friday november 24, 2006 10:50AM
nothing to say, as yet, but this;
got an email yesterday at 3:33PM from “Less” with the title “tryptophantastic!”. whenever i try to open it the rainbow wheel of death appears and twirls and everything freezes and i have to force quit to get out of mail.
i can’t open this email sent at 3:33PM on 11/23/06. the blue ball of potential remains next to the name of the sender. the sender’s name: “Less”
so much power in the number 3. triangulation. and yet 4 is the number of wholeness.
time now to walk in the sun below the blue sky of cambridge. find something to eat and eat it. rehearsal begins in one hour.
i’m cleaned and oiled. still home. rehearsal begins in half hour.
the theme of the 1964 World’s Fair in flushing meadows, queens was “peace through understanding”. problem was it was not sanctioned by the world fair governing body and so many nations boycotted. france, germany, italy, spain. robert moses was the man behind it all. he wanted to put a freeway through greenwich village. he also designed and championed so many of the public parks in n.y. the best and worst of america in one man.
just turn upside down and trust that the fabric will catch me. so much out of sort right now. ola keeps it together with positivity. jesse sick. hadewych’s neck hurt. the rigging for the fabric fucked up. cable making sounds like cable makes before it snaps. my mic not staying behind my ear. so much faith needed. just turn upside down and trust. . .
renate moved out of harm’s place today. talked to her for the first time since i left amsterdam. good to hear her voice. i miss everybody. outside a siren tells me i’m in america. it’s not a dutch siren. still somebody in trouble at the other end.
can’t wait to hear tom wait’s new ORPHANS. want it now.
our first preview tomorrow. i like the word “try-out” better. more true to ola’s style. we’re going to try some things out. big night ahead. first dinner with reyer and peter and sander and maybe mam and andris. then some rehearsal and then a run through. i hope i remember my lines.
“not with a bang,
but a whimper. . .
saturday, november 25, 2006 12:29AM
big day over. renate took the new apartment. i bought tom waits new c.d. along with nick cave’s murder ballads and the clash london calling.
we had our first run through. my first go at it with damiel. did the “pas de deux” without rosen on my hands and holding mam’s costume instead of her bare arm. nobody died. i’m still writing this shit. some relaxation, but still way too much muscle.
so good to have jesse’s guitar back. became a little angry at his “fighting spirit” that he returned with after a 3 day absence. judged it as arrogance. he’s just doing his thing. my mind must shut the fuck up. mostly shut the fuck up. jesse a blessed brawler and bawler and bastard. i recognize him. mon semblable, mon frere. je suis la hypocrite lecteur! fuck off! jesse questioned how an angel’s (cassiel’s) putting his hands over his ears could stop his music. i say why not? free your mind, bitch. the fighting spirit is good. i need a bit of it. yet humility must prevail. truthful humility. i’m sick of all my words. tom waits inspires. he growls under these words right now.
“everywhere i go, it rains on me.”
body check; some little glitch in the left hip. burns on lower back and arm pits. morning dry skin. dark circles under the eyes. fingers good. shoulders good. rotary cuff good. the left hip, perhaps more than a glitch. easier to “remain spirit”. mais, il n’y a pas de probleme. sauf avec l’ame. la pensee de l’ame. en realite l’ame est parfait. a la fin, le corps est parfait, aussi.
“the world is clear, i am cloudy.”
something is missing in our play. something is missing, even wrong with my performance. as it should be after the first run through. there’s a shallowness. like i said, a bit too much muscle. not risking enough to tell the truth. falling on old tricks to please. must risk presence. in this way of working, from night to night, the variations will be huge. it seems “by accident” it could go well. or rather by the Grace of God.
going to go for a walk now and land at the monastery at 7:45. blue skies outside say yes. my hip asks to be heard. tom waits, nick cave and the clash are silent but concur.
mark did an amazing job for a first run through. must be given a lot of credit for stepping into the sea of chaos and not drowning. not drowning, waving. next step for the both of us, for the all of us is that we become synchronized swimmers in the sea of chaos. synchronized swimmers in the sea of chaos. when ola forms a company this will be the title of their biography. synchronized swimmers in the sea of chaos.
must remember that this play is about becoming a man. it begins with the line;
“when the child was a child.”
“and now this wonderment, us two, this wonderment, man and woman has made a man of me.
i know now what no angel knows.”
the escape of an angel.”
“i want more life fucker.”
went to the same monastery i went to last saturday. good to hear the Jesus story. today about the 7 brothers and the one wife. all of them dying childless and the dipshits questioning Jesus about who would be the husband in heaven.
Jesus telling them all to piss off and shut the fuck up and get a life.
the folk in the monastery had that fake earnest spirituality. that “holiness” that the sophisticated and the clever as well as the vulgar and brash run from. there seems something soft and not honest about it, true.
still they are trying to live this story of peace. it’s more demanding and ugly than they allow. each of us on the path. still i believe. the blood of Christ, the cup of salvation. the challenge to radical love.
but outside the monastery i walked the charles river listening to the the 2nd orphans c.d. called “bawlers”. a 3 c.d. set. brawlers, bawlers and bastards. tom waits singing life to me along the charles. closer to home than the folk in the monastery. how fortunate i am to be on the planet at the same time as this tom waits. how inspiring this kind of artistry. this relevance over the years. thank you tom.
and then there’s john f. kennedy. after walking the anderson bridge with a great quote of revelations written on the boston side, about the healing of the nations, there’s a john f. kennedy memorial park on the cambridge side. such beautiful, inspiring quotes. a u.s. president who dared to speak of grace and beauty. my first president. glad to be near a park dedicated to him. like him, i am a harvard man.
bought some body products at the cvs. a facial cleanser. who am i? who am i becoming? enough with the fucking trapeze! bought a time magazine and a n.y. times. time about the pope and islam. i’m interested. another magazine told me that george clooney is the sexiest man alive. i am no where mentioned, not on the list, not even considered, no where near the neighborhood, outside the radar, off the charts.
my episode of e.r. had george playing a sexy doctor with women issues. i played the homeless guy shouting at him for drugs. he had no time for me. fuck him. i’m going to eat some breakfast.
God bless us all,
monday november 27, 2006 noon
our day off. so welcome. i wanted to say something about love. but now i forget.
great audience surprises. my sister’s high school boyfriend phillip martin. i watched him alot as damiel and liked this man. did not realize it was phillip. john savage’s kind words and big heart. mam’s little sisters. andris’s little aunts waving not drowning from the 4th row center. hearty applause. that couple from williamstown who said they saw my name in the paper and bought tickets. amy and renee. subscribers. said hello at bertucci’s and went on and on about how much they enjoyed it. robert and gideon and all have created or found an audience for us here. my gosh, i think they like it. they really like it.
and miles to go before we sleep. time to enjoy the day off.
“something has happened
it’s still happening. . .
i do want to change the lines in the sunrise/sunset scene. i want to say instead of just “the world’s fair”;
“the world’s fair withe the ‘bel-gem waffle’.”
i suppose i can just think it and smile the thought without the added words. i also want to specify the refugee reference. with cubans or haitians or croatians or something factual. just want damiel’s references to be detailed and poetic and odd.
“still green with an empty bird’s nest”
tom wait’s song called “road to peace” makes me want to listen to it a lot. this kind of song, such a beautiful departure. much weight. tonight we speak at and screen wim’s film again. i look forward to it. i want to pay more attention to marion as she leaves after the circus. i want to try and stop her from leaving. i want the audience to see my frustration and impotence in stopping her. olas wants me to stand center. the agitation seems right for the music of the peace. i feel i need it to push me over the edge to take my leap. i think the stillness at center is wrong. there is a certain natural momentum that has been created. we will see.
also i want to be able to do anything to the sweeping technicians. just want the freedom. i don’t think it confuses the audience as to established code. i like that they ignore me. there are certain people in life that just ignore other people. damiel ought to learn this and deal with it. it also confuses him a bit in a good way. it disappoints him in a good way or a bad way. “fuck, i became human and still there are some people who will not see me.” as far at their acting skills, they can handle it. yes, the others should ignore them. but i shouldn’t. we’ll see.
today i meet dear valarie kaur at burdic’s at 4. ola and i will walk to jfk park before. i’ll show her the great quotes about peace and grace and beauty from my first president. then we’ll eat food and laugh. so grateful for this long story, long history.
something has happened. it’s happening still.
we have had a fruitful preview try out weekend. i believe the show is becoming our show. still elements threaten to fuck with it. sabotage elements. all to do with fear and exhaustion. a lack of faith. the jews in the desert. at the base of the mountain. so close to God. so close it scared them. so they build an idol of gold, a calf, to worship. they wanted a god they could control. this is the big problem isn’t it. wanting a God we can control. a God of our own making. mamet talks about this so eloquently in his new book. we build a city with our play.
paraphrasing bono’s prayer;
Dear God, Yahweh,
take this city
a city should be shining on a hill
take this city
if it be your will
what no man can own
no man can take
take our hearts
take our hearts
take our hearts
and make them break.
our day off. onwards. .