thankful 4 the owl

Was on the balcony, ruminating. The marathon was over, so I finally let it happen. I'd been repressing, hm, everything since I don't know when. In some ways September 9th, the closed reading. I felt accomplished already once we'd finished, I walked around the block alone, and I started gathering the binders. But then MS had to walk across the circle and grab my wrist. She had to say, "I think you'd make a great ____." She said it winkingly--but also a little brave.

But so many other things happened from then until now. A wedding bus with the bride's parents and little else. Visiting the marshmallow, taking her to The Cheesecake Factory and Walgreens. The Deal. The Rep. The Last Breakfast. Lady Gaga. Karaoke with the gals.

Certainly, certainly, though, I've repressed It All since rehearsals began in The Space. November 10th. That was after weeks of rewrites and wandering around Michaels for props and buying the chime block from Guitar Center and commissioning the wands. Anyway, the point being, I'm aware I simply banished any bodily need for a week straight. And then what happened is I slowly slogged through the adrenaline from performing and eventually, suddenly, my entire body collapsed. This happened to be at Hearst Castle.

Luckily after an emergency Diet Pepsi and bag of salt and vinegar chips, I was able to continue on the mini vacation with gusto! And I was able to take in days of inn poolshine and fresh avocado toast and Sunset Boulevard ballads as the ocean blasted past. And then there was Sabrina Carpenter! Which required me to be a little lavender jumping bean. And then there was a brunch with my high school friend and Paranormal Activity downtown. Monday there were zooms and emails and a commercial deadline and a director meeting (feedback about the show). And THEN, at long last, there was the final thing on my calendar: a 6 AM zoom with the UK PR company Tuesday.

The meeting was very important and hinged pretty much entirely on me landing the pitch, which I did, despite having lost five pounds to stress. And what happened next! What happened next is I closed my computer and slept nearly all day! Shuffled out 4-5:15 and then had to lay down again.

But at around 10 I was on the balcony, ruminating. And then I heard someone else ruminating. An owl! With a very specific hoot. Hoo hoo h-h-hoo hoo hoo. The owl squawked it, so I mirrored back. A little later we repeated the song. I texted Puhg, "There's an owl hooting out here." So he came outside too.

For a long time there was silence. And then I saw the beauty take flight! It was kind of funny. Nothing swooping or majestic at all. Big white belly and thick feathers flopping branch to branch. Puhg missed it, so he stood looking into the dark a long while. Then he went inside, returning with the big black flashlight. "Let me see..." he said.

Puhg carefully aimed a beam at a branch and--! The owl! Was sitting right there! Big round eyes gazing directing into the light! We gasped. Very beautiful, very cute. "Hello!" we said! The owl blinked. We were waving and laughing. I got the sense the owl thought we were goofs. "Hello! You look very nice!" We called out. Owl could have flown away and didn't, which is why I think we may be friends. Puhg and I laughed and embraced and all the trees saw.

it's one o'clock in the morning

Struggling to sleep these days. Lots on my mind. Got all the bios from the actors didn't I yes yes I did but did I write my bio no no I didn't okay I'll get to that and the formatting and also I need to email the cast notes, I've ruminated on them all in my notepad. Then suddenly I'll go get my script and rehearse for a while. It reminds me of high school. In college I had enough friends who did theatre we were always running lines with each other. But in high school I spent many many happy days and nights in my room rehearsing alone. I really am terrified to be acting again, and I really just do not enjoy it...but it's been a nice trot down memory lane. I had to hire a front of house producer because...I usually do all that, but I'll have to be backstage. We had our first rehearsal Monday. I went to the green room to grab some chairs. Then I go to realize, hey, I'll be in the green room again. I love being in the green room. It's the best part of any show I've ever been in.

Trying to let my subconscious lead as I power through the next 6 days. A week from today the play will be over, and I will be on vacation! Very exciting. Very reassuring.

So anyway I just ate two string cheeses. Didn't even bother to unstring. Just slammed them CHOMP CHOMP. I've been so incredibly busy. And at times I'm a little grump as well. But I feel very justified in grumping at the bottom of a demonic system. How does a corrupt system fall without the grumps?

That said, I'm also trying to set my gratitude ahead more. That's still important, even if class consciousness is also important. I had a really cool day. Up early and chattering with Puhg, trampolined my heart out, out to South Pas to meet with a prospective director for my play's world premiere. I think, I really think...I mean knock on wood but I think it's happening! For real this time. (I've thought that exact sentence at least five previous times re: this project, so obvi I am naive...but I just have a feeling.) Producer and I like the director. WE think move forward. Producer and I walk through our chat with our third silent producer AM. She suggests very specific turns of phrases and slight changes to email drafts. I say, "This is why you pay you the big bucks." She laughs heartily, and I like that.

Blasted some Showgirl music in the traffic-stuffed drive home. I remember how B told me his favorite thing about LA is driving around singing all day. What a reframe! At home I greeted Puhg and we sat at the table for quite some time talking about our Plans. Plans for today, then the week, then the month, then the years, the life--ultimately. And then that was enough of that.

Hustled into my desk corner. Laid out my very long to-do list and went bananas. Email after email after email, responding to audience accommodations, scheduling the PR call for the world premiere of my other play, my agent pings me she has another call with the production company on my movie tomorrow morning. She's new, and I like her, but I don't fully trust her yet. So I'm keeping a close watch.

WOW, Puhg just scared the life out of me. He got up to go to the bathroom, peeked his head around the corner to see me--a little rat in the night, speech and debate hoodie up, eating a strawberry Trader Joe's pop-tart at the computer. He just shook his head and walked away.

So I hustled at my desk as long as I possibly could. I got a ton done but still have four items left on my to-do list. I'm going to wake up early to get ahead of the day. There's rehearsal at 11. Meanwhile my corporate producer loves the commercial. I get in touch with this other writer for advice on how she structured her last deal with a partner. She told me some useful things. She validated but then also played devil's advocate but then could be vulnerable. I really like her. She tells me totally coincidentally she is coming to the play! She RSVP'd ages ago, the plus one of the HBO exec. Oh my it's been so nice to feel so supported by my community with people expressing how excited they are. I am quick to say, "LOWER your EXPECTATIONS." I am very proud of this cast and their work, but I simply cannot guess how this thing will play. I have no idea.

At 7:38 I think Puhg simply walks into the bedroom, and I close my laptop and say, "We have to go watch Survivor." It's so needed, a night with our island crew. We've got all these little jokes and communal shorthand after years of these Survivor nights. We find out B was named Best Villain as an award for a fan version of the game. Our host made sugar cookies. The bits were flying and so was the genuine support.

Halloween at 37

The morning could be a little slow since my first meeting was set for 10:30. I did the Midnights Taylor Swift workout and sent a long email to my play cast and crew. The show opens in two weeks, and my producer hat is quite heavy. For the previous two weeks my writer hat has been heaviest, but I got cherished feedback from Roff on Tuesday and then more cherished feedback from Gos on Wednesday. Their interpretations of the piece have calmed many of my worries. I am very close to saying what I mean, I think. I have just one thing to sort out still, and I have three good options, or so I think. We will get to "find it" in rehearsals, which would be a scary thing to believe, if it didn't usually work out so very well.

The aforementioned meeting was as a brightly lit diner, with two theatre producers. I really believe in them. Twelfth (or so) time is the charm. They're the most promising partners who have approached me by far. The secret, I think, is one has the business brains and speaks the business language. The other is simplyScrappy. I believe she could make a paper box a hit. She has done it so many times. She says, in no uncertain terms, "Once you tell me we can do this, I will make it happen." I dunk my sweet potato biscuit in strawberry jelly and nod enthusiastically.

I become incredibly overwhelmed on the drive home. This has been happening since January because I live in a country descending into fascism. The political upheaval we are living through is terrifying and confusing on a daily, if not hourly, basis. I will not stop thinking or speaking about this, although it all makes me uncomfortable. Of course I am uncomfortable--we are in grave danger.

Eventually Puhg walks down to the carport where I've been sitting for a while, answering emails. We switch keys. He takes the car for errands and I sing "Better Than Revenge" in the kitchen with a wooden spoon. I write Congress. I write emails to my new theatre agents and the other production's producer, filling them all in. I start on my new commercial for a company I am currently boycotting. I think about how my boss told me, "Our goal is for girls to feel like they need every single product." I wonder how I can subvert that message, with the teeny tiny power I have. I met an older activist several months ago, at a protest. The back of his jacket said, "words are spells." I think about that phrase a lot these days.

I eat a bagged salad. At four I've got to get to my knoll. I bring individual bags of cookies to the guys I see there. I sit under the shade of a sharp tree listening to Lily Allen. I outline two essays I have outlined several times before. One I have been trying to get right for at least eight months.

I listen to a YouTube lecture about shame while having a little mouse snack of cashews and apples before getting dressed up. My pink sparkle two piece is so cute and magically comfortable. Puhg sweetly drives me to the theater for my friend's weird music show. I have no idea who will be there and I am boldly showing up as Gay Taylor Swift. I get a seltzer and wobble in, quickly running into one of my favorite people dressed as Britney Spears. She's talking to a comedian I worked with this summer, but it was on Zoom, so this is a first meeting. He's dressed like Cruella and later sings "Drops of Jupiter."

I have one of the best nights I've had in a very long time. The acts were truly talented and funny and most importantly I danced and sang a LOT. I have learned, when it comes to live music, I go harder than most, and unfortunately I cannot help that. I know I am either a concert hero or villain, depending on if you are sitting right behind or next to me. There was Alanis, Sum 41, Beyonce, Powerline, Carrie Underwood, Fountains of Wayne and I was nestled in with so many old friends--the guy I watch Survivor with and the gal I see at coffee shops and my old director from Chicago and the animator who made my deck and the short story writer dressed as a nun and the actor from that play I dramaturged. My friend the bassist says she is excited to introduce me to her new boyfriend. We shake hands and I realize he played a main character in my old favorite TV show. He is dressed as Nic Cage.

I head to the sidewalk for air and stand in a circle of whoever is there. The shy comedian who lives on my block and her boyfriend, dressed as Colin Mocherie and Ryan Stiles--what a choice. It's so soothing, to be in a circle of improviser types. We ask each other how fast the billionaires plan to kill us. A girl walks to her Uber and shouts behind to me, "I love your dancing!" But she also laughs like, you nutjob! I call a car and invite my neighbors back with me. We chatter on the ride, the Dodgers may win the World Series.

I get excited tromping up the stairs to our apartment. Puhg, for the sixth year in a row, outdoes himself on his homemade haunted house. (Mind you, we went to Six Flags Thursday also!) Candles, rituals, notes, dummies, ghosts. The whole thing culminated in me running into the closet to hide. I stood there nervously for several minutes before Puhg began breathing loudly, revealing he'd been in there the entire time. And then he was wearing a horrid mask. I am very lucky, this I know.

I ordered Taco Bell nachos and a bean burrito, sat on the balcony waiting for it until 1 AM. I went down in my sandals and a puffer coat to grab it from the driver, so he didn't have to navigate parking and getting buzzed in and the elevator. I could tell he was pleased to see me. I ate my feast on the sofa, while watching Love on the Spectrum. The girl who loves dolls gets her first kiss.

And tell me, did Venus blow your mind?