two for quotes

"Whenever you write, whatever you write, never make the mistake of assuming the audience is any less intelligent than you are."

– Rod Serling

"A writer's knowledge of himself, realistic and unromantic, is like a store of energy on which he must draw for a lifetime: one volt of it properly directed will bring a character alive."

– Graham Greene

can I get a small one?

saw The Weir and not only did the Signal Ensemble blow me away once again, it was my first taste of seeing a Conor McPherson play (after having read the majority of his work). I can only say, if you didn't see, you could never know, but if you have the chance go see a show...by Signal or McPherson. good luck.

next up was Rabbit Hole by David Lindsay-Abaire at the Goodman. I was worried at first because although I have much enjoyed what I've read by Abaire, as well as seen, he teeters on the Christopher Durang side, which I don't much care for. Knowing this and knowing that this was not to be a typical Abaire play, walking into the theatre another worry popped up, oh! shit, this is going to be like watching a sitcom. The exceptionally tailored set (an upper middle class suburban home, kitchen and family room with a child's room on the second floor) gave the appearance that I was in for a long night, however, as soon as the action began, I couldn't help but care for these characters and the tragedy they've incurred. the loss of a child is a long standing tale we've seen unfold in many plays, but the immediacy of Abaire's tragedy can be shelved alongside the greats as one that will stang the test of time. the smallest role, but largest impact on me, was that of the teenager who was driving the car that hit the son crossing the street running after the dog. his need for some sort of connection with the parents was both painful and joyful to watch. bravo cast, crew, company and madeline for scoring the tickets.

the final show is only the tail end of what has been an incredible week of celebration for myself. Madeline had a birthday and we spent the week dancing, drinking and having a good time. on Sunday night, we concluded the bash with a trip to Steppenwolf to see the House Theatre's production of The Sparrow. I believe I do the company and the play justice by labeling the show Theatre Emo. If you are familiar with the genre of music, Emo is stuck on a band that "emotes" during much of their performances. Now, there is a difference between emoting and rocking. I'm not going to go into detail about those differences only to say that emoting is the lesser of the two outcomes in my book. Emoting is, in fact, inherent in drama and that is why I say that I do justice by calling The Sparrow this. In this sense, The Sparrow is "performance drama" where Emo bands are "music drama". the play evoked much emotion as well as discussion so it is a recommend piece. i am interested in seeing more from this company as well, but here within lies my premonition...all House shows will remain the same...and for me, this is not good theatre. just like the Blue Man Group who began with a happening of great genius, it has now become a repetitive piece of show. i hope with all hope that the House Theatre will find a way to use all their talent for a new purpose and drive what they are doing through the hearts and soul of humanity, but alas, i am a pessimist and I believe what they will do is drive dollars into their pockets and sell shit that collects in the basement of our country. who knows... i sure as hell don't.

the bottom line is that i prefer literature to spectacle and there is room for both in this world. so, now i'm going to drink a small one and then a few more then I'm gonna get stoned and buy out the store. if i'm lucky i'll fall in a place where there's land. if i'm lucky i'll swallow water and not sand.

'The Road' by Benjamin D. Bain

Often I find myself comparing life on the road, to the road of life. It has its twists and turns, ups and downs, fast times, and slow times. The road is a place to hide, as well as a place to be found. A comfort place, a compliant place. Complacent and creative.

Once it’s in you, it never leaves. You are a roadie for life.

You meet many people on the road of life. You learn from one and teach another. Some you forget to call, some you forget entirely, and others that will stay with you forever. A series of hellos and goodbyes.

It’s tough. If you weren’t there, you wouldn’t understand. The road is truly addictive. It’s a vice. It’s a way of life. A sacrifice, but stimulating. A struggle, but satisfying.

You never know where the road might take you. Sometimes there are detours or accidents, bad weather or U-turns for no reason. Other times there are tolls or as my father says, “speed-bumps in the road to make you slow down and let you know that you are going to fast.”

The road is a complicated place. If you don’t stay focused, you will lose track. You might take the wrong exit. But let it be known here and now, that anytime, and I mean ANY-TIME you go the wrong way, you are guaranteed to see something that you didn’t know was there. A path less traveled. You will one day be thankful that you went the wrong way.

Often I find myself comparing life on the road, to the road of life. As a seventy-eight year old Cajun taxi driver in Louisiana once told me:

“Life will never be the way you would have it designed to be.
It’s a challenge.”

- March 20, 2007

vision

i'm working on my first pre-drafted blog about an experience I had last night in the emergency room at Northwestern. everything is good. everyone is fine. the experience however is one that will baffle me for years to come and maybe with all your help we can solve this thing...

until then, I want you all to know that at charlierose.com you can watch full episode of his show. I frequent the site often, but admit that I haven't been on in ages and in fact am sad to say that i haven't caught the show in ages. so, I went to the site this past weekend and saw the phenomenon of online video once again content me that what I do in my life is worth while (and maybe one day will be somewhat profitable). Sufficed to say, Harold Pinter's interview with Charlie was on the top of the list having just been aired a day or so before I came to the site. I sat in front of my computer for an hour (I do more on a regular basis) and watched these two amazing men conversate.

much was talked about Pinter's work and his political views. He and Charlie surely do not get along when it comes to Pinter's view on America. Pinter believes as much of us do that Americans as a whole have an unjustified ego and are quite bullying in their point of view. Charlie still has hope for America, whereas Pinter is content in his distopian vision.

Two interesting quotes or thoughts came out of this for me besides the piece as a whole and I wanted to share.

The interview was very retrospective and Charlie showed Pinter's expansive reach by rolling clips of other great men and women talking about Pinter on Charlie's show. Stoppard, Mendes, Pinter's wife, etc. all had much to say in conversations they had with Charlie about Pinter. Mamet also spoke and this is how he encompassed Pinter's role in theatre, "Pinter took the narration out of drama and put the poetry back." There is no argument that the best writers of today follow Pinter in his role. i don't think I would have the guts to write what I do unless I had such a role model to follow.

The second point I want to share is when Charlie asked Pinter why he doesn't write a play about the war in Iraq. Aside from not writing anymore plays, Pinter said this, "It is not what is in my vision." Kind of like the old saying, "Write what you know." Pinter fully claims to not being able to write a play about certain topics. Of course, much of his work is extremely political and we can go back through countless works and parallel what is going on in Iraq with the action, subjects and characters of his plays, but to write a play about this subject is just not something he is capable. I started to write here, "even he is capable", but Pinter fully believes that it is not his role to write such a play; it is another's role. He talks about Hare who rights on the subject with much admiration.

You can learn a lot from a dodgy old rascal like Pinter; and Charlie too. I did.

A final side note is that when asked about theatre today and writers today, Pinter mentioned one name, Conor McPherson. Currently, Signal Ensemble Theatre is doing The Weir, McPherson's first play with more than one character. Gift Theatre did The Good Thief this past summer. Chicago ain't that bad I say...

just don't go to the emergency room with an emergency.

from the man who brought us Red Planet

"There is no way writers can be tamed and rendered civilized or ever cured. The only solution is to provide the patient with an isolation room where the creature can privately endure the affliction and food can be poked in with a stick."

– Robert Heinlein

blind

usually, it begins with a poem of some sort and maybe attending a theatrical event (on stage or screen)...followed, of course, by some couch time (procrastination/deep thought)...the muse is abound.

last night I sat with a play I started in 2001. pre-911 if I recall correctly. An assignment really, but one that I put on myself. the play is based on events that occurred the year before I arrived at the University of Arkansas. an African-American PhD student entered his mentor's office on the first day of class, before the first bell (if there is a bell, I don't recall) and shot him...then turned the gun on himself...before police were able to get through the door. why this happened is anyone's guess. the research I did while at the University resulted in the story that the student had just been dismissed from the program he had been struggling in the past few years. The professor was his mentor and staunchest supporter. A final appeal to remain in the program was denied. the student, unstable, took the news a little too hard...a little too far. Other rumors abound were that the two men were lovers.

The murder happened behind closed doors and the two men are not around to speak of their actions, though I began in 2001 writing a piece of non-fiction. taking from newspaper articles, interviews and University publications the majority of my play. last night I began stripping away these facts to create a piece of drama without the burden of fact. facts that I felt could never be substantiated, though the two sides of this story remain intact; a story of power and mystery. a piece on race in America. tentative title: WHITE

i hope to complete the new draft this week. it is now connected to my body along with my mind. the soul is breathing new life into the old script.

and it began with a poem:

words once clear are now blurred
my sight is going; mind racing
the finish line is not all apparent
we'll stride forward by the nose

and where it all began is anyone's game
i guess I'll make a left; less a wrong
hope is in the shadows we create
a little light and we're all here

walking a bit slower with history in our bones
aching our way home; a way to roam
wallow in pity or stand up and fight
peace everlasting and to all a gentle night

...then we saw The Strangerer (after getting rejected from the waiting list to The Weir). an absurd play paralleling George W. Bush's struggle during the 2004 elections with that of Camus' main character in the novel of the same name (minus the extra "er"). Bush and Kerry are at the first debate in Florida being moderated by Jim Lerher. Bush has been inspired by a play he's seen the night before and believes he must kill Lerher before the night is through. Kerry is asleep "in dreamland", he has the same sentiment, but doesn't believe this is the right setting and that Bush's inspiration is unfounded. a series of attempts on Lerher's life are unsuccessful due to Bush's lack of imagination and the struggle ensues. We learn of the play and the moment that inspired the man to attempt such an act. We learn of a darkness that surrounds us all in a world we've all created that we all deserve. it is absurdism at its best. theatre in its highest form. art on the verge of catastrophe. go see this play...

then I watched some shitty tv, fell asleep, watched more shitty tv (a four way tie at the Honda Classic, I wonder if they resolved it this morning?), had some Ethiopian food (coffee from the motherland, maybe too much coffee from the motherland) then retired to my apartment, sat at the computer and began the revision...

this is how it goes. i don't try to fight it. let it lead me. enjoy the ride.

wind

Here is a ramble on Lipton Sweetened Iced Tea. I do prefer the Green Tea Arizona puts out, but at Dunkin Donuts, they do not carry this beverage. Coffee is necessary most mornings and Dunkin is closest (needed in this weather) and cheapest (I am a Jew). Now, if I were to just order coffee then I would have hot going into my body first thing. I rather cold so that the dryness of my slumber is erased. Hence, the Iced Tea. I know what you will say, but Josh, you sometimes make hot tea for yourself in the morning and doesn't that contradict the very nature of this ramble. Yes, it does, but this is only a ramble. Rambles are not public address from heads of state or articles in widely circulated newspapers or magazines. Rambles are certainly not evening news reports, announcements of candidacies or even concession speeches. Rambles are flat out bumbling words to take up space. Maybe a keen observation or factoid makes its way into a ramble, but nothing should hold up in a court of law. I do, however, take ownership of this ramble, so I will now explain myself on the point of hot and cold. You see, tea is like nectar and soothes no matter if it is hot or cold. Coffee on the other hand is like a vice gripping you tight, not wanting to let go and forcing you to succumb to its graphic nature. Which would you prefer to start your morning with, I ask...nectar or vice? Miami is nice this time of year I hear.