— From EF —
Crossing the line from Samhain, it feels like the beginning of a new year, and it also feels like this is part of one of our seven-year nodes, where it becomes apparent that something has either undergone a profound shift or is about to do so.
King Lear went through eighteen months of gestation and then started life with intense run-thrus in February, previews in March, the first sustained run in April, and the beginning of occasional touring in May. The summer was a period of semi-dormancy dotted with enough rehearsals to “keep the pilot light lit,” and then the fall brought the trial by fire of the national tour. Now, this work has been nine months in the world.
And something new has come into our partnering, a new richness, maybe a different sense of purpose and path. We are together more intensely than ever. The insanity of national politics, the looming crisis in our environment, and the reality of our own aging are all sharpening the focus on the here and now.
Yes, the novels are still being written. Yes, we’re going to search out new tour gigs. Yes, I must finally begin to put my decades of music into accessible form. But right now, this moment and the next and the next are here, they are what we have, and attention must be paid.
— From CB —
Coming home. Six weeks on the road, twenty performances. Old friendships and new. Welcome revenues. Tonight (Tuesday) in our own bed.
Re-entry is always difficult. Yes, many things to catch up on — garden to weed, mail to sort, all that. A full plate of tasks from the tour and others knocking at the door. Hardest to deal with: the change of rhythm.
The same thing happens, to a degree, when a production opens or closes. Each day points to a tremendous energy peak, and everything else adapts to that. Touring amplifies that dominance, adding the factors of traveling, host contacts, set-up, strike, settling into quarters, dealing with food, etc. Home, it’s another planet.
Tomorrow, we’ll go to the ocean. Then, in the next days, back to the gym, work on our new novel and a DVD of Lear, some social things, dental appointments, and starting to book the next tour.
— From the Fool —
Wesley is my friend sometimes except when he gets in a mood where he wants to kill himself, and then there’s no talking to him except about how to do it, which I’m not an expert in. But other times he gets inspired with schemes to make himself not such a miserable lump of snot. He’s very creative in thinking outside the box, which for him would be six feet long and made of wood.
He decided he ought to go viral. He’d read about all these guys who posted some crazy thing on Facebook that got a billion hits. It seemed like that would be a very cool thing to do, and it might serve humanity, and it might get him laid. If it didn’t, he’d have a better reason to kill himself.
So he took off work one day and followed his cat around the apartment, taking video clips whenever it twitched or licked its butt. Nothing looked like a keeper.
So he went to a pet store and bought a white mouse and fed it to the cat and posted that. All he got was a lot of Unfriends, a couple of “Yucks,” and a note from a girl who said, “I’m eight years old in Cedar Falls Iowa and I have a pet mouse and I’m going to shoot you in the heart with my daddy’s gun.” That wasn’t what he had in mind.
He thought about shaving the cat bald with his electric razor, but the cat seemed to sense his intention and resisted the offer.
Finally, Wesley realized that cats on Facebook have had their day, and he needed to be more direct. With three-day stubble and a heavy hangover, he put out a direct plea: “Girls out there: tweet me or I’ll kill myself on Facebook.” Nobody did. But you can’t post a selfie after you’re dead. At last resort, he posted a note on Facebook asking how he could do it.
His note went viral. And it actually got him a girlfriend.
Problem was, he had about eight million people waiting for him to do it. He had to change his name and get off Facebook and trash his computer. But Sherry seems like a very nice girl. She likes him for being crazy.
Click the Follow button and add your email to subscribe to our weekly post. We welcome comments below.
If you enjoy this blog, please send the link to your friends.
© Bishop & Fuller 2015