Go ahead. I dare you.
(Who knew the mind had departments? I wonder where housewares is located...)
This photo:
If you knew her you'd understand what I mean.
From yesterday's comments:
"I'm interested in your feelings about being a working writer, a public Artist. I'm not looking for specifics (or tips or anything), just some perspective on what it is like to look in the mirror and see yourself. Is it a good feeling to have your Art taken seriously?"
Hm. Well, I'll say this, it's better to have something well-received than not... but I can't say I ever feel satisfied. No matter how much of a froth I work myself into over this writing thing, I cannot stop myself from looking around me at the things other people have; friends who get LORT shows when I can't, friends who get into schools I got rejected from, friends who are snatching up all the grants I apply for, non-friends who have ridiculous luck with un-inspired work... I understand intellectually that I am doing very well as far as these things go, but I suppose that low-grade sense of failure never fully goes away, no matter what good fortune befalls my work.
So when something art-wise in my life is going well, rather than feeling like "FINALLY!!", all I can manage is a sense of relief that I haven't been set back. Naturally this appeals to me on some level, as my personality is the type that thrives against opposition (imagined or otherwise), but it is also exhausting and very often demoralizing. I picture this path I've chosen as completely overgrown and unruly, and the small successes are little clearings on the path where I can walk freely for a few yards. But the dead brush always consumes it once again.
At the same time, I feel pretty goddamn fortunate that I get to do this with my life. Especially when my collaborators are as gifted and generous as the ones on my current show. I think that's ultimately what keeps me from leaping into traffic. "Success" in this biz is quite arbitrary, so when the people on a project inspire me AND the project is well-received, it's like finding a golden ticket. I walk around in a daze with a mantra in my head: "luckyluckyluckylucky..."
I am very deeply moved by this art form, and when it is blessed it feels like a spiritual ideal. But when it is cursed it is hell.
Hope that answers your question...
YOU: Hey! How did it go last night?
ME: Um, great. Scarily great. People seemed blown away. I was totally overwhelmed. They had to turn folks away at the door.
YOU: But isn't it just a workshop?
ME: Yeah, but somehow it kind of launched in a way that was really really special.
YOU: I'll definitely come see it... but first, what the heck was that cryptic shit you posted yesterday?
ME: Oh, that. It's too big for me to talk about right now... but for now I'll just show you these:
ME: That's me my freshman year in high school.
ME: That's is the woman who gave birth to me.
YOU: !!!
KERRRAZZY shit goin' down over here at Callaland... I'll tell you about it later... or not... but for now, go see my play that opens tonight (Tuesday). It's going really well... I'm just thrilled with it.
But maybe theatre isn't your thing. Heck, maybe BURGERS are your thing. Maybe what you need isn't a two-and-a-half hour play about some lapsed activist in Greece in the 80's and his stinkin' vineyard.... maybe you need the BIGGEST GODDAMN BURGER IN THE ENTIRE FRICKIN' WORLD.
The two are pretty similar actually... both full of greece... nyuk nyuk.
(That joke works infinitely better out loud.)
(But it's still pretty dumb.)
... would someone PLEASE explain these fucking ads to me?
Does it help to know that the real image is animated, and that when the horned fellow with the mohawk strums his guitar, mortgage rates flutter from its tuning pegs?
Other questions:
- Why winter? Why a field? Why a rose in the mouth? Why the hovering arrow-pierced double-hearts? Why the copper healing bracelet?
- How is the monster able to keep playing when he is completely naked and most likely freezing his aluminum wings off?
- If this were your lender, would you feel more secure after reading this ad?
- Why do the monster's facial features seem to suggest several vague ethnic stereotypes?
- How is the monster able to keep playing when he is completely naked and most likely freezing his aluminum wings off?
Any and all thoughts are most welcome.
There's someone out there who has something VERY special to say to you... It's a private message. Click it.
We open a week from tomorrow (Tuesday). It's been really strange to be away for most of the rehearsal process... but relaxing, actually. I don't feel like I'm choking on the play, and therefore I have a little perspective. I watched the actors in first stumble-through yesterday and I have to say, I think it's gonna be pretty great. I got chills a couple times.
It's a workshop production so don't expect anything fancy set-wise... but please come. And bring your producer friends. We run for two weeks.
LASCIVIOUS SOMETHING
by Sheila Callaghan
directed by Suzanne Agins
with Charles Borland, Jessi Campbell, Christina Lind, and Danielle Skraastad
August fled the country to be with his beautiful young Greek bride on a secluded Mediterranean island, where he planted a modest vineyard. Now, Reagan's in the White House, his wife is pregnant, his crop is robust, and he is about to experience his first wine tasting, when a woman in a large-brimmed hat arrives.
Performances Mar 14 – 25, Tue – Fri at 7pm, Sat at 3pm and 7pm
Cherry Lane Theatre, 38 Commerce Street (just off Seventh Avenue)
Tickets Now On Sale
... involves the following...
PACKING: assorted professional, exercise, and under-clothing, four pairs of shoes, a laptop bag, a bridesmaid dress, two cans of beans and a helmet;
CLEANING: for the first time EVER, including vaccuming up dead leaves and spilled oats and a deceased cricket (yes I left him there), plus 409-ing the hot tub (used only once);
SELLING: my bike;
EATING: everything left in the fridge, which includes half a bag of frozen edamame, one small chicken breast, a half-jar of relish, two pieces of whole grain bread, four tablespoons of crunchy peanut butter, and a pitiful slab of mesquite-seasoned tofu; and,
HOSTING: a brunch for my darlings.
Not sure if this qualifies as "high-tailing it".. but I gotta get the digs in tip-top shape for Mr. Adam Bock, who will be hosting Part Two of the FSU MFA playwriting semseter.
Is it God in the details, or is it the devil? I forget which...
In the meantime, this dude wrote some lyrics to the song they play on the Price is Right during the furniture showcase. Could he possibly rock any harder? (no.)
ADDENDUM: My darlings:
