Yesterday

Tomorrow I have the third performance of DEAD AIR, 8pm at Connie's Ric Rac.

But I really want to talk about what happened yesterday on the ride home from work. I left work at 5pm, which is normal and with my bike went into the elevator, down three stories, and out to the side walk. The wind hit me as soon as I went out the door. Normally I have to deal with a little breeze, and it always seems to be right in my face every afternoon. But yesterday it was crazy strong and at some points I actually wondered if I was moving forward at all. And as I was fighting my way forward, trying to not get hit by crazy Philly drivers, and watching the birds flying sideways, a poem started to form in my head. (see The Western Wind if you want to read.)

And of course I'm trying to write a poem while riding my bike. Which is impossible. So I kept repeating the start of it, hoping that I would remember what I felt striving against that wind. How I felt as though that wind were inside of me, as if it was asking me to fly away with it, and how much I wish I was a bird. Anyways, my brain seems to like to think in terms of writing now, which is cool, slightly scary, and very annoying. (Since I can't ride a bike and write at the same time.) Well I hope you enjoy the poem!

The Western Wind

There is a western wind which blows
right through me to my very soul
and whips up a discord so great
that my very soul begins to quake
And my mind with wisdom and logic
can not repel the great wind
nor stop the discord within
And my heart begins a wild dance
while the wind plays harp and flute
A wild dance which would make me leap
had not I so heavy feet, which drag me
drag me, pull and keep me,
ever walking against the great force

This great western wind, which inconstant blows
which with my heart would float away
to sea and billowing clouds and darkening sky
If only my burdensome feet would let me.
If only my logice of my mind could not keep me
If only my feet could dance with my heart
And my mind forget its commonsensical ways
Then away, then away, then away
I would fly, towards the darkening eastern sky
And follow the western winds flight
from the setting sun of orange and pink.

Yet I am no bird, which to the east
nor west could fly swiftly and soft
I am made of clay and with no wing
fall heavily ground ward always
forget me oh great western wind
forget my song and my dance
leave me, leave me, leave me
Leave my heart free of thy clamor
and my mind will quickly bind my soul
Oh great wind, take with you a tear
and be free of the foundation earth
take flight, and I will root me down
with heavy feet into the ground.

Promises

A day to the north, a month to the east
a week to the south and across the western sea
will take you to the land of flowing green
where young wheat gathers height and
waves in play with the winds childish blows
dreams and simple life abound
but this is not where our promise was made

Western over mountains high, south to the cold below
east of the flowing planes and north of the old river
there is a city dark, old, and made of stone
which gather the children of darkness and pain
who trudged homeward from roting mine
though the smoke of the towering factories
nightmare and darkness abound
But this is not where our promise was made

Our promise was made on the road
which we traveled together for a time
a road which every soul must find.
A road which runs neither north nor south,
east nor west, to no solid place, yet every place
Our promise was made on that road
while traveling forward through our lives
And for a time together we walked
or crawled or run or climbed.

Now I must find another road
one which you can not follow me on.
Not yet at least, later you will
for every soul must travel far from here.
And in that journey all promises break
do not cry, we may yet meet
but not yet, not yet, not yet,

my love...

The Scottish Play

So I have started another play... although this one is going to take some doing. It is a play with in a play with a summer stock theatre's production of Macbeth. I'm putting my knowledge of Shakespeare on the line. I'm also trying to not say Shakespeare in the whole play, nor Macbeth... this is going to be hard. And of course it needs to be funny. Here is the first two scenes I've written. (Couple of Notes: (1) **means I have not decided on the name yet, if it is around the name of the character they are within Macbeth, but their 'real' name is yet to be decided. (2) This is my first draft.)


The Scottish Play

Setting: Everything happens either backstage or onstage in a small semi-professional summer Stock theatre, early in the summer season.

Act 1: Putting it all together
Scene 1: Meet me my sisters

Girl 1
Like OMG when are we going to get together?
Girl2
Let’s decide after this ‘rehearsal’ is like done. I mean who knows how long that will take.
Girl3
We should be done before the stores close in the mall.
Girl1
Should we meet there?
Girl2
No lets go to the parking lot we can meet the boys.
Stage Manager (off stage)
All right everyone gather on the stage please.
Girl1
Let’s go
Girl2
Ya come on
Girl3
I’m coming
All 3
Cool is boring, and boring is cool
Hey at least theatre is better than school.

Scene 2: Let's meet the cast.

Everyone is gathering on the stage, to start the rehearsal.

*Duncan*
So who is that new young man?
*Malcolm*
Not sure, I believe that our stage manager would have the answer? (whispering) *name* come here. Who is that young man?
SM (stage manager)
Which? Oh he’s playing Macduff, all though I forget his name. He is one of the actors from NYC that’s here for the summer. Supposedly he is one of the up and coming actors in NY, and we’re very lucky to have him, he’s rather brilliant.
*Duncan*
He seems the right sort of fella, not bad looking either. Although he does look rather lonely over there by himself.
SM
Well I am sure that he will get to know people around here fast enough. He was in a production of Hamlet in Boston that was supposed to be rather amazing. They say that his Hamlet was both mad and sane, soft spoken, yet sharp edged. I would have loved to have seen it.
*Malcolm*
Careful we’ll all think you had a crush
SM
I, well that’s foolish, don’t you, I mean I have not really even met him yet.
*Duncan*
Doubt thou the stars are fire,
Doubt the sun doth move,
Doubt truth to be a liar
but never doubt thy love
*Malcolm*
Oh really they have not even meet yet.
SM
Well I better gather the stragglers
*Malcolm*
That poor girl, you really should stop quoting the bard, it get annoying.
*Duncan*
Ah and who is this?
*Malcolm*
Young Andrew, back for another summer are we?
Andrew
Yes. So who is playing the Scottish Lord, who from Thane to king goes?
*Duncan*
It is Mr. Smith, I believe you met him last year? He will return once again to woo us all with his strutting and fretting.
Andrew
And unlike the raven he will not grow horse
*Malcolm*
Stop it, stop it, you’re a bad influence on this poor boy *Duncan*, no one quotes the bard sir grey beard.
*Duncan*
That’s not at all fair, but soft, fair ** our stage manager speaks.

Shameless Plug

Since I am shorting my lunch today (because I need to leave early from work for the show). I though I would just give you all some links that have more information on my show... You could come see it you know.

Fringe Website

City Paper

Dawson Street Dramatic Societies Blog

Bus Rides

So this morning I woke up at 7:15. I had forgotten to set my alarm. less then 20mins later on was on my way to work on the bus. I arrived late (by about 5mins) and set to work. Besides the fact that it is hot out side (mid 90s) and the air quality is bad today, I'm also dealing with a really bad alergy attack. My eyes are itchy, my nose is plugged, and my head feels ready to explode. And of course Thursdays are always crazy at work. I have been handling live chats and phone calls all morning. well'st trying desperately to not go crazy. I swear the really smart (dumb) cust. wait to call in till Thursday and Friday when have less people working...

Tonight I have last rehearsal for Dead Air, before our pre-view tomorrow. I get to leave strait from work and go to Dawson St. Pub. And I will have to grab dinner at some point along the way. Hopefully we will not be out too late tonight, seeing as I really need my sleep.

The funny thing is that I will be riding the bus a lot the next couple of days, as it is the best way to get to Manayunk. Buses are great places to watch people and are air conditioned (great for hot days like today). Take this morning. The cutest kid sits next to me, while his mother sits across the way with his sister. He was singing to himself the whole time, swinging his little legs in time. It sounded like a song from Dora or some other kids program. I did not know it. I don't think he even knew all the words, he only said a couple that I could hear. I was smiling, even though I was running late.

Well wish me luck, the next three days plan to be rather crazy... actually the next four weekends.

Promises Of Old

They have taken down the memory stones
The ones that were put up long ago
They tore them up and knocked them down
They desecrated holy ground.
And some where in the earth deep below
The dead, our elders, they all moan
And cause a ruckus underneath
were darkness live and shadows join
to keep the light above the ground.

These memory stones, which once stood high
have been dragged away, you can see the marks
and tossed unceremoniously into the sea
where the things of the deep will in tumult be
for out of the sea these stones long ago came
and where placed for the remembrance of man
Returned they lay powerless, soon forgotten.
For they have taken down the memory stones

And now what should we remember?
And now what should our story be?
How will will we teach our children the story?
When nothing can they see, touch, and read?
How long will it take us to forget?

They have torn down all the memory stones
the ones that remind us of the past
They have desecrated our memories
destroyed our connection to the past
ripped, torn, dragged, broken, fallen
How long will it take us to forget?