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

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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...

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

Beautifully stated ........ I couldn't agree more! Girl we're gonna miss you (no Milli-Vanilli pun intended) but these next few months are going to fly by and we'll all be together again before we know it!

SML

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

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.

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

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

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!

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

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.

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!