Welcome Back with Paxil

Whether it was iProzac or iPaxil, the iPod found a happier place today. In fact, it's going a bit overboard to prove to me that everything fine, the world is full of rainbows, and it's in love.

Orleans: You're the One
Wynonna: Only Love
Air Supply: Lost in Love

Got it. Love you too, i.p. I won't let you sit so long next time.

iProzac

My iPod seems to get rather depressed after long (long, long) periods of disuse. I plugged the little guy into my iBlaster orb this morning on an urge to stray away from random show tunes in the shower. What I got instead was... well... pretty morbid.

It began with Five for Fighting's "Superman (It's Not Easy)"

I wish that I could cry. Fall upon my knees.
Find a way to lie. 'Bout a home I'll never see.....

It may sound absurd. But don't be naive. Next came Tori Amos.

Me and a gun and a man on my back
but I haven't seen Barbados so I must get out of this.

You can laugh. It's kind of funny. Things you think, times like these... But, um... can we pick up the pace a bit, lighten the mood? Enter Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush.

No fight left or so it seems.
I am a man whose dreams have all deserted.
Ive changed my face, Ive changed my name.
But no one wants you when you lose.

Okay, I won't give up. I'm sure there will be a more festive song for my morning coffee. That's when Maia Sharp contributes "Something Wild."

You're so beautiful from where I stood.
So I chased you down and held you as close as I could.
That's when the fire turned cold.
Maybe you're not supposed to hold
something wild.

... and Sheryl Crow chimes in...

Your friends act sorry for me.
They watch you pretend to adore me.
But I am no fool to this game.

... right before James Taylor reminds me...

Nothing lasts forever, oh no
She gets the house and the garden
He gets the boys in the band
Some of them his friends
Some of them her friends
Some of them understand

... and the Motels add:

It's like I told you
Only the lonely can play

Maybe there's something good on TV.

Opening November 22

iontheatre.com

Producing Mr. Uhry

Receipts are still coming in, but it looks like the show came in on time and under budget.


Opening night was a success.

Presidential Trivia

A few nights ago, I went to Chula Vista to listen to the former host of KPBS' A Way with Words give a talk on the newest of his 30 books, Presidential Trivia. The tickets were relatively cheap and the proceeds benefited a theatre which is dear to my heart, so off we went.

I had never seen nor, I think, heard Richard Lederer, as he left the KPBS program before I became a local listener, but I have become a fan of the radio program he helped to create and have always been a fan of presidential trivia, so I bought his book.

As he was signing it, I had an opportunity to speak with the author. I told him I had been interested in his talk mainly because I had been on my high school and collegiate Quiz Bowl teams and had devised a system by which to quickly and easily remember all of the presidents in order.

Now, this was relevant because he'd made a point of illustrating patterns in the presidency, and patterns are exactly the crux of my system. In particular, patterns of three. As simple as this seems to me, however, I have only managed ever to teach one other person this system. Everyone wave to Fawad, wherever he is. Hi, Fawad! Whether my failure to successfully revolutionize the learning-the-Presidents industry suggests a degree of difficulty or merely a notable lack of students, I can't say, but as I went about trying to encapsulate the system for my evening's host, I was met with a raised eyebrow.

Mr. Lederer reached into a nearby bag for a small wallet-like object which held a number of business cards. I wondered for a moment whether he was going to refer to me to A Way with Words, which at one time was looking for a new Puzzle Guru. As it happened, though, the card he handed me had nothing to do with the radio show at all. As he handed me the object, he commented "the way your mind works, you might be interested in this. I just finished my local presidency."

What was the card?

Well....

Now this isn't the first time I've been referred to this Society, and there are several reasons to believe that I would qualify, as my mother has done. However, the cost of testing is $40 and the cost of an annual membership is $52 -- for little more than the privilege to tell people that you're in the top 2% of American minds.

I rather like to think I've done that by having the former president of the local chapter refer me on my first meeting with him.

What can I say? I'm cheap.

Plus, if only the top 2% of American minds can solve the daily puzzles on the Mensa Puzzle-A-Day calendar, I fear for the population.

I leave you with today's offering from The Mensa Puzzle Calendar:

How many common English words can you make from the letters below, using all five letters once in each word? We found six words.

A B E S T

ArtSplash

Yesterday, I traipsed north to Carlsbad for its annual ArtSplash art and music festival. Now, while there was plenty of fun art and music to be had, my primary interest was in the street paintings -- chalk pastels painted onto the fresh blacktop (thanks to Palomar Grading and Paving Inc.) of Armada Drive in the spirit of the Italian madonnari. My pictures do not do them justice, however, there were many interesting street paintings to see.

Being a theatre person first and foremost, I found this painting of New Village Arts recently closed production Sailor's Song to be particularly clever advertising, despite the fact the show could no longer be seen. The Amandas (Morrow and Sitton) are not exactly immortalized in chalk, as the first good rain (or, more likely, a deliberate hose) will wash them away, but the art was effective.


I snuck back several times to see this production of The Kiss being painted. Because the talent inherent in the chalk art is original to the chalk artists, reproductions of famous works like this are listed as "after" the original artists. This would be "'The Kiss' after Gustav Klimt"

Though this next one is not in a style I would otherwise care for, there was something rather impressive to me about it being done in chalk.


I couldn't get a straight shot of Frankie here below around the other on-lookers, but found that this slightly disturbing crop was somewhat appropriate to the subject. Hey, Halloween is just around the corner.


In the "other arts" department we met a photographer who developed his own software in order to create holographic images layering 10 - 12 photos. I've seen holographic photos before, but one or two of these were particularly interesting. Like the one of the blue bottle on an orange background below. If you were to reach out to touch the photo in person, you'd have a sudden and jarring recognition of its 3-D properties as you expect to touch the image much sooner than you do but instead seem to be reaching into it.


Along with circus performers and a crew of young drummers, there were sculptors of every variety - from bronze and glass to stone and sand, but possibly the most intriguing was a specialist in "edible art" whose medium is neither ice nor butter. No, Sara Nep works with cheese.


One wonders if a slice of nose really does taste better on a Ritz.

Now Serving No. 615

The phone rings. I take a quick glance at the Caller ID. Huh. It's a "615" number. Tennessee. Most of my Tennessee friends know my cell phone number, not the number to the apartment here in San Diego. Maybe someone is trying to reach my folks. I answer.

"Katie?" a voice says. I try to place the voice but I can't. Still, they haven't asked for me, they've asked for my mom. Odd, though. Most people call her "Kate" not "Katie."

"This is her daughter," I answer. There is a moment's silence.

"Katie doesn't HAVE a daughter."

What? Certainly "Katie" has a daughter. At least, MY "Katie" has a daughter. I think I'd know. I wear her wristwatch.

"I have the wrong number."

"Oh, okay."

Now before I begin to feel guilty because some stranger 2,000 miles away thinks I was screwing with him -- which I will even though I wasn't -- I have to marvel: what are the odds that someone from Nashville would call San Diego looking for "Katie" and reach a girl who's in San Diego VIA Nashville and the daughter of a "Kate"?

It boggles the mind.

The Deep End

Sometimes it's hard to know where to begin, so you've just got to jump in feet first to see where the waves take you -- and pray to avoid the undertow. August has come and gone. Despite the lack of coverage here, it did not pass uneventfully.

I had the extreme joy of returning home to Tennessee for a few weeks in the middle of last month, to celebrate both my parent's 40th wedding anniversary and my brother's 32nd birthday. Unlike other trips home -- for Christmas or doctor visits -- I did not rush this one. I gave it a full two weeks. Even that went by too fast.


I played Service Wench quite happily at my folks' anniversary party and met Kenny for windsurfing on the lake and disc golf at a state park; I made pierogi from scratch (my first attempt at the kraut-filled dumplings) and devoured them along with other Polish goodies at my brother's birthday feast; I photographed friends and family splashing in the backyard pool and my nieces making "nature soup" (bird seed, squirrel feed, and water from the hose) in the front yard; I watched the Olympics with my Dad and drove to see Ang in Nashville, where we went in a fruitless search for a mechanical bull. (Well, okay, we knew where there was a mechanical bull, but we didn't know it was "closed" on the weekdays. Bummer.)

Still, the best part of the trip, for me, was reuniting with an old friend I hadn't seen for the better part of a decade. Denise's older daughter is in high school now (wow!) and she's had another since I saw her last. Playing "Godmother" to these two, while "ort"-ing like a sea lion with the younger of them was a hoot, even if on the whole we didn't spend a lot of time together. The little one, I hear, now wants to visit me in San Diego. She knows that this is where REAL sea lions (and Sea World) live. She also believes that I live in a bungalow, like Mulan, and that she'll get her allowance every day in this mystical world far away.

I won't post pictures of minor nieces and god-daughters to the internet, but with the belief that adult friends are fair game, I share this one.


I introduced Denise to Ang on this trip; here the three of us embark on our pursuit of the elusive mechanical bull. Though the bull managed to evade us without moving an inch, finding the three of us in one place at one time was by far the better discovery.

There are, of course, always things that you've forgotten or which have changed when you return to a place you've called home. The first one that caught my attention was the sound of the tree frogs, a sound I'd long forgotten. Well, no. Actually, the FIRST thing that caught my attention was total darkness. In San Diego, you don't get a lot of dark. Even the palm trees here have uplighting. Driving from Manchester to Tullahoma in the car I'd borrowed from my brother, who lives well away from the madding crowd, I remembered what true dark really was -- and how difficult it is to navigate. Only after parking that car and heading to my parents' front porch did I catch the sound of the tree frogs. The next day, it was the sound of rain. Though there was never a "gully washer" or a "frog choker" thunderstorm during my visit, I was at least spared the intolerable heat of a usual mid-August in Middle Tennessee, so despite the dryness I call it a wash.

More and more I realize that the only real differences state to state, apart from the occasional accents of the natives, lie in the flora and fauna. Just about everywhere you go in this country, you'll find a McDonald's, a Wal-Mart, and a Verizon Wireless store. Its the lush, green oak trees, stalks of corn, and warm fresh water lakes which distinguish a Tennessee landscape from the eucalyptus trees, birds of paradise, and freezing salt-water ocean beaches of California. Where in California, the ocean is home for swimmy things with big teeth, stingers, or suckers, in Tennessee, the toothy, stingy, sucky things fly. I'll admit, I hadn't missed wasps or mosquitos.

I was surprisingly heartened to see other fauna, however. A family of deer or a fox crossing the highway; horses, cows, and goats grazing in pastures; squirrels, lizards, and birds of every color leaping, flying, and foraging. In a more metropolitan area, it's easy to forget that we share the city with more than gas-guzzling machines and yapping bipeds who've been Bluetooth enabled.

But back in the land of the Bluetoothians, I've found myself busied again with far different endeavors. In September and October, I'll be producing a full-length show while directing a much shorter piece elsewhere. I'll continue to record podcast interviews (available on iTunes, folks), manage the production calendar, and man the box office for a third theatre, while auditioning for a fourth, fifth, and even sixth. In fact, I've received a callback today from one of the two Repertory companies here.

Now, I'm no more right for this show than I was when they originally cast it (they are replacing an actor now), but I'm delighted to be called back for another appearance there. As any actor will tell you, when a theatre with the word "Rep" anywhere in the title calls, you drop everything. Thus, many theatre owners will tell you, this is a good reason to put "Rep" somewhere in your title. I can't tell you how many "repertory" companies appear on my resume which neither paid their performers nor performed shows in repertory, but I digress.....

I will try to get back into the habit of regular updates here, now that the blog is again open for business, but a year's writing sabbatical has quashed the habit.

Heavens! As if to prove a point, I've just remembered that I've failed to tell you about my trip to Del Mar, where, yes, I bet on the horses. Every race. Did pretty good, too. For a rookie.


What I really need now is a good Dick Francis novel.

Beat It

Last night

in a hot frolic pad

I saw the best minds of my generation

donning the threads of another one

Greenwich Village, 1959

singing "This Land is Your Land"

and guzzling foam

between readings

of Allen Ginsberg

and performances

of Jules Feiffer

The joint was jumping.

It was a gas.

With Ultimate Power...

On Friday, I was called into my first-ever audition for a television pilot. This one, so the treatment says, is "a politically charged supernatural drama." I have no expectation of appearing on a television near you any time soon, but it was an interesting experience to take my mark, slate my name and contact information, and perform solo in front of a camera to a scene partner behind it. It wasn't something I thought I'd ever have the chance to do beyond college. Certainly not for a pilot.

When I walked into the audition room, conveniently located in San Diego (yes, the LA actors were driving here), the difference between stage and film was immediately evident. Though everyone was certainly nice enough, there was a definite vibe that you don't get from most folks in theatre. When they asked me what I'd "done," I knew they weren't asking about dinner theatre.

Being a newbie, I soaked it in. But not for long. In film, unlike the theatre, there's not a lot of wasted time. Time is money and film is expensive. In and out. Whether the camera loves you is something they'll determine later, when you're not there. Whether you can act... well, that won't matter much if you look like you've got two heads, crooked teeth, and a nose from the Prerhinoplastic Era on film. Next!

In other news this week, in the more familiar land of theatre, I was offered the position of Artistic Director at a local professional theatre, which I chose to turn down. Though the offer was flattering, I have my hands in too many other pies now to want to narrow my focus to someone else's bottom line; but I continue to volunteer many hours to the theatre in question. In fact, I'm spending a great deal of time this weekend covering its promotional booth at San Diego Pride, an event aimed at the Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender community which features an annual (34th this year) parade.

The other pies? Well, I recently closed shop on a new local theatre festival which featured 24 plays written, performed, and directed by San Diego talent over the course of two weekends. It was a surprising success and something which I may do again next year if I can secure the same venue. Finding a venue was a major hassle in 2008 and not a search I care to repeat, but the rest of the work to pull off an event of that scale was absolutely worth the result. It was a hit.

I've also decided to repeat last year's efforts to begin getting directorial experience in a small, local theatre which will give anyone the opportunity, regardless of experience. I discovered last year that not only did I enjoy directing, but I particularly enjoyed it on the small, black box scale which didn't require me to break the bank on sets and set dressing.

And on the heels of the success of my festival, I've been offered my first producing gig. I suspect that producing is where I will truly find my niche, as I won't be stepping on anyone's toes to do exactly what I always do -- make sure things get done! Then again, much like the AD gig, this one is a big effort for someone else's bottom line. Although I do get a stipend (I think!) for the work, I believe that if I continue producing beyond this adventure it will be things like my recent festival -- where the decisions are mine and my time is rewarded if it's a success.

Yeah, I like that.

Follow Spot Podcast Available at iTunes

The San Diego Theatre Scene Follow Spot podcast is now available through iTunes, and ready to go anywhere you do.

To subscribe, visit us here.

Where the Hell is Matt?

Thanks to Pam, who sent this to me via Facebook. Worth a smile.

You can see it embedded below, but it's much better in high quality (seriously, you've got to choose "high quality") HERE.

Follow Spot Podcast

I've created a blog for Compass Theatre, where I am currently the Associate Managing Director and Podcast Cordinator.

In creating that blog, I discovered that I could post our podcasts via podOmatic (thank you, Big Daddy Cool, for that idea!) and that the podOmatic podcasts create RSS feeds to iTunes. So... the TheatreScene Follow Spot Podcast may be coming soon to an iPod near you!

This week's guests are:

* BRAVISSIMO Entertainment critic Rob Appel
* ACT San Diego President Christoper De Armond
* Chronos Theatre Artistic Director Celeste Innocenti (seen above)
* Compass Theatre Artistic Director Matt Thompson.

Funk #49

Tonight on America's Got Talent we met a "very theatrical" group of young black rapper/dancers who call themselves The James Gang.

Too young, perhaps, to remember the 1970's.

Is it just me, or is this name rather familiar?

"Don't blame me; I voted for Joe Walsh"

Stardate -315518.2

Captain's blog. Supplemental.

The ship has been stranded in cyberspace for months. Transmissions have failed. Hailing frequencies have been opened, but there is no response from the crew. If there is a crew. We cannot yet tell whether they have abandoned ship. Fortunately, the USS Private Conversation rests safely in the Neutral Zone. Exploration is possible. An Away Team is being dispatched.

Suddenly, a noise from the computer:

"Hello, Swindon, I am here. Swindon, can you hear me?"

Swindon, a knackered kind of Fresno town.

"I don't think we're quite at the Moon yet, but I can see right over the top of the houses! Fantastic!"

A man in a track suit can be seen up a ladder.

Well, what the hell do you expect after several months' absence?!?

Yes, hello Swindon, I am here. Back from the Neutral Zone and reporting for duty upon the USS Private Conversation. You are correct: that is a new title for the blog. I rather appreciate the irony.

Much has transpired since our last little fireside chats. I hope you'll join me as the USS Private Conversation once again explores the Blogosphere. On its continuing mission to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilization, and to boldly go where no blog has gone... in the last five minutes.

Cue music.

Audition... on the Side

After more than 20 years of theatre, there is one lesson I have never learned: when creative people make the rules, they are made only to be ignored.

Take for example my recent audition. Striving always to be a good little rule-following professional, I followed the audition instructions to the letter. In fact, here those letters are reprinted here:

* Visit our casting web page
* Download the sides for the audition.
* Email us for an appointment.
* Include in the Email: Request a time to audition and role you are auditioning for.
* Chose one of the sides to perform on the evening of the audition (if we want to see others or see you read another part we will ask)

So, I visited the requisite web page. I downloaded the requisite sides. I e-mailed for an appointment. I included my requested time and the role I wished to audition for. And I chose one of the sides to perform.

When I was called into the audition room, no one asked which side I had selected. I was handed a side. A new side. It was not the one I had downloaded and chosen to perform. In fact, because I had stopped perusing sides after I had chosen one to perform, I had not seen this side at all.

Now mind you, I am fond of cold readings. I don't have any problems with being handed a scene with which I am unfamiliar at a cold-read audition. In fact, I think that's rather the point of a cold read. However, when I have been specifically instructed to download and prepare a scene of my choosing and am then asked to do something entirely different which serves to make the time spent diligently following instructions irrelevant, then, well... that is a bit of a problem.

I will not be cast in this production; that was a given before I even made the appointment for an audition. Whatever my talents, my "stage picture" is not what it must be for this production of a sex farce. I went in not so much to be considered for this role as to be remembered and recognized in future auditions where I might make a better-suited appearance.

And I suppose I went in to learn something about this theatre, too. For example, the next time I am instructed to download and choose a side, I'll be choosing them all.

Saved from MySpace

While cleaning up my MySpace page, I decided that this little guy was now outdated: the movie (which I never saw) has come and gone. But I love my little daemon, so I'm saving him here.

Value

Here's a little something I noticed while our actors were "cleaning up" in front of a live audience at the Adams Avenue Car Wash.

The minimum cost of washing your grocery-getter here these days is $3. Three dollars. For FIVE MINUTES.

Bump up to $5 and you can get a whole NINE MINUTES of entertainment.

Yet for a paltry $10 the folks at New Perspective are offering you TWO FULL HOURS of entertainment. And you don't even have to get wet!

Bargain!

*Price for Student, Senior, Military, and AASD. General Admission $12.

Everyone's a Critic

Here's a small sample of the reviews from Anton. There is no dearth of critics in San Diego, let me tell you!

1. The other standout performance is by Kelly Lapczynski (in the article, my picture is inset), a Nashville native and new San Diegan, who absolutely nails all the male characters she plays. She’s excellent in the small role of an obnoxious donor, and outstanding as two directors – an insufferable Brit and a disconcerted Russian. -- Pat Launer, Curtain Calls, KPBS
2. Hilariously in drag, the phenomenally low-voiced Kelly Lapczynski — a terrific find — portrays the Chekhov play’s two directors, first a pretentious Brit that Holly fires, and second, a serious director whose vision is dashed by the three motley actors. -- Charlene Baldridge, La Jolla Village News
3. Kelly Lapczynski does some standout work in many of her assigned roles, most especially, as the British director. -- Cuauhtemoc Kish, San Diego Theatre Scene
4. Kelly Lapczynski is surprisingly natural as a trio of believable male characters: Ralph, the insufferable British director; Wikewitch, the intense/brooding Polish director; and Joe Bob, the cowboy board president who doesn't give a sniff about theatre. -- Pam Kragen, North County Times
   
5. The imposing Kelly Lapczynski never manages to get out of trousers as a couple of pompous European directors. -- Frankie Moran, sandiego.com
6. This is a theatre-goers must-see, for while it is a comedy, it speaks many truths. -- Robert Hitchcox, multiple outlets
7. 6th @ Penn has picked a good script and done it justice, creating a production that everyone who loves theatre — especially small-scale independent theatre — should see. -- Mark Gabrish Conlan, Zenger’s Newsmagazine
8. Anton in Show Business is a romp, good for an evening of giggles in the theater. -- Jean Lowerison, San Diego Gay and Lesbian Times
9. When they don't fuse with Chekhov's sisters, the characters are cardboard. It's a tribute to the 6th@Penn cast that they have some dimensions. -- Jeff Smith, San Diego Reader

Nine reviewers! And this without comment from the Union Tribune.

Brand New Year, Same Old Show

September 9. A date of random and varying import, meaning more to some than to others.

On September 9, 1850, California was admitted as the 31st US state.
On September 9, 1926, the National Broadcasting Company formed.
On September 9, 1956, Elvis appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show for the first time.

On September 9, 2007, I auditioned for Anton in Show Business.

Despite more than 20 people filtering through this 7-woman cast, a cast was finally settled in December. Though in the time it took to mount this production I opened and closed another show, this show has finally opened. Today, for the first time in months, I have a day off that is neither a holiday nor one that will be followed by rehearsal tomorrow. I have, in fact, three days off. It's a wonderful -- and needed -- break.



Three critics visited opening night. We have since seen all three reviews, and the response is overwhelmingly positive.

Though I was noted in one review for doing "some standout work in many of [my] assigned roles" and in another as "imposing," this show is not mine to carry and even the leads were mostly ignored in favor of reviewing the ensemble of "lovely," and "talented" woman with "perfect, rigorous timing" which presented the "problems, pains, joys, and general absurdities that make theatre so much fun and so bloody frustrating."

Amen to that. And on we go. I will begin rehearsing another (smaller) show within the week: a staged reading of Neil Simon's The Good Doctor which will be presented in Carlsbad on February 11. It, too, will open and close while Anton continues.

Fate has a funny way of lining things up. Though I've never done Chekhov, both shows on my immediate radar deal intimately with him. He is the "Anton" in Anton in Show Business, which deals with casting an ill-fated production of The Three Sisters. Though veiled, he is also "The Writer" in Simon's The Good Doctor.

I have not yet delved into the subject of the still unsettled New Perspective Festival, which is currently selecting plays from nearly 50 submissions without having producers, directors, or a venue to mount them. Though I did manage to drum up interest from a local college with a booming theatre department, the college is without a dean and cannot promise us approval to use their space if our "preferred" venue -- still dragging its foundation in responding to our proposal -- falls through.

In other news, there is no sign yet of my pinky healing. Though the Scripps Urgent Care declared it was not broken, worked it through a numbed range of motion, and referred me to Physical Therapy, a second opinion after PT increased swelling and discoloration declared that it had been broken after all. Six weeks after the injury, a third opinion dismissed both previous declarations because the area in question on film and the area in question in pain were not a direct match. What the injury may actually be and how long it may take to heal are still unknown, but while the pain persists, I am to keep the finger immobile. After weeks of splinting and taping, this becomes an increasingly moot point as the joints begin to stiffen.

Perhaps by September 9, 2008 all will become clear.