Terrifying Joy!

This was my post today on FaceBook: Today, I can say with certainty, I’m not sure if I’m really good at this theatre stuff, or if I entirely suck. Also, I can’t be sure if I’m taking UF seriously or if I’m fooling myself with false intention. This is how I know I’m an awesome performance artist; I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. “My adult fetal position is a posture of terrifying joy.” – TM

I’m tough, sad, lonely, blessed, happy, healthy, horny, hopeful, nice, brutal, angry, calm, ferocious, small, grande, self-centered, other-centered, misused, misunderstood, punk, goth, gay, straight, docile, timid, hurt, damaged, healed, metal, armor, stone, soul, sand, soft, clay, melting, ice, wax, sun, iron, lost, safe, sound, light…

Yeah, so I’m an actor. I do it my way. I don’t like people, but I love them. I want better for them. I know we can do better. This is a bit of a rant, but on our beleaguered FaceBook, I saw a post about a man who pieced together an old camera lens with a new-fangled digital camera and took remarkably close-up photos of snow flakes. Every one was astounding, amazing, had such precision structure, it was beyond beautiful, it was alien and yet, familiar. Every one of these gems melts into the same water. Can’t we fucking figure that out? Can’t we be our most beautiful selves, our most beautiful souls, and have those manifestations come from a place of love? Every day I read such horror stories, the evils we are capable of against each other seem to know no limits, but then there are these snow flakes. This guy who duck-taped an old lens (the past) with a new digital camera (the future) and captured such beauty (the now, the moment, the frozen evaporating dreams)…isn’t this theatre? http://www.boredpanda.com/snowflake-macro-photography-diy-alexey-kljatov/

Here are the journals:




Now I’m thinking I want to do something I heard about, which was advice for music but maybe applies to all artists. I forget who said it, but it was basically “Learn your [musical] notes, and then forget them.” So you can play them as if for the first time with the organic energy of the moment. I’m thinking I want to study up on my part of the Alexander presentation and then put those notes away and just talk/inform as if I was having an enthusiastic conversation with a buddy at a coffee shop instead of some lecture modality. That’s all for today. Just a thought…


Shit is about to hit the fan now. We’re at the end, and I refuse to go out with a whimper. In fact, I’m so enthusiastic about Alexander II that I’m determined to include that as a class choice for next semester. My partner for the final presentation and I both share absurdly busy schedules but we planned a unique way to get past not having as much availability for discussions and rehearsals as others. We’ll use each other as our demonstration models. So for example, when I talk about the nature of Kinesthesia, I’ll demonstrate the examples by getting my partner to visually show what I’m talking about. I’ll do the same for him. This will be a nice organic interaction that won’t be some forced Disneyesque kind of thing. I don’t think that’s the way to do Alexander. In fact, I think not having had such a premeditated presentation will provide a more in-the-moment experience. That’s what Alexander is all about.


Had a meeting with my Alexander Presentation partner today, just getting together on the spirit of our mutual presentation which will happen tomorrow afternoon. I think we’re going to meet a bit before class to shore up our notes and make sure we’re on the same page. I’m really looking forward to seeing all the different ways my peers will show their materials and understanding of various techniques. Now I have to put this all in writing, a task which has been elusive due to my psycho manic impossible can-not-be-done schedule. Let’s do it!





I was pleased with my performance on the Mamet scene I’m doing today. It’s in the ‘workshop’ stage. I felt natural, had a reasonable grasp of my lines, motivations, it felt organic. My scene partner is coming along beautifully too…Mamet is no easy animal to capture. Six things or more go on in any sentence…hell, any ‘part’ of a sentence. If Mamet was here, he’d say something like, “Just say the line as I wrote it and stand in place. You got this!” And in a Mamet play, I’d respond, “Just say? Or say. Which say are you saying to say? You…so this dog in Pasadena, no—you know what? Forget that. Say what? Say, ‘You got this?’ – ‘You got this?’ You don’t got this. You don’t got shi…Sherlock Holmes! Say that, fuckface! Sherlock…aw, forget it.”





Our scene (thank God) was pushed to Wednesday. I say ‘thank God’ because we had a terrific rehearsal on Sunday. We had it down pat. After class today, we were to rehearse a bit more and I got caught up in UF academic BS, trying to get next semester in order. There is only one advisor and I sat for an hour waiting to see him, and had to be late to our rehearsal. Finally, when I got in front of my advisor, he said there’s an academic outstanding financial obligation I haven’t taken care of (probably my inoculation), and I hadn’t consented online to all the rigmarole students have to agree to each term. In other words, I waited an hour for nothing and was late to rehearsal. I could not, for the life of me, remember my lines for this scene. And the director was so pissed off, and it was a total disservice to my scene partner for me to not have the lines, but worse; I questioned what the fuck I was doing at UF if I can’t show up to a scene with the lines memorized, especially when I had done this scene flawlessly the day before like freakin’ six times? It was personally horrifying. I cursed, preened like one of those asshole actors you hear about that are tough to work with, and I was looking for someone to blame for quite a while before I settled on me. ME! ME! In my Billiard Therapy, our instructor says, “If it ain’t in, it ain’t in.” In other words, if you didn’t hit the ball in the pocket, you did not do what was required to succeed. It’s easy to block myself. I fucking hate that. Pardon my French, but sometimes (ask Quentin, or Kushner, or Scorsese) a good vernacular ‘fuck’ is all that will convey the gravity of the situation. I sat on the bench afterwards, waiting for the bus, wondering if I’m bullshitting myself that I’m any good. I’ve had this scene for weeks now. No excuse. Absolutely ashamed of myself. As for class today, we watched one scene (extremely well done), and then Dr. Young directed us through a serious of Qigong exercises and ended with a five-minute meditation. Best part of the day. But then, this.


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