Burnin' Down the Road

If the land and fires in this image were differentiated a bit more clearly, you would be able to spot seven (eventually eight) separate wildfires burning across San Diego County today. Dry conditions, low humidity, high winds: a perfect firestorm.

The fires, in fact, stretch up the California coast through LA to Malibu, and this is the worst fire -- or collection of fires -- in San Diego history.

That the flames are to the north, east, and south of my position (roughly below the words "San Diego" on the map) suggests that the only possible escape from fire may be the ocean.

As it happens, I am fortunately situated very near the Qualcomm Stadium, which is being used as an Evacuation Center. More than 5,000 people are camping at the stadium tonight, many of them with no home to return to at the fires' end.

And the fires will not end any time soon. First, firefighters have had to devote far too much time to stubborn homeowners who refuse to leave. Second, they've had to spread their resources over too much ground. Third, they're daunted by Santa Ana winds which, at speeds often above 50 miles-per-hour, have fueled the fires and prevented aircraft from entering the area with water and deterrent dumps. Firefighters and the city have had to work to keep ahead of the fires to save people rather than work to keep on top of the fires to save property. With more than a quarter-million residents evacuated and only one death, I'd say they've done very well.

However, that doesn't mean it hasn't been (and doesn't continue to be) scary here. Many, many homes and communities no longer exist. Former evacuation centers have been evacuated. Homes which haven't burned have been looted. Insurance scams have already begun. And all through the day you've been told: don't use your cell phone because the Emergency Personnel need to communicate; don't leave your home because evacuees need the roads; sit tight until we call you -- and be ready when we do. And BY GOD, leave when we tell you to leave because we can't afford to divert firefighting efforts to rescue attempts!

My car was packed and ready by mid-afternoon. ID and insurance cards. Water, canned goods, flash light, handheld television. Laptop, iPod, cell phone, chargers. Actor bag, props, guitars, and a change of clothes.

In the last 36 hours the fires have spread like... well... wildfire. The evacuees have one advantage: they have 5,000 neighbors to wake them up if another evacuation becomes necessary in the middle of the night. Not knowing what progression of fire you might be sleeping through is by far the scariest prospect of the day.


* * * * *

MORNING UPDATE: The fires have not yet encroached on Mission Valley and the nearby Qualcomm Stadium is still an evacuation center. However, there are now 12 fires being reported and more than a half-million evacuees. Everything north of Highway 56, Ted Williams Parkway, Poway is under a mandatory evacuation order. All schools are closed for the week. The good news: air relief is able to fly today.

Quickie

Two of my five shows have come and gone in the last two weekends. Here are the reviews:

Note: the review of each show is intact but is itself an excerpt of a larger review of all programs presented each weekend. Thus the brevity.

North Park Playwright Festival
North Park Vaudeville and Candy Shop

Weekend One:

A Terminal Affair by Lisa Kenner of Los Angeles presents a look at a phenomenon not familiar to most people, the role playing date. This is usually performed by married couples attempting to bring spice into their life. It involves one spouse picking up the other spouse in a bar, a restaurant, or even an airline terminal. Sandra and Martin meet, complete with rolling suitcases, they banter, they rush off. Kenner’s scripting gives Lapczynski and Smith an excellent platform for their talents. Smith directed.

Weekend Two:

Among the Missing by Fred Sahner, Chatham, NY and directed by Kelly Lapczynski. This week’s festival started with an excellently acted and directed piece starring Christopher Armour as Detective Hardaway investigating the disappearance of Rose Dory’s (Jamie Haire) husband. In a brief appearance, Dustin Kisler plays Little Bobby, a true misnomer, who takes care of Rose’s every need now. The outcome of the interview is most revealing.

I get one weekend off to explore a venue for the just-named (in a meeting this morning) New Perspective Festival before Weekend Four presents the second piece I've directed: The Last Supper.

The weekend following that, I'll be opening the Scripps Ranch production of The O'Conner Girls as Martha O'Conner.

And that's all the time I have right now. I've got to run to rehearsals for Anton in Show Business!

Eyre Apparent

Explaining the dissolution of her last marriage, my fraternal twin sister tells me the story of discovering her husband with another woman at a Christmas party. She tells me that her husband, Martin, didn't like it when she glommed onto him at parties so she wandered alone "around this enormous house, Maxim DeWinter's Manderley estate, and after a while..." she looked for Martin.

The actress playing my sister has thrown the line away, but there is more to the Manderley reference, I know. I can hear the line "last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again" repeating in my head; I just can't place it. I ask the stage manager later "is that from Jane Eyre?" She doesn't know either, but types the words into her BlackBerry. The answer comes back: Rebecca.

Ah, Rebecca. Right. Got it. Wow, hadn't thought of that one in a while. But thinking about it now, I realize that confusing it with Jane Eyre really wasn't all that far off. In fact, I can recap both novels/movies at once -- with the generous use of the friendly slash mark.

Ready? This ain't gonna be pretty.

(Jane Eyre/Unnamed) is in love with (Mr. Rochester/Maxim de Winter) whose first wife (Bertha Mason/Rebecca) is (alive in the attic/dead in a sunken boat) and (dismissed as/remembered by) the madwoman servant (Grace Poole/Mrs. Danvers) of (Thornfield/Manderley).

In a telling scene, a bedroom is shown to be (set alight/kept as a shrine) but the estate is eventually destroyed in a fire set by (Grace Poole/Mrs. Danvers) who dies in the act by (jumping off the roof/perishing in the flames).

Given the similarities between the two, there is little wonder that I'd confused them. In fact, because Rebecca was (apparently) inspired by Jane Eyre, the actress Joan Fontaine was employed to fill both roles in the 1944 and 1940 movie adaptations, respectively, adding to the confusion.

Now that the confusion has been lifted, I can sleep at night. I cannot, however, forgive Martin his trespass.

Chuppah Christmas

Our story begins with Sarah O'Conner's daughters returning to the house after the funeral service for husband and father Tom. Martha O'Conner has been living in the house with Mom, helping to take care of her ailing dad for the last year. Lizzie O'Conner has been sending money but has not been home pitching in -- we find out later that this is because during that time her own marriage (her third) failed, she lost her house, and she's been too depressed to even work. It's roughly Christmas time in a VERY Catholic home. Very Catholic. Allow me to stress that.

Coinciding with Liz's return for her father's funeral is the return of Dr. David Stevens, a childhood friend of The O'Conner Girls who has come home to arrange taking over a local practice from a retiring physician. David is comfortable with Liz and wants to ask her something, which makes Liz come alive with hope that the "dreamy" doctor is interested in her, but he is continually interrupted. The audience is supposed to be fooled into believing, as Liz does, that David is attempting to make a move on her. They are not supposed to know that if he were ever allowed to finish the question it would be "is Martha seeing anyone?" The idea that he might be interested in Martha at all is meant to be a surprise twist at the end. And it is. It's sweet and lovely. And -- allow me to stress this -- it's a SURPRISE.

With me so far? A very Catholic family. A "dreamy" doctor who seems to be after Liz. The lovely surprise ending that he is instead after Martha.

Last night, Herr Director (you knew that was coming, right?), who seemingly does not care for this chick-flick bit of theatre, exclaims "I've finally figured out how to market this show!" We know this is going to be interesting, but we aren't prepared for the picture he's drawn. I wish I had it to scan. Wait!

*hastily sketches*



The Chuppah is a Jewish wedding tradition -- and canopy rather than an arch -- and showing both sisters beneath it would give away the surprise that Martha is in the running at all. Am I missing something?

Next!

You Suspected I Was Brain Damaged

So my doctor calls me yesterday and tells me that this oral "squeaking" I've been complaining about for more than a year may be a side effect of my antidepressants and, now that he's done a little more research into it, he's concerned. He's referring me to a psychiatrist/neurologist for further evaluation.

He listed a number of "isms" and "syndromes" that I might be developing, but the one which hit the nail squarely on the head was "Buccoglossal Syndrome" -- a variant of the Tardive Dyskinesia I'd already suspected. Listed as one of the rare (under 1%) neurological side effects of the drug, it may be to blame for what I like to call my RLS: Restless Lips Syndrome.

Buccoglossal syndrome (another term for Tardive Diskinesia, an incurable disease which causes uncontrolled movements of the body)

From what little I can glean from the internet, the oral corea is, fortunately, the least debilitating form of TD. Though I have run across questions and concerns for the progression of the disease as it may interfere with eating and speaking, delving too far into that research is rather putting the cart before the horse until I've seen the neurologist.

I am slowly tapering off of the antidepressants (the causative drug) in the hope that the symptoms may be remitting rather than persistent. For those of you who have not witnessed my "squeaking," it could be described as something between Parkinson's and Tourettes: an involuntary facial tic I have difficulty not doing which results in sucking noises which are very annoying.

Ah well. At least I can use this to my advantage the next time I want to mouth off. Can't help it: brain damage!

Bwah-ha-ha!