24 June Play-->David Mamet's "American Buffalo"

Wow--what a great play. Totally makes up for yesterday's Miller disappointment (sounds as if I've had a bad beer, or something). Mamet has such a distinct style, and such a corner on the American voice. I don't know how else to describe it--it's some meld of desperation and undying hope, and an overwhelming need for respect or peace or love, from characters who don't know how to ask for it in a nice way. That lack of eloquence, and the lack of any shame that comes with it, is just so wonderful to hear.

I've enjoyed Mamet since I had to read Oleanna in my Modern Drama class in high school. I have always been attracted to voices of male writers that don't talk about nice things in "ugly" or unconventional ways: Irvine Welsh, Bret Easton Ellis, Bukowski, etc. Don't know why, but I have always better identified with those voices than I ever did with any female writer I've perused (however, I am, again, woefully under read, so that may be why...). And Mamet appeals to that angry young man I have inside me, I suppose.

Favorite moment while reading the play: Realizing this was where "Action talks and bullshit walks" comes from. My father says that sometimes, and I don't think he knows it comes from a play. Maybe if he did, he'd go to the theatre more! It's the little things...

Monologue: No luck, as there are no women in this play. It's alright, though--it was so good, that it doesn't matter, and I've already filled my quota for the week anyway.

Pep talk from Chinaski

Because sometimes you need to be reminded.

this moment

it's a farce, the great actors, the great poets, the great
statesmen, the great painters, the great composers, the
great loves,
it's a farce, a farce, a farce,
history and the recording of it,
forget it, forget it.

you must begin all over again.
throw all that out.
all of them out.

you are alone with now.

look at your fingernails.
touch your nose.

begin.

the day flings itself upon
you.

-C. Bukowski

"Well I was tossin' and turnin'/Turnin' and tossin'/Tossin' and turnin' all night"

This week we're working with Toby Jones, a great British actor, comedian, and writer, though he will be best known to most of my readers as the voice of this little guy:


Oh that's right, ladies and gentlemen: I'm spending the week with Dobby the House Elf. Weep.

(Incidentally, I keep wondering if I should offer the man a sock at the end of the week. But no, no, probably not a good idea...)

(Still...)

(No, no...)

Our work this week has consisted of really wonderful, fun, engaging labs hosted by Toby, whose background in Lecoq training and prominent mainstream career gives me hope. Part of our assignment tomorrow will be working with another group, providing them with a stimulus of our own regarding the concept of, "What I can't get through the night without." Initially, I was thinking about the topic in terms of what my nightly ritual is, but I realized that none of those things were actions I was necessarily dependent on in order to get through the night. Then I tried producing some by finishing the statement: I can't get through the night without snacking, I can't get through the night without drinking copious amounts of tea, etc. Then I thought about things that had been happening to me, rather than things I did, which is where I came to, "I can't get through the night without having really crazy dreams." It may be something in the food, or just an indicator that I need a little more time off to settle my mental state, but I've found over the past couple weeks I've been having really vivid, really bizarre dreams that I can never remember upon waking. That last part is a bit confusing as I used to be a great rememberer of dreams, and now nothing, just a sense that they were definitely strange. In any case, I began thinking about sleep, what that was, and for part of my stimulus I created this piece of music. The actual music track is by Max Richter, a brilliant composer I've recently discovered (and I encourage you all to get into him, he's awesome), and the text I recorded is the tenth yoga sutra of Patanjali (this version here) and the Charles Bukowsi poem, Bluebird. I can't figure out how, if it's possible, to load strictly audio tracks onto Blogger, so I just shot some film behind a blue post-it and layered the audio on top.

I hope you like it, and I hope it's useful tomorrow. And I hope the US election turns out for the best back home (it's late there, VERY EARLY in the AM here). And I hope I get to sleep. Soon.

“…they don’t understand that to remain alive is more difficult than to be alive in the first place.”

The title comes from a letter Bukowski wrote to William Packard in 1979.

Flipping through some London guide book Central sent us with our final registration paperwork, one phrase catches my eyes: “Be Prepared!” Written over and over again. All these cautionary tales, read too late, appreciated after the fact : “If I had only known” “If someone had told me”—it’s bullshit. The information was there, readily available to you, only you never did take advantage of the fact, did you, just kept your head above water only just enough to pass for a respectable, clean cut young woman. Keep your nose clean. Do what you have to do to get through the day, and the next, and the next. Things run together. Days happen all at once. The summer’s over, did it even happen? Did your whole life happen, or was it just something you mimed through until you got to this point? Why will “Windmills of Your Mind” not get out of my head?

These are the things I think about sometimes. I process things better when I’m alone, I just haven’t been by myself enough lately. Too many voices, and mine hasn’t been loud enough lately. But it’ll come back—my voice will come back.

This one’s a little more revealing than usual. I am disabling the comments, because I don’t want a response to this. I wrote this entry for me.