It's Raining ...

This is just down right blasphemous - how can you destroy a classic like this? Why? Why? Why?

It's Raining ...

Poet of the Week: James Fenton

Ahhh James Fenton - I had the fortune of studying him in my Modern Poetry class in college. I later used the poem below for a reader's theatre performance in college, tooting my own horn, I did do a fabulous job :o)

After the poem is a few website to gander at ...


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God, A Poem

A nasty surprise in a sandwich,
A drawing-pin caught in your sock,
The limpest of shakes from a hand which
You'd thought would be firm as a rock,

A serious mistake in a nightie,
A grave disappointment all round
Is all that you'll get from th'Almighty,
Is all that you'll get underground.

Oh he said: 'If you lay off the crumpet
I'll see you alright in the end.
Just hang on until the last trumpet.
Have faith in me, chum-I'm your friend.'

But if you remind him, he'll tell you:
'I'm sorry, I must have been pissed-
Though your name rings a sort of a bell. You
Should have guessed that I do not exist.

'I didn't exist at Creation,
I didn't exist at the Flood,
And I won't be around for Salvation
To sort out the sheep from the cud-

'Or whatever the phrase is. The fact is
In soteriological terms
I'm a crude existential malpractice
And you are a diet of worms.

'You're a nasty surprise in a sandwich.
You're a drawing-pin caught in my sock.
You're the limpest of shakes from a hand which
I'd have thought would be firm as a rock,

'You're a serious mistake in a nightie,
You're a grave disappointment all round-
That's all you are, ' says th'Almighty,
'And that's all that you'll be underground.'

1983/James Fenton
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Wikipedia
Poetry Archive
JamesFenton.com

Celebration Theatre

Guess what! I've changed theatre companies! Well it's been a month or so, but my lazy ass has finally got round to blogging bout it. As ya'll know I was formally part of the Hollywood Fight Club and now I'm with Celebration Theatre. I appreciate all that I learned with HFC, but it was time for me to move on. I was able to spend time with Michael, work with him as his Stage Manager, and Assistant Director. I also got the chance to meet a range of extremely talented actors, which I will keep in contact with and hopefully have the chance to work with soon.

The range of shows I've seen at C.T. and the caliber has impressed me; I'm happy to be a new member and when my "J-Lo man ass" finally gets its writing grove on, I hope to have one of my plays produced there.

Broken

This last week has been very educational in the ways of bad luck for me ... normally I'm not usually a bad luck kinda guy ... until last Wednesday ...

I'm currently expressing my new found bad luck as a 1 Act play and hope to be done writing before the cast comes off here's a play by play of my 2 Broken Days:

Wednesday

• 08:40 - I passed a major car accident (no one badly hurt, but cars totaled) as I rode my bike to work. (This should have been my Final Destination warning)
  
• 09:00 - Stared working diligently at Nash Entertainment (Sunset/Gower Studios)
  
• 14:00 - Rode bike to Hollywood/Vine Metro to take Metro to Pershing Square (Pershing Square has one of the most amazing escalator rides I've ever seen)
  
• 15:30 - Meeting with Nick/Stef's management to discuss my missing a shift, calling in, leaving messages for my schedule, not being called back, etc
  
• 15:45 - Told by General Manager, "You're not a 'good fit' aka he got all Donald Trump on my ass!
  
• 16:45 - Unlocking bike at Hollywood/Vine and hot chick in hot car cruises me - I giggle all the ride back to work
  
• 20:00 - Gym - did some yoga asanas to help with my tender wrist (ole war wound - 2 broken arms 25 years ago + sore from lifting women onto a spike for the play/magic show I'm in)
  
• 22:00 - Hit by a car riding my bike home (only dented my bike, no damage to car, driver or rider)

Thursday

• 08:40 - Riding bike to work - swerved to avoid tiny tiny puddle; both tires go off the lip of the sidewalk onto the grass; i tried to bring front tire back onto sidewalk, but doesn't want to go; traveling at high velocity bike gets a mind of its own and crashes; I'm dragged 20 feet - right hand hits first, elbow, shoulder, backpack and finally head. I sit for about 10 min trying to assess my injuries and when I look at my cresent-ed hand I know it's broken; can't move elbow - think it's broken, tried to feel if the bone was still there, but couldn't really feel my arm or the bone. Get my bearings, get back on my bike and ride a mile to work (cause I know people there with cars and they know the closest hospitals). After 8 years of bike ridding round Amsterdam - nothing. 8 months in LA and WHAM! BLAM!!
  
• 09:00 Arrive at work all white and still in shock - tell Shannon (a friend I knew back in UK Elementary School 25 years ago - yes she knew me when I was broken before)
  "I think I broke my hand do you know any hospitals nearby?"
  
• 09:15 Leave NASH (a very nice coworker Jacque carts me off)
  
• 09:20 Arrive at closest hospital
  
• 09:30 Finally seen by a nurse (10 min felt like eternity) only to be told that they can't do casts in this hospital
  
• 09:50 Arrive at Kaiser Perm. on Sunset (across from the HUGE HUGE HUGE Scientology complex)
  
• 10:10 Finally find Emergency Room - the signs are crap! Just like Belgium!
  (any of you that have had the misfortune of driving round that country know EXACTLY what I mean - beautiful but impossible to navigate)
  
• 10:15 Finally seen by a "checking in" person only to be redirected to another counter
  
• 10:20 Finally seen by the "another counter" person - there was lots of confusion when I said that I had no US insurance
  I thought, "Great, this is just like SiCKO - I'm FUCKED!"
  They were ever so happy to find out I had a social #, so they took that and to my amazement said go see the nurse now. I thought they would bleed me of all my money before they touched a hair on my body.
  
• 10:45 Finally got some ice for the swelling, only after hailing down a nurse and begging for it (2 hours after the break)
  
• 11:00 I tell Jacque to head back to work (busy crazy day for her), she being so sweet, leaves me her mobile phone to call parents, friends
  (my mobile bat ran out that morning - lucky me)
  
• 11:15 As I finally reach Mom and Dad my name is called
  
• 11:20 Nurse takes my blood pressure, temp, etc (all normal) - she tells me a doctor will be with me shortly
  
• 11:30 Called Producer/Stage Manager of the show I'm in - leaving rambling messages cause I'm still in shock and don't know how fucked up I am.
  (I usually have a good rapport with my body and know if something's up - I knew my hand was broken, but I didn't know the status of my elbow)
  In 8.5 hours I had to be onstage lifting women onto a spike.
  
• 11:40 Update Mom & Dad - they are in just as much panic as I am
  
• 11:45 Finally seen by Dr. - he checks my finger/hand/elbow and orders X-rays
  
• 12:00 Ushered back to the X-ray waiting room.
  
• 12:15 Finally X-rayed (the techs were GREAT!!! Very friendly and quite the jokers, which I needed, cause the pain of having to extend my elbow for the X-rays was hell)
  
• 12:25 Back in the waiting room
  
• 12:40 Dr. comes back in says elbow is fine, but pinky finger at base of hand is a clean break.
  (what's with me and clean breaks - both arms 25/26 years ago were clean breaks - don't hate just cause I'm consistent)
  
• 12:50 Finally get into the cast room where I try to be jovial, but the caster is to have none of it! I get "antsy" and start pacing,
  which could have been the Devil's jig at the rate and intensity she told my heathen ass to, "PLEASE, sit down!"
  
• 13:00 She's almost done wrapping and just as she grabs my finger to splint it she gets a "crazed look" and stage whispers at me, "Is Jesus in your soul?"
  "What the fuck?" I think, but I utter a shocked, "Excuse Me?"
  "Is Jesus in your heart?" as she tightens her grip on my finger
  Unable to move, thinking, "Just fucking finish and let me get the fuck out of here!" I end up muttering, "Um ... I'm a Buddhist?"
  "I knew, I knew it. You're going to go to hell if you don't take Jesus Christ into your life, you know that don't you?"
  
• 13:05 ...silence ...
  Doesn't the bible say somewhere, “... whatever measure you deal out to others, it will be dealt to you in return.” (It does, I looked it up online)
  ...silence ...
  
• 13:30 Actually it was only 2 minutes but felt like an eternity
  "Um ... my brother is a minister." (he actually 'was' one, but at this time I'm only thinking of getting out alive with my finger still attached)
  "Where is he ministering?"
  "Colorado Springs ... You know where the shootings were a few months ago ... where the people were killed? My sister-in-law and the kids were there the day before."
  (the latter remark was true, but my brother doesn't minister there - this at least would quell her, I thought)
  "So, he's told you you're going to hell!"
  ...silence...
  (I love my bro, but I'm sure he's actually thought that a few or a few many times)
  ...silence...
  She then tells me where I can meet the Kaiser Orthopedic Surgeon tomorrow, "He's 'over there' on the other side of the street, 'over there' near the 'Scientologists'"
  I thought, "I'd rather deal with them then having you violate me like this."
  
• 13:45 Get my X-rays
  Pay $200 deposit (they wouldn't recognize my Dutch Insurance)
  High Tail my former born-again now heathen Buddha ass the hell out of there!
  
• 18:00 Arrive for show call. Cast consoles me. We work out an alternative for me lifting the ladies (instead of torso I lift legs)
  
• 20:00 Show Time, and we rock with a killer show

Friday

• 07:30 Alarm - I think, "Today can only get better." (and you know what ... it did!)

Searching for Answers with a Conservative Past

Searching for answers the poet visits his past:
browsing through his old journals from the Reagan Era...
he takes a moment to snicker at the thought
of Tony Kurshner's Hitler and his wife,
Himmler, omnipotently enticing the entire
nation to chant their Heil, "Just say No!"

The journals confess his current troubles existed even then,
the same questions that run rampant in his poetry now race across the pages in his hands
their endless unanswered marathon an anthem to his life:

Why after 10 years are the same questions
riddling his mind - still producing no solution?
Why does he always end at the same beginning
with no sense of competition?
What catastrophe must occur for self-redemption to set him free?

Even his victimatic poetry copiously
searches for these answers, but in vain.

The true frustration results in the acknowledgment
of his troubles and his inability to solve them.

The poet closes his old testament
and with this bible between his hands
he prays for an enlightened future,
where years from now he can revisit
this poem and script an answer.

27 August 97
dsl

Orange Lemon Egg Canary Press Pictures

For those of you that are unable to be at the show you can live vicariously through the photos below ...

Corrupted Eden

I shouldn't put a disclaimer here - or shouldn't feel like I need to, but for some reason I do - just because some regular readers of my blog might be offended by what follows ... I personally like the poem and consider it one of my better ones (as if that means anything). It was influenced by the darkness in one of my favorite poets: Gregory Corso. This was written as I was detaching my mind/body/soul from the tentacles of Christianity. This was written almost 11 years ago, which was 8 years after I officially said goodbye to my born-again self (I still speak in tongues - use it to meditate every now and then). So, as an ode to Mr. Corso, as if I could even come close to his brilliance; as an ode to my old self; as an ode to the Christian God I knew in high school or just as an ode ... enjoy the vileness of my twisted

Corrupted Eden

Eve was the true evil of man's existence
her and that god-damned apple
how dare that Medusa give into her serpent - that hermaphrodite
who the fuck does she think she is
determining mankind's fate - that bitch

what if only man was left in Eden
would paradise become God's bathhouse?
        Adam kneeling to taste the salty wine
        Jesus masturbating his serpent behind the apple tree
        Eve "voyeuring" her first rape while
        God ignores Adam's screams

it's no wonder our pillaged faith isn't immaculate

Eve - that superficial bitch - shamelessly weeps at her inadequacies
bites her wormed-apple (in a snow-white world it would be her last)
reaches for a fig leaf to cover her nakedness and
wonders why the fuck it's not all about her

Adam - painfully gay - licks the salty wine from his lips
ignores the weeping bitch
grabs a fig leaf to clot his bleeding sphincter and
invites Daddy to born him again

All this frolic in corrupted Eden
brings atheistic thoughts and
warrants crucifixion of that god-damned bitch

8 May 97
dsl

Rouletting with a Poet

Rouletting with a Poet

witty words on soddened paper is the only way this lonely poet can bleed out his inexpressible emotions

poetic bullets of his mind riddle blank pages full of unrequited love and unrecognized fears

this poet waits passionately, fervently
with pen in hand
cocking then uncocking the cambers of his heart

firing a subliminal warning:

beware the illiterate lover
if you can't converstate on paper
you have no business rouletting with this poet

6 August 97
dsl

Orange Lemon Egg Canary

I'm in another play ... this time it's an Equity one, aka I'm getting paid (Mom and Dad can finally brag to all their friends) and, believe it or not, I didn't have to sleep with anyone to get the part ... well ... maybe I had to bat an eyelash or two ...

It's interesting on how I got involved in this - I was in my "office" the cafe just hanging out, pretending to write while eavesdropping on a conversation between two beautiful women (one is pictured above). They were saying they needed a stage manager for a play they were working on; currently I was stage managing The Most Fab Story Ever Told at HFC and that was on the way out, so I was up for a new challenge. We did the business card exchange, I sent my CV, and, after a few weeks of email tag, a meeting with the Stage Manager and producer was set up. I interview with them - was offered the Assistant Stage Manager/Magic Assistant position - one challenging me backstage the other onstage - I jumped at the op. I haven't regretted it since! I've learned sooo much thus far:

1. How Equity shows are run
   1. Craft Services
   2. Stage Management Duties
   3. General Rules/Regulations
   4. Assistant Stage Management Duties
   5. Equity Documentation
2. Equity Actors
   1. Professionalism
   2. Commitment
3. Equity Production
   1. Values
   2. Firing Personnel Tactics
   3. Magician Handling
   4. Impale Transporting
4. Equity Set Design
   1. Home Depoting
   2. Set Building
   3. Light Hanging
   4. Light Board Fondling

And a horde of other things ... little did I know that our Set Designer (Kirstin) was in fact the director of Blood Wedding a show Michael K. was in. A show I saw the 2nd day I arrived in LA and one that introduced me to the Hollywood Fight Club. Small World!

One side note - I have resigned from the Flight Club (2 weeks ago). It was a great place to learn about LA Theatre, hone my stage management skills, work under Michael K. and meet some great people ... but ... it's time for me to move on.

OLEC: Show Times-Show Dates-Show Stuf

As mentioned, I'm Assistant Stage Managing, Magic Assisting and booming vocal sound bite-ing kinda-ing (pay attention, listen and see if you can tell it's me) ... oh yeah ... we have a stellar cast (1/2 went to Yale - not that that makes them any better than us State College grads, but it does bring about a certain air), an incredible director (Yale Grad) and one or two or many magic tricks to knock your little cotton socks off!

Even better I have a few comps I can give out (as long as the show isn't sold out), but it's 1st come 1st served and you'll have to hit me back with an email on what days you're interested in; this time if you snooze you'll looze.

HOW RUDE!!! You should feel guilty - thinking about 'sconding one of my comps, instead you should feel elation at having to fork out a few bucks to support the arts ... unless you're a poor, destitute, humble, sweet, charming, gorgeous, jocular actor like moi ... then I'd forgive you :O)

Abracadabra,
Sean