Tag Archives: stuff I write

About Collaborative Theatre

26 Jun

My friend Dawn Glover runs a Facebook page called Theatrica ThNerd. (Click on the name to check it out.) Basically, she’s gathered many friends and colleagues to write about different theories/aspects/genres of theatre. She asked me to take a crack at collaborative theatre. and below is what I wrote.

I’ve been involved with Sundown Collaborative Theatre since 2008, and as you can tell from the name, we take collaboration seriously. Even within collaboration, however, there is a necessity for hierarchy because a theatre company is a business, albeit one run by artists. It’s important to assign these artists roles in which they will excel, rather than expecting someone who has never even THOUGHT about non-profit management to be as informed as someone who has been working in that field for years.

Think of it in the simplest terms – you and your friends get together (let’s say 4 people) and decide you want to do some theatre. Maybe you choose a play that one of you wrote, or you decide to create a devised piece, so as to avoid paying for rights. “This way,” you might think, “we don’t have to deal with any of the business stuff!” Wrong. If one of you wrote it, does that person get more say? Should one of you also be the director? If it is a devised piece, how do decisions get made? Who is going to find a place to perform? Collaboration is not easy. TRUE collaboration, many would argue, does not exist. There must be some kind of system in place. Having spent about a decade creating devised pieces, I can definitively say they are more successful when there is someone in charge, and that automatically negates the idea of “true” collaboration. Or does it? Does creating a hierarchy in collaboration actually make it MORE true than everyone throwing ideas at a wall and arguing until some sort of compromise is reached?

Let’s go back to our 4 person example, using the devised piece option. Day one, you sit down and delegate roles outside of creating a piece together. Person 1 is the spearheader, basically acting as a production manager, making sure rehearsals move along and decisions are being made (while still respecting that everyone’s voice is important). Person 2 acts as a stage manager in a sense, taking notes of points made so that everyone doesn’t have to sit down and lose momentum any time a new idea is brought to the table. Person 3 is the design coordinator, assessing any items that will be needed for the finalized piece. And Person 4 is the location scout, ensuring you have a place to perform this finalized piece. These roles are not exclusive; someone may need help in their role, and others should be expected to help out in any way they can. But a system allows the production to move more smoothly, even if you’re all rehearsing in someone’s living room, worrying about breaking lamps or stepping on dogs. Delegation is KEY in collaboration.

Now think about it on a bigger scale, in terms of putting up a written script with a production team behind it. You need a director, a stage manager, designers, and actors, at bare minimum. For me, as a director, it is important to encourage collaboration and full input from every person involved in the process. However, at the end of the day, decisions have to be made, and creatively, those decisions fall to the director. There is a hierarchy, but within that hierarchy, every person can make decisions that change a whole process. Maybe you’re an actor, and you decide that you want to take a well-known character in a direction that’s not typical for the role. Suddenly, that choice affects the whole production. Does the director allow this decision, which might compromise or change his/her concept? Does the costume designer need to re-think his/her design choices? The marketing might change, even; at the very least, you’ve got someone dealing with PR who is nervous about how this atypical character choice will affect reviews. It’s all connected, which is what makes theatre so collaborative, regardless of the form it takes behind the scenes.

Something that I love about Sundown is that over the years, we have managed to garner a pool of artists who knew very little about the business of theatre but who were willing to learn, and whether people stayed with us for 5 years, 1 year, or even just a few months, I like to think that those who left were able to utilize that knowledge in their artistic endeavors afterward. But we need people in charge in order to allow others to learn. We need the type of people who know how to delegate, how to take on a little more responsibility, how to pick up on new skills quickly in order to train those who may not have the same abilities. Furthermore, we need the people who are often referred to as “followers” in our society, which comes across as derogatory. I prefer to think of them as supporters – people who will do anything they can to help create art they believe in, regardless of their role in the company. The point is, everything works more smoothly in a collaborative work environment if people fully understand their jobs. And because it is treated as a collaboration, people are also expected to contribute to assignments outside of their own duties. Having clear roles for everyone doesn’t mean anything if people aren’t fully pulling their weight.

So the next time you’re involved in theatre in some capacity, ask yourself, “What is my role? Am I fulfilling my duties to the best of my ability? In general, am I doing all I can do right now?” If you can answer “yes” to all of those questions, you are helping create a collaborative environment that can allow theatre to thrive, no matter how big or small the production.

Halloween!

31 Oct

Last night, Sundown Collaborative Theatre had a Halloween fundraiser. I wrote and read a “scary” story for it. Here it is! I have nothing else to add.

I awake groggily. The first thing that hits me is the smell. An acrid, metallic smell that invades my nostrils and gags me.

Where am I? How did I get here?

As my eyes adjust to the dimly lit room, I notice 2 things. First, that I am tied to some kind of table. Second, that there are other people in the room. I can’t see them… they’re just out of my periphery. But I can hear them.

I try to fight the restraints, but something other than the straps is holding me down. Something internal. Why is it so hard to move? And then I realize: I’ve been drugged.

With what? By whom? What is happening to me?

Since I can’t break the restraints, I decide to calm down and see if I can decipher what’s being said.

Listening intently, I start to make out bits and pieces of the conversation:

“So much blood…”

“It’s everywhere…”

“Destroying everything…”

What could they possibly be talking about? I shake my head, trying to clear out the medically-induced cobwebs. I strain to think about the last thing I remember. And that’s when I hear:

“We have to kill her.”

“ And the baby?”

What. The. Fuck? Are they planning to kill me? Who is this baby? I start to struggle mightily against the restraints.  I lift my head up, trying to find the best exit plan. And that’s when I see…

Blood.

Everywhere.

Covering at least a dozen bodies on the floor below me.

Are they dead?

They have to be dead, right?

Oh GOD, what have I done?

As my panic builds to a fever pitch, I notice the voices moving closer. I freeze. Do I let them know I’m awake? Do I pretend to be passed out? Before I can make a decision, a face looms over me. It is a man wearing a doctor’s mask. He brushes my hair back from my face, and a shiver runs over my body. He has cold, sweaty hands.

“It’s alright,” he says. “We’re going to make everything better.”

He pulls out a huge knife. I start crying… silent tears at first, and as I see him bring the knife closer and closer to my chest, the tears turn to uncontrollable sobbing.

“Please don’t hurt me!” I scream. “I’ll do whatever you want!”

The man stops. He leans into my face, and I can see a glimmer of humor in his eyes.

“Hurt you?” He reaches down under the table, pulls out some kind of bag, and rips it open with his knife. “Why would we want to hurt you?”

Suddenly a wave of drowsiness washes over me. I realize, just before passing out, that someone else has injected me with something.

Who knows how long it was before I awoke? Hours? Days? Weeks? There’s no way to be sure. But this time, I’m not strapped down. I sit up and look around… the bodies are gone. The blood is gone. The only thing in the room is… OH GOD.

I see it, just under the table.

Cow carcass.

Torn apart, pieces strewn about.

Piles of it, half-eaten.

It is beef jerky.

And I know what’s happened.

It’ll happen again.

Every month.

For the rest of my life.

There are many names for it…

Clinical terms, euphemisms, lengthy jokes.

Many of which reference the color red.

The color of blood.

The blood… my god, the blood.

It all makes sense.

My womb is to blame.

It is an affliction that strikes fear in even the strongest men.

They quake with fear from the horror that emits from my uterus.

When my innards excrete the kind of monster only seen in horror movies.

It is…

The Blood Baby.

Good Grief.

2 Oct

This past weekend (September 29), I performed a piece about the 5 stages of grief with my friend George, for Sundown Collaborative Theatre. If you want to watch it, CLICK ON THESE WORDS. Anyway, George explored the stages in their normal order (anger, denial, bargaining, depression, acceptance), while I explored them in the opposite order. I was having a hard time wrapping my head around how to physicalize the piece, so on the night of September 24, after a long rehearsal, I decided to listen to the songs we chose, and I wrote down what I was thinking/feeling in a stream-of-conscious way (for those of you who don’t know, this is called automatic writing).

So I’ve decided to share that writing here. Why? Because even though I’m in a much better place than the writing indicates, I think it’s important to show people that grief never fully goes away. If you love someone, and they leave you, it will always be hard. It will get easier, absolutely, but you will have moments in your life when you remember that person, and it will hurt like a motherfucker. That’s okay. That makes you human. Allow yourself to FEEL those moments, and move through it. Because I didn’t for a long time, and as the end of my writing shows, it made it hard for me to emotionally connect with people (it’s still something that I struggle with, in fact).

So anyway, here’s what I wrote. The italicized parts are the names of the songs (all by Radiohead). Everything else is unedited; apologies if the occasional absence of punctuation confuses you.

sail to the moon has an openness at the beginning works for acceptance but it’s also sad so like where I am with my mom it seems obvious to use but go with the strongest feeling

I like the idea that instead of heaven, spirits go to the moon – it accepts all religions and races and beliefs. the moon doesn’t judge us – it accepts your death and allows you to pass to the “other side” in whatever way you need, whether you were good or bad on earth

how does acceptance move to depression?

I often have days where I am just STRUCK by a moment where I miss my mom like crazy and I fall down a hole where I can’t even function. oh I do the things I absolutely must do – work, eat, etc. – but I do them as an automaton, a cog in the machine.

lucky transitions depression. the music goes from listless almost to something perhaps more purposeful. I am in this depression, but I want to move on. I want to pull out (whoa lyrics match up) of this feeling. I want to find a way to push through. I bargain with myself. with George. maybe we can help each other? maybe I need to share my pain with someone else? someone who understands? but he’s dealing with his own grief – he’s going along his own path, which is a fresher, newer grief than mine. his feels more important than mine. after all, mine was so long ago. why can’t I just fucking get over it? I DON’T KNOW. because it fucking sucks to lose your mom, and I don’t care that I was 17 when it happened. I didn’t get to spend much of my childhood with her and then she gets clean and then she finds out she has AIDS? so I got 3 years with her when she was healthy, and 5 years of her being sick. of me having to take care of her when I was a teenager. when I could have just been a kid like every fucking body else.

(street spirit) GOD that shouldn’t bother me as much as it does. but it fucking does. and then college was so hard and I didn’t know what to do because my life plans weren’t working and all I wanted was my MOM. all I wanted was the one person in the world who loved me unconditionally to be there to comfort me and tell me it was going to be alright even though we both didn’t know if it would be and instead I just pulled away from everyone because if I couldn’t have my mom I didn’t want to have anyone and I won’t let anyone in because all they’ll do is just fucking leave me anyway so what’s the point? to love someone even though they’re just gonna leave you? because everyone fucking leaves they die or they abandon you or I don’t know what else I only know I just hurt myself when I let anyone in so maybe I should just keep everyone out

In-Depth Analysis of “Call Me Maybe”

25 Jun

So I decided that I needed to start my real blog up again. As my new/first-again post, I will re-post something I wrote on Tumblr. I WILL NO LONGER PUT BLOGGY THINGS ON TUMBLR. This is my promise to you, the people (read: no one) who read this blog.

 

The more I listened to this song, the more I felt like the lyrics didn’t make any sense. And then it hit me one day… Carly Rae Jepsen is a crazy stalker bitch. Don’t believe me? LET’S GO TO THE LYRICS.

I threw a wish in the well,

Don’t ask me, I’ll never tell

Right off the bat, she’s saying she knows more than she’s telling. Specifically, that she sits outside his house every night with a pair of binoculars and one of those finger vibrators.

I looked to you as it fell,

And now you’re in my way

Wait, is this well by the boy’s house? Or is she seeing his reflection in the well? Does he go to the well every day too, and she think they’re soulmates because they both wish stupid things with coins? DID SHE TRY TO DROWN HIM IN THE WELL SO SHE COULD HAVE HIM FOREVER?!?!

 

I’d trade my soul for a wish,

You’re no Ariel, and this isn’t The Little Mermaid.

Pennies and dimes for a kiss

He’s not a prostitute.

I wasn’t looking for this,

BULLSHIT.

But now you’re in my way

BECAUSE YOU’RE STALKING HIM, YOU CRAZY CRAZY BITCH.

 

Your stare was holdin’,

Ripped jeans, skin was showin’

So clearly, he’s staring at you, because at this point, he’s thinking, “Hey, haven’t I seen you before? Like, EVERYWHERE I GO?” And she’s just standing there, looking at the holes in his jeans, hoping his wiener will pop out of one of them. (SPOILER ALERT: she doesn’t know much about wieners.)

Hot night, wind was blowin’

Maybe, by this point, you haven’t bought into my stalker theory. But this is the line that should AT LEAST make you realize that she’s a little crazy. I know that wind can blow on a hot night, and that’s why language has words like “but” or “however.” “The night was hot, but there was a wind blowin’.” YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THEM TOGETHER LIKE THEY MAKE SENSE. Unless you’re a crazy bipolar stalker lady who’s obsessed with ripped jeans. This is not 1995. No sane woman cares that much about ripped jeans.

Where you think you’re going, baby?

This line. This is it. Listen to it. The tone when she sings it? SO DESPERATE. That dude is RUNNING away from her. He took a moment, stared at her, listened to her say “So, how ‘bout this hot windy night, huh?” and went screaming in the other direction. Clearly, the chorus is her running after him and singing.

 

Hey, I just met you,

And this is crazy,

HE KNOWS, BECAUSE YOU’RE CRAZY.

But here’s my number,

So call me, maybe?

I love that she puts “maybe” on it, like NOW she’s gonna be shy. Honey, he knows you’ve been following him. No point in playing coy now. Also, you’re running after him.

 

It’s hard to look right,

At you baby,

BECAUSE YOU’RE RUNNING AFTER HIM AND YOU’RE LOOKING AT HIS BACK.

But here’s my number,

So call me, maybe?

I like to imagine she’s got, like, 500 business cards with her name on it, and she’s just chucking them at his head like ninja stars. (Are they called ninja stars? [looks up] Apparently, they’re usually called throwing stars, and officially known as shuriken. I’m learning things! But I’ll still call them ninja stars.)

 

Hey, I just met you,

Did y’all even meet? Or were you throwing coins in a well (that is either his well on his farm [I dunno, he’s got a farm now, I guess], or a well that he frequents and you know that because YOU’RE STALKING HIM) whilst ogling him creepily, and then he stared at you before promptly running away?

And this is crazy,

But here’s my number,

So call me, maybe?

I’m starting to think she’s running out of steam. Or she’s gone into that state of “uber-crazy” where they just repeat themselves until someone gives them more medication.

 

And all the other boys,

Try to chase me,

She’s slowing down, so now she’s trying to convince the guy that’s she’s a hot commodity. “Yeah, that’s fine, because all these other dudes are chasing ME, so I don’t even need to chase you anymore! So… see ya!” And then she goes back to the well, or his house, and waits for him to show up again.

But here’s my number,

So call me, maybe?

And this time, it’s all sad, like she’s given up. Oh, but HELL NO, she’s hasn’t given up. She’s just getting started.

 

You took your time with the call,

He didn’t call because you’re crazy.

I took no time with the fall

I dunno… I bet you stalked him for a legit 2 months before you fell for him. And by “for him,” I mean, “out of a tree by his bedroom.”

You gave me nothing at all,

Except lots and lots of creepy dreams where you think y’all are married with 72.5 kids.

But still, you’re in my way

You’re in HIS way?! Honey, he’s on his way to the police station to file a restraining order on your ass.

 

I beg, and borrow and steal

She’s homeless because her full-time job is stalking him. Also, she breaks into his house and steals his stuff so that she can have his “essence.”

Have foresight and it’s real

He comes back from the police station and she’s laying on his bed, rolling around in his clothes. Of course, to her, this means they’re living together. “IT’S REAL,” she thinks. And sings, I guess.

I didn’t know I would feel it,

See? She’s rubbing herself on his stuff. Naked, probably.

But it’s in my way

Your foresight? Feeling it? I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S IN YOUR WAY, OTHER THAN YOUR OWN CRAZY SELF.

 

Your stare was holdin’,

Ripped jeans, skin was showin’

Hot night, wind was blowin’

Where you think you’re going, baby?

“TO CALL THE COPS, OH MY GOD, GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, YOU CRAZY BITCH.”

 

Hey, I just met you,

And this is crazy,

But here’s my number,

So call me, maybe?

It’s hard to look right,

At you baby,

But here’s my number,

So call me, maybe?

Hey, I just met you,

And this is crazy,

But here’s my number,

So call me, maybe?

This whole part is just her singing to herself while writhing around on the bed. Which, admittedly, would be hot to dudes. (Hey, I’m aware that Carly Rae Jepson is a pretty lady.) However, dudes need to remember that it doesn’t matter how hot a lady is… it’ll never be enough to make up for crazy.

 

And all the other boys,

Try to chase me,

That’s the police. And they need you to put some clothes on.

But here’s my number,

So call me, maybe?

As she’s being dragged from the house, kicking and scream-singing.

 

Before you came into my life

I missed you so bad

I missed you so bad

I missed you so, so bad

Before you came into my life

I missed you so bad

And you should know that

I missed you so, so bad

Um. WHAT THE FUCK DOES THIS EVEN MEAN?!?! How can you miss someone before they came into your life? Oh, just kidding, I know what it means. IT MEANS YOU’RE A CRAZY STALKER LADY WHO WAS FOLLOWING HIM AROUND FOR GOD KNOWS HOW LONG BEFORE YOU DECIDED TO “MAKE A MOVE” EXCEPT THAT MOVE WAS AT A WELL OR MAYBE YOU TRIED TO DROWN HIM IN THE WELL OR SOMETHING AND THEN HE RAN AWAY FROM YOU AND NOW YOU’RE IN JAIL BECAUSE YOU’RE CRAZY. CRAZY CRAZY CRAZY.

The rest of the song just repeats itself. But you get the picture. Now someone make THIS into a music video for the song.