Thursday, June 25, 2009
Learning to Love Sweat
In a particularly warm and hard yoga class yesterday I realized how much my first reaction to sweating is that it's bad and should stop. That I'm doing something wrong.
I think this must have something to do with my particularly un-athletic upbringing, and the fact that I really didn't sweat much in my life, and when I maybe did it was embarrassing, like in gym class when everything was embarrassing because I was this scronny kid that couldn't do anything right.
I've gotten to the point several times in my life where I've worked out regularly. I think that Cheerleading in high school helped with this, our coach was an aerobics teacher and kicked our butts, which I think was the first time for me. But then I spent my early 20s only breaking a sweat in the occasional dance class or on the dance floor.
Now, as a person who aknowledges the need to work out, for my health, strength, and vanity--every time I come back from a break of doing it, I have to re-remember that endorphins are great and only come after some strenuous work. And that sweating isn't a bad thing, it's cleansing, it means you're doing good work.
But each time I take a little convincing.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
From the London Times...
The 15 golden rules of theatre etiquette
The play's the thing - so shhh. Our chief theatre critic explains what to do with your sweets, crisps and mobile phones

No talking during the performance: PLEASE!
1 Don’t just switch off your mobile in response to what’s very likely a cute invitation from some fake-friendly voice. Make sure it’s off before you enter the theatre, thus making sure that you’re not publicly humiliated by Richard Griffiths or A.N. Other.
2 Never whisper, let alone talk, during the performance. If you’re hard of hearing, hire a loop rather than bother your companion for info about the plot. And don’t hum along with songs, even if they’re by Rodgers and Hammerstein.
3 Don’t bring picnics. In fact, don’t eat anything, not even your fingernails, even if the play is, well, nail-biting. If you must buy an ice cream in the interval, make sure you finish it and dispose of the carton before the restart. The scraping at remnants sounds like scratching on a wall.
4 If you fear that you’ll cough, bring a handkerchief to smother your mouth and pastilles to put in it. Considerate theatregoers would rather asphyxiate than interrupt a good actor.
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5 Always apologise if someone is forced to stand as you make your way to your seat, but if you are late (and you should never be) reduce your apology to a quick, sorrowful nod.
6 Don’t clap actors’s entrances, even if they’re famous, or their exits, even if they make them in the swaggering style that half-invites applause. All this is dated and naff and makes you look like a celeb-hungry prat.
7 Have nothing to do with standing ovations unless a performance is close to a once-in-a-lifetime experience. In America such ovations have become meaningless and, if they don’t occur, they indicate disapproval. We don’t want them to become regular here.
8 If a friend is on stage in a comedy or farce, or has written one, don’t pile on the laughter. The artificiality is usually transparent enough to make failure more and not less likely.
9 If you must go to that often obnoxious, spuriously glitzy occasion, the first night, don’t ponce about pretending to be an important guest, even if you are one. Think of your fellow audience members and the actors, both of whom want to get on with the show. And that show isn’t about you.
10 No need to dress up, let alone wear dinner jackets and evening gowns, as was once the case. But try to be a little better dressed than the critics, who often look as they’ve been grabbed from a washing machine that hasn’t yet been turned on.
11 If you see a sleeping critic don’t necessarily wake him or her up, as guilt is likely to ensure that his or her review is more favourable than it might otherwise be. But don’t let him sleep too deeply or he may (and this has happened) crash into or across an aisle, causing injury to the innocent. And snoring is unacceptable, whoever does it and however awful the show.
12 If critics irk you by scratching notes on a pad, be forgiving. They’re only doing their jobs. And virtually all critics accept that lighted pens, once common, are now verboten. If you see a critic turn one on, whisper something tactfully germane, like “you blind sod, switch it off”.
13 If the child you’re bringing is chatty, gag it. If it’s fidgety, handcuff and shackle it. And if you’re altruistic enough to bring a school party to a Shakespeare matinée, threaten potential wrongdoers with tickets to the next revival of Timon of Athens, to be followed by a ten-page essay on the ethics of Apemantus.
14 Try your hardest not to be tall, which means shunning headgear and primped-up hair. And if you can’t help your height, ask for a seat on the aisle or somewhere where you won’t interfere with people’s sightlines.
15 If you are maddened by a fellow member of the audience, postpone a serious or violent encounter until a suitable pause in the action, preferably the interval. But usually a schoolmarmy stare and an English sniff, followed by a reproachful smile, will suffice.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Sometimes your lap is your best table.
Sometimes your lap is your best table.
And sometimes your hands are your best tools
And sometimes your legs are your best tripod
And sometimes your back is your best bed.
Sometimes your hips are your best shelf.
Lift with your legs, not with your back.
Take care of your body.
Stand up straight, don’t slouch.
Eat right.
An apple a day keeps the doctor away.
Walk for 30 minutes 3 times a week.
Walk 4,000 steps a day.
Make sure you engage in aerobic activity.
Eat only organic foods.
Grease is bad for you.
Keep simple carbohydrates to a minimum.
Be sure you drink 8 glasses of water a day.
Avoid the boogeyman.
Wear comfortable shoes.
Carry a backpack, not a shoulder bag.
Brush and floss, brush and floss.
Take a chill pill
Your body is a wonderland.
You are the light of the world.
My spleen. I love my spleen.
What does the gall bladder do anyway?
If I don’t need it, why do I have it?
What color is your poo?
My mind is a battlefield.
You need to pick your favorite color.
Everyone has a favorite.
What kind of mascara do you wear?
You do wear makeup don’t you?
Two coats and a top coat.
It's time to shave your legs.
You used to be so skinny.
When did you get those?
UV rays are bad for you.
Gluten free.
No antibiotics.
Pushups every morning.
Yoga is life changing.
Give yourself a hug.
French fries are comforting.
I don’t want to have long hair anymore, that’s why.
How long can you stay in the shower?
When is it my turn to be perfect?
I don’t know when or how this happened.
I used to love my lap.
Friday, May 15, 2009
I haven't blogged in 5,000 years
Of course, the 101 things in 1001 days is different. I've been thinking about what to put on my list, because the first step is to make a list of 101 things that I actually find compelling enough to put on it. The downside is that I'm already so busy that I wonder if this will just put additional pressure on me. So some of the things must be purely fun, they all have to be things I really want to do, and because there's so many in 1001 days they have to be achievable, but not so simple. Right? Some should be habit changing things, some should be small, some should be major goals. Maybe I won't achieve all of them and I'd need to accept that. So if I make a list I love then I'll come back to this with that list.
One of the things I'm contemplating putting on this list is reading all of the novels on the Modern Library's top 100 Novel's list. Most of them I've not read, so I'm a couple down but not so many. Many of these I've never heard of. Some I read in high school and should probably re-read (Like The Great Gatsby), because I'd get them more now. But if they're supposedly the best, I should read them. Here's the list. It's about 10 years old now, but that seems okay.
| 1 | ULYSSES | James Joyce |
| 2 | THE GREAT GATSBY | F. Scott Fitzgerald |
| 3 | A PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST AS A YOUNG MAN | James Joyce |
| 4 | LOLITA | Vladimir Nabokov |
| 5 | BRAVE NEW WORLD | Aldous Huxley |
| 6 | THE SOUND AND THE FURY | William Faulkner |
| 7 | CATCH-22 | Joseph Heller |
| 8 | DARKNESS AT NOON | Arthur Koestler |
| 9 | SONS AND LOVERS | D.H. Lawrence |
| 10 | THE GRAPES OF WRATH | John Steinbeck |
| 11 | UNDER THE VOLCANO | Malcolm Lowry |
| 12 | THE WAY OF ALL FLESH | Samuel Butler |
| 13 | 1984 | George Orwell |
| 14 | I CLAUDIUS | Robert Graves |
| 15 | TO THE LIGHTHOUSE | Virginia Woolf |
| 16 | AN AMERICAN TRAGEDY | Theodore Dreiser |
| 17 | THE HEART IS A LONELY HUNTER | Carson McCullers |
| 18 | SLAUGHTERHOUSE-FIVE | Kurt Vonnegut |
| 19 | INVISIBLE MAN | Ralph Ellison |
| 20 | NATIVE SON | Richard Wright |
| 21 | HENDERSON THE RAIN KING | Saul Bellow |
| 22 | APPOINTMENT IN SAMARRA | John O'Hara |
| 23 | U.S.A. | John Dos Passos |
| 24 | WINESBURG, OHIO | Sherwood Anderson |
| 25 | A PASSAGE TO INDIA | E.M. Forster |
| 26 | THE WINGS OF THE DOVE | Henry James |
| 27 | THE AMBASSADORS | Henry James |
| 28 | TENDER IS THE NIGHT | F. Scott Fitzgerald |
| 29 | THE STUDS LONIGAN TRILOGY | James T. Farrell |
| 30 | THE GOOD SOLDIER | Ford Madox Ford |
| 31 | ANIMAL FARM | George Orwell |
| 32 | THE GOLDEN BOWL | Henry James |
| 33 | SISTER CARRIE | Theodore Dreiser |
| 34 | A HANDFUL OF DUST | Evelyn Waugh |
| 35 | AS I LAY DYING | William Faulkner |
| 36 | ALL THE KING'S MEN | Robert Penn Warren |
| 37 | THE BRIDGE OF SAN LUIS REY | Thornton Wilder |
| 38 | HOWARDS END | E.M. Forster |
| 39 | GO TELL IT ON THE MOUNTAIN | James Baldwin |
| 40 | THE HEART OF THE MATTER | Graham Greene |
| 41 | LORD OF THE FLIES | William Golding |
| 42 | DELIVERANCE | James Dickey |
| 43 | A DANCE TO THE MUSIC OF TIME | Anthony Powell |
| 44 | POINT COUNTER POINT | Aldous Huxley |
| 45 | THE SUN ALSO RISES | Ernest Hemingway |
| 46 | THE SECRET AGENT | Joseph Conrad |
| 47 | NOSTROMO | Joseph Conrad |
| 48 | THE RAINBOW | D.H. Lawrence |
| 49 | WOMEN IN LOVE | D.H. Lawrence |
| 50 | TROPIC OF CANCER | Henry Miller |
| 51 | THE NAKED AND THE DEAD | Norman Mailer |
| 52 | PORTNOY'S COMPLAINT | Philip Roth |
| 53 | PALE FIRE | Vladimir Nabokov |
| 54 | LIGHT IN AUGUST | William Faulkner |
| 55 | ON THE ROAD | Jack Kerouac |
| 56 | THE MALTESE FALCON | Dashiell Hammett |
| 57 | PARADE'S END | Ford Madox Ford |
| 58 | THE AGE OF INNOCENCE | Edith Wharton |
| 59 | ZULEIKA DOBSON | Max Beerbohm |
| 60 | THE MOVIEGOER | Walker Percy |
| 61 | DEATH COMES FOR THE ARCHBISHOP | Willa Cather |
| 62 | FROM HERE TO ETERNITY | James Jones |
| 63 | THE WAPSHOT CHRONICLES | John Cheever |
| 64 | THE CATCHER IN THE RYE | J.D. Salinger |
| 65 | A CLOCKWORK ORANGE | Anthony Burgess |
| 66 | OF HUMAN BONDAGE | W. Somerset Maugham |
| 67 | HEART OF DARKNESS | Joseph Conrad |
| 68 | MAIN STREET | Sinclair Lewis |
| 69 | THE HOUSE OF MIRTH | Edith Wharton |
| 70 | THE ALEXANDRIA QUARTET | Lawrence Durell |
| 71 | A HIGH WIND IN JAMAICA | Richard Hughes |
| 72 | A HOUSE FOR MR BISWAS | V.S. Naipaul |
| 73 | THE DAY OF THE LOCUST | Nathanael West |
| 74 | A FAREWELL TO ARMS | Ernest Hemingway |
| 75 | SCOOP | Evelyn Waugh |
| 76 | THE PRIME OF MISS JEAN BRODIE | Muriel Spark |
| 77 | FINNEGANS WAKE | James Joyce |
| 78 | KIM | Rudyard Kipling |
| 79 | A ROOM WITH A VIEW | E.M. Forster |
| 80 | BRIDESHEAD REVISITED | Evelyn Waugh |
| 81 | THE ADVENTURES OF AUGIE MARCH | Saul Bellow |
| 82 | ANGLE OF REPOSE | Wallace Stegner |
| 83 | A BEND IN THE RIVER | V.S. Naipaul |
| 84 | THE DEATH OF THE HEART | Elizabeth Bowen |
| 85 | LORD JIM | Joseph Conrad |
| 86 | RAGTIME | E.L. Doctorow |
| 87 | THE OLD WIVES' TALE | Arnold Bennett |
| 88 | THE CALL OF THE WILD | Jack London |
| 89 | LOVING | Henry Green |
| 90 | MIDNIGHT'S CHILDREN | Salman Rushdie |
| 91 | TOBACCO ROAD | Erskine Caldwell |
| 92 | IRONWEED | William Kennedy |
| 93 | THE MAGUS | John Fowles |
| 94 | WIDE SARGASSO SEA | Jean Rhys |
| 95 | UNDER THE NET | Iris Murdoch |
| 96 | SOPHIE'S CHOICE | William Styron |
| 97 | THE SHELTERING SKY | Paul Bowles |
| 98 | THE POSTMAN ALWAYS RINGS TWICE | James M. Cain |
| 99 | THE GINGER MAN | J.P. Donleavy |
| 100 | THE MAGNIFICENT AMBERSONS | Booth Tarkington |
Sunday, December 7, 2008
about my job and my life.
but because i only have one week left of school, and my students are getting so excited and ansy, i am too. we'll end the semester. i'll put in grades. i don't go back until january 26th. crazy!! and then i'll have new students, a new class, a new chance to be a better teacher. how cool is that?
i'm pretty sure that one of the many reasons i ended up in theater is a fear of having to do one thing that never ends for the rest of my life. i love it when plays open and close. i love first rehearsals. i love the milestones that we get to relive over and over. i can't imagine not having that. i can't imagine not having the excuses to celebrate our achievements over and over. i feel like if i were to do something else it would all become a big blur.
many people say as they get older time seems to go faster and faster. i haven't noticed this yet entirely. in retrospect maybe, but with the multitude of different things i do in a year, my year feels really long.
case in point: last year this week i was in tech for the Drama League Directorfest. It would be opening next weekend. Actually, on the Sunday before I went to New Haven for an interview to direct something at Yale, and there was this terrible winter storm that covered New Haven in ice, and I was late and flustered and interveiwed TERRIBLY. And then I had to wait for a train that was late, but I met my roomate, Sasha at Grand Central Station and we went home together because she was returning from a really weird date. Ha.
That was a year ago. So many things have happened this year, both good and bad. It's been a really hard year in lots of ways, a lot of roller-coaster shiznit. I returned from NYC, then went to CO for christmas (as I am this year), I directed Faster at the side project and associate directed American Dream Songbook at the same time (bad idea), while I substitute taught David Cromer's direcitng class. I worked at Chicago Opera Theater, after doing some temping. I directed lots of little things, readings, sketchbook. I went to NYC for the Lincoln Center Dir Lab. I was back for three weeks then went to Michigan to direct an opera, then I've had this crazy fall.
Why would anyone do anything else? Wouldn't life be boring? I'm not trying to offend anyone who has chosen different paths. I guess it just wouldn't be me. I recognize the things I've traded. Stability being one. Availability to "settle down", hang out with friends more, have a family, all of that. But my year has been very exciting. "May you live in exciting times" Isn't that a Chinese curse?
Anyway, School's almost out for winter break. That's my point. Maybe the holidays aren't so bad.
Friday, December 5, 2008
More awesome Music Videos...
stasis and palindromes
Now go with me here, it seems to be along the same line of thinking that tells us that if you're spinning fast enough it's like standing still. Is that even true or am I making that up?
Looking back on this fall, I think I've accomplished a lot, I've directed several things that I can feel good about, and learned from them, and blah blah blah.
But at some point as a human being a stasis set in. Like my body shut down due to constant activity, and started protecting itself like an armadillo rolled into a little ball. And I wasn't well, I haven't been totally well for some time. My stress seems to land in my stomach, and I've been getting regular acupuncture treatments to get my qi moving again. But stasis and stagnation came up a lot in my treatments over the fall, and I wonder if doing too much caused my body to stop doing anything?
I'm only seeing this fully in retrospect, as a little bit of air has opened up in my life, I feel this amazing freedom. I actually felt overjoyed and grateful that I didn't have anything I absolutely had to do when I got home from rehearsal last night. I sat and read a book for fun for an hour and then went to bed. But only after I really thought "what do I want to do right now?" An hour. Ha.
Classes end next week and then don't start again until January 26th. It's nice to think of the space that will open up in my life for a while. To sort things out. To contemplate. To organize. To recharge.
I know this is the constant theme of my blog right now, but it's the thing I'm contemplating most in my life, which is to say: how I want to live it. Sometimes I think I spend too much time saying "well this is what I'm doing right now and so that later..." but if one spends their entire life like that, a life of self-torture in hopes of something else happening is all you get. Not that directing too many plays and being too busy is even a terrible torture. I am very grateful to have been so busy doing such amazing projects, I guess I've just learned my limitations as a human being, and that's important. I don't like to admit I even have them, which may be why I got myself in this mess.
Someday soon I'll shut up about this. I mean, the holidays are coming, I have an entire new list of things to be stressed out about. Ha.
On a lighter note, I found myself contemplating palindromes yesterday. There are so many different versions of the idea, and people have been creating and contemplating them since the Greeks. I love it, because it seems so useless, and creates sentences that are absolutely insane. Some palindromes are numbers, some are just word by word in sentences, there are even musical palindromes of sorts "crab cannons" where one melody is the reverse of the other. People get really into this stuff. And yet, it seems somewhat absurd.
Some of my favorite things I learned on wikipedia were the ones in foreign languages:
Icelandic: "Amma sá afa káfa af ákafa á Samma" ("Grandma saw grandpa touching Sammi intensively")
Estonian: "Aias sadas saia" (It was raining white bread in the garden)
Italian: "I topi non avevano nipoti" (The mice had no grandchildren).
Of course our own are absurd too:
Never Odd or even
If i had a hi-fi
Madam im Adam
No Lemons no melon
Rise to vote sir
do geese see god
race fast safe car
ma is as selfless as i am
Ah, satan sees natasha
no devil lived on
A Toyota's a Toyota
A dog a panic in a pagoda
was it a car or a cat i saw
Nurse i spy gypsies run
now is see bees i won
ufo tofu
god a red nugget a fat egg under a dog
no Mel Gibson is a casino's big lemon
war, sir, is raw
no, sir, away! a papaya war is on!