The Episode of I Love Lucy With Ricky's Screentest

I watched it in 6th grade. In it Ricky is auditioning for the part of Don Juan. He has to practice his monologue, but every time he does it, it's so embarrassing. He can't cold read, he's nervous, the passion isn't there. Lucy tries to backseat direct him and he gets frustrated. At night he thinks he's alone, but she's creeping somewhere (kitchen?) and overhears him doing an amazing, passionate rendition of the piece. He just had to be alone. Most of us know we could do it alone.

My freshman year of college there was this super senior in the music department who made sort of a "deal" about not auditioning for 42nd Street because he was too busy working on his capstone. The practice rooms weren't ever super busy in the dungeon of the theatre building. Sometimes I would go on Friday evenings and practice playing Andrew McMahon songs. One Friday night down there I heard someone singing "The Lullaby of Broadway"--the lead actor's big number. But it wasn't the lead actor. It was that super senior giving it all he got in a ten foot by ten foot room alone.

Rejection: Part II (The Upstairs Concierge by Kristoffer Diaz)

A couple weeks ago Bisque and I went to The Goodman for a Sunday night date. The Upstairs Concierge by Kristoffer Diaz. It was a comedy, and about thirty minutes in neither of us had laughed once. More than that, I was bored, borderline offended someone thought this extremely cliche set-up ("We're in a new hotel where there are no locks on the doors, and everyone is highly sexualized!") would be entertaining to me. I was so shocked by how bad the play was that I legitimately awaited a humongous "JUST KIDDING"--like all the characters suddenly became zombies, or it was a bad play within a play. But no. It was just a very under-developed in terms of character, super over-developed in terms of cheesy punchlines, and over-zealous physical comedy for physical comedy's sake plot garbage pot pie. We actually considered walking out. "Are we nuts?" Nope. We weren't. The next day the reviews came. And woof.

The lead of the show is an extremely talented woman who I have seen perform at SC numerous times. With few exceptions, everyone on stage was fun. The playwright has been previously nominated for a Pulitzer. The ensemble developed this show over the course of three years. Then, it was put up at the biggest commercial theatre in Chicago. Flop City. How did this happen? How could people not see?

I so respect Diaz's motives. He wanted a big farce because regional theatre doesn't have any modern pieces to do. Everyone's still Noises Off! forever and ever. He wanted to showcase minorities in big fat comic roles. Yes! I want that too. But, I want it to be good. I won't go into more detail because the critics already bashed the piece to smithereens. The point: maybe, and that's a big maybe, it was good for this piece to happen and fail big, but ultimately, it should have been rejected.

I'm not sure when The Goodman officially slotted the play, and I'm not sure when something can be pulled, so maybe by the time it was definitely bad it was too late. But, a rejection would have been a blessing. And wouldn't we rather that? Be sifted into the spaces we will shine in rather than never be rejected and spoil like cabbage in public?

Another good thing: I will see Kristoffer Diaz's next show. I get it. Sometimes work doesn't work. I still believe in him. If I can see this, perhaps those who have seen me fail can too.

Let's Assume

1. I begin all my writing courses with this: Let's assume everyone is talented. Let's assume there's something special in everything brought to this class. Find that. Seek out the shiny penny, perhaps even the diamond, in what may first appear as a dirt clod. Do not assume your peers are down in the garbage. Maybe they are in a dumpster, but who knows? There could be some real fine freegan Trader Joe's ginger snaps down there.

2. I'm trying very hard to do this thing now. When people show that nashing spitty side of themselves, I am trying to flip the image. This person looked like a Fannie May trinidad. I tasted the chocolate coconut shell! But the centre was roach eggs. They fooled me good, they did. No. Flip it. The inside is always the nougat. The outside might have a mold problem. Scrape it off. Choose to see what's real. Don't let the worst part of someone be the, "Ah ha. Now I have seen their true nature!" moment. Let it be the brightest whitest star.

Star Cactus

AZ. 2012.

I got nothin'. So, a list:

Good Stuff Today:
-The Biggest Loser & a Bob Harper workout.
-Pitching ideas.
-Working with two women who are genuinely having fun with my new play and who are also very talented.
-Being able to give sincere compliments to people whose art I admire.
-When you think about theatre the day after you see it.
-Pasties with improv friendos.
-Biking in the sun.
-Communication with familia.
-The Internet. Hello research.
-Muff in two weeks.

On My Degree

Koon. Winter 2011.

Been meeting a lot of new people in the past few days--orientations for TAing, small talk with strangers, Graduate Student Welcome Parties. So, you know, people keep asking what I'm doing, and I say, I'm getting my MFA in Dramatic Writing. And, then, pretty much always:

"So, what does one do with a degree in Writing?"

Um...write?

Yeah, I get what people are saying without saying: Where'syourstability? How'reyougonnaeat? Doyouhaveanykindoftalentanyway?

But what I want to say is...I am passionate about dramatic writing. Wouldn't you be concerned if I were doing anything else? Believe me, I didn't pick to pursue this degree because I was in it for the surefire cash. You, strangers, aren't exactly bringing light to my situation, you know.

Most importantly: Ifyou'renotHAPPYwhat'sthepoint?

Ain't about the ca-ching ca-ching!
Ain't about the ba-bling, ba-bling!