Scito Te Ipsum(am) (o) Dilige Te Ipsum(am)

My Friday entries (when Friday entries there have been) have been characteristically short, and I offer up a similar serving this Friday, but I find this interesting. It's rather my version of a 'blog quiz. (I always did prefer the essay questions.) As I sat in

the deli a block from work

this morning, drinking my bean juice and trying to finish up

Jitterbug Perfume

before the bell tolled, a curious question occurred to me: Is it more important to A) Know thyself; or B) Love thyself?

Please feel free to share your opinions. If you write at any length elsewhere on the subject, please give unto us a link.

You Never Bring Me Flowers Anymore . . .

No, nor sing you love songs, though that may be to your benefit given my lack of vocal training. Furthermore, I never write. Have not I feelings? Care not I about the individual attentions demanded by the sheer accessibility of all my friends and relations? Should not I, as an actor, be interested in being in constant, continual contact with every person I've ever worked/played with who returns the effort? Doesn't the sheer ease of text messages and email obligate me to at least try myself?

Probably: Yes. Nevertheless, I rebel.

Understand, please, that I'm not making a stand on some moral principle. It would be easy as all hell for me to spin it so. I could claim that the ease of communication creates an environment of a whole lot of words to very little effect, or that the millions of emails and

MySpace

comments that fly about every day have no social impact on anyone, anywhere. I could even plane that edge a bit, make it less proclamatory and just claim to be nostalgic for the days of yore, when letters were written to be saved, and people had to meet in person to catch up. I shan't, because I'd be fooling myself even more than you. No, the reason I'm rebelling lately is because (in my humble self-assessment) I am just sick of it.

I am. I'm grateful for being able to network with friends from the comfort of my day job. I thrill at the ability to communicate with business associates via text messaging when I otherwise wouldn't be able. I do sincerely dig checking out my peeps on their respective 'blogs, dipping a finger in the batter of their creativity. And, I am sick, sick, sick of writing people.

One of the wonderful, wondrous things about a stage play is that it captures, very simply, the beauty of someone entering a room. We have these hundreds of entrances and exits throughout each day of our lives, and they spin by, for the most part unnoticed. Of particular interest, as entrances go, are the moments when one person joins another in a space. You don't even need to know the first thing about the history of these imaginary two to appreciate the moment they join one another in a given area, do you? In that instant, a story is told. In that moment, a space comes alive, has meaning, and words haven't even entered into it yet. I wish I had a name for that. (The French probably do.)

I'm not saying it's irreplaceable (though I will go so far as to say that it is unique). I can't even properly express all that such a moment means to me. Except, perhaps, to say that I miss it. Sans nostalgia. The longing I have for it is very immediate, in fact. It's strange to feel a longing for something so abstract. It's not for one particular person, but people, but not in a group, and it's also for something more. For time to be still, just for half a moment. That suspension of everything. I'm not saying it needs to be dramatic, romantic, or anything specific. Think of knocking on your parents' door. Time stands still for just a tiny bit. There's no "ping," or "be-deep," or "You've got mail!" Your favorite song doesn't start playing, and nothing vibrates, and a magic window doesn't pop up in front of you, demanding attention, and I find that very, very appealing.

It's entirely hypocritical, this entry. The very medium that allows me to express this thought is what's responsible for all this chiming, thrumming, second-by-second communication I seem to deplore. And God knows, ignoring my email doesn't counteract the syndrome in any way at all. It's a little like fighting fire with fire, in fact. Email is an irrational form of personal communication, and I combat this by behaving irrationally myself? Madness. It certainly hasn't resulted in more visits with friends, or even more instances of substantial phone calls. All it does is further separate me from my homies, in particular those what expect a response to a non-business email sooner than a month later.

It could be a phase. Or, it could be an addiction. But me, I prefer an addiction that keeps me out of my seat, rather than one that ties me to it. So I hope you all understand that I love getting emails from you, keeping abreast (maybe even a thigh or a wing) on all you care to write about. My silence is not rejection, and when I bring you flowers, you'll be able to smell them.

And probably me, from all the entrances and exits I'm trying to make good on.

ZdG Busking Workshop Day Four: Character Hunting

The only complaint I have about last night's workshop was that we were relegated to the old gymnasium, owing to some dance team or other vying for our space. The old gymnasium (for those of you planning a trip out to olde Marywood U. in the near future) is a place most resolutely to be avoided. In the spirit of old gyms everywhere, it is hot, stuffy, and cavernous. The floor feels like hardwood laid on concrete, and no amount of fans or open doors solves a damn thing. We had to be sure to offer plenty of breaks for water and rest to our dozen students last night.

That's right: a dozen. We have our players for La Festa Italiana, and I am very happy both with the numbers and the spirit in the rehearsal room. The players are eager, and receptive, and last night we started them on building their characters. In spite of the heat--and perhaps, in some ways, because of that shared adversity--we really came together in the fashion of a familiar ensemble and began to work in earnest. After getting them started on building characters through all three walk-about exercises (leading centers, animals and appetites), we briefly outlined our vision of their scenario as we discussed it that morning. That is, a pair of feuding families--the Rossalinis and the Verdelonis--who own restaurants in town and are vying for the support of the public.

It's an exciting phase. They are well on their way to creating something detailed, tangible and fun that will stay with them well beyond the use in La Festa, and possibly

Prohibitive Standards

. There were a few surprises last night. I had forgotten just how emotionally available I had been at their ages, and some of the players took the character building to a very dark place and serious emotions. I was concerned for a time that we may have led one or two down a primrose path to self-doubt and difficult pain. We discussed it extensively, however, and found that those who went to dark places were better equipped to accept that as part of the work and move on. I tried to emphasize that all their discoveries, even those that feel like no fun, are valid in contributing to the creation of a character. I also made sure they knew, however, that they must love their character, no matter how flawed he or she may be, in order to play it for some time.

Tonight we get down to some real nitty-gritty stuff, developing specific relationships and encouraging the students to discover solo performances they can use in a public context. It's so exciting. It's so rewarding to see the tools I've been using for years--not really from any one place or specific training, but from experience and improvisation--working for other people. Not to mention learning all-new approaches from Geoff and Dave. It's great work, and I'm grateful to have it.

My Much-Esteemed Friends

Hi guys. Thought for a day I would release the bizarre, quasi-instruction-video-for-non-actors tone this 'blog can often take, and just address the readers I know. You guys know about theatre, some more than others of course, but you all know at least what it's like to have an actor as a friend. So none of that this day. Just a moment or two to address the audience (as all of my favorite plays take some little time to do [see, still adhering to insane parentheses][okay:

The Real Thing

has no direct address, and is a favorite, but you can't deny it diddles with the fourth wall in a delightful way]) . . .

I began to utilize very early on in this 'blog some of the quirkier points of grammar I've learned from side-lining as a proofreader of academic texts. (Case [in {point: quirky} paren-] theticals.) Amongst these quirks, I incorporated the use of informal titles. Most often, this shows up in discussing friends.

Friend

Davey, or

Friend

Kelly. It could be used for anything that describes character identity, I suppose.

Storyteller

Davey, or

Enthusiast

Kelly. This comes from a rule of capitalization, specifically that you only capitalize a title in reference to a particular person, and then only when it's acting kind of like an adjective. (I'm so waiting for someone with a formal education in proofreading to comment on how backward I've got this.) So you write "George Bush is a bad

p

resident," and "I can't believe how incompetent

P

resident Bush is." Somehow the use of this title, this little adjustment, connotes respect.

I started it because I thought it was funny, while serving as explanation for the anonymous readers of the Aviary. I hate name-dropping, even that of less-than-world-renowned folk ("Oh, that reminds me of what Ted did yesterday!" "Who the hell is 'Ted'?" "Oh, you don't know Ted? Oh, you simply

must

know Ted! Why don't you know Ted?"), and using titles lends a old-world sense of irony to my prose, said prose being occasionally overwrought with perfect sincerity. Okay: Often. Okay: I

hope

my irony makes up for it.

ANYWAY, you lot, my friends (and you know who you are ... no need to incriminate anyone additional at this time...) are wonderful. Truly. I don't deserve you, but I try, and you see that, and that makes me feel even more grovel-ly. That is, when I take a moment like this one to receive that feeling. A lot of the time,

most

of the time, I keep myself so busy that I end up operating on assumptions about what you know about how I feel about you. Can't quite explain that. When I was about 11 or 12 (as you can attest, Davey) I was obsessed with serving my friends, defining myself by my relationship to them and how likely it was I might be able to throw myself in front of on-coming traffic to save them. High school into college was somewhat complicated by learning about more amorous love, but I was still obsessive about really listening and devoting my entire self when a friend (or, to be honest, a hopeful friend ... or acquaintance ... or total stranger...) was upset. We grow, priorities change; I accept that. Now, if you called at 3:00 AM because you were feeling insecure, you are a lot more likely to get my voicemail than me, awake by candlelight, trying to figure out how to end a tormented short story. We grow. I guess all it really comes down to is--

Why don't we see more of each other?

I know, I know: Virginia, California, even New Jersey. And I know: We're adults now. We have responsibilities, everything is tied into what we

do

, and there's not so much sitting around, marveling at the mystery of who we

are

. I get that. Still. I like you. You are rad, and I would like to see more of you.

I'm not laying blame

at all

here. If it came to that, I'd definitely end up holding the burning end of the punk. I'm terrible. I hate the phone, and am made anxious by so-called "free time." Most people fail to recognize me after a haircut, much less after a year apart, so I often let things slide content in the knowledge that everyone changes and grows apart. But the thing is, we haven't. Not really. Sure, there's been change. Mammoth change and minute. But I still count you my friend. And for just a moment (a 'blog entry, even; can there be anything less grand?) I'd like to acknowledge those amongst you whom I don't see enough of. In no particular order, and with the standard Oscar-speech caveat ("I really didn't expect this ... there are so many people to thank..."):

Nat

- Your performance was fantastic, and I really wanted to go hang out for hours with you afterward. I wouldn't have even kicked you in the face this time, I think. We should work together again.

Kate - Through everything, you have always believed in me, which is more valuable to me than you may know. Thank you, not just for recent support on

As Far As We Know

, but for five years of belief.

Melissa

- I loved watching

Gull(ability)

. I love watching you taking your work and RUNNING with it. It inspires me. I only wish we still worked in the same office, or could run into each other at Java'n'Jazz.

Patrick

- For the past six months I have gotten smarter and been more entertained by way of books from you, and I miss you, even though we'd have the same difficulties of scheduling even if you were in-state. I hope you're finding all you're looking for.

Walkinhomefromthethriftstore

- It's become such a time-honored tradition to watch TV with you, I don't know if you know how great it still is for me to spend time with you. I'm glad you're close(er). I'm trying to take more advantage of that.

Harry - Thank you for being so open. I'm still sorry, and I hope we can talk about the whole thing soon.

Sarah - I miss you. Thank you so for the belated card and thinking you saw me in

Spider-Man 3

(you didn't). Let's talk soon.

Mark - I think we're just going to have to accept that we have different goals when it comes to building a philosophy. What we never have to accept is our geographic distance making for more personal distance. I'm glad to banter over any medium, even if we never agree again.

Davey

- You support me so much in my work, and you're not even here, so I never get to show you how much that means to me. You shall be rewarded with fart jokes!

Younce, Dave

- It never ceases to amaze me how much contact with you reminds me of the joy that comes of creating something, somehow even though I spend the majority of my time trying to do just that. I don't get enough of those reminders, but it's not for want of your trying. I just can't get enough.

Youmans, Dave - Your visit was the highlight of my summer, and I wish I could be there for you now. I'm on entirely the wrong kind of schedule to call you this week. Maybe I can make a theatre game out of it, and have all my students this week involved. You'll hear from me soon.

Grant & Val - I am going to visit just as soon as I can -- maybe on one of these upcoming Saturdays off!

There you have it; a great, big, steamy pile of gratitude. This is not a complete list. It's not nearly all the people I have to thank, and on a daily basis. There are still countless ex-cast-members, coworkers, teachers, students, role-players, relatives, etc. Let this stand in than, if your name happens not to appear above: Thank you.

Thank you.

Let's Get it On!

Two ludicrous topics today, web-loggers. The first is in reference to last Tuesday's post (

8/14/07

). It would seem that it's a popular choice for people to endorse Batman against any and all odds in a fight, giving him the acclaimed status of figures such as

Bruce Lee, Chuck Norris

and Most Guys' Girlfriends. I have

Friend Adam

to thank for exposing me to this (my own) bias, in the form of a string of submissions to

IGN.com

. It seems IGN had a survey/fantasy-football-esque event in which they paired off comicbook characters to see who would win in a fight, until they were down to a final two: (The) Batman and The Phoenix. Batman won the votes. Which is ridiculous (I concede...begrudgingly). So IGN began a series of articles inviting people to describe how Batman would win in the face of a variety of unbeatable odds, aptly titling the series "

Use Your Delusion

." I invite you to check it out. I daresay they make my proposed Batman vs. Wolverine scenario seem utterly reasonable in comparison.

The other ludicrousity (is SO a word) is the terrible volatility of personal relationships between artists. I am not even kidding. Sometimes it seems to me that these involve more bloodshed even than Wolverine fighting a busload of overweight babies. And understand, I'm not speaking exclusively here of romantic relationships . . . you know: "

relationships

." rather, I mean any personal relationship that develops between artists. But I should confine myself to actors, here. That's where most of my experience has lain, with a dash or two of dancers and writers for good measure.

We will rock your world. We will: It's science. Now, get two of us together and add a dash of affection, an ounce of attraction and a dram of chemistry and you've got one intense stew. The only problem with that stew (assuming you like stew [and intensity]) is that when it is really cooking, it means it is constantly at a boil.

Wait. I lost

myself

in the metaphor.

I think it's something having to do with dedicating a good part of one's life to exploring emotions others generally choose to avoid, practicing reacting out of instinct and cultivating an awareness of everything everywhere. For a start. So we apply that exploration, reaction and awareness to our greatest priorities, many of which are personal relationships. That's part of why I'm grateful for those of my friends who aren't artists (though I'm just as grateful for my fellows in the arts), because it's kind of nice to know people who can let an issue slide, or are interested in just sitting down over drinks without discussing the ramifications of society's increased isolation from itself. It's great to be uncompromising and sensitive, to have an alternative viewpoint, but it's not always good to apply this ethic to the day-to-day of personal relationships.

I think there are myriad causes for the explosive nature of relationships between artists, and I haven't the experience or interest to explore them all, but one think we can agree on, I think again, is that personally involved artists working together on a project is the most explosive situation of all. I am thinking here, of course, of my relationship with the actor who left

As Far As We Know

. Moreover, I'm thinking of her relationship with the producing team, with which she is/was really close. I wonder how much of the reasons for the rift had to do with personal feelings on both sides, and how much with work disagreement. I suppose I'll never really know. What I do know is that, regardless of how much you can clean up both aspects of a relationship--professional and personal--this kind of event creates a breach of trust that I don't believe ever really goes away.

So maybe the better question is, assuming they don't rip each other to shreds, how can we hope for Batman and Wolverine to find a reconciliation together? You know? Kick it over a bucket of wings and a couple of brewskis?