Creative Control

Miscellaneous Mental Musings of an Emerging Artist

Arrest this man, he talks in maths.

Remember, Constant Reader, just a week or so ago, when I made the mistake of leaving my car parked in a yellow zone, and I had to rush home to move it in the hopes that I wouldn’t be ticketed? Remember that? And remember how after I rushed home, I discovered that the cops had been merciful, and my car had not been ticketed even though it had remained in the yellow until a bit after noon?

Well, today karma found me. I parked in the same yellow zone last night, because, as previously mentioned, parking in my neighborhood sucks sour frog ass after 10 pm,. but the cops don’t ticket illegal parking overnight. All I had to do was wake up and move my car, and I figured, after last week’s escapade, I had a little time in which to do this.

Well, bucko, said karma. You figured wrong. Dintcha.

I got to my car at 7:20 this morning to discover a flimsy wet ticket attached to the window, and two rainjacketed people who I can only presume were parking enforcement walking away. Whee. 7:20. No more quarter is being given, it seems.

In a related story-slash-joke, my acting instructor Chris has a scar on his knee[1], a result of his falling off a two-or-three story building when he lived in St. Louis. In his own words, “he should be dead right now.” This led to a funny exchange in which we theorized that maybe Death just hasn’t found him yet, that it’s still wandering St. Louis asking strangers in bars if they have seen this individual. Chris is an actor, so he has moved to at least three different cities since the accident, including the Big Three–LA, Chicago, and, in September, he’ll be moving with a production to New York City. We imagine the Great Cloaked One showing up at our classes in October, snapping his skeletal fingers in frustration as we tell him that “Chris? You just missed him.”

So last night was the closing of “Cut to the Chase,” which was so enjoyable for many, many reasons. In terms of the show, the cast of DISCONNECT hit everything perfectly, I don’t know if they were as good with it in previous weeks since last I saw them, but last night they were so loose and seemed to have so much fun that even if it didn’t work–and I just didn’t notice–they were joyous to watch. All the shows were much the same; it seems like everybody needed either six weeks to grow into their roles or they simply needed the pressure of going out with a great show. Whatever it was, it was a great show. Lawrence Bommer can go take the Vonnegut Challenge [2].

In addition, I saw Cubby and Sandra again last night. I haven’t seen either of them in over a month-and-a-half, which is a long long time to not see two of your favorite people. Donna and I (whimsically) speculated that perhaps we had done something to offend them, although we had no clue what that could have been. He lay that fear to rest immediately. I’m glad he was able to see the show. Also, he’s available to work on sketch material again, which is cool, because the man was born for the stuff, and it’s about time Donna and I started putting an ensemble together [3].

Sara, who directed DISCONNECT, is gung-ho about doing a production of OTHELLO with myself in the title role and her very-talented boyfriend Erik in the role of Iago. This is pressure on a grand scale. I need to start working out hardcore. Not just hardcore. DeNiro. I need to start working out DeNiro style. Denzel-Washington-Will-Smith-playing-box

ing-legends-style. Many, many situps. Running. I cannot and will not take such an offer lightly…OTHELLO is my favorite of Shakespeare’s dramas, and deserves 110% [4] from this lowly mortal. It may be awhile before this comes to fruition, but that gives me more time, which is good. And I can start really examining the text. OTHELLO. Neat.

[1] Donna, who has worked in a hospital, recognized the scar immediately as one that you would get from TKR surgery, total knee replacement. It was a heck of an icebreaker that she will never be able to use again. “Hey, you had total knee replacement!”

[2] “Why don’t you take a flying fuck at a rolling donut? Why don’t you take a flying fuck at the MOOOOOOOON?”

[3] In another feat of hubris, we came up with the name for the group even before said group exists. In Chicago, they live and die in a span of weeks. Hopefully, we can do something for the name Punch Mackenzie Players.

[4] “We cannot give 110%. By definition, 100% is the greatest we can give.”

Currrent music: MP3 list, Chemical Brothers with Beth Orton, “Where Do I Begin”

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This entry was posted on August 23, 2002 by in Biking, Life, Plays, Theatre, Writing.
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