it's been a year!

since blogging. who would have guessed? well, on the occassion, here are some lyrics from a song for Madeline called, "Of the day"

She walks into the room
Everybody stares at the Adonis
She doesn't care

She winks at me from across the room
I take a sip and start to swoon

We become lovers into the night
but in the morning when I turn on the light
She has gone away

Where did she run to?
Why didn't she stay?

Where does she run to?
Nobody knows.
It's nobody's business
but I'd like to go.

I find that she's gone to the garden to play
Saying hello to the day

I walk up behind her all slow like
and put my arms around her and take a bite

- jaw

ps. thanks for visiting everyone! the next year can only be greater.

a review of Vigils or (if I were the playwright)

i saw Goodman Theatre's production of Vigils last Friday night. it was a preview, but from what I gather about Goodman productions, a preview is just as good as the real thing. the show officially opened last night so I thought I would give my review as I saw it...

first off, we were 10 minutes late. after some great Red Snapper at Habana Libre, we missed an el train by seconds and had to wait for 20 minutes to catch the next one. as our train approached, I saw another coming right on its tail. this is bullshit and i think the CTA needs to be more mindful of its passengers. if the trains had come at "regular" intervals, we would not have been late. fuck the CTA.

that said, anyone, like me, who feels that reviews and critics who come late to a show have no right to write about said show should get off my blog and hug a tree. i think under normal circumstances I would not write such a review, but as I watch Noah Haidle's Vigils I cam to the conclusion that I had not missed much. The play surround a woman who has lost her husband to a fire. he being a fireman. she has trapped his soul in a box at the foot of her bed keeping him locked up for her to remember. memories play a big part in this play and to be honest they play an enormous role. scenes are played out repeatedly. moments in the lives of the characters are played out over and over again as neither the woman or the soul of her husband can forget. he can't forget because he is dead and his life is continually being played out before him. she can't forget because she doesn't want to. this is her achilles heal. this is what we are watching her overcome.

the play has a light comic undertone and when dealing with death it seems a bit strange that the characters are saying some of the things they say. in one scene, the woman is awoken in the morning by her alarm. like clockwork she asks her husband to turn it off. he doesn't respond. she asks again. the woman finally comes to the realization and says out loud, "oh, that's right! you're dead." it is funny and gets a laugh. there are lots of laughs in this vein, which I admit, I enjoyed. Madeline said it best when she said that the norm for literature is to play death as morbid. Haidle was playing death comic to get us, and his character, past the pain and into the light (so to speak). I respect that and agree. i enjoyed the humor in Vigils and wouldn't ask the playwright to change his outlook...

what I would ask the playwright to do is to watch his play in the grand theatre. Goodman is not a rinky-dink no budget theatre. it is a bottomless well for the stage and from what I have seen there, they can do pretty much anything they want. I felt this about Vigils...it was over-produced and over-developed. in an intimate blackbox theatre, I believe that Vigils would have gripped me and ripped me apart. in the large (though smaller of the) Goodman theatres, the Owen, I felt like I was watching a small play on a big stage, which kills any chance of me connecting to the story.

If I were the playwright given a chance to write for the Goodman stage, I would have 1) written an entirely different play or 2) re-created my characters larger than life. these characters were simple in their struggle and in their weight. the actors were superb, but I felt they got lost sometimes because the text was so small and the stage so big. I have seen Corburn Goss at Writers' Theatre and in his role there he displayed a great gift. In his role here, he was the closest to being fit for the role in my opinion. The man who played the soul came across as a Dave Attell copy. if he didn't have to scream the whole time I thing his character would have won more of the audience over, or at least would have won me over. The man who played the body was the most lost for me. The fact that he didn't look like the soul was probably explained to the audience in the first ten minutes I missed, but even as a body detatched from his soul I didn't care for much of what he said except when he met his imaginary daughter. the little playing the daughter was brilliant! she stole the show. the woman at the front of story also came across as needing a smaller stage. she did a lot of emoting. i hate emoting. i think her character calls for quiet subtlety which was not available for this actress.

if Haidle is writing plays with fantastic elements, which showed in the design or this production, he needs to write text just as fantastic. for the actor's sake and the audience. this is what I believe.

- jaw

bri-fly

dawn asleep
night awake
eyes closed
dreams open

what
are we
supposed
to feel
about
this world
we
live
in?

f-Bomb

Date canceled.
It’s too late.
Is it ever really too late.
Accents drive me wild.
Hers is the best.
She’s so young.
Smart, sarcastic, and sexy.

Work has been a killer.
I won’t go into it.

I don’t have much to hold on to these days.
It’s kind of nice.
A weird place to be, really.
It’s oddly comfortable in my isolation.
Still, I miss that accent.

- Benjamin D. Bain
October 19, 2006

100 Blogs!!!

not a big deal here. no. of course not. just a little note to say. this is the 100th Blog of Wet City Arts. congrats! yeah...US! not U.S. Us. us. you and me. Yippee!!!

so, I'm writing this as I listen to Neil Labute talk with Theatre in Chicago. great shit. he's the man.

i finished reading Bob Dylan's Chronicles #1 this weekend. I've been reading it on the john (the shitter, while I shit...poop. crap. drop the kids off at the pool, etc. etc. etc.) I was taken aback by the jump in chronology at first, but after finishing it up I understand what he's getting at. you know. life isn't about a to b to c to d. sometimes to understand a life or a time you have to know about b then d in order to get to a and c. you know. it's a whole. a journey and sometimes you pass through without knowing that you've just come across something great until you pass through something else or some other things, etc. etc. etc.

anyway, it's the second "biography" I've read in the past two years since moving to Chicago (Miles Davis being the 1st). next up is Arthur Miller. it's a lot thicker. gotta make sure I'm, well, I'm gonna take a breather for a while and ponder other life lessons while, well, you know, before hitting up Miller, but I'm excited.

a stop at a Deli the other day where you could not use your cellphones produced a little something that goes like this:

sheriff didn't see anything as he came out of the Deli
roast beef stuffed belly
black coffee high
a pickle and cole slaw on the side

Dumb prick fell like an idiot box off the bureau duirng a quake
shot in the heat
bullet through the heart
cop killer
lays there stopping a door
drug dealer runs free

i'm home watching this on satelite
saw it coming from miles away
couldn't say anything
communication breakdown
it was televised! they were right
was it wrong?

- jaw

a malady to interpret

random lines appearing here and there
don't cross
do not walk
eyes go fuzzy by the cold night air
downtown wind
city of corruption

let's meet uptown on the corner
bake a cake or pop some cherries

from unknown to formulated
keep talking
keeping on
numb inside about to implode
explode for
the love of it

we've got you covered in the box
relaxing for the fall trusting ourselves

- jaw

it also appears...

that the debate over Ketchup v. Catsup is an indisputable wash. Jonathan Swift penned the word Catsup in 1730 and Ketchup derives from Catchup (the original name of the tasty condiment).

Either way, this is a hilarious article on the subject.

tolls

the Suburban tolls got the better of me on Saturday night.

I was invited to an Ocktober Fest in the Suburb of Woodfield on Saturday night by two college friends; married w/ a small child. A group of my undergrad college friends were making the trip. I invited my girl and two theatre friends to ride with me. I got directions from the host (and forgot that he is not the best with directions). I mapquested the route as well, but it gave me an extremely alternate route so I entrusted the journey to the directions from the host (forgetting he is not best with directions).

We hit 355 North at about 7:30/40ish after running into some traffic while travelling on 290. At about 8:00, 355 North ended and another 290 began. the 75th Street exit was missed.

Backtrack: we had to run the toll on 88 because while I was trying to get 80 cents I inadvertently pulled into the I-Pass lane without an I-Pass. I was able to hit the next toll correctly and hand over a dollar for that one.

So, anyway, I get off on Lake and head west. This is a good move on my part. I was able to pick up 355 again, though had to pay another toll to get back on. I believe I paid in full on this one. I travelled South on 355 to try and pick up that 75th Street exit.

Backtrack: while on Lake, I stopped at a gas station. Yes! I stopped at a gas station for directions. the lady had no idea where to direct me except to a display of maps. I'm not spending time reading fucking maps you bitch. I didn't tell her this, but that's what I thought. I was upset, but I was also very much out of the way. I thought I was closer.

So, anyway, 88 is rapidly approaching and the 75th Street exit is no where in site. It's time to go home.

Backtrack: Shit! I forgot to say that I called both of my friend's cellphone to help me find my way. 2 messages later I was still on my own.

the 88 toll was what did it. I didn't have the correct change and there was no person in site to give me some so I threw a handful of change at the toll collecting machine and drove on. I saw in my side mirror a light go off. They caught me!

now, we're travelling back on 88 to the city because this Suburban bullshit is too much and I get the call.

from 88 you have to go SOUTH on 355. hmmm...

I got off on the first exit to contemplate whether it was worth getting back on the highway to hit the party up. It was now about 9pm. Fuck that! (I could describe the reasoning behind why I made this decision such as the fact that I still had to drive back to the city after the party and would probably have to abstain from drinking to do so; my mood was not one of wanting to be sober; should I attend a party pissed off and not be able to drink?)

Either way, I was going to have to hit another toll without any change.

Backtrack: I know that I paid 2 other humans a dollar while on this journey. So I paid my fucking due!

we went back to the city. driving straight through the toll to get back on 88, not even thinking about paying. (I could of thrown a handful of pennys, but the saying goes, a penny earned and I just told you; I paid my fucking due!)

the city turned out to be a good night. dinner at Mac then more drinks at Club Foot. Conversations, friends, the girl, etc.

Fuck tolls! The next time I go to the Suburbs it will be the ones that don't make you pay to visit.

atonement

let us not talk about affliction, but things of beauty...

Burn This by Lanford Wilson is being presented by GroundUp Theatre Company currently running at the Duncan YMCA Chernin Center for the Arts Studio Theater (1001 W. Roosevelt Rd.). If you are interested in seeing a beautiful show done beautifully, go see this production directed by two of my favorite people in the world, Julie Levinson and Don Johnson. Sabrina Lloyd plays a stellar Anna, Todd Wojick a perfect Burton, Matthew Zaradich a hilarious Larry and John Wilson a punch-to-the-gut Pale; Nicole Pellegrino as the Dancer was an added treat for all. Props to Glenn Proud on some great Fight Direction! Powerful.

Madeline and I went to the final Cubs game of the season. Great seats except we got some shade from the awning aboce. It got cold so we moved to seats in the sun for a brief time. The usher allowed us to stay after seeing Madeline shivering next to me and the entire row empty. Minutes after we made nice with the Usher, Scott Moore hit a foul ball in the bottom of the second that hit the woman behind us and landed directly into Madeline's seat. The ball was ours! Never before has this happened to me. I talked to a friend of mine at work who has figured he's gone to more than 300 games in his lifetime and never has a foul ball come close to his hands. Madeline has been to 6 and this is the third foul ball she or someone she has been with has caught it. Exceptional!

"No Exit" benefit tomorrow night at Ts Bar & Grill. Be there or be a rhombus (those chosing to be a rhombus are excluded from perdition as long as they come out to see the show we're benefiting...more info at www.livewirechicago.com).

Work on "A/other Lover" is heating up. A dramatic monologue was written while I walked to work this morning. hopefully it fits in the space I feel an absence. i'm afraid I may have to write a few more to beef the play up.

Work on "Hailey's Comets" is also heating up. I'm going to send a copy to the story's originator and see want she thinks. The more I get into it the more I think it is a feasible and must shoot film.

Wet City Productions' two shorts are so close to being ready for submission, re-productions, distribution I can taste it.

Peace to all,
- jaw

ps.