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Thursday, July 12, 2001

I heard a lecture on the radio, it was on one of the lower FM bandwiths which usually means University Affiliate. It wasn't the KCR Columbia guys because I had already passed them. They were busy broadcasting an historic histrionic rant by a female singer setting straight the record on how mean her man is. He's a mean man. He's HER man. Obviously not a 78rpm recording cause it went on way too long. Then KCR DJs have a tendency to speak twice as long as their next recording, so I switched to another station. Why did I even move from WQXR to begin with? Well, if it isn't Vermont Teddy Bears it's some other inane adspot that bought up their break time, this one about REEE-sorts, everything fine at the REE-sort (scansioned to the tune of Downtown). So I was off on a survey of the other stations (which reminds me, cable tv surfing is TOO SLOW.).

The lecturer was considering the LSD movement, so he must have been speaking to a crowd in the 1960's. He was warning the young generation about its inability to describe the awarenesses chemically achieved. He mentioned two buddas, one that stays enlightened in the mountains and the other that willingly returns to us and plays along with the rules we subconsciously accept as part of our life. He was wonderfully perceptive and reminded me of the ecstatic enlightenment that removes us from society...without lonliness, this being broadcast while people were crossing sunny 6th Avenue and West 8th, near the theatre I was approaching for tonight's performance of The Wise Sophia.

Buddist writings, especially the English translations, and I'm familiar only with Advanced Course in Yogi Philosophy and oriental occultism by Yogi Ramacharaka from the Chicago Masonic Temple, 1908 (and Zanuck's Razor's Edge), are sensitive to the path to awareness being something that you arrive at but may not necessarily be able to express. I kind of get that it's the rule of the word that unites us, and I'm echoing the hodgepodge version of yogi/protestant work ethic I learned from the Werner Erhard Est Descendant Seminar called, THE FORUM. (Did you get it? We're not leaving until everyone does -- really does.) Anyway, goldfish in a bowl, it's a good reminder which returned while waiting for a cue backstage. I realized I am a product of rules, repetition and expectation, and the actor is supposed to follow whatever set of rules his character limits him to. The actor assumes the roles of society.

The other echo from the 60s was Linus Gelber's announcement that Wild Thing and Just Call Me Angel in the Morning were written by the same songwriter whose name, yes, escapes me. The lyrics to Angel in the Morning announce that sex out of wedlock could be beautiful, causing a stir in 1962.. Whatever you say, and whatever I say, does it communicate?

Tuesday, July 10, 2001

Boy, the Post is cruel, but accurate. IT'S A BIG APPLE BLAST

By BILL HOFFMANN, KIRSTEN DANIS and LARRY CELONA


July 5, 2001 -- HAPPY 225th
BIRTHDAY, AMERICA

... At Gallagher's Steak House, Lisa Dery and Peter DiZozza
tried but failed to set a record singing patriotic songs by
George M. Cohan and Irving Berlin for 14 hours. "They
pooped out after a few hours," a Gallagher's worker said. ...

I have no further comment but to respectfully acknowledge that the words that the waiter I neglected to tip blabbed were true. WE FAILED, but we will return.

Gallaghers is the place that features steak aged 26 days (see Potemkin -- please, I'm kidding here, if you connect with such a comment) and the best ox-tail soup in town. I remember when Fred Astaire, in Bandwagon, said, before wandering around 42nd street and discovering how it had changed (When there's a shine on your shoes...), he said, as they were entering sardi's, "you go ahead in, I want to walk around, order me a steak!" Well, Sardi's is on 46th Street near Shubert's Alley, Gallaghers in on 52nd, near, I don't know, THE MUSIC MAN, and the theatre where Urine Town is moving. They've opened Gallaghers in other parts of the world, ie, Las Vegas, in the NEW YORK HOTEL -- walk across the street, VENICE!

OK, I took it for granted that my love for Michael Douglas being derived from his father is the equivalent of common sense, but actually, one may not be aware of the wondrous of achievements of Kirk Douglas, a consummate actor, whatever that means. He certainly didn't care about directing negative responses upon himself, as shown by his performances in The Big Carnival, the Bad and the Beautiful, Lust for Life, Young Man with a Horn. He portrayed the fiery temperament of cinema youth when it was still in its first stages (John Garfield preceded him.). He was attractive but unavailable, his tormented mind always sending him elsewhere. This is broader topic than I can assist with before bedtime, so let me just jump to the understatement, he supported the talent of Stanley Rubric, paving the budgetary leap from Paths of Glory to Spartacus.

Kubric's impact on society is readily delineated on another occasion.

Monday, July 09, 2001

I watch Dave of Dave's place push the energy envelop to entertain the people waiting to entertain him or whomever is remaining. The performance opportunity is stimulating. People this time of night are just wanting to play. (I wound up singing to my cd, and the next time I will play the piano as it plays, that way, well, at least I'm doing something other than sitting there sounding flat and presenceless.) So what is driving Dave. He is quite earnest and there are times when it doesn't seem that difficult what he is doing, certainly not as difficult as the sweat on his brow makes it out to be. He's the happiest man in showbusiness, as distinguished from the hardest working man, James Brown. Then a black fellow from LA came on dedicating his set to Lennon and covering Glass Onion, one of the more difficult beatles songs to be captured by a six string guitar. Paleface sang a great song about gadgets with the help of Dina Dean echoing the word whenever he said it. "Guys that buy gadgets," hey, that's me. Paleface, wow, looks like Oliver Reed. A unique singing voice. His next song was a reminder that we pay for entertainment. His eyes shut into slits, does he have another verse? No.

Sometimes, not with Paleface who is exceptional, the excitement from the performer is when his or her song is over, the tremor in the heart to be that much closer to performance time. My offering to the world, thankfull and thoughtfull, that's what Darryl sang about at the end of his two song set.

In case this has not rung the awareness bells, I attended Lach's Antihoot this evening, on my way to the nearest parking spot, no I sincerely looked forward to playing and when he spoke on the phone he asked if I was coming by. Monday night, Sidewalk Cafe at Ave A and East 6th. People sign up and introduce their talent to their fellow performer/audience members.

Hey, the singing group Phonic sounded great and the event of their playing tonight gave Lach the opporutity to utter, "I got hooked on phonics so I had to go to the phonix house..." The place where creativity ferments, Lach's Fort at Sidewalk, not only the means to an end, but an end in and of itself, whatever your stature in the entertainment world.

Sunday, July 08, 2001

The reason I love Michael Douglas is 'cause he reminds me of his father... He's actually got several great accomplishments to his name, probably more than I know about for I have not seen his period with Ms. Kathleen Turner and Danny Davito, but he has made an impression as, well, as a producer of the Milos Foreman Cukoo's Nest, a great moment in Jucy Fruit history, and there's more to it than that, AN UNDERSTATEMENT. The bluelit end is truly a cinematic coup in an already solid stage adaptation currently featuring who, Gary Sinise, over here... Um, He's also got that performance in Wall Street that folks made much of... Martin Sheen, Oliver Stone, it all looked so local. How about, uh, oh dear, the great heroine, Glenn Close, and that hideous family that wrecked havoc upon her elevated existence... Well, by the end she's martyred gloriously, congratulations to the manipulative monster behind that camera lens. The director already had a history. Did he make Flash Dance? Adrien Lynn, eight and a half weeks, how DO these words stimulate the memory? There's insolence in that family and they inspire strength in us. They are incouragible and I love them. But now this thing with the Traffic costar. Hadn't she already established herself as a Bond woman. Steven Sodenburgh introduced her in the film as a star underneath a bushel of hay. I actually recall meeting Eric Douglas, who is I believe a half brother to Michael, yet they both bear such strong resemblence to their great father. He became friends with one of my close friends some years back when she was more in the producing business. Yeah, sure I was scared, but I enjoyed his company. What a riot to hear friends of my parents comment on his upbringing. Manners, baby, that's what it's all about up there on Candlewood Isle.
The Twelfth Night directed by Chad Stutz at La Plaza Cultural, the park with the willow trees on Ave. C and East 9th, opens with, "If music be the food of life, play on, followed by, enough, 'tis not as sweet now as it was before.." The play runs Thursday through Saturday until the end of July beginning at 7PM. Sharon Fogarty and Jason Howard (who plays the fool) provide music. At the beginning of the evening, the birdies were chirping wildly. You may be asked as you enter, after giving something in response to the suggested contribution of 5 dollars, to sign a petition to transfer the park to the City Parks Department. I suppose that would save it. Charas is up the block toward Avenue B and there doesn't seem to be much hope saving that from its purchaser at auction. It's been his for the past three years....

Characters in the Twelfth Night, who roll in with the waves, unroll within cardboard from upstage. Lost in a watery tomb at sea, and being in the third degree of drink is to be drowned, they each of the other presume to be deceased. Sometimes the sea returns that which it steals from us.

The costumes were east village hodgepodge. Malvolio was a young man with a monocle (Eric Walton). The entire cast was young and appealing. Sir Toby doesn't have to be old to have a niece... He reminded me most of Roman Polanski, the actor... (It's Brent Popolizio)

Enter the cross dresser. She acted with Chad before. I need a link to Mary Robinson to refer you to -- Tara Platt reminds me of MR.... In other words she has a round lovely face with a prominent full mouth conveying innocence and intelligence. All the actors were excellent. Each knew the lines well enough to play while enhancing their meaning.

The mistress of the house catches the plague of infatuation upon meeting the cross dresser. "Be you his eunuch?" Catch the infatuation!

It was then I noticed the barbed can art mounted upon the fence, resembling pinwheels and puddings, that contained us in our garden theatre.

How likest this tune? It gives a very echo to the seat where love is throned -- that's the seat you're sitting on, dearie! Remember to bring a pillow. May thy tailer make thy outfit of changeable taffeta.

I'm onto the quotes. I assure you, your appreciation of Twelfth Night and of Shakespeare is readily enhanced by your attendance at this Manhattan Theatre Source, 2 Way Production.

"This letter will make a contemplative idiot of him."

"Some have greatness thrust upon them."

"See thee cross gartered in yellow stockings" (taken quite literally.) "My lady loves me."

Games... I would, for this, marry her, the wench, and ask for no dowry but such a jest.

I am not your fool but your corrupter of words!

The heavens rain odors on you.

These dopey bargirls play games with the nobility, perhaps one day to marry them.

Here's my purse, go feed you with the sights of this town.

I have limed her!

A little thing would tell them how much I lack of a man.

I so much like you that a fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell!

Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and judge of thy own cause. Heigh ho, the wind and the rain! Girl, I look forward to seeing thee one day in thy woman's weeds!

Fun!