life without dsl at home

the move is pretty much complete now that my phone and dsl has been successfully transfered. of course, there was the week and a half where it took 3 technicians to come and install said phone and dsl. if anyone ever tries to stick the whole labor issue on me I'm gonna tell them to fuck all to hell i employed three workers where all it should have taken is one or better yet a computer is all it should have taken. and now I can type at home. to you.

the horizon:

pre-production on The Handshake of a Stranger is running nicely. 3 weeks away and we're calm cool and collected. flights planned; location found; actors involved; crew on their way...breathing in. breathing out.

there is rumor on a gala where there will be a fight...a bout...The Bout. location location location. where will it be. once that's found i'll let you know the vitals.

and the question of a lifetime...can theatre happen, planned in advance? i ponder this because Another Lover is slated for February 8 thru 18, 2007 at the side studio. let it be known one and all. grander things have happened. it's going to be one fuck of a show!

and Sing You a Song, moving to post sound. a scary place to be, but like that of a first date. the anticipation. the reward. damint! I should have asked her back to my place...haha! of course I fucked her.

i must finish this full length screenplay. sell sell sell.

what's up next summer? i hear movement. 2 eyes. questionable sanity.

peace out motherfuckers! i swore.

- jaw

i've come to my own defense

well, here is the 2nd review of A Night of Innocent Games. One might ask, why the fuck would you put up these critics comments when they so clearly have deemed this play to be lost for the ages. i give the same answer again, "give me another day". well, what the fuck does that mean? you ask. think on it, I reply. think on it and remember one day when we are old and gray what they said and what we've become. (personally, I think it's funny that this critic used the word plop).

It’s not inconceivable that, at some point in the American 20th century, a scenario like the one in August Strindberg’s Miss Julie could have taken place. So adaptor Weinstein deserves credit taking a whack at it with his new update. The story—that of a moneyed aristocrat’s hellion daughter so turned on by rough trade that she humiliates herself by carrying on with her father’s footman—is a bucket of suds film director Douglas Sirk could have dined out on circa 1956.

But Weinstein has inexplicably plopped down Miss Julie, and the servants who mock her, in 1991. While an unofficial caste system was certainly in place in that year of Desert Storm and Dances with Wolves, Weinstein’s decision to retain Strindberg’s Victorian language and Dennis’s all-white production don’t represent anything close to it—even if the unseen sugar-daddy aristocrat is now a Trump-like hotel magnate. And other than Proud’s armband tattoos, the only onstage element that reminds us of the early ’90s—the strange incorporation of acoustic-guitar rock numbers—disappears halfway through, before it’s had a chance to take root.

In Dennis’s bare-bones staging, the director gets highly credible performances from Proud as a canny butler with a scheme for a better life and Mendez as his conflicted fiancée. But McPhillips’s brittle, quavering Miss Julie hits too many false notes that can’t be concealed in the Side Studio’s tiny confines.

— Christopher Piatt

unearthed

i decided that since i've moved it was about time to go through the boxes of papers I had with old scripts and notes on writings so that I could discard a lot of duplicates and unnecessary sheets. I was surprised by the amount of shit I had that was useless, but what surprised me even more was glancing over scripts that I haven't looked at in a number of years. one in particular kept me zoned for a while, a one-act called It's a Kind of Blue. it's a dream play about musicians coming together, forming a band, though i use the word "play" lightly because I wonder if it would make a better film. this is the crux of my life right now. film or theatre. theatre or film. i'm enjoying them both so much right now. it is a struggle though because each take up a large portion of my time and energy. i'm not ready to give in to one or another at the moment, but I do think about it a lot. i also unearthed old versions of scripts and am trying to keep records straight of the progression. probably for my benefit only. one day someone else may find them interesting of helpful. and that was that. I'm gonna post some new titles on jaaronweinstein.com in the next week related to the findings and pursue some avenues towards seeing them produced, my name in lights or tied up in a padded cell. another day i tell you. another day.

peace
- jaw

jury duty

so, I may have jury duty tomorrow. not sure though. I guess I call tonight to find out, but in case i do get called I just wanted to say, FUK DA REGULATIONS!

if that isn't enough I should add that I very well may forget to call this evening to find out about my summons in which case I will be doling around tomorrow without a care in the world when all of the sudden the po-po will be coming after me and me not being a very fast runner almost slow you could say will get caught quickly and put behind bars where well I will experience the uncomfortable likeness of being an inmate.

if I do by chance remember to call then I will go to the place where they say for me to go and sit for a long while while I wait to be called and asked questions I will probably have witty responses for and to that I should most likely be dismissed or thrown out. either way I will have enjoyed my time and hope to catch up on some reading.

so, i say, FUK DA REGULATIONS and see you when I see you.

the move

FYI: jaw dba Wet City Productions (wcp) has officially moved to its new home office:

1420 West Huron #3F
Chicago, IL 60622

Coming Soon...

what to say and how to say it in 100 words or less...

give me another day.

the reviews are in

A NIGHT OF INNOCENT GAMES

Add Miss Julie to the long list of plays that shouldn't get updates but all too often do. Joshua Aaron Weinstein's script relocates Strindberg's 1888 drama to 1991 and the household of a hotel magnate. The vaguely Hilton-esque spin on the original's heiress-gone-wild scenario is all that really translates, the fault of time and, gasp, progress: it's impossible to conveive of a modern American equivalent to the draconian late-Victorian caste dictates of the source, let alone the "fallen woman" stigma that's the sexually liberated Julie's fate. Director Christopher Dennis and his cast labor valiantly within these limits but can't surmount them.

- Brian Nemtusak, The Chicago Reader

wouldn't it be great

i mean, seriously? for all of us. don't you think? i think it'd be great. man! it'd fucking blow the roof off. don't you -? i mean, can you imagine? imagine! damn. it's hard for me to, but...damn! i mean...damn. shit. let's roll and see what hits, you know. why not? why fucking not? let's do this. i mean, wouldn't it be great?

comments to http://www.myspace.com/hocradio

the universe is unfolding, people exploding. and i'm strapped to a dirty bomb singing rubber soul in the hot tub of your local y, but x marks the spot, and our aim is off; someone's gotta do somethin' before the pass out game is over 'cause how far under these stars can we really run free; i've seen the devil holdin' 'yer breadstick; are we really going to let 'em do shit like that? is peace, love and happiness all we need? i im'd my gps to find out where all this text goes...fyi: nobodyz responded. i'll let you know if I hear back.

until then see you around myspace...

...or yours. mine's a bit of a mess, you know, the move and all, but I don't have roommates, so, wherever you feel more comfortable. i have cable and wine, but it's up to you, and, of course, we'll have to stop by the gas station. in and out, you know. i'm not being presumptuous, right? o.k. cool. be back in a flash. you, um, I just wanted to say, you look good tonight. not good, that's a stupid word, shit, beautiful. is that cliche? I don't know. I just, right, I'll be back, I. right, don't go anywhere, of course you can't. it'll all be over soon. for your own good and all. a surprise, you know, think of it as a surprise, we'll get there, take the blindfold off and, suprise! you know, we'll be there. I'll consider untying you, but you have to promise not to scream. unless, well, I'm not a horse, but, maybe the gag will have to stay in. I can loosen the knots, of course. right, I'll be just a sec. you want anything, a mountain dew, jerky? no. ok. two seconds...

poetry in motion

my Friend and fellow filmmaker, John Narus, works at a sound/video restoration company in NY and forwarded me this link to an interesting article about the poet Anne Sexton. His company, Vidipax is mentioned as a saving grace to a poet's dying words. Congrats to him and to writer's living on.

http://www.baltimoresun.com/features/bal-to.sexton31mar31,0,984204.story?coll=bal-features-headlines