Monday, October 19, 2009
Hereticnow.com
I apologize for the relative silence here. I can't speak for others, but I myself have been busy with life, and more importantly... The new website! Now up and running, Hereticnow.com is your new destination for everything heretic, centering around our blog. That being said, I have transferred over all of the entries from blogspot, so they are easily accessible, and new entries and topics will be appearing there rather than here! I look forward to seeing you all at http://hereticnow.com!
animals in need
I think it's funny that I'm the only one that does this anymore. Should I keep doing it? If I write about something and no one reads it, does it matter? I don't know. Anyway
Every time I walk Bread which is twice a day we walk by this house with a smaller dog. It's not a little yappy dog, it might be a puppy. But something happened to it and it's two back legs are paralyzed. I sometimes see the owner trying to make it walk, with it's legs in a wheel brace. The dog doesn't seem into it. In fact the dog seems depressed, or that's how it looks to me. I am most likely putting that emotion on the dog.
Generally the dog is left on a small porch, it's mostly the steps up to the house. It just sort half sits up on a blanket, sometimes he's covered in a blanket, and sometimes he's on the lawn. Recently it's made me angry that he gets left all day on the lawn, because we have a lot of mosquito's right now, and I see them swarming around this dog. But then I think, well, the owners must love this dog, if he was paralyzed and they paid for his recovery. He has water, and they seem like they care. But I want them to keep the dog inside with them, because I feel like the dog is lonely, and I would never leave a dog who can't walk out in the open, because he can't defend himself, or get away.
So today as we were walking, I noticed the dog at the bottom of the three stairs that lead up to the landing that he is usually on. It looked as though he had fallen, because he was on top of a barrier, that they had set up, and all of his blankets were in disarray. He was looking toward his front door. I had Bread, and so I wasn't sure what to do, because I didn't want Bread to jump on him, or scare him. But then two walkers came by and I asked them if they wouldn't ring the doorbell to let them know the dog had fallen. After a few minutes someone came out, and they picked up the dog and put him back on the landing and sort of loosely blocked his way with the barrier.
This sort of made me depressed. And I come up against this again and again. Because I know that that dog is alive because he wants to be. The dog is choosing to hang around with that family. But I cannot reconcile my feelings about the dog, and I feel this need to help, or care for it. I hate thinking of the dog outside all day just sitting there. This is the one thing that I haven't been able to understand yet about the law of attraction. I can almost understand it in my mind, but my emotions feel so contrary. I have a feeling I'm going to keep seeing animals in situations like this, until I can make peace with it, or just not view it in such a way that my heart hurts.
That's all I got today.
Every time I walk Bread which is twice a day we walk by this house with a smaller dog. It's not a little yappy dog, it might be a puppy. But something happened to it and it's two back legs are paralyzed. I sometimes see the owner trying to make it walk, with it's legs in a wheel brace. The dog doesn't seem into it. In fact the dog seems depressed, or that's how it looks to me. I am most likely putting that emotion on the dog.
Generally the dog is left on a small porch, it's mostly the steps up to the house. It just sort half sits up on a blanket, sometimes he's covered in a blanket, and sometimes he's on the lawn. Recently it's made me angry that he gets left all day on the lawn, because we have a lot of mosquito's right now, and I see them swarming around this dog. But then I think, well, the owners must love this dog, if he was paralyzed and they paid for his recovery. He has water, and they seem like they care. But I want them to keep the dog inside with them, because I feel like the dog is lonely, and I would never leave a dog who can't walk out in the open, because he can't defend himself, or get away.
So today as we were walking, I noticed the dog at the bottom of the three stairs that lead up to the landing that he is usually on. It looked as though he had fallen, because he was on top of a barrier, that they had set up, and all of his blankets were in disarray. He was looking toward his front door. I had Bread, and so I wasn't sure what to do, because I didn't want Bread to jump on him, or scare him. But then two walkers came by and I asked them if they wouldn't ring the doorbell to let them know the dog had fallen. After a few minutes someone came out, and they picked up the dog and put him back on the landing and sort of loosely blocked his way with the barrier.
This sort of made me depressed. And I come up against this again and again. Because I know that that dog is alive because he wants to be. The dog is choosing to hang around with that family. But I cannot reconcile my feelings about the dog, and I feel this need to help, or care for it. I hate thinking of the dog outside all day just sitting there. This is the one thing that I haven't been able to understand yet about the law of attraction. I can almost understand it in my mind, but my emotions feel so contrary. I have a feeling I'm going to keep seeing animals in situations like this, until I can make peace with it, or just not view it in such a way that my heart hurts.
That's all I got today.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Laramie
I felt bad yesterday because I didn't have time to write my blog...but now I see it doesn't matter. I think I'm the only one who still writes a blog. Crying.
Last night I got to be in a reading of The Laramie Project and Epilogue, which if you are familiar with the original play, is about the murder of Mathew Shepard. This was a fascinating look at the town ten years later. I remember very vividly the murder and then driving through Laramie two years later on my way to NY. It felt like a sad and repressed place. The play focuses on what has changed since the murder, and it's good and bad, because for some people a lot changed for the better, and for others, they prefer to pretend that the crime was not a hate crime. One of the things that struck me most about the play was that one of the policeman who was responsible for the conviction of the two killers was homophobic before the murder, and he said that by being forced to work with the gay community, he realised that his whole life he had been precluding a group of people from friendship. A group of good people. And that he's made a 180 degree turn in his heart. But what troubles him is that it took the murder of this young man for him to realize that. I just thought how wonderful that he was able to change his mind, and see past his fear, and that now he has wonderful relationships with people who ten years before he would have avoided. And the police department in Laramie defends the gay community that lives there. They were able to build that relationship. So many wonderful things came out of that murder. And there are still people who hate another group of people for no reason, but this example of it changing was very inspiring to me.
Anyway, we did two performances of the play last night, and as I was leaving I saw a young man hugging our director, weeping and thanking her. Theatre is still powerful, I don't care what people say about it!
Last night I got to be in a reading of The Laramie Project and Epilogue, which if you are familiar with the original play, is about the murder of Mathew Shepard. This was a fascinating look at the town ten years later. I remember very vividly the murder and then driving through Laramie two years later on my way to NY. It felt like a sad and repressed place. The play focuses on what has changed since the murder, and it's good and bad, because for some people a lot changed for the better, and for others, they prefer to pretend that the crime was not a hate crime. One of the things that struck me most about the play was that one of the policeman who was responsible for the conviction of the two killers was homophobic before the murder, and he said that by being forced to work with the gay community, he realised that his whole life he had been precluding a group of people from friendship. A group of good people. And that he's made a 180 degree turn in his heart. But what troubles him is that it took the murder of this young man for him to realize that. I just thought how wonderful that he was able to change his mind, and see past his fear, and that now he has wonderful relationships with people who ten years before he would have avoided. And the police department in Laramie defends the gay community that lives there. They were able to build that relationship. So many wonderful things came out of that murder. And there are still people who hate another group of people for no reason, but this example of it changing was very inspiring to me.
Anyway, we did two performances of the play last night, and as I was leaving I saw a young man hugging our director, weeping and thanking her. Theatre is still powerful, I don't care what people say about it!
Monday, October 5, 2009
Thoughts on School
One thing I love about school is that I'm always busy, and I'm always getting stuff done. And even though it school, it's theatre, and that's what I want my life's work to be. And when I imagine my life after school, it seems the same to me. The only different thing is I will be the conductor. No one will tell me to write a play or direct a play or to read this book or that. But I will tell myself those things. It's almost like being in school these last five years has been a way for me to live the kind of life I want to live. And now, I just have to really live it. I have to get paid for it. I've been practicing my life, and now it's time to perform. That is so exciting to me. I'm excited to get paid for these things, and to keep learning, and meeting new people and collaborating with them. It is so intensely satisfying to be in a good collaboration. Abraham would say, it's co-creating at it's best! And that's what theatre is to me. I think that's why I want it to be my life. I'm directing the play Mud, by Maria Irene Fornes. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend it. I wish you all could see it. I hope you're all well.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
helpin'
Ady is a fabulous actress. She has played all kinds of roles, like Barb Tuggle. And she sang "Broadway Baby" in Follies as a child. Well, today, she is moving to the big scary city, and i am along for the ride. go me. upper body strength and strong feet. helpin'.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
35
Today I have been alive for exactly 35 years.
I think back 20 years to my 15th birthday... I remember the day for lots of reasons. It was on this day that I learned I had been cast as the "Teen Angel" in a production of Grease (my first ever solo in a musical). A psychotic high school friend of mine organized a surprise birthday party for me and assembled the most random, awkward group of people possible.... not to mention I was wearing acid washed jeans (clinging to the final days of the 80's)! I ate with my family at the Black Angus restaurant, which at the time was a birthday tradition for me ( the following year I would give up eating meat forever). It was also our neighborhood's annual, "Throw out your huge trash day", where people got to put stuff on the curb that was too big to go in the garbage can (furniture, etc...), and I found a nearly 8 foot tall wrought iron planter in the shape of a spiral staircase about a half block from home while out on a walk with friends. I carried it home and kept it for 15 years.
Why does today make me think about a birthday 20 years ago?... Not sure.... I guess because I like even numbers.
A lot has changed for me in 20 years. The world seems to have changed a lot too! I mean, some things never really change but it's definitely not 1989 anymore.
In another 20 years, I will be 55... which doesn't really seem old at all... Makes me feel like I've got time to breathe and appreciate all the superficial changes in life.
I don't feel like the person that I was at 15. Not really at all. I remember him and I love him and sometimes I wish I could have told him to take it easy and trust the universe, but ultimately he learned to and so... here I still am!
I wonder if me at 55 will think back to this day and feel a connection to the man I am right now. I wonder if me at 55 will view me today in the way that I view the 15 year old.... I hope in many ways that he will, because that will mean that I continued to allow myself to change, grow, explore and get rid of all the bullshit that comes up.
I'm learning that I like life!! I really, really do and I'm so glad that changing is just a matter of going with the flow... not forcing anything. It's all good!
Happy birthday to me!
-Clay
PS. I really like Erin's blog below. Very thought provoking! Read it.
I think back 20 years to my 15th birthday... I remember the day for lots of reasons. It was on this day that I learned I had been cast as the "Teen Angel" in a production of Grease (my first ever solo in a musical). A psychotic high school friend of mine organized a surprise birthday party for me and assembled the most random, awkward group of people possible.... not to mention I was wearing acid washed jeans (clinging to the final days of the 80's)! I ate with my family at the Black Angus restaurant, which at the time was a birthday tradition for me ( the following year I would give up eating meat forever). It was also our neighborhood's annual, "Throw out your huge trash day", where people got to put stuff on the curb that was too big to go in the garbage can (furniture, etc...), and I found a nearly 8 foot tall wrought iron planter in the shape of a spiral staircase about a half block from home while out on a walk with friends. I carried it home and kept it for 15 years.
Why does today make me think about a birthday 20 years ago?... Not sure.... I guess because I like even numbers.
A lot has changed for me in 20 years. The world seems to have changed a lot too! I mean, some things never really change but it's definitely not 1989 anymore.
In another 20 years, I will be 55... which doesn't really seem old at all... Makes me feel like I've got time to breathe and appreciate all the superficial changes in life.
I don't feel like the person that I was at 15. Not really at all. I remember him and I love him and sometimes I wish I could have told him to take it easy and trust the universe, but ultimately he learned to and so... here I still am!
I wonder if me at 55 will think back to this day and feel a connection to the man I am right now. I wonder if me at 55 will view me today in the way that I view the 15 year old.... I hope in many ways that he will, because that will mean that I continued to allow myself to change, grow, explore and get rid of all the bullshit that comes up.
I'm learning that I like life!! I really, really do and I'm so glad that changing is just a matter of going with the flow... not forcing anything. It's all good!
Happy birthday to me!
-Clay
PS. I really like Erin's blog below. Very thought provoking! Read it.
Monday, September 28, 2009
I touched a gun
Last Monday I forgot to do a blog. It's the first time that I've forgotten. I didn't realize I hadn't done one last week until yesterday. I think it is a symptom of the semester dragging me down into it's depths where the days no longer exist and the weeks become months in no time at all.
I've decided in the last few weeks that I really like Austin, and I've come to understand Texas in a way that wasn't possible with the giant Californian chip on my shoulder that I arrived here with. I've come to understand that everything that exists wants to be loved. And when you look at something to find it's faults you dishonor it. It is difficult at first to look at something like a redneck driving a monster truck and love it. But it's about focusing on things and giving them the benefit of the doubt. It feels really good to do it, because when you do you begin to look on yourself with love, and that is the best thing you could ever possibly do.
I was intensely irritated by the amount of seemingly gigantic trucks on the roads in Texas. it offended my west coast sensibilities and smacked of southern ignorance about fuel economy and the environment. But last week I saw one of the most amazing plays. It actually wasn't even a play, it was a workshop presentation of the second half of a musical by a company called the rude mechanicals. I love this company. They're young, and they take risks and they make fun interesting theatre. Anyway, their musical is called I've Never Been So Happy, and it's about the western way of life. It's got cowboys, cowgirls, mountain lions with German accents, and dachshunds. There is a song about what the west meant to people who came here to Texas, that it was a kind of freedom, and a symbol for living their life the way that they wanted to.
After the musical you went outside where they've set up different booths where you could interact with "the west". There was an outhouse that you went in and a man popped out from the toilet to scream foul language at you. There was western Karaoke, you could have your picture taken with cut outs of David Karesh and Bonny and Clyde. But my favorite was the "touch my gun" booth. You got to sit in the cab of a pick up truck and there was a man in the drivers seat that had a colt 45. he showed you that the gun wasn't loaded, and then asked if you wanted to hold it. I had never held a gun before, and so I took it from him. It was heavy. He encouraged me to pull the trigger. I was afraid at first, but I thought, when am I ever going to hold a gun again? So I pulled the trigger. I talked with the man about his truck and he said that he and his father had fixed it up, put in new vinyl, and things like that. It was at that moment that I understood about Texas trucks. They were a birthright. Passed down from generation to generation, and it bonded Texans together. It now made sense to me why there were so many, and why Texans love to drive them.
Now I can look at a truck and love it, because i think back to being in that pickup truck, sharing a moment with that man, who is an actor in the company, and doesn't really own a truck, and didn't fix that one up with his Dad, but all the same, I still love the moment I touched his gun.
I've decided in the last few weeks that I really like Austin, and I've come to understand Texas in a way that wasn't possible with the giant Californian chip on my shoulder that I arrived here with. I've come to understand that everything that exists wants to be loved. And when you look at something to find it's faults you dishonor it. It is difficult at first to look at something like a redneck driving a monster truck and love it. But it's about focusing on things and giving them the benefit of the doubt. It feels really good to do it, because when you do you begin to look on yourself with love, and that is the best thing you could ever possibly do.
I was intensely irritated by the amount of seemingly gigantic trucks on the roads in Texas. it offended my west coast sensibilities and smacked of southern ignorance about fuel economy and the environment. But last week I saw one of the most amazing plays. It actually wasn't even a play, it was a workshop presentation of the second half of a musical by a company called the rude mechanicals. I love this company. They're young, and they take risks and they make fun interesting theatre. Anyway, their musical is called I've Never Been So Happy, and it's about the western way of life. It's got cowboys, cowgirls, mountain lions with German accents, and dachshunds. There is a song about what the west meant to people who came here to Texas, that it was a kind of freedom, and a symbol for living their life the way that they wanted to.
After the musical you went outside where they've set up different booths where you could interact with "the west". There was an outhouse that you went in and a man popped out from the toilet to scream foul language at you. There was western Karaoke, you could have your picture taken with cut outs of David Karesh and Bonny and Clyde. But my favorite was the "touch my gun" booth. You got to sit in the cab of a pick up truck and there was a man in the drivers seat that had a colt 45. he showed you that the gun wasn't loaded, and then asked if you wanted to hold it. I had never held a gun before, and so I took it from him. It was heavy. He encouraged me to pull the trigger. I was afraid at first, but I thought, when am I ever going to hold a gun again? So I pulled the trigger. I talked with the man about his truck and he said that he and his father had fixed it up, put in new vinyl, and things like that. It was at that moment that I understood about Texas trucks. They were a birthright. Passed down from generation to generation, and it bonded Texans together. It now made sense to me why there were so many, and why Texans love to drive them.
Now I can look at a truck and love it, because i think back to being in that pickup truck, sharing a moment with that man, who is an actor in the company, and doesn't really own a truck, and didn't fix that one up with his Dad, but all the same, I still love the moment I touched his gun.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
It's funny how the universe does little things every now and then to help you out.
Amanda and I try to constantly watch new things. New movies, new shows. Or, let me rephrase, not necessarily recent, but stuff we hadn't seen before. Especially now that we are about to put our chapter in, we pay attention to different things. I feel like I see so much more now that I am thinking of what we're going to do. Anywho, we recently ran out of things to watch or watch again, with this new eye for detail. We've been doing the one dollar day rentals from safeway because we're forgetful delinquents with late fees we can't pay at both Blockbuster and TakeOne. "I thought they didn't have late fees at Blockbuster!" you say? So did I. But the Safeway has a small selection and we have exhausted it.
I went to sleep late on Saturday after working on the computer for a bit, only to be awakened (awoke? awoken?) by my brother telling me he had gotten sick and could I cover his shift from five thirty to eleven in the morning? There goes my only day off this week! So I slept for three hours and went. On the drive home I saw that the Blockbuster in Walnut Creek was going out of business and selling all their DVD's. Having fifty odd dollars to my name left from a recent paycheck, I barely got to know the other 500 thanks to my landlord. , I went in to take a look. I bought ten movies for $53! Then when I got home I got a call from Ady asking me if I wanted any of her old VHS movies she was going to have to get rid of! At rehearsal she gave me a huge bag of 20+ (possible thirty?!) tapes! Then, as I was saying bye to Clay he asked me if I had ever watched "French and Saunders" and gave me two series DVD's to watch! I think we're set for a while!
Thank you Universe! I love you!
Amanda and I try to constantly watch new things. New movies, new shows. Or, let me rephrase, not necessarily recent, but stuff we hadn't seen before. Especially now that we are about to put our chapter in, we pay attention to different things. I feel like I see so much more now that I am thinking of what we're going to do. Anywho, we recently ran out of things to watch or watch again, with this new eye for detail. We've been doing the one dollar day rentals from safeway because we're forgetful delinquents with late fees we can't pay at both Blockbuster and TakeOne. "I thought they didn't have late fees at Blockbuster!" you say? So did I. But the Safeway has a small selection and we have exhausted it.
I went to sleep late on Saturday after working on the computer for a bit, only to be awakened (awoke? awoken?) by my brother telling me he had gotten sick and could I cover his shift from five thirty to eleven in the morning? There goes my only day off this week! So I slept for three hours and went. On the drive home I saw that the Blockbuster in Walnut Creek was going out of business and selling all their DVD's. Having fifty odd dollars to my name left from a recent paycheck, I barely got to know the other 500 thanks to my landlord. , I went in to take a look. I bought ten movies for $53! Then when I got home I got a call from Ady asking me if I wanted any of her old VHS movies she was going to have to get rid of! At rehearsal she gave me a huge bag of 20+ (possible thirty?!) tapes! Then, as I was saying bye to Clay he asked me if I had ever watched "French and Saunders" and gave me two series DVD's to watch! I think we're set for a while!
Thank you Universe! I love you!
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
"Late Nights & Boogie" pt.1
The door wouldn't open... they'd been trying for 20 minutes. It had not rained in six months and Boogie couldn't believe this was the night the skies had decided to open up and... well... rain.
The phone kept ringing inside the apartment... They could hear the answering machine pick up again... and again.
"You've reached Florida and Jespo. We're probably out cruising the coastline in our Pontiac. Leave us a message and we'll like, call ya back man."
Suddenly Late Nights remembered the strange package in the car.
"Boogie, do you remember that box that was in the trunk?" Late Nights asked, still trying to pry the lock with her tickler. "We said we were gonna open it... but we never did!... And come to think of it... we had planned to eat Chinese last night but we went to Taco Heaven..."
"Keep singing Late Nights..." Boogie interrupted. "Just like when the Titanic sank. I haven't been listening to you at all."
CRASH!!
Something on the roof!... But what was it?... The roof was off limits!... Except to robots!
(to be continued)
The phone kept ringing inside the apartment... They could hear the answering machine pick up again... and again.
"You've reached Florida and Jespo. We're probably out cruising the coastline in our Pontiac. Leave us a message and we'll like, call ya back man."
Suddenly Late Nights remembered the strange package in the car.
"Boogie, do you remember that box that was in the trunk?" Late Nights asked, still trying to pry the lock with her tickler. "We said we were gonna open it... but we never did!... And come to think of it... we had planned to eat Chinese last night but we went to Taco Heaven..."
"Keep singing Late Nights..." Boogie interrupted. "Just like when the Titanic sank. I haven't been listening to you at all."
CRASH!!
Something on the roof!... But what was it?... The roof was off limits!... Except to robots!
(to be continued)
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Making New Friends
I like meeting new people. If they're nice. and talented? All the better. Keep your eyes and ears open for new people to fill the empty spots in our upcoming show in January, "The Very, Very Late Show With Gilroy Cash Presents An All-Star Musical Tribute To Toni Martini". Boys, girls, and otherwise, if have you, wanted. Auditions coming soon!
Monday, September 14, 2009
University and such
I sometimes wish that you all went to school with me. Because I want to share all of the things I'm learning. Some of it applies to what we're doing and some of it doesn't. But I just wonder what you all would think about it. The class I TA for is a class about the process of creation. Last week we read Wittgenstein's essay On Certainty, and then the students had to write their own version of On Certainty in relation to the piece that they're creating for the class. It just reminded me how important it is to keep learning. You don't have to go to school to do it, but to keep drawing new things into your life makes your life so much richer. I have more feelings about this but I can't make them into coherent sentences right now. Bread is falling asleep standing up. She's so funny when she does that. If any of you are interested in reading On Certainty, I think if you google it you can find the link. It's long and incredibly difficult to understand, and Wittgenstein was nutty. Miss you all.
e
e
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Sunday Blog
Sunday blog
Sunday blog
Ady's doin' a Sunday blog
Little bit of rain
Lil' bit a fog
But Ady's doin' a Sunday blog.
More soon!
Sunday blog
Ady's doin' a Sunday blog
Little bit of rain
Lil' bit a fog
But Ady's doin' a Sunday blog.
More soon!
it's just us guys...
I was perusing our wonderful blog page when my eyes found our lovely list of followers, all Jason Lucas of them. I realize of course people can click on the link at the website and read the blog without "following" us, but officially no one is looking but us. This actually makes me a great deal more comfortable because I know I can tell you guys anything. Like that I am currently nude.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Tuesday... Thursday... What's the difference?
My day to blog is Tuesday but since I'm in the habit of forgetting on Tuesdays, I'm blogging today.
This is an exciting time for me!
I'm going to write this about it....
2025 - THE FUTURE
JODA- (having just landed on Planet Earth) I like these potatoes... but not this ridiculous traffic!... and the pollution here!... just awful.
EARTH ANN- I don't know... I don't think it's so bad. I mean there's TV and stuff. What about potato chips?
JODA- Haven't tried them.
EARTH ANN- A lot of the people responsible for the traffic are also responsible for the manufacturing and distribution of potato products.
JODA- Don't care!
EARTH ANN- Besides... we're not even in the traffic. It's outside!
JODA- Well I don't like to see it... And I smell garbage everywhere.
RUDA P~13- (thumbing through EARTH ANN'S drawers) Sure do use a lot of paper!
JODA- (laughing hysterically to the point of levitating slightly) That's an understatement Ruda P~13!! That's an understatement!
EARTH ANN- Look, I'm tired of being made fun of! How long is this going to take?
JODA- As long as we want. This is an alien invasion! We can do what we want... You're lucky we don't probe you.
EARTH ANN- Actually, that was the only part I was looking forward to.
RUDA P~13- Found it!!
JODA- What?
RUDA P-13- We can go now!
EARTH ANN- Thank god!
JODA- What is it?
RUDA P~13- Moisturizer for the lips!
JODA- What are lips?
RUDA P~13- You put a stick of make up on them?
Thanks so much everyone!!! I have the biggest smile on my face and I'm flipping you all off!
Love, Cassius Rosenthal
This is an exciting time for me!
I'm going to write this about it....
2025 - THE FUTURE
JODA- (having just landed on Planet Earth) I like these potatoes... but not this ridiculous traffic!... and the pollution here!... just awful.
EARTH ANN- I don't know... I don't think it's so bad. I mean there's TV and stuff. What about potato chips?
JODA- Haven't tried them.
EARTH ANN- A lot of the people responsible for the traffic are also responsible for the manufacturing and distribution of potato products.
JODA- Don't care!
EARTH ANN- Besides... we're not even in the traffic. It's outside!
JODA- Well I don't like to see it... And I smell garbage everywhere.
RUDA P~13- (thumbing through EARTH ANN'S drawers) Sure do use a lot of paper!
JODA- (laughing hysterically to the point of levitating slightly) That's an understatement Ruda P~13!! That's an understatement!
EARTH ANN- Look, I'm tired of being made fun of! How long is this going to take?
JODA- As long as we want. This is an alien invasion! We can do what we want... You're lucky we don't probe you.
EARTH ANN- Actually, that was the only part I was looking forward to.
RUDA P~13- Found it!!
JODA- What?
RUDA P-13- We can go now!
EARTH ANN- Thank god!
JODA- What is it?
RUDA P~13- Moisturizer for the lips!
JODA- What are lips?
RUDA P~13- You put a stick of make up on them?
Thanks so much everyone!!! I have the biggest smile on my face and I'm flipping you all off!
Love, Cassius Rosenthal
Monday, September 7, 2009
The Squirrel
Last Wednesday I had the most wonderful opportunity to engage with a wild animal. A squirrel. That morning I woke up two hours later than I usually do. And I thought it odd that I could have slept so late. I took bread for a walk, but because it was so hot I cut the walk a little short. If you don't walk before 8am in Austin it gets really hot. Anyway, Bread and I were walking up our street when I noticed a group of cats on my neighbors lawn. They appeared to be gathered around something and when I looked closer I realized they were gathered around a squirrel.
I ran over to scare the cats away so the squirrel could escape because it looked like one of the cats had her pinned by the tail. The cats scattered, and the squirrel tried to climb a tree. At this point it became clear that the squirrel was injured. It's arm was useless and flopped at it's side. It was unable to climb or walk, and it dragged itself for a little while and then collapsed with exhaustion. I immediately went in to a different state of being, and became hyper focused on this squirrel. I put Bread back in the house and grabbed my phone and a paper bag. The cats had regrouped by the time I got back, and I scarred them away again. The squirrel was also frightened and dragged itself into my neighbors car port and underneath a cart.
At this point I'm becoming frantic. Many of you know that I often prefer animals to people. I love animals, and cannot watch them in pain. It's why i don't eat animals, because I love them so much. So I'm frantically looking on my phone for a wild animal rescue group, trying in vein to catch the squirrel. I don't know how to catch the squirrel! I notice that my neighbor has opened his door and shut it again, so I knocked on the door to let him know that he's got an injured animal in his car port. This is the first time I meet my neighbor, although we have waved to each other on previous occasions. He is immediately as distressed as I and comes out to help.
I find a number for a rescue group and call. A woman answers and tells us to throw a towel on the squirrel and put it in a box. I only have a bag. The squirrel doesn't like having a towel thrown on it. It tries to run, but just manages to drag itself around. My neighbor is able to grab it and we put it in the bag.
Okay. So now I have a squirrel in a peets coffee bag. The squirrel doesn't even try to escape it's so exhausted by the pain and the ordeal of trying to run. So I take it into my apartment and look up the address for this rescue place. I drive with the squirrel for 15 minutes out of Austin and turn down a dirt road where there is a little house that serves as an intake center for these animals. Immediately after I arrive another man arrives with another injured squirrel.
A woman looks at my squirrel and then looks at the other squirrel and then takes my squirrel into the house. Another woman takes the other squirrel. I wait for about ten minutes and fill out a form, and also donate fifty dollars. The woman comes out and asks which one of us had the first squirrel I brace myself. She tells me that the squirrels arm is actually not broken, but she appears to have injured her shoulder. This is easier to rehabilitate than a broken arm. She says the squirrel should be able to be fixed and that when she's better they will release her back into the wild. but they tell me that she was nursing, although they think the babies will be old enough to fend for themselves. I thank them and get back in my car and drive home.
I'm late for class that day, but it doesn't matter. This was such a gift to me. Everything happened at the perfect moment. If my neighbor hadn't been home would I have been able to catch the squirrel? And to think that if I'd woken up on time or walked the whole walk that squirrel might have met a different end. And that happens...that's nature. And squirrels die like everything else. But how wonderful to co-create that moment with that squirrel. I'm so grateful for that day. because we are all connected. And I knew in that moment how joyful it is to be connected. I hope you all get to save your own squirrels.
I ran over to scare the cats away so the squirrel could escape because it looked like one of the cats had her pinned by the tail. The cats scattered, and the squirrel tried to climb a tree. At this point it became clear that the squirrel was injured. It's arm was useless and flopped at it's side. It was unable to climb or walk, and it dragged itself for a little while and then collapsed with exhaustion. I immediately went in to a different state of being, and became hyper focused on this squirrel. I put Bread back in the house and grabbed my phone and a paper bag. The cats had regrouped by the time I got back, and I scarred them away again. The squirrel was also frightened and dragged itself into my neighbors car port and underneath a cart.
At this point I'm becoming frantic. Many of you know that I often prefer animals to people. I love animals, and cannot watch them in pain. It's why i don't eat animals, because I love them so much. So I'm frantically looking on my phone for a wild animal rescue group, trying in vein to catch the squirrel. I don't know how to catch the squirrel! I notice that my neighbor has opened his door and shut it again, so I knocked on the door to let him know that he's got an injured animal in his car port. This is the first time I meet my neighbor, although we have waved to each other on previous occasions. He is immediately as distressed as I and comes out to help.
I find a number for a rescue group and call. A woman answers and tells us to throw a towel on the squirrel and put it in a box. I only have a bag. The squirrel doesn't like having a towel thrown on it. It tries to run, but just manages to drag itself around. My neighbor is able to grab it and we put it in the bag.
Okay. So now I have a squirrel in a peets coffee bag. The squirrel doesn't even try to escape it's so exhausted by the pain and the ordeal of trying to run. So I take it into my apartment and look up the address for this rescue place. I drive with the squirrel for 15 minutes out of Austin and turn down a dirt road where there is a little house that serves as an intake center for these animals. Immediately after I arrive another man arrives with another injured squirrel.
A woman looks at my squirrel and then looks at the other squirrel and then takes my squirrel into the house. Another woman takes the other squirrel. I wait for about ten minutes and fill out a form, and also donate fifty dollars. The woman comes out and asks which one of us had the first squirrel I brace myself. She tells me that the squirrels arm is actually not broken, but she appears to have injured her shoulder. This is easier to rehabilitate than a broken arm. She says the squirrel should be able to be fixed and that when she's better they will release her back into the wild. but they tell me that she was nursing, although they think the babies will be old enough to fend for themselves. I thank them and get back in my car and drive home.
I'm late for class that day, but it doesn't matter. This was such a gift to me. Everything happened at the perfect moment. If my neighbor hadn't been home would I have been able to catch the squirrel? And to think that if I'd woken up on time or walked the whole walk that squirrel might have met a different end. And that happens...that's nature. And squirrels die like everything else. But how wonderful to co-create that moment with that squirrel. I'm so grateful for that day. because we are all connected. And I knew in that moment how joyful it is to be connected. I hope you all get to save your own squirrels.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
On Acting, Authenticity and Imitation
When Stanislavsky and The Moscow Art Theatre came to the US for the first time, the world of performance was forever changed. Acting had to that point been a presentational process. Finishing schools were what actors had as spaces to hone talent. The notion of authenticity, though today hashed out in endless directions, was new. No one thought audiences wanted to see real life, so no one tried to give it to them until Stanislavsky fell in love with and obsessively tried to duplicate the spontaneous creative process and brought it to the stage.
When members of the Moscow Art Theatre stayed in New York and began teaching, young actors flocked to them, many of whom would go on to become some of the most influential performers and teachers in the history of American acting.
These Russian instructors must have been fascinating figures. Maria Ousspenskaya, for example, was a small, intense old woman who drank heavily and chain-smoked cigars. For any young woman trying to find herself in pre-WWII America, this surely was a thrill to behold.
I've said before that I think that these young actors, in trying to learn an entirely new process, mistook the teachers for the work itself. There has always been an emphasis on severity in "authentic" acting in the US. Method acting is often associated with unexplainable misery and twitchy suffering. How is it that "reality" includes so little humor?
The people who brought the notion of authenticity to the US were from a very foreign land, a land who's culture, politics and topography were radically different from our own. They had also come from a land that had just gone through a violent shift and was settling itself into a dark and secretive regime. How was it then that what constituted authenticity for them was so similar to what constituted authenticity for American actors? One could argue the overall unifying power of the human condition, and to a certain extent, I would agree with that, but I'm convinced that we are far too affected by our material realities for that to be a sufficient explanation. I think it was simply that, like many young actors, those original students felt insecure with what they had to offer. The Russian version of authenticity was so much more interesting, and it made them feel more interesting, even if for them it was not actually authentic. I wonder to what extent actors are still trying to imitate those first teachers instead of engaging in the process that was actually being taught - learning to relax enough to tap into what is truly you - all the colors in you - so that you can use it on the stage and be real. So many years and so many words for something so simple.
Acting is imitation only to a certain extent. Stanislavsky had epiphanies that inspired him to seek out more. In furiously trying to duplicate or re-create he sometimes traded the moment-to-moment for studiousness and stumbled often in the process. He was the first, and he was in love with the search, so I hold nothing against him. The young American actors who studied with members of Stanislavsky's troupe saw people embracing life on a level they had never seen and tried to imitate it in an effort to lead bigger lives themselves. Actors today see successful actors they admire and they try to duplicate the spark, but it doesn't work because it isn't their spark. Are we seeing the running flaw here?
In life we sometimes have moments of being utterly connected. For a fleeting moment, we get how it all works and see the universe and its components functoning effortlessly, and we become effortless with it. When it goes, it makes perfect sense that we want it back. Unfortunately, far too often, we attempt to get it back by trying to imitate the original experience instead of trying to connect again. We become rigid instead of relaxed, and rigidity does not lead to epiphany.
We are supposed to experience life on a moment-to-moment basis, always allowing for spontaneous growth and change. Few of us manage this a fraction of the time, but it is the point. In trying to authentically imitate life, actors learn to experience the stage moment to moment. If they do it right, they can successfully bring in all the shades of human experience with all its mystery and buffoonery alike. As livers of life, we must at the very least do this. Knowing that we are fascinating enough and complicated enough and funny enough, we must at every possible moment bring our authentic selves to the forefront and live life from there. That way actors will have more to live up to.
Life is never meant to be an imitation.
-ady
When members of the Moscow Art Theatre stayed in New York and began teaching, young actors flocked to them, many of whom would go on to become some of the most influential performers and teachers in the history of American acting.
These Russian instructors must have been fascinating figures. Maria Ousspenskaya, for example, was a small, intense old woman who drank heavily and chain-smoked cigars. For any young woman trying to find herself in pre-WWII America, this surely was a thrill to behold.
I've said before that I think that these young actors, in trying to learn an entirely new process, mistook the teachers for the work itself. There has always been an emphasis on severity in "authentic" acting in the US. Method acting is often associated with unexplainable misery and twitchy suffering. How is it that "reality" includes so little humor?
The people who brought the notion of authenticity to the US were from a very foreign land, a land who's culture, politics and topography were radically different from our own. They had also come from a land that had just gone through a violent shift and was settling itself into a dark and secretive regime. How was it then that what constituted authenticity for them was so similar to what constituted authenticity for American actors? One could argue the overall unifying power of the human condition, and to a certain extent, I would agree with that, but I'm convinced that we are far too affected by our material realities for that to be a sufficient explanation. I think it was simply that, like many young actors, those original students felt insecure with what they had to offer. The Russian version of authenticity was so much more interesting, and it made them feel more interesting, even if for them it was not actually authentic. I wonder to what extent actors are still trying to imitate those first teachers instead of engaging in the process that was actually being taught - learning to relax enough to tap into what is truly you - all the colors in you - so that you can use it on the stage and be real. So many years and so many words for something so simple.
Acting is imitation only to a certain extent. Stanislavsky had epiphanies that inspired him to seek out more. In furiously trying to duplicate or re-create he sometimes traded the moment-to-moment for studiousness and stumbled often in the process. He was the first, and he was in love with the search, so I hold nothing against him. The young American actors who studied with members of Stanislavsky's troupe saw people embracing life on a level they had never seen and tried to imitate it in an effort to lead bigger lives themselves. Actors today see successful actors they admire and they try to duplicate the spark, but it doesn't work because it isn't their spark. Are we seeing the running flaw here?
In life we sometimes have moments of being utterly connected. For a fleeting moment, we get how it all works and see the universe and its components functoning effortlessly, and we become effortless with it. When it goes, it makes perfect sense that we want it back. Unfortunately, far too often, we attempt to get it back by trying to imitate the original experience instead of trying to connect again. We become rigid instead of relaxed, and rigidity does not lead to epiphany.
We are supposed to experience life on a moment-to-moment basis, always allowing for spontaneous growth and change. Few of us manage this a fraction of the time, but it is the point. In trying to authentically imitate life, actors learn to experience the stage moment to moment. If they do it right, they can successfully bring in all the shades of human experience with all its mystery and buffoonery alike. As livers of life, we must at the very least do this. Knowing that we are fascinating enough and complicated enough and funny enough, we must at every possible moment bring our authentic selves to the forefront and live life from there. That way actors will have more to live up to.
Life is never meant to be an imitation.
-ady
Friday, September 4, 2009
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
A Place to go...
There is a place that you can go... not a physical place... It is primarily a "mental" place but it also has to do with your emotions and your attitude. Those things are mental too but it's important to point out that you can't go to this place if your attitude is shitty or you are feeling sorry for yourself.
When you're in this place, things that you want come easily to you. When you're in this place you can virtually see your desire manifesting before you. You can feel your part in it all from your physical place and you can also feel the "divine" working with you.
When I am in this place, I feel one with everything, without ever having to take the time to consciously state that to myself. I create beyond my dreams and I have many of the best moments of my life. I find that the more I allow myself to go to this "place" the better I feel.
It's a process and it takes time, especially if you have a tendency to lie to yourself about how wonderful you really are...but you start to feel it and that makes all the difference.
I am at a place right now where I can clearly feel the difference between "then" and "now", maybe for the first time ever, but there will be a little time before my whole life catches up and abundantly reflects the changes going on within me. Not everyone sees it yet. People still see the "old" Clay and some people will choose to cling to that image, even long after I have shed it. That is not in any way important to or detrimental to my process.
At this point, I finally don't need anyone else to see it for it to be real now because I feel it.
When it comes to ourselves, we know where others can only guess. We have all of our answers and possess all that is needed to guide ourselves successfully toward what we want and what we feel we deserve. We are doing it constantly, even in spite of our lack of awareness of it.
Everyone has access to the "place" within themselves that loves instead of criticizes... allows instead of restricts... dances instead of hiding. The thing is, you can't take all of your made up problems and neurosis to this place. It just never works. Only you, the pure, loving, accepting, joyous part of you can get there and when you do... you will see that there are worlds of inspiration, waiting for you to translate them into physical reality. Just be honest and brave. We have all wasted too much time caring too much what everyone else thinks! No one else knows! They can only guess!
I love everybody who reads this and more than that... I love me!
Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
-Director
When you're in this place, things that you want come easily to you. When you're in this place you can virtually see your desire manifesting before you. You can feel your part in it all from your physical place and you can also feel the "divine" working with you.
When I am in this place, I feel one with everything, without ever having to take the time to consciously state that to myself. I create beyond my dreams and I have many of the best moments of my life. I find that the more I allow myself to go to this "place" the better I feel.
It's a process and it takes time, especially if you have a tendency to lie to yourself about how wonderful you really are...but you start to feel it and that makes all the difference.
I am at a place right now where I can clearly feel the difference between "then" and "now", maybe for the first time ever, but there will be a little time before my whole life catches up and abundantly reflects the changes going on within me. Not everyone sees it yet. People still see the "old" Clay and some people will choose to cling to that image, even long after I have shed it. That is not in any way important to or detrimental to my process.
At this point, I finally don't need anyone else to see it for it to be real now because I feel it.
When it comes to ourselves, we know where others can only guess. We have all of our answers and possess all that is needed to guide ourselves successfully toward what we want and what we feel we deserve. We are doing it constantly, even in spite of our lack of awareness of it.
Everyone has access to the "place" within themselves that loves instead of criticizes... allows instead of restricts... dances instead of hiding. The thing is, you can't take all of your made up problems and neurosis to this place. It just never works. Only you, the pure, loving, accepting, joyous part of you can get there and when you do... you will see that there are worlds of inspiration, waiting for you to translate them into physical reality. Just be honest and brave. We have all wasted too much time caring too much what everyone else thinks! No one else knows! They can only guess!
I love everybody who reads this and more than that... I love me!
Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
-Director
Monday, August 31, 2009
Where is everybody...
I can't believe that I wrote a blog last Monday and then no one else did until Ady yesterday! I know y'all have more to say. Where is everybody? How am I supposed to know what's going on!
Well, here's what I've been doing. I've been sending the link to the YouTube channel to lots of my Austin contemporaries. Everyone thinks it's incredibly funny. I think my challenge is going to be sharing this wonderful thing that we've made. But it feels so good to share it, and show it to people and talk about it with them. I've been sending it to people that I have a lot of respect for, and that I look up to, because I feel like it deserves to be seen by important people. I encourage all of you to send your video's to important people. It can be a little scary. But I really think that what we're doing is so good, people can't help but feel the same way. And if they don't' who cares! it doesn't change the way I feel about our work. And really how I feel is the most important.
That's my story. I'm tired. it's been a long day at school. I love you all and miss you!
Urn
Well, here's what I've been doing. I've been sending the link to the YouTube channel to lots of my Austin contemporaries. Everyone thinks it's incredibly funny. I think my challenge is going to be sharing this wonderful thing that we've made. But it feels so good to share it, and show it to people and talk about it with them. I've been sending it to people that I have a lot of respect for, and that I look up to, because I feel like it deserves to be seen by important people. I encourage all of you to send your video's to important people. It can be a little scary. But I really think that what we're doing is so good, people can't help but feel the same way. And if they don't' who cares! it doesn't change the way I feel about our work. And really how I feel is the most important.
That's my story. I'm tired. it's been a long day at school. I love you all and miss you!
Urn
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Ady doesn't know what to say!
What do I say? It's my day to blog. I haven't missed a blog since we began this, and I don't intend to start now, but I just don't know what I'm supposed to say today. Usually by the time I sit down and begin writing, the message becomes pretty clear, but today the message seems to be that I don't know what to write here.
While I feel the need to fulfill my obligations to my beloved company by keeping my commitments to it and my cohorts, I also question filling a post with blather just so I can say I've blogged on all of my days. What is more important here: keeping my commitment or saying something clever or meaningful? Since I'm writing this and will most likely hit 'publish post' when this is done, I'm guessing that today my answer is keeping commitments.
Maybe that's my message today. If you make a commitment, keep it. It feels better in the long run. There are just a few people I know in this world who keep to their word no matter what. All of these people make their promises very carefully and won't commit unless they know they can follow through. It's an admirable and rare trait to possess. I don't think it need be so rare.
I shall endeavor to only give my word when I know I can keep it and then always keep it. I shall endeavor to do this because it feels good. Conversely, it feels creepy and crappy when I don't keep my promises, so it is logically a behavior I should avoid.
So keep your promises people! Remember what Luisa Capetillo said before being the first woman to wear pants in public:
"If you make a deal, don't break it. 'Cuz welching on a deal is just a lot of horse crap!"
Well, in Mary Ellsnor's vision Luisa Capetillo said this. Probably not in real life. But I'm sure she would agree with the sentiment!
Love you all.
While I feel the need to fulfill my obligations to my beloved company by keeping my commitments to it and my cohorts, I also question filling a post with blather just so I can say I've blogged on all of my days. What is more important here: keeping my commitment or saying something clever or meaningful? Since I'm writing this and will most likely hit 'publish post' when this is done, I'm guessing that today my answer is keeping commitments.
Maybe that's my message today. If you make a commitment, keep it. It feels better in the long run. There are just a few people I know in this world who keep to their word no matter what. All of these people make their promises very carefully and won't commit unless they know they can follow through. It's an admirable and rare trait to possess. I don't think it need be so rare.
I shall endeavor to only give my word when I know I can keep it and then always keep it. I shall endeavor to do this because it feels good. Conversely, it feels creepy and crappy when I don't keep my promises, so it is logically a behavior I should avoid.
So keep your promises people! Remember what Luisa Capetillo said before being the first woman to wear pants in public:
"If you make a deal, don't break it. 'Cuz welching on a deal is just a lot of horse crap!"
Well, in Mary Ellsnor's vision Luisa Capetillo said this. Probably not in real life. But I'm sure she would agree with the sentiment!
Love you all.
Monday, August 24, 2009
It's Urn of Austin Y'all!
Hi! it's me Urn. I'm in Austin right now where it is very hot. I had a good drive back and am happy to be sleeping in my own bed. I watched the jean buttman audition and laughed. it feels strange to be so far, but I love you all, and will be there in spirit. At the next meeting you should light a candle next to a picture of me. I can't wait to be among your strong smells again, but I will be working hard while we are apart.
Having someone sublet your apartment is a funny thing. When I got home I found a plastic bag behind my bed. Inside this bag was a sports magazine, and a hand written two page letter addressed to a boy that the girl that was staying here wrote to break up with him, and a mans watch. Needless to say i salted my bed.
Anyway heretics, keep me in your heart as I will keep you in mine. And never write a letter to break up with someone and then leave it at a strangers house. I love you!
Urn
Having someone sublet your apartment is a funny thing. When I got home I found a plastic bag behind my bed. Inside this bag was a sports magazine, and a hand written two page letter addressed to a boy that the girl that was staying here wrote to break up with him, and a mans watch. Needless to say i salted my bed.
Anyway heretics, keep me in your heart as I will keep you in mine. And never write a letter to break up with someone and then leave it at a strangers house. I love you!
Urn
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Some of Ady's notions on comedy
So I don't necessarily have a solid argument here, but I'm fascinated by the nature of comedy and its function in the world. I'm often pondering the right way to word my thoughts on it, but comedy seems to defy being categorized by definition.
I wrote my college honors thesis on parody as a reading and its necessity in a healthy society. The moment we can laugh at our tragedies and mistakes is the moment we can move past them and heal. When we can successfully make fun out of what irks and troubles us, or when we can happily be the subject of parody and even more than that, be grateful for the reminder that we are fallible beings and therefore obligated to laugh at ourselves every now and then, we can lead healthy well-rounded lives without being limited by fear of looking foolish.
In a conversation I had recently with the lovely Urn, it came up that in oppressed societies where art that questions the status quo is often punishable by imprisonment or death, incredible works that live far beyond their authors are conceived. Heavy-handed Russia, for example, gave us Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, and the tortured Chekhov, who found such a fine dry humor in his own misery as well as that of others, that he could be an example for any of us.
On the other hand, in a culture like we have here in America, where freedom of speech and thought are a given, very strange choices are made when it comes to what 'art' we celebrate. It seems as though without government imposed boundaries, we don't know what to say or to whom we should listen. In a culture where we can say whatever we want, people just tend to shout to be heard and cater to the basest of human instinct in an effort to be noticed.
Do we require a tyrannical presence to say something valid? Wouldn't it be awful if we did? Does art require a revolutionary voice to be meaningful? If so, how does comedy factor in?
I've said before that I think the seed of revolution is the belief that the world can feel better than it does. In a case like turn-of-the-century Russia, it meant overthrowing the government, which was only the beginning of their journey toward a society of self-expressed individuals. In the case of the United States, where it could certainly feel better than it does, the revolution must be an internal and personal one. It means seeing where you persist in oppressing yourself and overthrowing your oppressor. It means freeing yourself from the shackles of needing to look like you're always in control and embracing the idea that you will look stupid sometimes and loving the idea of laughing at yourself for all that it will teach you.
Comedy challenges us by showing us where and when we're stupid, but it does so without judging us. Better than that, it teaches us through laughter, so it never feels like a lesson.
I'm grateful for the laugh and how free it makes me every time I turn to it.
I wrote my college honors thesis on parody as a reading and its necessity in a healthy society. The moment we can laugh at our tragedies and mistakes is the moment we can move past them and heal. When we can successfully make fun out of what irks and troubles us, or when we can happily be the subject of parody and even more than that, be grateful for the reminder that we are fallible beings and therefore obligated to laugh at ourselves every now and then, we can lead healthy well-rounded lives without being limited by fear of looking foolish.
In a conversation I had recently with the lovely Urn, it came up that in oppressed societies where art that questions the status quo is often punishable by imprisonment or death, incredible works that live far beyond their authors are conceived. Heavy-handed Russia, for example, gave us Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, and the tortured Chekhov, who found such a fine dry humor in his own misery as well as that of others, that he could be an example for any of us.
On the other hand, in a culture like we have here in America, where freedom of speech and thought are a given, very strange choices are made when it comes to what 'art' we celebrate. It seems as though without government imposed boundaries, we don't know what to say or to whom we should listen. In a culture where we can say whatever we want, people just tend to shout to be heard and cater to the basest of human instinct in an effort to be noticed.
Do we require a tyrannical presence to say something valid? Wouldn't it be awful if we did? Does art require a revolutionary voice to be meaningful? If so, how does comedy factor in?
I've said before that I think the seed of revolution is the belief that the world can feel better than it does. In a case like turn-of-the-century Russia, it meant overthrowing the government, which was only the beginning of their journey toward a society of self-expressed individuals. In the case of the United States, where it could certainly feel better than it does, the revolution must be an internal and personal one. It means seeing where you persist in oppressing yourself and overthrowing your oppressor. It means freeing yourself from the shackles of needing to look like you're always in control and embracing the idea that you will look stupid sometimes and loving the idea of laughing at yourself for all that it will teach you.
Comedy challenges us by showing us where and when we're stupid, but it does so without judging us. Better than that, it teaches us through laughter, so it never feels like a lesson.
I'm grateful for the laugh and how free it makes me every time I turn to it.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Hello, anyone out there.....
Hello, you don't know me but if you could take a moment and listen to a very strange story, I would appreciate it:) Ok, so I was walking down the street one day and I found a small box with the word 'yours' written in glitter. I stared at this little box in the middle of the sidewalk for a couple of moments before deciding to pick it up and look inside. What I found was very strange. The box was no bigger than a gift box for a neckless or earings and yet it was a door way to another world. When I opaned the box all I saw was black, a shinny black filling. This made me weiry of what this black filling was but I was far to intrigued by this point, it weighed almost nothing. So I did what any curiouse person would do, I touched this shinny black filling. What happened next does not make any sense at all, as soon as my finger touched the inside of the box I dissapeared. Suddenely finding myself with no box in my hand and standing in a house. This house has funny shapes and doorways. Some of the doorways are big, twice the size of what would be considered a normal door, and others doors are the size of cuboard doors. But these doors lead to important rooms, like a really big door for the bathroom, and a really little door for the kitchen. The walls and corners of the house are built in the same unusuall manner as the doors, making the house look slanted and lopsided. I looked around the house to see if anyone was there. When noone was to be found in the house I decided to see if I could find anyone outside of the house. To my suprise the front door was your regular looking door, although in this house it looked very strange. As I began to leave a fear suddenly came to me, what if i couldn't get back into the house? Since this was where the little box took me I figured the house was how I would get back home. So I ventured back into the house to find a key, thats when I noticed why the door looked so weird, the key whole of the top lock to the door was huge. Although strange I firgured it would make it easy to find the key. I looked right in side the doorway and found nothing, then decided to look in the kitchen, I don't know why it seemed logical to me, to my luck there was a huge key hanging next to the phone. I made sure to memorize the adress and street name and then went looking for someone to tell me where I was and how to get back to my world. As I started walking I noticed strange things, like the color of the sky was a strange blue, darker but it wasn't anywhere near night time. The sun was high up in the sky but the sun as well was more of an orange than a yellow. Although the sky was darker it was still very very bright. The neighborhod of houses looked like the house I was in moments ago, I just couldn't figure out where i had dissapeared to, and although I should of found myself scared there were only feelings of bewilderment and confusion. I wondered for hours, leaving the neihgborhood and wandering though a town area. Through all my wandering not a single person could be found, or anything for that fact. The stores were not closed, I walked into a few of them, and had nocked on a few doors. I even yelled out, not a sound came back. when the strange colored sun finally started to set, I began to hurridly walk back to the strange house that was my gatway to this strange place. I got back to the strange house but the larg key I had been holding had changed it's size to a tinny key, as if it were suddenly for a lock box, or a safe. The door key hole had shrunk aswell. I spent what seemed like an eternity trying to get back into the house. It was then that I noced the door nob had become very large. When I finally got back into the house I noticed even further that the house had completly changed its shape, the doors that were big became small, all the doors that were small became big, and the wall had change side on lopsidedness. I sat down on a very comfoatable couch and became very sad, I didn't know what was going on and I could not find a single soul to explain to me this strange place. I looked around the house again, this time looking for a phone or a computer. I couldn't find the phone in the kitchen but i did find a computer. I thought maybe if I couldnt call anyone I might try this so I am typing in hopes that someone will read this and believe what they are reading. If you find a little box that says 'yours' in glitter on it, take that box and please help me find my way home. I am not scared, and I don't believe I am in danger but I am starting to get lonley and would like to come home. Thank you, -a person lost in a box.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Today!
Today I am remembering to blog! Twice I have forgotten!
Now here is an old story, passed down to me when I was a teen.
"The Woman Who Looked at the Wall"
One day, many hundreds of years ago (give or take a few years), a highly social Queen was having one of her weekly gatherings with neighboring ladies. She had just finished helping one of the ladies who had been coughing, choking on a bit of sandwich, when she remembered...
"Come ladies..." she beckoned, "Come see the newest gift from my husband, the King"
All the ladies hurried up many flights of stairs, past several torture chambers where groaning could be heard, and past a vista window with one of the loveliest views in all of the kingdom... past a dark, forbidden room in which could be seen a bubbling cauldron, and finally past a large portrait of an old couple frowning.
"It's just in here ladies," the Queen encouraged the tired women onward, "You'll love it!"
Inside the room, covering an entire wall was the largest single mirror that any of them had ever seen. It seemed bigger than the sky... deeper than the ocean, more vast than a field of dead soldiers after a pointless battle. They stared into the mirror for hours, danced before it... A portly woman with berry jam on her face, even tried to procreate with her reflection in the mirror. She was tempted away form the mirror with a croissant.
One of the women, a tall thin woman, seemed utterly entranced by the mirror, barely able to move.
"I should like to stare at you forever and ever.", she thought.
And as the other women fussed and giggled, wiggled and tickled... she stared at the woman looking back at her from inside this magic wall... her twin.
All of the carriage ride home, the woman thought of the wall in the Queen's castle. She had a small looking glass of her own at home, but only large enough to see her face in. She thought of returning home and standing in front of her own wall, staring for hours at the woman she saw there. She could think of nothing else... except occasionally of swimming.
She jumped out of the carriage as it approached her home, ran to her front door throwing it open, scampered up the stairs, not even saying hello to her husband and ten children, then finally burst into the large upstairs sitting room... the largest blank wall in the whole house. She looked... waited... blinked... blinked more... her eyes began to water, though she was not crying... not yet.
She stood for hours, clapped her hands, shouted at the wall, "Come to me! Come to me!!! Where are you?"
Many days passed and the woman still waited. Her family feared for her sanity... for her very life, and had begun preparations for an impressive funeral.
Finally after nearly seven days, the woman came down the stairs and joined her family at the dinner table where they were enjoying a humble supper.
"Why?", the woman asked, "Why could I not see myself in the wall?"
"Because...", her husband spoke cautiously, "Because it is a wall. I cannot see myself there either. We are not in the wall. We are out here with our children... and our supper."
"Isn't that obvious?", one of the oldest children spoke, "Is that what this has all been about? Mom, if you want to see your reflection, get a mirror! You can't just stare at a wall all the time and expect to see your reflection. That's like looking outside to try and see what is within. I guess that's what this is really all about, isn't it? You have to learn the difference between a wall and a mirror if you want to see your reflection. Just like you have to learn the difference between what is within and what is without. You can't be looking outside for what is inside of you and you can't pretend like that woman in the mirror is outside of you either. It's just an illusion! She's always within and that's where you should be looking. Maybe when you find her there, your mirror will arrive. Just like our royal Queen. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm blowing off this piss-poor conversation and broth for twelve. I'm going to get an education."
And after that, the woman began to look within, and eventually she realized... no mirror can show you who you are. You are your own mirror.
I don't know what this means but I just kinda went with it. Even though I checked it, there are probably typos. Have a nice day!
-C
Now here is an old story, passed down to me when I was a teen.
"The Woman Who Looked at the Wall"
One day, many hundreds of years ago (give or take a few years), a highly social Queen was having one of her weekly gatherings with neighboring ladies. She had just finished helping one of the ladies who had been coughing, choking on a bit of sandwich, when she remembered...
"Come ladies..." she beckoned, "Come see the newest gift from my husband, the King"
All the ladies hurried up many flights of stairs, past several torture chambers where groaning could be heard, and past a vista window with one of the loveliest views in all of the kingdom... past a dark, forbidden room in which could be seen a bubbling cauldron, and finally past a large portrait of an old couple frowning.
"It's just in here ladies," the Queen encouraged the tired women onward, "You'll love it!"
Inside the room, covering an entire wall was the largest single mirror that any of them had ever seen. It seemed bigger than the sky... deeper than the ocean, more vast than a field of dead soldiers after a pointless battle. They stared into the mirror for hours, danced before it... A portly woman with berry jam on her face, even tried to procreate with her reflection in the mirror. She was tempted away form the mirror with a croissant.
One of the women, a tall thin woman, seemed utterly entranced by the mirror, barely able to move.
"I should like to stare at you forever and ever.", she thought.
And as the other women fussed and giggled, wiggled and tickled... she stared at the woman looking back at her from inside this magic wall... her twin.
All of the carriage ride home, the woman thought of the wall in the Queen's castle. She had a small looking glass of her own at home, but only large enough to see her face in. She thought of returning home and standing in front of her own wall, staring for hours at the woman she saw there. She could think of nothing else... except occasionally of swimming.
She jumped out of the carriage as it approached her home, ran to her front door throwing it open, scampered up the stairs, not even saying hello to her husband and ten children, then finally burst into the large upstairs sitting room... the largest blank wall in the whole house. She looked... waited... blinked... blinked more... her eyes began to water, though she was not crying... not yet.
She stood for hours, clapped her hands, shouted at the wall, "Come to me! Come to me!!! Where are you?"
Many days passed and the woman still waited. Her family feared for her sanity... for her very life, and had begun preparations for an impressive funeral.
Finally after nearly seven days, the woman came down the stairs and joined her family at the dinner table where they were enjoying a humble supper.
"Why?", the woman asked, "Why could I not see myself in the wall?"
"Because...", her husband spoke cautiously, "Because it is a wall. I cannot see myself there either. We are not in the wall. We are out here with our children... and our supper."
"Isn't that obvious?", one of the oldest children spoke, "Is that what this has all been about? Mom, if you want to see your reflection, get a mirror! You can't just stare at a wall all the time and expect to see your reflection. That's like looking outside to try and see what is within. I guess that's what this is really all about, isn't it? You have to learn the difference between a wall and a mirror if you want to see your reflection. Just like you have to learn the difference between what is within and what is without. You can't be looking outside for what is inside of you and you can't pretend like that woman in the mirror is outside of you either. It's just an illusion! She's always within and that's where you should be looking. Maybe when you find her there, your mirror will arrive. Just like our royal Queen. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm blowing off this piss-poor conversation and broth for twelve. I'm going to get an education."
And after that, the woman began to look within, and eventually she realized... no mirror can show you who you are. You are your own mirror.
I don't know what this means but I just kinda went with it. Even though I checked it, there are probably typos. Have a nice day!
-C
Monday, August 17, 2009
And now for something different
Bread was sick last night and I only slept for two hours and I feel crazy and it's only 1 in the afternoon. Here's a little song about it.
I've got vomit on my hands 3 am
I've got vomit on my hands 3am
I've got vomit on my hands
And my hands are surely damned
I've got vomit on my hands 3am
Wishing on a star doesn't make it so
Wishing on a star doesn't make it so
Wishing on a star, you wish the vomit was gone
But wishing on a star doesn't make it so
Goodnight. next time I write a blog it'll be from texas. Well. Bittersweet.
ps- I washed my hands.
I've got vomit on my hands 3 am
I've got vomit on my hands 3am
I've got vomit on my hands
And my hands are surely damned
I've got vomit on my hands 3am
Wishing on a star doesn't make it so
Wishing on a star doesn't make it so
Wishing on a star, you wish the vomit was gone
But wishing on a star doesn't make it so
Goodnight. next time I write a blog it'll be from texas. Well. Bittersweet.
ps- I washed my hands.
sorry about the grammer and spelling
I had a moment the other night, while i couldn't sleep, that led me to understanding for the first time that holding on to materialistic stuff only ways me down. Not only does it take up more space, but i keep all this random stuff to hold onto memories, and some of these memories have needed to go away years ago. I had a good laugh looking at all the things i had insisted on keeping. One was a shirt, neatly folded and put into a box. It had lived in this box for i think 6 years, or maybe longer, and was deemed special, like a treasure. This treasure ended up being a large shirt with a monkey in a thinking pose on it and below the monkey was the quote "to be or not to be". It gets better, below the quote and to the side were faded signatures belonging to 5 boys. I can't even remember the name of there short lived singing group, i don't even think i ever heard there music. The point is that i kept the shirt for a ridiculous amount of time. Now i am looking at all my stuff like that, hording is a terrible habbit and for me i think it is done out of fear of losing somthing. I feel like i am starting to conquer this fear, and that feels really good. alright time to go to bed.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
It's happening...
When you put your intentions and desires out there, when you decide you know what you want and focus on it, it comes at you whether or not you feel ready.
I keep feeling like I can't take another minute of this phase I'm in, but I also stall in making some of the changes I know I need to make. I know I'm doing it, and it makes me nutso, but still I keep thinking I'll change in the morning or five minutes from now or just soon - real soon.
What I'm realizing right now, is that the time comes when the change is an immediate necessity, and you do what you need to, and the change is made. All that needs to happen at that point is that the change be recognized and the opportunity seized to elevate yourself to a new paradigm of living. Basically, it becomes a matter of maintenance at that point and no longer some grand thing you have to alter about your very being.
Stay awake, ladies and gentlemen. The change is happening right now. You're changing. I'm changing. Effie from Dreamgirls is changing...
Do you feel it?
'Cuz I do...
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Eight shooting stars
A thought I had today after watching Jerry Dill's audition over and over again for an hour and a half: When you've Listened to a joke forty times in a row, around time number 27 it stops making you laugh. It doesn't stop being funny, but humor, at least good humor, comes from surprise, comes from something unexpected. Editing a clip can be like hearing a joke forty times, and when it gets to that point, you really watch the material. You really watch the performance. More often then not, especially with funny videos intended for the internet, there is not much there. The characters are one dimensional and exist only to set up the joke or be the butt of it. Well for the past few days I have fully submerged myself into the world of Peppernut, I've spent literally hour after hour staring at these people, listening to them over and over, backwards and forwards. I see every gesture, every look. I hear every inflection, every emphasis, and I find myself, horrified, yes, but fascinated. I tell you these are real people! They do not exist only in the context of the video; they can barely be contained by it; they explode from it! I can watch Jean Buttman's audition over and over again because it is fascinating! It's captivating! They all are! Yes, they're hilarious, but beyond that, they manage to be uncomfortable, horrifying, frustrating, fun, endearing...I mean, I could just keep throwing out adjectives but you get the idea; there is so much there. They are so real, you just want to know more because you know there has to be more. And how uncomfortably real they are makes them so much funnier. While the last few blogs were about how incredible the peppernut auditions went, I had to get my two cents in. I saw eight shooting stars tonight and I thought about those auditions. It has to mean something right? Eight is a good number I think. structurally the strongest: 8 also the symbol for infinity right? Okay, okay, it's getting to be three thirty and around this time I start to ramble, so... to Jerry, Jean, Mary, Larry, Dwight, Barb, Skip, Richmond, Lane and Jennifer: I can't wait to share you with the world! To the world: we have a surprise for you! ~BRG
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
As I Go
Hey Y'all! I've been thinking about the auditions. I can't believe how fucking good they were! Every one's was so completely unbelievable, and they were all different. As I prepare to go and finish my MFA in Austin I realize more and more how lucky I am to be a part of the heretic family. There is no where else on earth that I could be Mary Elsner and Jean Buttman. And I experience so much joy in being those people. It makes me want to hit all of you. The universe sent us a message with those auditions, and it was meant to reassure us, that we are all brilliant, and we are all ready, and we all bring something to this company, that is unique and precious. I'm going to remind myself of this as I go away. It's going to be hard to be away from you all. But I'm so excited for our shared future, and all the things we have yet to create. I feel so good as I come into alignment with my joy, and I wish that same feeling to all of you. I think you know what it feels like. When I forget what it feels like, I think of the auditions.
E
E
Sunday, August 9, 2009
M' misspells
This week and last week I have had one misspelled word in my post. I am very tweaky about spelling, grammar and the general correctness of language - both written and spoken. The misspelled words I refer to are not typos, but actually words that I spelled incorrectly and failed to notice until shortly after posting.
I write this because two in a row is obviously a symbol and means I must learn something.
I write this because two in a row is obviously a symbol and means I must learn something.
The Muppets and Heretic
I've spent some time lately watching my season 2 DVD of the Muppet Show. Most people who know me know I am a rabid fan of the Muppets and have been since childhood. (I'm referring to JIM HENSON'S Muppets, of course, not anything that has happened since The Muppets Take Manahttan). I've been known to call them magical because no other puppet or animated character has been more real to me than Kermit, Fozzie, Gonzo, The Electric Mayhem Band and all the rest. Even the odd little side characters with no name have personality and dimension.
I learned so much from the Muppets. I got a great music education from them. I heard so many of the standards for the first time performed by Muppets. The greatest of entertainers guest-starred on The Muppet Show, many of whom were hold outs from the days of Vaudeville. The Muppets represented and respected art forms from many ages and many cultures and were friends to all who entered their domain.
The best thing I learned from the Muppets is the importance of silliness and the great joy to be found in embracing our own goofiness. From the Muppets I learned that it is not only okay to be weird, but actually preferable. I learned early and well not to take myself too seriously. I did forget for a while, but having had the lesson firmly established early, it has not been difficult to come back to this golden philosophy.
The Muppets represented an allignment of talents and energies so profound that there was no option but for the world to take notice and learn something, and everyone wanted to be a part of it, puppets or not.
I am a part of a group of people right now who are about to bring the world the next phase of the lessons the Muppets introduced to the world. The same magic, the same allignment, the same joy in our own dumb-ass-ness is present in what I get to do, and I am so profoundly greatful.
Thank you Jim Henson and The Muppets, and thank you Heretics.
-Ady
I learned so much from the Muppets. I got a great music education from them. I heard so many of the standards for the first time performed by Muppets. The greatest of entertainers guest-starred on The Muppet Show, many of whom were hold outs from the days of Vaudeville. The Muppets represented and respected art forms from many ages and many cultures and were friends to all who entered their domain.
The best thing I learned from the Muppets is the importance of silliness and the great joy to be found in embracing our own goofiness. From the Muppets I learned that it is not only okay to be weird, but actually preferable. I learned early and well not to take myself too seriously. I did forget for a while, but having had the lesson firmly established early, it has not been difficult to come back to this golden philosophy.
The Muppets represented an allignment of talents and energies so profound that there was no option but for the world to take notice and learn something, and everyone wanted to be a part of it, puppets or not.
I am a part of a group of people right now who are about to bring the world the next phase of the lessons the Muppets introduced to the world. The same magic, the same allignment, the same joy in our own dumb-ass-ness is present in what I get to do, and I am so profoundly greatful.
Thank you Jim Henson and The Muppets, and thank you Heretics.
-Ady
Thursday, August 6, 2009
New Zoo Review
Yesterday was amazing! We all auditioned for Happy Pants and I just want to say "fuck you" to all my fellow Heretics. It is a beautiful thing when we can get together, leave our problems at the door, and do extraordinary work. It is a pleasure and a privilege to create and explore art with this group of people. We sometimes disagree (of course) but we have proven time and time again that we are able to make magic, even under far less than ideal circumstances. I was SO impressed (but not surprised) with everyone's energy, effort and creativity at the auditions. I love you all and look forward to another amazing Heretic show!!!!!!!!!
SML
SML
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
ABOUT TO AUDITION!!!!
Hey guys! what's up? I just got to Mary Ellsnor's house! I'm blogging from my ipod touch! Who knew she would have wifi :-) It's kind of wierd i dunno why, it smells funny or something. But she's pretty cool, i got to be in a play she wrote before and it was fun! I got to sing and everything. Ever since i stopped playing little boys things have been kinda hard but still fun! I hope i get a big part! My dad said that you should always audition for the lead even if you don't think you're going to get it. I know i won't becasue she is a girl and i am not a girl because i am a boy. but i know what i'm gonna do for my audition anyways! I'm really nervouse! I used to sing good but since i'm getting older and becoming a man and stuff, my voice doesn't do the same as it used to. When i did "For Love Not Omaha" Barb Tuggle said i had to take voice lessons. I don't like her, she is scary. Sometimes i have nightmares, i wish i didn't, they scare me. Anyway, I have to go! oh god! Wish me lick!
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Better Late Than Never
That's actually a pointless statement and completely relative to what one is talking about. In this case, it's about my blogs. Last week I missed my blog entirely (I don't mean that I missed it as in, "It went away for Spring Break and I missed it."; I mean it as in, "I seem to be incapable of remembering to blog on my assigned day.") and I have no excuses, just pointing it out.
Anyway, we are all working harder than ever to make our way towards what we consider success and I can definitely feel the difference in the energy. I think that, like all of us, I realize more and more what I take for granted. It's nice to feel myself coming more into alignment with the "me" that can handle moving to the next level.
I'm going to write a poem now...
"Tuesday Tammy"
Tuesday Tammy never blogged
... on Tuesday.
Instead, she had a lunch and tea with her homegirl, Jack Daniels.
She woke up early...
kissed every knick-knack in her paddywack...
and ate jars and jars of pickled such and such.
The noon sun almost seemed to hiss at her in July,
and so she welcomed August with a roar,
"I'm Tuesday Tammy and I'm fucking drunk! Come and get me August!"
Her mail was always late... but she never knew.
She was just too drunk.
Eventually the tree she lived in was uprooted
and moved to the other side of the river.
She searched for it for three days.
Finally, by the third day she had sobered up.
She looked down.
"I haven't any trousers on." she said quietly...
"And... oh shit! I forgot to blog again on Tuesday!"
And with that,
Tuesday Tammy had learned her lesson...
and the sun never went down again.
Thanks everyone! I live this technological age we're in.
-Director
Anyway, we are all working harder than ever to make our way towards what we consider success and I can definitely feel the difference in the energy. I think that, like all of us, I realize more and more what I take for granted. It's nice to feel myself coming more into alignment with the "me" that can handle moving to the next level.
I'm going to write a poem now...
"Tuesday Tammy"
Tuesday Tammy never blogged
... on Tuesday.
Instead, she had a lunch and tea with her homegirl, Jack Daniels.
She woke up early...
kissed every knick-knack in her paddywack...
and ate jars and jars of pickled such and such.
The noon sun almost seemed to hiss at her in July,
and so she welcomed August with a roar,
"I'm Tuesday Tammy and I'm fucking drunk! Come and get me August!"
Her mail was always late... but she never knew.
She was just too drunk.
Eventually the tree she lived in was uprooted
and moved to the other side of the river.
She searched for it for three days.
Finally, by the third day she had sobered up.
She looked down.
"I haven't any trousers on." she said quietly...
"And... oh shit! I forgot to blog again on Tuesday!"
And with that,
Tuesday Tammy had learned her lesson...
and the sun never went down again.
Thanks everyone! I live this technological age we're in.
-Director
Monday, August 3, 2009
Barfo
I sometimes take for granted that I get to be an artist. I think in fact that I usually take it for granted. It occurs to me that most of the world feels like they have to suffer in order to enjoy a small part of life. They have to work at a job that they hate so that they can take a vacation or buy a boat. Most of the adults around me growing up instilled the idea that you have to do things in this life that you don't like in order to get to do something that you do like. You have to be unhappy in order to be happy. This never made any sense to me. In fact it made me angry, and I wanted to shout at them and tell them that they were wrong, and I didn't believe them. I don't feel like I have to tell them that anymore. Because I think that for them it's true. But it's not true for me, and it never was. I never believed in a back up plan or a day job, or in suffering to be happy. I won't do it that way. I've always said I would rather be dead than live in a way that I did not believe in. And it's true. But I'm lucky, because I get to do what makes me happy, my art. On a daily basis, and with all of you. And I'm very grateful for that. And if I ever give up on that, I give you permission to shoot me, or put me to sleep, or push me off a boat with some cement shoes.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
The 10,000-hour rule
I've been reading Malcolm Gladwell's "The Outliers" - it's a book about the unexpected and often overlooked factors involved in various success stories. There is a section in the book that references the 10,000-hour rule. It's something I've heard before about how mastery of any craft is gained after about 10,000 hours of work. Gladwell's examples were the Beatles - who played endless long gigs in Hamburg, Germany before taking the US and the world by storm - and two giants of the computer industry, Bill Gates and Bill Joy - both of whom had vast amounts of rare access to computers long before the personal computer was a reality.
I don't think The Beatles knew the long-term value of their toiling away in German strip clubs, nor do I think either of the Bills knew as gawky teenagers that their hours of nerdy fun on the room-sized computers of the 70s would put them in a position to lead the computer revolution that was to come.
In both of Gladwell's examples, the future success stories were only happy to have a chance to do the work they loved. Because they loved the work, they did it as often as they could. Because they wanted it, obssessed on it and delighted in every opportunity to do it, they were provided with opportunities to work. No guaruntees of glory, just the chance to work a lot - that's what got them their 10,000 hours. They were most certainly born with talent and potential, but lots and lots of work made them masters of their of their relative crafts.
As with most situations, I thought of how this applied to Heretic and our vision of success. Each and every one of us was a child performer. Each of us toiled in Belasco - 2, 3 sometimes 4 shows a year - onstage, backstage in the booth - 16-18 shows a run. We've all sought out opportunities to learn more and practice what we do whenever we could. For the past five years we've busted ass to put on our own shows, often with no reward but the joy of doing what we love. We rehearse often because we love rehearsing and we desire the satisfaction of being a well-oiled ensemble.
My happy point here is that I believe we've each reached, or are close to reaching that golden 10,000-hour mark. We are masters of our craft, and that is just one of the many reasons Heretic is destined for greatness.
Heretics be happy!
I don't think The Beatles knew the long-term value of their toiling away in German strip clubs, nor do I think either of the Bills knew as gawky teenagers that their hours of nerdy fun on the room-sized computers of the 70s would put them in a position to lead the computer revolution that was to come.
In both of Gladwell's examples, the future success stories were only happy to have a chance to do the work they loved. Because they loved the work, they did it as often as they could. Because they wanted it, obssessed on it and delighted in every opportunity to do it, they were provided with opportunities to work. No guaruntees of glory, just the chance to work a lot - that's what got them their 10,000 hours. They were most certainly born with talent and potential, but lots and lots of work made them masters of their of their relative crafts.
As with most situations, I thought of how this applied to Heretic and our vision of success. Each and every one of us was a child performer. Each of us toiled in Belasco - 2, 3 sometimes 4 shows a year - onstage, backstage in the booth - 16-18 shows a run. We've all sought out opportunities to learn more and practice what we do whenever we could. For the past five years we've busted ass to put on our own shows, often with no reward but the joy of doing what we love. We rehearse often because we love rehearsing and we desire the satisfaction of being a well-oiled ensemble.
My happy point here is that I believe we've each reached, or are close to reaching that golden 10,000-hour mark. We are masters of our craft, and that is just one of the many reasons Heretic is destined for greatness.
Heretics be happy!
Friday, July 31, 2009
You and I
you talk a lot about your future
well there's only so much you can say
you're always dreamin' of tomorrow when
you're never dealing with today
are you gonna let life pass you by
are you gonna make a mark before you die
are you gonna do the things you want to do before you're through
it's time to make a decision, to be the person that you want to be
all you need is a vision, and in a little bit of time you'll see
you're undcr no supervision, you are the only one who holds the key
And you are you, and I am me
well there's only so much you can say
you're always dreamin' of tomorrow when
you're never dealing with today
are you gonna let life pass you by
are you gonna make a mark before you die
are you gonna do the things you want to do before you're through
it's time to make a decision, to be the person that you want to be
all you need is a vision, and in a little bit of time you'll see
you're undcr no supervision, you are the only one who holds the key
And you are you, and I am me
Monday, July 27, 2009
Butter, the other sister
Have you ever wondered if you had a twin? Lost at the hospital in the 1970's, wandering the world as your unknown other. Cindy wondered this a lot. And for good reason. Because it was true. She met her twin purely by accident at the Sun Valley Mall food court. Cindy had been enjoying an afternoon of sock shopping when she decided to treat herself to an Orange Julius. As she approached the counter she felt an odd tingling sensation in her middle. Just then it happened. She came face to face with the girl she would come to know as Butter, her long lost twin. T'was lucky for Butter because she was diseased with a terminal kidney thingy, and Cindy was able to donate her Bean and save Butter.
Let's just say that when I approach Heretic working behind the counter of an Orange Julius, I get a tingle in my middle. And if Heretic ever needed a kidney thingy, I'd be the first in line. Cause we're family. Twins of seven if your Christian.
Let's just say that when I approach Heretic working behind the counter of an Orange Julius, I get a tingle in my middle. And if Heretic ever needed a kidney thingy, I'd be the first in line. Cause we're family. Twins of seven if your Christian.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Faith
We all signed on to this unbelievable partnership because we had and have a seemingly limitless faith in one another, and that is beautiful. What we are all learning (the easy and the hard ways) is that to be the group we are destined to be, each and every one of us has to have that same limitless faith in him/herself. Not a one of us is guaranteed a future because of any affiliation we may have. We each bring something necessary and unique to every figurative table we approach, but we can only contribute what we have if we have access to it. That access comes from faith that you are exactly who are supposed to be with all the talent and know-how you could ever need. That initial leap of faith we took must be reaffirmed on an individual basis as often as is needed until that faith becomes as natural as breathing.
It's wonderful to be grateful for the people in your life. It is essential to be grateful for who you are. For all the frustration I feel at times, I wouldn't choose to be anyone else but me. Now that I know that and can admit to it freely, it's my job to be an even more fabulous and unstoppable me every day.
It's wonderful to be grateful for the people in your life. It is essential to be grateful for who you are. For all the frustration I feel at times, I wouldn't choose to be anyone else but me. Now that I know that and can admit to it freely, it's my job to be an even more fabulous and unstoppable me every day.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
What's with "today"... today?
Dear adoring public,
Yay Saturday! I'm sitting here vibing after some good coffee and watching the amazing Terminator, The (1984), starring our esteemed Governator himself, pondering life and what's going on around me.
This week was a great week. I met and spoke with lots of people on potential projects and collaborations, some more promising than others but such is the way of things... I mean AMIRITE??? So, as well as many more live performances and appearances from your favorite degenerates, expect lots more from us on film and video throughout the next few months!
The old cash-ola is our one and only hurdle right now, but if I learned anything from Kevin Costner it is that if you "build it, they will come." "They" being lots of greenbacks... and actually I think that was James Earl Jones character that said that.
On a separate note, I will be billed from now on as my full name. Ridiculously awesome, right? Anyway, I'm going to get back to vegging out with my lovely girlie and getting ready for another wonderful week with my 7 favorite people!
Love to all,
Jason Paul Lucas
Friday, July 24, 2009
On this morning of July 24, 2009, my head is racing with the changes that are going on in my life of only 22 years. I feel there are opportunities at my door step and all I have to do is pick them up and go with them. They promise a prosperous future. Not to mention that alot of people have faith in me. These opportunities though are basic ones, such as having my schooling completely paid for, living is a sweet location in San Francisco for a really cheap price, or having a nice car given to me so that i am able to get tasks done in my life with ease. Then there are opportunities walking up to my door step that ask for a leap of faith. Faith that I give whole heartedly and with pride. Of course, I am talking about Heretic, the one place I feel that dreams can come true. That sounded kinda lame, but is true. I have always been looked at by Heretic as much older than i am, but in the past this view has been mainly for acting. I know I am ready to take on more, but I have to let go of thought processes that don't allow me to be the person or partner I wish to be. I realized this last night during Heretics weekly meeting and it was comfirmed for me this morning when trying to help out in taking care of my niece. I was trying to get her to take a nap and she wasn't having it. I was willing to keep trying, but when Kyra (the regular babysitter) arrived I immidiately let my doubt kick in and I gave up and let Kyra get here to nap. Kyra, as well, had a problem getting her to sleep though. You see I want to help out with my niece more and gain a better relationship withe her, but I have to spend time with her, be patient, and NOT have doubt in my ability to take care of her. But my random appearences have conveyed a different message. Thats how I feel about the way I convey myself to the rest of the world, I let doubt in my opinion, my capability, and my joy in life and what i want to do, take to much say. More than that, I believe it is not even my doubt but my fear that others have doubt in me. That sounds so crazy, but it is really what I fear. Not only does it not matter what others think but if I actually don't have any doubt in myself then why do I let such a silly manifestation occur. Sigh.
So now I have to change my thought process but there is a whole bunch of arguing going on in my head with whether it is a good idea to be a little selfish and believe that my opinions not only matter but need to be heard. It is a crazy feeling I am getting used to but I know I will be ok with it. I am just excited to have a new faith in what I want and trust in my own ability to get it!
Thanks, Heretic for giving me a place to think and be heard:)
-Maria Bosque
So now I have to change my thought process but there is a whole bunch of arguing going on in my head with whether it is a good idea to be a little selfish and believe that my opinions not only matter but need to be heard. It is a crazy feeling I am getting used to but I know I will be ok with it. I am just excited to have a new faith in what I want and trust in my own ability to get it!
Thanks, Heretic for giving me a place to think and be heard:)
-Maria Bosque
Thursday, July 23, 2009
BE NICE TO YOUR WAITER (AND OTHERS)
Have you ever lashed out at someone simply because they were there? Have you ever been mean to a service-person because you were having a bad day? Of course we all have!! I ask anyone who reads this to take a moment, take a deep breath and think about the energy you exude.
Scott
Scott
Heather D writes a poem, and Urn steals it and posts it on this blog
what's in a furnace? urn..
what's made of fern? urn
who took me undies? urn
who killed me baby? urn
what's your name? the name that god gave you? urn
who's the favorite cinderella character? urn..
yes... urn is many things as seem to be ... but there is only room for one urn for me.....
what's made of fern? urn
who took me undies? urn
who killed me baby? urn
what's your name? the name that god gave you? urn
who's the favorite cinderella character? urn..
yes... urn is many things as seem to be ... but there is only room for one urn for me.....
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
The Weather, Bea Arthur & Trust
This is Clay here. It seems the Bay Area often functions as one big city, with people traveling daily from one end to the other and in circles within. It is not uncommon, for instance, for me to be in a place like Walnut Creek experiencing 103 degree weather in the early afternoon, and then to find myself a few hours later in San Francisco, freezing in a damp fog with the temperature at about 55 degrees. Sometimes I cry during all of this because I feel I should be raining...
That last part isn't true... but that's my prerogative.
I was going to begin a continuing story in this, my first blog. Instead I want to write briefly about Bea Arthur, who in my mind and my life, is a true legend of comedy and television. I remember getting a text that she had died, about 15 minutes before going on stage for a matinee of "Marsha Eats A Cake". We had a remarkably small audience that day. No joy! I remember thinking that if Bea had come that day (as if by magic) I would have been embarrassed.
Coincidentally, every day of my life since then has felt like a "new" time. As I'm sitting here now... the Golden Girls playing in the background, I like to think that Bea Arthur is with me. I like to think that she would approve of what I'm doing with my voice... but that she'd want me to have more courage with my art... or maybe just more trust in the universe. I'm sure that most dead people want us to have more faith in the universe... but I like to think that Bea Arthur is with me now... That is my point.
Also, a thought... It's amazing what we draw to us when we don't trust ourselves! Not the good king of amazing either.
Peace,
Clay
That last part isn't true... but that's my prerogative.
I was going to begin a continuing story in this, my first blog. Instead I want to write briefly about Bea Arthur, who in my mind and my life, is a true legend of comedy and television. I remember getting a text that she had died, about 15 minutes before going on stage for a matinee of "Marsha Eats A Cake". We had a remarkably small audience that day. No joy! I remember thinking that if Bea had come that day (as if by magic) I would have been embarrassed.
Coincidentally, every day of my life since then has felt like a "new" time. As I'm sitting here now... the Golden Girls playing in the background, I like to think that Bea Arthur is with me. I like to think that she would approve of what I'm doing with my voice... but that she'd want me to have more courage with my art... or maybe just more trust in the universe. I'm sure that most dead people want us to have more faith in the universe... but I like to think that Bea Arthur is with me now... That is my point.
Also, a thought... It's amazing what we draw to us when we don't trust ourselves! Not the good king of amazing either.
Peace,
Clay
Monday, July 20, 2009
bathwater
Bathwater is dirty. That's what Mummy said as she submerged with my little brother. Well, I never wanted a little brother anyway. And so I grew up an orphan. Daddy had died in the great war. Not sure why I was left. Nun said my whole family was an abomination, but I stuck Nun with a knitting needle, and that shut her trap. Anyway I married a well to do sort of gentleman, and we had a few kids. I rarely thought about my childhood, but now, here on my deathbed, it occurs to me I ought to tell you. Really I thought I'd take this secret to my grave. I wouldn't have done it any differently. Not one bit.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
A brief parable with a moral of sorts
Little Johnston Gammy was playing one day when he was suddenly stabbed in the tummy. It was awful. No one had intended for Johnston to get hurt. Perhaps it shouldn't have happened at all. Nonetheless, it did happen. The tip of the knife was broken off in little Johnston's tum, and he spent the next 20 years of his life living his life around that tender spot in his abdomen. He couldn't play rough with the other boys; he was always, on some level, aware of this injury he had suffered as a boy, and it dictated many of his decisions.
One day, Johnston decided he no longer wanted to be in pain. Until he realized this, he hadn't ever really considered it an option, living pain-free. He had the knife tip removed. He gave it some time to heal, which took about a week. From that point forward, Johnston's life was no longer hindered by a constant nagging pain. His thoughts and decisions were free to exist as they may, without heed paid to old injuries.
Question: What if Johnston had waited another 20 years?
Another question: Are there any old injuries dictating your life (or my life)? If given a chance to heal would it really take any longer than a week (or a day) to remove these old injuries as potential obstacles to happiness and fulfillment? Do we have another 20 years to wait to find out for sure?
One day, Johnston decided he no longer wanted to be in pain. Until he realized this, he hadn't ever really considered it an option, living pain-free. He had the knife tip removed. He gave it some time to heal, which took about a week. From that point forward, Johnston's life was no longer hindered by a constant nagging pain. His thoughts and decisions were free to exist as they may, without heed paid to old injuries.
Question: What if Johnston had waited another 20 years?
Another question: Are there any old injuries dictating your life (or my life)? If given a chance to heal would it really take any longer than a week (or a day) to remove these old injuries as potential obstacles to happiness and fulfillment? Do we have another 20 years to wait to find out for sure?
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Sometimes it is so unbelievable to me to realize what my life has become. You hear about peoples dreams coming true and what they had to overcome to get to their goals, but it is a strange feeling to believe the possibilities of that happening to me. To be able to let go, for the first time, of all the standards that sociaty has given me. In letting go of these standards i have found a pathway to believing in my own talent and beauty. I Love the people I am working with and i am excited for how we will get to where we want to be. It will be hard and scary, I won't have that much money and we will come across very unlikable people, but i don't care because the reward is gonna be worth it!!!! YAHHHHHHHH well, it has been a long but good weekend, i love lamp i love lamp
- Maria Bosque
We delight in the inappropriate!
Welcome all to the Heretic Entertainment blog! This is where we'll be posting information and journal entries about what goes on with us here at Heretic Entertainment; entries about anything and everything including the creative process, upcoming shows, rants, and little tid bits of info about what really happens behind the curtain!
The group that is now known as Heretic Entertainment was first established in 2003 by Ady Abbot and Clay Rosenthal to produce the works of writer/composer Clay Rosenthal. Having picked up many talented individuals along the way, Heretic has evolved itself more into a troupe than a theatre company. We are all very excited to move forward with that in mind, taking things in new directions, to new places, and finding new ways to be profoundly at odds with what is general accepted.
For more on us you can find us on Facebook, just search for Heretic Entertainment.
You can also follow us on Twitter at Twitter.com/HereticEnt or check out our youtube page at http://www.youtube.com/user/HereticTheatre. We hope to be keeping you all entertained as we all get to know each other better!
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