call to rest. my disobedience. God, help me to shut the fuck up and serve this piece. Serve You.

i want to become like travis bickle in taxi driver but the comfort i seek (which eludes me) is the present reality. what i want is Love. the real. begging God for patience to wait on the real. and still to live out loud. seek the true balance.

outside i’ve never seen so many people on bikes. orange is the national color. bikes and orange. i’ve found my home. for the moment.

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