... is everywhere right now. I'm in Athens. So is the apocalypse. Soph went back to NYC to teach, and I stayed on here to get rained on by pieces of ash from an orange sky and to inhale microscopic pieces of people's homes, wardrobes, photo albums, kitchen tables. Etc. It is ghastly and heartbreaking.
I added a new word to my Greek vocabulary today. Éγκαυμα. It means "burn."
In a rather macabre show of nationalism, the nerds working at this internet cafe are blasting "The Roof is on Fire" by the Bloodhound Gang.
Éγκαυμα, mother f*cker(?).
**UPDATE: Oh my God it's getting worse and worse. I can't believe it. Half this beautiful country... all charred mountainside... I don't know what to say.
This may only be funny to one other person, but when my Irish relatives were here in Greece last week were were all complaining about gassiness, then we got fairly braggy about our own emissions, and later in the evening post-dinner I let one rip -- a very impressive sonorous affair-- and Soph told everyone that I had just "thrown down the fartlet." This still makes me giggle.
Another item that may only be funny to one: Soph and I don't have a TV, so we keep NPR on a constant drone in the background for company. Whenever a show comes on that is supported by PRI, Public Radio International, Soph will quietly say in unison with the announcer "PRI... Public Radio In My Assahole." Even when he isn't home and it comes on the radio, my brain will say it. It's not even a joke anymore, it's a compulsion-- we MUST say it, or the show is ruined.
Louella and her monkey also have an NPR announcer joke involving this dude, which is funnier... you'll have to ask her for it.
On NPR announcers... the name that tickles me to the guts is Lakshmi Singh. I could say that forever. I want to use it for a code or something... like, you ask me how my summer was and I reply "Lakshmi Singh", and you nod somberly and we both weep a little, and then we never speak again.
Regarding my everlasting summer in Greece.... Right now everyone is at the beach. I'm sitting here with my laptop trying to work on Act Three. This gives you some idea of the past few months. Everything comes to an end on Wednesday. I leave for Berlin for this gig, then I'm back in my beloved NYC for most of autumn--my favorite season. Nuthin' funny about that, Jones.
I got called out on a show of mine in 2008 I neglected to post... so all youse in DC, heads up: a vengeful apartment and a wacked-out bereaved family is coming yer way...
Yesterday we bid farewell to my beloved Irish relatives, who were staying with us for a week here in Greece-- a week of overeating, sight-seeing, and sun-stroking-- after which Soph and I promptly launched ourselves into the sleep of the dead, rising only for meals and an evening walk by the water. Oh, and to spend some time with my gorgeous companion into whom I fold myself whenever consciousness hits.
Okay truthfully? I'm finding it exceedingly difficult to scrape some interest from my daily life when I must prepare for the lush costume balls and afternoon samovar klatches and brutal horse races, and gossip over the illicit and all-too-public romances around me. I suppose even Greece can seem drab in the gleam of such extravagance.
No no no. I'm just obsessed. I spent the morning googling Russian fashions from the 1870's. I also dog-eared all the sections in the book where a food was mentioned that I didn't recognize, and I googled those too (soupe printanière? poulard à l'estragon? rambouillet [which turns out to not be food, actually]? German pea sausages?).
Tail between legs for investing more in a novel than in my Mediterranean sojourn. Bad Sheila, once again.
Now I have to go write. The fat aunt is shifting her weight.
In honor of updating my upcoming page (click it) for a pretty active year ahead (yo' Montréal, je viens là !), I tried to describe some of my plays as if they were human beings with whom I have relationships. I suggest you playwrights out there try it. It's a great way to waste like an hour with nothing to show for it. AND, you don't need DSL to do it!! Genius.
Note: These are not real people. Any resemblance heretofore may be considered purely coincidental.
My New Play (untitled so far):
A fat, chatty, wacky aunt who doesn't know when to leave.Lascivious Something:
An old boyfriend who I am still totally in love with.Dead City:
A frazzled woman I ran into on the subway.That Pretty Pretty; Or, The Rape Play:
My angry retarded daughter.Crawl, Fade To White:
A lovely, lonely woman I once dreamed about.Kate Crackernuts:
A crazy cousin who won't shut up about her "visions".Crumble (Lay Me Down, Justin Timberlake):
That skinny guy with the bad posture from down the street.Scab:
My best friend from college.We Are Not These Hands:
The upstairs neighbor's weird hyper son.
Go for it, playwrights!
(Apologies to the non-theatre folks who read this blog. All none of you.)
