Saturday, October 30, 2010
Going, Going....
...and in a little more than two weeks - astonishingly - we'll be gone...! from Abingdon, en route to the Left Coast (as my friend Bob F. calls it)..and no one is more surprised by this than I am! Yikes!
I guess I thought this moving to San Francisco was more of an idea than something that was actually going to happen, it seemed so momentous. But, Time has passed (as it will do) and in that passing time we have accomplished the following:
*Peter completed his job as Marketing Director. He seems younger and lighter having done
*He has become the best house-husband anywhere around, cooking, cleaning, organizing and
above all beginning our very important sorting and packing process, so that now, easily, 2/3
of our large life is tidily packed into squares, ready to be loaded onto a commensurately large
truck! Thank you, Peter. There is more to do, but so much has been done already, thanks
to you!
*I've opened and am nearly done with my last show here at Barter Theatre (Where Trouble Sleeps) and have established my final dressing room routine in what may actually turn out to be my very last acting job! Who knows if I'll ever be in another play or musical?
* I've managed to not only get Clyde Edgerton to visit Abingdon (he wrote the novel upon
which our play is based), and he is coming here with his entire family the final weekend we
perform the show), but I've got Glenn Close temtatively lined up (please note I wrote the
word tentatively) next year as part of our Big Read events. The fact that her agents and press
people are even willing to speak to me this much and have taken the idea this far is kin of great! Her mission is to advocate for mental health issues in this country, and the 2011
Washington County Big Read has chosen Edgar Allan Poe as the spotlighted author , making
mental health issues a vital part of this community's conversation during Feb and March 2011.
*We have found another family to take over the last 4 months of our lease on the house
we have been renting, alleviating us of the financial responsibility of having to pay 4 months rent
on a house we will not be living in! This is an enormous relief to us. Whew!
*We've managed to sell, somewhat profitably, I'd say a good third of our worldly goods, in
an effort to lighten our moving load Westward, and this , so far , has resulted in not only the
banking and saving of thousands of dollars, but has brought the some 9000 lbs. of moving mass
we moved down here with from NYC to around 6000 lbs. Another thing to be
grateful for! Also grateful to this lovely community we have been living in: they have really
stepped up to help us with this. And now a lot of our possessions have found homes in thi
community! Including Angel Kitty, who has found much coziness and love with Laura K.one
of our Stage Managers. Thank you, Laura! Thank you all!
* I start raining Karen S. , who is taking over part of my job here, next week. She will be the
new Education Director, while someone else will take over my Director of Outreach duties.
My job here is essentially being divided among 3 people, maybe more, but two new folks
had to be hired just to do those two areas. I guess I've accomplished a great deal here.
* I"ve managed to sell my 26 year old Mercedes that I bought for a mere few thousand dollars
when we first arrived: Amber and Chip B. will take possession of it day after tomorrow , and
they are thrilled! I am glad it's going to people who will appreciate and take care of it: my
Silver Goose, my Evita! Probably the only Mercedes I will ever own! It's been swell!
* AND, I've somehow managed to gain entrance into a writing group in San Francisco that I
wanted to get into: Adair Lara's 2011 Winter Personal Writing Group. Adair is the author of
a marvelous new book called Naked, Drunk and Writing, which flew off the shelf into my hands
some weeks ago at Barnes and Noble, and, not even knowing she was a San Francisco -based
writer, I purchased the book based on its title, and after adoringly reading it, discovered she is
in my new home city. SO, I emailed her, begged , and sent her some writing samples , and she invited me into her January Workshop! All is can say to that is: YAY! ANd thanks, Adair.
Seems to me, like a lot has gotten done in the name of this move West. And though there is alot more to do, looking back on what we've made happen so far gives me heart and hope for what can happen in the next two weeks: we leave Abingdon 3 days after my play closes: the North American Van Lines truck will pull up in front of 216 Stonewall Heights on the morning of November 16th!
If you're in the neighborhood, drop on by! I will be at the Martha Spa getting my hair done (after this play, I need to get refurbished!), but Peter will be there, and will be glad to see you, i bet! After all, you've been our friends and neighbors here for 3 years, and we will miss you all....so come on by...AND COME SEE US IN SAN FRANCISCO! We will be sending out official moving cards with all the new info, but I will do two things here: I will write the new address info down in this blog entry...AND I will invite you all, whoever you may be, to write back to me with your land mail addresses and I will send you one of the limited edition Peter Yonka-designed moving cards , right to your mailbox! So let me hear from you! Send me your name, address (both land and email) and phone contact info...and you will be on our lists for all sorts of news in the future!
We will be living at: 1320 Lombard Street
Apt.204
San Francisco, California 94109
My cell: 917-327-7385 Peter's cell: 917-602-1693
ev@evalynbaron.com peteryonka@mac.com
Let us hear from you!
Meanwhile: bye, for now!
I guess I thought this moving to San Francisco was more of an idea than something that was actually going to happen, it seemed so momentous. But, Time has passed (as it will do) and in that passing time we have accomplished the following:
*Peter completed his job as Marketing Director. He seems younger and lighter having done
*He has become the best house-husband anywhere around, cooking, cleaning, organizing and
above all beginning our very important sorting and packing process, so that now, easily, 2/3
of our large life is tidily packed into squares, ready to be loaded onto a commensurately large
truck! Thank you, Peter. There is more to do, but so much has been done already, thanks
to you!
*I've opened and am nearly done with my last show here at Barter Theatre (Where Trouble Sleeps) and have established my final dressing room routine in what may actually turn out to be my very last acting job! Who knows if I'll ever be in another play or musical?
* I've managed to not only get Clyde Edgerton to visit Abingdon (he wrote the novel upon
which our play is based), and he is coming here with his entire family the final weekend we
perform the show), but I've got Glenn Close temtatively lined up (please note I wrote the
word tentatively) next year as part of our Big Read events. The fact that her agents and press
people are even willing to speak to me this much and have taken the idea this far is kin of great! Her mission is to advocate for mental health issues in this country, and the 2011
Washington County Big Read has chosen Edgar Allan Poe as the spotlighted author , making
mental health issues a vital part of this community's conversation during Feb and March 2011.
*We have found another family to take over the last 4 months of our lease on the house
we have been renting, alleviating us of the financial responsibility of having to pay 4 months rent
on a house we will not be living in! This is an enormous relief to us. Whew!
*We've managed to sell, somewhat profitably, I'd say a good third of our worldly goods, in
an effort to lighten our moving load Westward, and this , so far , has resulted in not only the
banking and saving of thousands of dollars, but has brought the some 9000 lbs. of moving mass
we moved down here with from NYC to around 6000 lbs. Another thing to be
grateful for! Also grateful to this lovely community we have been living in: they have really
stepped up to help us with this. And now a lot of our possessions have found homes in thi
community! Including Angel Kitty, who has found much coziness and love with Laura K.one
of our Stage Managers. Thank you, Laura! Thank you all!
* I start raining Karen S. , who is taking over part of my job here, next week. She will be the
new Education Director, while someone else will take over my Director of Outreach duties.
My job here is essentially being divided among 3 people, maybe more, but two new folks
had to be hired just to do those two areas. I guess I've accomplished a great deal here.
* I"ve managed to sell my 26 year old Mercedes that I bought for a mere few thousand dollars
when we first arrived: Amber and Chip B. will take possession of it day after tomorrow , and
they are thrilled! I am glad it's going to people who will appreciate and take care of it: my
Silver Goose, my Evita! Probably the only Mercedes I will ever own! It's been swell!
* AND, I've somehow managed to gain entrance into a writing group in San Francisco that I
wanted to get into: Adair Lara's 2011 Winter Personal Writing Group. Adair is the author of
a marvelous new book called Naked, Drunk and Writing, which flew off the shelf into my hands
some weeks ago at Barnes and Noble, and, not even knowing she was a San Francisco -based
writer, I purchased the book based on its title, and after adoringly reading it, discovered she is
in my new home city. SO, I emailed her, begged , and sent her some writing samples , and she invited me into her January Workshop! All is can say to that is: YAY! ANd thanks, Adair.
Seems to me, like a lot has gotten done in the name of this move West. And though there is alot more to do, looking back on what we've made happen so far gives me heart and hope for what can happen in the next two weeks: we leave Abingdon 3 days after my play closes: the North American Van Lines truck will pull up in front of 216 Stonewall Heights on the morning of November 16th!
If you're in the neighborhood, drop on by! I will be at the Martha Spa getting my hair done (after this play, I need to get refurbished!), but Peter will be there, and will be glad to see you, i bet! After all, you've been our friends and neighbors here for 3 years, and we will miss you all....so come on by...AND COME SEE US IN SAN FRANCISCO! We will be sending out official moving cards with all the new info, but I will do two things here: I will write the new address info down in this blog entry...AND I will invite you all, whoever you may be, to write back to me with your land mail addresses and I will send you one of the limited edition Peter Yonka-designed moving cards , right to your mailbox! So let me hear from you! Send me your name, address (both land and email) and phone contact info...and you will be on our lists for all sorts of news in the future!
We will be living at: 1320 Lombard Street
Apt.204
San Francisco, California 94109
My cell: 917-327-7385 Peter's cell: 917-602-1693
ev@evalynbaron.com peteryonka@mac.com
Let us hear from you!
Meanwhile: bye, for now!
Labels: Abingdon to SF
Monday, October 25, 2010
And This is Why It's Called Fall
Sitting at the dining room table - in what's left of our nearly-totally-packed dining room - it's serenely quiet, with all asleep but me , at this early hour.
Then, suddenly yet subtly, a hear a rushing/softly roaring sound behind me and i turn to look out the window and see that the sky has darkened, the wind is blowing like crazy, and the lush trees around are giving it all up to the wind: their leaves are pouring, pouring, showering to the ground, as if to say : "Here , take them! You want them so bad? Then TAKE THEM!" . Little sharply colored bits of gold and red and orange are being flung to the ground, and because they are being flung, they are FALLING - with grace - but violently falling nonetheless! It's so clear , with the deep wet gray backdrop of rainy weather ahead, that these leaves are descending in dense masses of sparking color, that it is as if someone has drawn them to look like the quintessence of Fall...once again, the gray sets off the colors magnificently ...and i think of the time I was traveling across country from California to New York, in a comfy sleeper car on AMTRAC:
We were crossing Kansas or some such place with utterly flat landscape, (I mean totally flat land as far as the eye could see), and it was late at night and a thunder storm began to rage and I lay there in my cozy berth, watching the rain streak my train car windows with rivulets of silvery water, when suddenly:
I saw an entire electric streak of lightening flash brightly against the dark sky, stand on its tiptoe and hold there, dancing, on the plains, with its jagged "arms" held wildly up tot he skies, as if to say: "LOOK AT ME, puny human, AND SEE WHAT GOD REALLY LOOKS LIKE WHEN HE GETS HIS MOJO WORKIN'!!!"...talk about Lord of the Dance! I mean, that lightening was dancing!!!
We think we're so great, we humans, but we are nothing..absolutely NOTHING ...next to the largeness, grandeur, power and energy of sheer WEATHER!
It doesn't take long - in fact minutes - for us to be put in our place, once a hurricane or a tornado decides to have its way with us, does it? We still cower in our caves when the sky turns black, the winds begin to blow, and our fragile stability is threatened with atmospheric change - not to mention - God forbid! water!
Rain drives entire cities insane! Have you ever been in NYC when a rainstorm hits? It's ridiculous! People are afraid of WATER!!! Hence the ocean of opened umbrellas that make it impossible to walk down 5th Avenue in the rain! And the more selfish the business man, the larger his "bumbershoot"!! I mean, c'MON: leave your golf umbrellas at the club guys! And the small, fragile folding umbrellas...? Well, you may as well not bother with those at all - just give it up and GET WET!!! You're going to anyway....Why are people so afraid of rain? Is it still all about the hair? DO we worry what people will think of us if our hair is flat...still? Or if it's messy? Do we REALLY still worry about that? Are we all still in high school?????????
ANYWAY: that's my brief meditation on weather....and now I have to take Sally and Cyrano, the cutest dachshunds in the world , out in it! Cyrano will leap about like the savage boy of the wild that he is...but Sally will look up at me like I have insane, expecting HER to pee in THIS? She will momentarily hate me...but I must not care: a mother must do what a mother must do to ensure that her kids do not pee on the floor! Watch out Sally and Cyr: here I come! Weather or not, here comes Mommy!
Then, suddenly yet subtly, a hear a rushing/softly roaring sound behind me and i turn to look out the window and see that the sky has darkened, the wind is blowing like crazy, and the lush trees around are giving it all up to the wind: their leaves are pouring, pouring, showering to the ground, as if to say : "Here , take them! You want them so bad? Then TAKE THEM!" . Little sharply colored bits of gold and red and orange are being flung to the ground, and because they are being flung, they are FALLING - with grace - but violently falling nonetheless! It's so clear , with the deep wet gray backdrop of rainy weather ahead, that these leaves are descending in dense masses of sparking color, that it is as if someone has drawn them to look like the quintessence of Fall...once again, the gray sets off the colors magnificently ...and i think of the time I was traveling across country from California to New York, in a comfy sleeper car on AMTRAC:
We were crossing Kansas or some such place with utterly flat landscape, (I mean totally flat land as far as the eye could see), and it was late at night and a thunder storm began to rage and I lay there in my cozy berth, watching the rain streak my train car windows with rivulets of silvery water, when suddenly:
I saw an entire electric streak of lightening flash brightly against the dark sky, stand on its tiptoe and hold there, dancing, on the plains, with its jagged "arms" held wildly up tot he skies, as if to say: "LOOK AT ME, puny human, AND SEE WHAT GOD REALLY LOOKS LIKE WHEN HE GETS HIS MOJO WORKIN'!!!"...talk about Lord of the Dance! I mean, that lightening was dancing!!!
We think we're so great, we humans, but we are nothing..absolutely NOTHING ...next to the largeness, grandeur, power and energy of sheer WEATHER!
It doesn't take long - in fact minutes - for us to be put in our place, once a hurricane or a tornado decides to have its way with us, does it? We still cower in our caves when the sky turns black, the winds begin to blow, and our fragile stability is threatened with atmospheric change - not to mention - God forbid! water!
Rain drives entire cities insane! Have you ever been in NYC when a rainstorm hits? It's ridiculous! People are afraid of WATER!!! Hence the ocean of opened umbrellas that make it impossible to walk down 5th Avenue in the rain! And the more selfish the business man, the larger his "bumbershoot"!! I mean, c'MON: leave your golf umbrellas at the club guys! And the small, fragile folding umbrellas...? Well, you may as well not bother with those at all - just give it up and GET WET!!! You're going to anyway....Why are people so afraid of rain? Is it still all about the hair? DO we worry what people will think of us if our hair is flat...still? Or if it's messy? Do we REALLY still worry about that? Are we all still in high school?????????
ANYWAY: that's my brief meditation on weather....and now I have to take Sally and Cyrano, the cutest dachshunds in the world , out in it! Cyrano will leap about like the savage boy of the wild that he is...but Sally will look up at me like I have insane, expecting HER to pee in THIS? She will momentarily hate me...but I must not care: a mother must do what a mother must do to ensure that her kids do not pee on the floor! Watch out Sally and Cyr: here I come! Weather or not, here comes Mommy!
Labels: Weather and dogs
Saturday, October 23, 2010
The View From Where I'll Be
A new friend gave me a perfect book yesterday....listen to this from Eric Maisel's A Writer's San Francisco:
"I 'm American by birth but an urban writer by nature. My true homes are Paris, London,
New York, Tokyo, San Francisco, and the world's resonant cities. I am calmest in a Paris jostle a
Manhattan stampede and edgiest hiking a mountain trail or shopping at WalMart. Everything in
the universe may be equally spiritual but not equally congenial to a blue-state person like myself
with a horror of orthodoxy and of the grandiosity of ordinary people.
I need cafés, video stores that stock independent films, and bars where everyone is an
outsider....I need a place a full standard deviation above the mean....where, when a house
catches on fire, half the people who rush out to watch are Spanish-speaking ladies
and the other half are working - from - home lesbian graphic artists."
And there's a sentence or two in those first paragraphs about needing a place "with more knowing smiles than blank stares and more wry asides than hate-filled sermons"....but we can get to all that later, since I have a feeling this book given to me by my new friend Leslie will have a lot more I will wish to quote from, and let you all share. This book already speaks to my soul, and I am grateful for it. Thank you, Leslie....and for the Virginia - California mixtape as well....when was the last time you guys got a mixtape from a new friend? I feel , gratefully, like I'm back in high school, waiting for my future to begin with a new person I have a crush on, and the new person in this case is a new city: San Francisco, and my new friend Leslie is the high school pal who got us together and knows more than we do...which in this case is accurate, since she has lived in my new city love, and does indeed know more about it than I do! And she gave us a mixtape to play along the way!!! I mean, c'mon! How perfect is that?
She also loaned me my first Jeannette Walls book, and I am deep down into it already, and am at that stage where I resent having to do a matinee because it will get in the way of my reading this book! I can barely wait to get back to it later this afternoon and will probably be able to return it to Leslie on Monday! The 2011 Big Read I am trying to put into place before I leave ( so that my successor will have something to work with and put more firmly into place and succeed) is being built around our book of choice Great Tale and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe and the community theme is about creativity and mental illness: the fine line between the two. So we chose a writer who was plagued by mental health issues all his creative career, and Leslie is the new person at our local Library and she is being a tremendous help in getting these initial parts of the Read together with me. I am grateful for that, but am most grateful for a new friend that speaks so clearly to my sensibilities.
It's of course quite strange the way these things are falling into my path: a book by SF Chronicle writer Adair Lara practically falling into my hands at the local Barnes and Noble, that has resulted in my enrolling in my first SF writers workshop....a new person at our local Library who has lived in SF....(she could have landed at any other business in this town, but it's the Library of all places, where we were fated to meet, underscoring all sorts of themes lacing together the quilt of my imagined future there in that city...), but if there's one thing I've learned in my long life so far, it's to trust what naturally comes my way with ease and surprising resonance.
So, this new book, that has in its title two of my newest favorite words: "writer", and "San Francisco":
thank you, Leslie. It is sitting here on the table, pulsing with life, beckoning me to make a cup of coffee and snuggle down on the sofa with it, crack it's sweet pages and dive into the view it presents: the view from where I'll soon be living.
My heart is racing.
"I 'm American by birth but an urban writer by nature. My true homes are Paris, London,
New York, Tokyo, San Francisco, and the world's resonant cities. I am calmest in a Paris jostle a
Manhattan stampede and edgiest hiking a mountain trail or shopping at WalMart. Everything in
the universe may be equally spiritual but not equally congenial to a blue-state person like myself
with a horror of orthodoxy and of the grandiosity of ordinary people.
I need cafés, video stores that stock independent films, and bars where everyone is an
outsider....I need a place a full standard deviation above the mean....where, when a house
catches on fire, half the people who rush out to watch are Spanish-speaking ladies
and the other half are working - from - home lesbian graphic artists."
And there's a sentence or two in those first paragraphs about needing a place "with more knowing smiles than blank stares and more wry asides than hate-filled sermons"....but we can get to all that later, since I have a feeling this book given to me by my new friend Leslie will have a lot more I will wish to quote from, and let you all share. This book already speaks to my soul, and I am grateful for it. Thank you, Leslie....and for the Virginia - California mixtape as well....when was the last time you guys got a mixtape from a new friend? I feel , gratefully, like I'm back in high school, waiting for my future to begin with a new person I have a crush on, and the new person in this case is a new city: San Francisco, and my new friend Leslie is the high school pal who got us together and knows more than we do...which in this case is accurate, since she has lived in my new city love, and does indeed know more about it than I do! And she gave us a mixtape to play along the way!!! I mean, c'mon! How perfect is that?
She also loaned me my first Jeannette Walls book, and I am deep down into it already, and am at that stage where I resent having to do a matinee because it will get in the way of my reading this book! I can barely wait to get back to it later this afternoon and will probably be able to return it to Leslie on Monday! The 2011 Big Read I am trying to put into place before I leave ( so that my successor will have something to work with and put more firmly into place and succeed) is being built around our book of choice Great Tale and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe and the community theme is about creativity and mental illness: the fine line between the two. So we chose a writer who was plagued by mental health issues all his creative career, and Leslie is the new person at our local Library and she is being a tremendous help in getting these initial parts of the Read together with me. I am grateful for that, but am most grateful for a new friend that speaks so clearly to my sensibilities.
It's of course quite strange the way these things are falling into my path: a book by SF Chronicle writer Adair Lara practically falling into my hands at the local Barnes and Noble, that has resulted in my enrolling in my first SF writers workshop....a new person at our local Library who has lived in SF....(she could have landed at any other business in this town, but it's the Library of all places, where we were fated to meet, underscoring all sorts of themes lacing together the quilt of my imagined future there in that city...), but if there's one thing I've learned in my long life so far, it's to trust what naturally comes my way with ease and surprising resonance.
So, this new book, that has in its title two of my newest favorite words: "writer", and "San Francisco":
thank you, Leslie. It is sitting here on the table, pulsing with life, beckoning me to make a cup of coffee and snuggle down on the sofa with it, crack it's sweet pages and dive into the view it presents: the view from where I'll soon be living.
My heart is racing.
Labels: San Francisco, Writing
Friday, October 22, 2010
GOING PUBLIC!!!
Funny....how many times I write the word "pubic" when what I mean is "public"...in fact, what isn't all that funny is what a bad typist I am...never took a course in how to do it right, so I learned how to type really fast using two fingers...I use more fingers now, but my technique is so bad, i am so untrained, i practically make up my own language as I go...but by the time you all see what I write I have cleaned it up, and it's therefore readable.
Soon, however, maybe in this very blog entry, i may leave a sentence or two as I originally type it and then provide a translation....it should provide a laugh or two!
I sent word out to a lot of people today that my blog is available for them to read, and i told them all they had to do was go to www.evalynbaron.com and click on the "blog" button and they'd get to these entries. Lots of people told me in response that they already follow my blog...and for that I am grateful, as I have written before. But now I want to begin to take my writing more seriously, and so i want to encourage others to not only read me, but comment and dialogue with me as well...on the blog style, technique, content,etc.
It will never be what is commonly referred to as a political blog...if anything substantive will be written in these particular spaces, it will be about art, theatre, life, acting, creativity and love...maybe it can become the place where all my acting students, past, present, future, can talk to me about their needs and problems...maybe it can become a forum for that sort of discussion...i would always welcome discussions of that nature, and in fact if any of you are reading this: go ahead: ASK! Give me your tired rehearsal questions, your hungry career questions, your poor confusions that yearn to breathe the free air of productivity: and I will answer you , I promise!
I will never give advice on most things writers give advice about, because I know so little, really, about finance, politics, tech issues, gaming, computer problems or anything like that...but I do know about acting, and I do know about teaching it, and i do know a passion when I see and read one....so, be not afraid, dear pals: ask me things....bring up a topic or two...let's rumble!
I would love this blog to be a pkaxw qhew I xould get thigns off my chest - and where others can too, not being afraind....(OKAY, now the previous words and attempts at making a sentence are good examples of how I can usually type and make a mess of things, in that attempt to make sense...fun, isn't it? I mean another language is right there, isn't it?)
Anyway: i 'd love to get truly enraged in this blog...take no prisoners, name names and place blame...become a bitchy blogger...truly lambaste those who I think are untrue, untrustworthy, un-lots of things....I'd love to raise hell and tell truths as I see them...and maybe, when one day I am provoked enough, I will do just that...but for now, I still feel the constraints of good manners holding me back, and, besides, I've been reprimanded enough in the past to still feel wary of talking candidly....and that is not a bad thing...i have had to learn some hard and valuable lessons about good taste, consideration for others, and carfulness...and i hope I have learned them....but there are things that do need saying...and maybe one day soon, those things will be said...by me, as representing only my P.O.V., and no one else's...but that could be genuine contributions to the popular dialogue.
I truly do not want this to become a gossip blog: but I do want it to be engaging, entertaining, and enlightening.
And so, the rambles shall continue: stick with me, and we will go down roads where the shopping will be interesting, the fruits juicy and with lots of benches along the way to sit on and rest! I will write, and you will read, and together we will create new avenues of shared thought.
Let's.
But for now - after a rigorous performance of WHERE TROUBLE SLEEPS - i must to bed, perchance to dream about the fog horn gods of San Francisco Bay and how they are waiting for me to return!
'Night all.
Soon, however, maybe in this very blog entry, i may leave a sentence or two as I originally type it and then provide a translation....it should provide a laugh or two!
I sent word out to a lot of people today that my blog is available for them to read, and i told them all they had to do was go to www.evalynbaron.com and click on the "blog" button and they'd get to these entries. Lots of people told me in response that they already follow my blog...and for that I am grateful, as I have written before. But now I want to begin to take my writing more seriously, and so i want to encourage others to not only read me, but comment and dialogue with me as well...on the blog style, technique, content,etc.
It will never be what is commonly referred to as a political blog...if anything substantive will be written in these particular spaces, it will be about art, theatre, life, acting, creativity and love...maybe it can become the place where all my acting students, past, present, future, can talk to me about their needs and problems...maybe it can become a forum for that sort of discussion...i would always welcome discussions of that nature, and in fact if any of you are reading this: go ahead: ASK! Give me your tired rehearsal questions, your hungry career questions, your poor confusions that yearn to breathe the free air of productivity: and I will answer you , I promise!
I will never give advice on most things writers give advice about, because I know so little, really, about finance, politics, tech issues, gaming, computer problems or anything like that...but I do know about acting, and I do know about teaching it, and i do know a passion when I see and read one....so, be not afraid, dear pals: ask me things....bring up a topic or two...let's rumble!
I would love this blog to be a pkaxw qhew I xould get thigns off my chest - and where others can too, not being afraind....(OKAY, now the previous words and attempts at making a sentence are good examples of how I can usually type and make a mess of things, in that attempt to make sense...fun, isn't it? I mean another language is right there, isn't it?)
Anyway: i 'd love to get truly enraged in this blog...take no prisoners, name names and place blame...become a bitchy blogger...truly lambaste those who I think are untrue, untrustworthy, un-lots of things....I'd love to raise hell and tell truths as I see them...and maybe, when one day I am provoked enough, I will do just that...but for now, I still feel the constraints of good manners holding me back, and, besides, I've been reprimanded enough in the past to still feel wary of talking candidly....and that is not a bad thing...i have had to learn some hard and valuable lessons about good taste, consideration for others, and carfulness...and i hope I have learned them....but there are things that do need saying...and maybe one day soon, those things will be said...by me, as representing only my P.O.V., and no one else's...but that could be genuine contributions to the popular dialogue.
I truly do not want this to become a gossip blog: but I do want it to be engaging, entertaining, and enlightening.
And so, the rambles shall continue: stick with me, and we will go down roads where the shopping will be interesting, the fruits juicy and with lots of benches along the way to sit on and rest! I will write, and you will read, and together we will create new avenues of shared thought.
Let's.
But for now - after a rigorous performance of WHERE TROUBLE SLEEPS - i must to bed, perchance to dream about the fog horn gods of San Francisco Bay and how they are waiting for me to return!
'Night all.
Labels: Writing
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Commune- ication
I was reminded yet again - this morning at a Barter gathering of wonderful faithful Barter fans and supporters - that this blog does, now and then, get read, and every time someone mentions something they've read in it, i get the biggest thrill. Thanks so much to all of you who do read these pages. And many thanks to all of you who mention that you do. It's a powerful feeling to know that I (the me that is me) is being read, understood, "gotten" by others. Or more to the point: that what my thoughts have to communicate is being received by others: the exchange of the energy of ideas. That's why knowing you read this blog matters: more energy is exchanged and a "commune"-ication is formed. A duet.
As i get older, i am more and more convinced that words have a unique power - more specifically, written words. By virtue of the fact that they are written down somewhere, that they are taken from thought or speech into an entire other form of energy : into INK, into visual form...by virtue of this transformation into something more visible, more power is added to the word. It becomes more than a thought: it becomes visual art, with the added weight that visual art contains. That is why different printing fonts came into being: for the powerful art of words. And, you can call it anything you want to call it: power, energy, force, whatever....but it's that energy/power that is capable of transforming every moment we exist.
Words can wound, but they can wound deeper in writing.
It's also that energy - the written word energy - that is capable of forever marring issues, situations, exchanges of thought, and why it is advised :DO NOT PUT IT IN WRITING! Since the advent of the e-mail, the Internet, the instantaneous exchange of thought, people have the possibility of "speaking" before thinking much more easily, of putting their very own foot into their mouth far more often...of getting into the sort of trouble that only thoughtlessness can create. I honestly believe it's why our political scene is so much more volatile, more changeable, more explosive more often: there are more people writing thoughts down before they take the time to think or learn.
SO: writing has power...not a new idea or realization...but as I enter a time in my life that I am going to devote to writing, this realization has sufficient new energy in itself for me to get truly excited from: I am going to dive into a new ocean, deep blue and aquamarine, and I am going to surface from those waters stained with new experience and spirit...with new insights and new reasons to form more "communes" with others...to increase my life and the lives of others with all the art within me.
Writing IS power.
Corrupt leaders of nations do two things with writing: (well lots more than two, but here at the two i am focusing on right now): 1). They use it as a quick, down and dirty way to disperse propaganda and 2). they outlaw and destroy any writing that speaks against their corruption.
Writing IS important to the good, the bad and the ugly.
Writing is what we do when we want to create agreement in the world: we write peace treaties (not just shake on it), we write new laws into existence (not just proclaim them from some bully pulpit), we write
and sign vows, when we "ceremonialize" any important commitments or changes in our private lives (again, not just pinky swear).
Writing is, for many, TRUTH by which they live.
Fear of the power of writing is why code was invented.
Respect for the power of writing is why legal contracts were invented.
Love for the power of writing is why poetry exists.
Writing is enough ........ to justify a life spent doing it.
As i get older, i am more and more convinced that words have a unique power - more specifically, written words. By virtue of the fact that they are written down somewhere, that they are taken from thought or speech into an entire other form of energy : into INK, into visual form...by virtue of this transformation into something more visible, more power is added to the word. It becomes more than a thought: it becomes visual art, with the added weight that visual art contains. That is why different printing fonts came into being: for the powerful art of words. And, you can call it anything you want to call it: power, energy, force, whatever....but it's that energy/power that is capable of transforming every moment we exist.
Words can wound, but they can wound deeper in writing.
It's also that energy - the written word energy - that is capable of forever marring issues, situations, exchanges of thought, and why it is advised :DO NOT PUT IT IN WRITING! Since the advent of the e-mail, the Internet, the instantaneous exchange of thought, people have the possibility of "speaking" before thinking much more easily, of putting their very own foot into their mouth far more often...of getting into the sort of trouble that only thoughtlessness can create. I honestly believe it's why our political scene is so much more volatile, more changeable, more explosive more often: there are more people writing thoughts down before they take the time to think or learn.
SO: writing has power...not a new idea or realization...but as I enter a time in my life that I am going to devote to writing, this realization has sufficient new energy in itself for me to get truly excited from: I am going to dive into a new ocean, deep blue and aquamarine, and I am going to surface from those waters stained with new experience and spirit...with new insights and new reasons to form more "communes" with others...to increase my life and the lives of others with all the art within me.
Writing IS power.
Corrupt leaders of nations do two things with writing: (well lots more than two, but here at the two i am focusing on right now): 1). They use it as a quick, down and dirty way to disperse propaganda and 2). they outlaw and destroy any writing that speaks against their corruption.
Writing IS important to the good, the bad and the ugly.
Writing is what we do when we want to create agreement in the world: we write peace treaties (not just shake on it), we write new laws into existence (not just proclaim them from some bully pulpit), we write
and sign vows, when we "ceremonialize" any important commitments or changes in our private lives (again, not just pinky swear).
Writing is, for many, TRUTH by which they live.
Fear of the power of writing is why code was invented.
Respect for the power of writing is why legal contracts were invented.
Love for the power of writing is why poetry exists.
Writing is enough ........ to justify a life spent doing it.
Labels: Writing's Power
Monday, October 11, 2010
How To DO IT?
These bodies of ours are such insignificant, frail, toss-away things: thin shells containing greatness ( or so we choose to believe)....brittle protective coatings that mostly manage to contain our fears...and I wake up thinking about the temporary nature of it all...a lot, lately. Probably, this enormous move we have chosen to make to our new West Coast home is the thing that is generating all these thoughts of vulnerability and tenderness...change tends to do that...at least change observable from our sadly insufficient human perspective (because genuine change is happening every moment we breathe)...we think we have made this large decision that matters so much, but truly: Life lives us, doesn't it?
Then, after the thoughts of mortality and transition come the thoughts (at least in my waking wanderings) that tell me I am not capable of this new step...that there is too much to do, too many things to sort, toss, keep, pack, prepare, clean up....too little of what i need in any form to help me feel good about it all...too much overwhelm....this is an old "racket" of mine, that I am not enough, that I cannot do it alone, that I need help from certain stronger others, that I CANNOT....this is an old game I play, probably to get the help I think I need, so I will not feel so alone in the dark of change....so I can feel a hand holding mine through the darkness of this leap off the cliff that lies straight ahead.
And then, I have a cup of coffee (should I pack the $18.00 red coffee maker I bought at the local K-Mart...or do I toss it, leave it for the next house tenant, and buy a snazzy new San Francisco coffee maker? I opt for the snazzy, new, sleek, smaller and somehow better SF purchase that lies ahead...hell! So many new things lie ahead, why not add a new coffee maker to the list? Then, despite the cheering effects of the strong hot coffee, more thoughts rush in: good god! the kitchen! so much to think about in the kitchen alone...what to keep, what to toss? What to pack, and how to pack it...etc...AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh! Small hills of challenge become enormous mountains of impossibility, in these useless thoughts of mine. And this is before I brush my teeth or change into clothing other than my nightgown!
But then, one day, after we have settled into our sunny new San Francisco home, these cross-country moving terrors will fade so fast into the farthest reaches of memory that I will forget I ever had them at all, and new knots will present themselves to be untied. Every day a little confrontation with what we have come to call "life's realities"...we create our own track meet every day...erect our very own obstacles...probably so we can feel like we've achieved a "win" of some sort every day. We write the songs that make our own worlds sing.
And so, I take this day off from my staff duties at the theatre, and treat myself like a regular old actor in the company (Mondays are the actors days off, and Mondays only), but cannot quite let go of the thought that I should be at my desk....nonetheless, I will deal with my HOME desk instead...pack what I need from that one...and struggle with the worries that will inevitably come again and again into my capable, but highly sway-able and impressionable brain....my one saving thought? I WILL GET THIS PART OF IT DONE....I CAN and HAVE DONE SO IN THE PAST, and yes, therefore, I CAN DO THIS! I can, I can, I can....like that Little Engine, i will continue to puff away, up the hill. ....up the hill, until I see that Golden Bay staring me right back in the eyes!
Then, after the thoughts of mortality and transition come the thoughts (at least in my waking wanderings) that tell me I am not capable of this new step...that there is too much to do, too many things to sort, toss, keep, pack, prepare, clean up....too little of what i need in any form to help me feel good about it all...too much overwhelm....this is an old "racket" of mine, that I am not enough, that I cannot do it alone, that I need help from certain stronger others, that I CANNOT....this is an old game I play, probably to get the help I think I need, so I will not feel so alone in the dark of change....so I can feel a hand holding mine through the darkness of this leap off the cliff that lies straight ahead.
And then, I have a cup of coffee (should I pack the $18.00 red coffee maker I bought at the local K-Mart...or do I toss it, leave it for the next house tenant, and buy a snazzy new San Francisco coffee maker? I opt for the snazzy, new, sleek, smaller and somehow better SF purchase that lies ahead...hell! So many new things lie ahead, why not add a new coffee maker to the list? Then, despite the cheering effects of the strong hot coffee, more thoughts rush in: good god! the kitchen! so much to think about in the kitchen alone...what to keep, what to toss? What to pack, and how to pack it...etc...AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh! Small hills of challenge become enormous mountains of impossibility, in these useless thoughts of mine. And this is before I brush my teeth or change into clothing other than my nightgown!
But then, one day, after we have settled into our sunny new San Francisco home, these cross-country moving terrors will fade so fast into the farthest reaches of memory that I will forget I ever had them at all, and new knots will present themselves to be untied. Every day a little confrontation with what we have come to call "life's realities"...we create our own track meet every day...erect our very own obstacles...probably so we can feel like we've achieved a "win" of some sort every day. We write the songs that make our own worlds sing.
And so, I take this day off from my staff duties at the theatre, and treat myself like a regular old actor in the company (Mondays are the actors days off, and Mondays only), but cannot quite let go of the thought that I should be at my desk....nonetheless, I will deal with my HOME desk instead...pack what I need from that one...and struggle with the worries that will inevitably come again and again into my capable, but highly sway-able and impressionable brain....my one saving thought? I WILL GET THIS PART OF IT DONE....I CAN and HAVE DONE SO IN THE PAST, and yes, therefore, I CAN DO THIS! I can, I can, I can....like that Little Engine, i will continue to puff away, up the hill. ....up the hill, until I see that Golden Bay staring me right back in the eyes!
Labels: San Francisco move
Saturday, October 09, 2010
33 and 1/3 : The Speed of Memory
09 Oct 2010
Today , I took some 100 or more LP records to an antique dealer to see if he had any use for any of them...he bought two out of the lot, for $25.00, because they were the rarest, as far as he was concerned, and so we are two records poorer, but $25.00 richer. GIven the rate at which we were playing those LP's throughout these years (try the rate of : NEVER), that $25.00 will definitely be more useful than the two records that money purchased!
However, I as I sat in Zephyr Antiques - a quiet, dusty place on Abingdon's Main Street, not yet infested with the usual tourist strollers out looking for the perfect Fall leaf - i watched Tim, the proprietor, flip through the three packed boxes of records, and memories floated out of the closed spaces between the LP's at an alarming rate: each record seemed an album of mental pictures associated with the time, the era, the places, I played the records..the various men who brought the records into my life...the age I was when buying that particular record seemed to be the most important thing in the world to me...the cover art alone, worth more than anything for some, reminded of places I have lived, sofa's, walls, tacky brick and board shelves in college, stained rugs where ardent college juniors made fumbling attempts at love, the smell of bookish dust, walls filled with black and white photos of sit-ins, lie-ins, rallies sweaty with passion and politics, reminders of youth: those records are the real diaries of our earlier lives...shared diaries of times and places filled with protest and belief. The music mattered as much as the war in Cambodia...for some, mattered far more....because the war only made us angry...the music made us cry.
So, it seems this morning's antique store run was a bit futile...because here we are stuck with the same old records...but, maybe that's the way it's supposed to be: maybe we are meant to remember, and not so easily sell or throw away what once mattered so much. Maybe we're meant to buy that new turntable in San Francisco....and enjoy the journey back into the richness of those black, shiny and thrilling memories.
However, I as I sat in Zephyr Antiques - a quiet, dusty place on Abingdon's Main Street, not yet infested with the usual tourist strollers out looking for the perfect Fall leaf - i watched Tim, the proprietor, flip through the three packed boxes of records, and memories floated out of the closed spaces between the LP's at an alarming rate: each record seemed an album of mental pictures associated with the time, the era, the places, I played the records..the various men who brought the records into my life...the age I was when buying that particular record seemed to be the most important thing in the world to me...the cover art alone, worth more than anything for some, reminded of places I have lived, sofa's, walls, tacky brick and board shelves in college, stained rugs where ardent college juniors made fumbling attempts at love, the smell of bookish dust, walls filled with black and white photos of sit-ins, lie-ins, rallies sweaty with passion and politics, reminders of youth: those records are the real diaries of our earlier lives...shared diaries of times and places filled with protest and belief. The music mattered as much as the war in Cambodia...for some, mattered far more....because the war only made us angry...the music made us cry.
So, it seems this morning's antique store run was a bit futile...because here we are stuck with the same old records...but, maybe that's the way it's supposed to be: maybe we are meant to remember, and not so easily sell or throw away what once mattered so much. Maybe we're meant to buy that new turntable in San Francisco....and enjoy the journey back into the richness of those black, shiny and thrilling memories.
Labels: SF Move
Injured Sad People
23 Sep 2010
Today write I about holy people.
Not people who are drenched in the spirit of the gods they worship, or people who think their piety is a good substitute for good sense, or people who we perceive to be in some way above us in ways that are particularly religious, church-centered or Bible-imbued.
Nope: i need to write about people who have large , gaping holes in their souls...people with enough anger within to blast dark craters.of emptiness and fear inside their very own beings: in other words: ASSHOLES! People who treat others with definitive lack of dignity, with lack of gentility, and with callous disregard for feelings, because they themselves are terrified.
It's interesting that every so often in my life - a life that I would judge to be a happy one, a fortunate one, a blessed one...even into such a life as mine - one that I have enjoyed living fully, and "con brio" if you will - even into this good life, a few ASSHOLES must fall..and the question is not "why does this happen."..but rather "why has this not happened more often" ?? Especially given the odd and emotional business I've immersed myself in for so long.
And of course the great and saddest surprise is: these horrifying human beings can be found too often among the ranks of the very people one has called "friend" . THe sharpest pain comes from realizing that what is so-called friendship counts for nothing, and that people will unswervingly behave on behalf of their own self interest no matter how much they have avowed friendship and caring. THIS is the largest shock. Where is the love you thought you knew?
I am old enough not to be shocked by this. But I still am shocked each and every time it's happened. Shocked and saddened, of course.
Tyrants exist everywhere - I've written about this in previous blog entries - and the greatest surprise is that they exist in places you'd never suspect...but tyrants thrive wherever there is human being, and wherever there is trust, need, and relationship: tyranny thrives with little to feed it but that very same need and trust: and all it takes is two to dance that particular tango....one who needs, and the other who knows it. Therein lies that opportunity for power and its abuse.
I need to sit and truly contemplate this, and the pain it causes. For now, I contemplate and meditate on it with you, dear readers, in the hopes that in so doing ,
I find I am not alone in the pain of discovery.
Love to all - even to those tyrants we all know.
Not people who are drenched in the spirit of the gods they worship, or people who think their piety is a good substitute for good sense, or people who we perceive to be in some way above us in ways that are particularly religious, church-centered or Bible-imbued.
Nope: i need to write about people who have large , gaping holes in their souls...people with enough anger within to blast dark craters.of emptiness and fear inside their very own beings: in other words: ASSHOLES! People who treat others with definitive lack of dignity, with lack of gentility, and with callous disregard for feelings, because they themselves are terrified.
It's interesting that every so often in my life - a life that I would judge to be a happy one, a fortunate one, a blessed one...even into such a life as mine - one that I have enjoyed living fully, and "con brio" if you will - even into this good life, a few ASSHOLES must fall..and the question is not "why does this happen."..but rather "why has this not happened more often" ?? Especially given the odd and emotional business I've immersed myself in for so long.
And of course the great and saddest surprise is: these horrifying human beings can be found too often among the ranks of the very people one has called "friend" . THe sharpest pain comes from realizing that what is so-called friendship counts for nothing, and that people will unswervingly behave on behalf of their own self interest no matter how much they have avowed friendship and caring. THIS is the largest shock. Where is the love you thought you knew?
I am old enough not to be shocked by this. But I still am shocked each and every time it's happened. Shocked and saddened, of course.
Tyrants exist everywhere - I've written about this in previous blog entries - and the greatest surprise is that they exist in places you'd never suspect...but tyrants thrive wherever there is human being, and wherever there is trust, need, and relationship: tyranny thrives with little to feed it but that very same need and trust: and all it takes is two to dance that particular tango....one who needs, and the other who knows it. Therein lies that opportunity for power and its abuse.
I need to sit and truly contemplate this, and the pain it causes. For now, I contemplate and meditate on it with you, dear readers, in the hopes that in so doing ,
I find I am not alone in the pain of discovery.
Love to all - even to those tyrants we all know.
