In a Word

Is it a sign of the economical times that most of the plays you see nowadays have economical one-word titles? Remember plays like “Oh Dad Poor Dad, Momma’s Hung Him in the Closet and We’re Feeling So Sad”? “How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying?” Now we have “Art”, and “Proof”, and “Doubt”, and “Race” and driving up Eight Avenue in NY today I saw two new billboards for “Trust” and “Wings”. Is it me or are we running out of words? Or has the MTV generation rendered us as a society incapable of absorbing anything that long? Why try to explain to a potential date what “Angels in America: Millenium Approaches” is about when you can say “Let’s see ‘Shoes”!” “What’s it about?” “It’s about ‘shoes’!”

Are these plays, as good as they might be, the results of a challenge? Pick a word, any word, out of the dictionary and write a play about it. It’s as good an approach as any. I belonged to a workshop where someone got the idea to stimulate playwrights by choosing a “Word of the Week”. You had to write 3-5 pages using or about that word. Consequently, I stopped writing plays and starting writing 3-5 page skits. I wrote a few and then I stopped writing altogether. I couldn’t think beyond five pages. No idea I got seemed worth any more time than that. So I am in awe when Mamet and Kopet and Stoppard and the rest of the current greats of the dramatic world can slam out 90 minutes by riffing on a word.

And speaking of 90 minutes, what happened to the two act play, let alone the three act play with two intermissions? I think I know. Writers are afraid that, if they let people out of their seats at intermission, they will not return for act two, leaving the TV and film stars who have been hired because of the name recognition for NY tourists with no one to play to.

I'm Being Followed

Imagine my surprise and delight when I opened my email today to discover that “Joan from Colbert Nation” was now following me on Facebook… or Twitter. I thought you “friended” on Facebook and “followed” Tweets on Twitter. But I quibble. I was excited.

In the old days, the idea that someone was following you was cause for alarm. Now it’s exciting. I don’t know who “Joan” is but she likes me! And that fits neatly in with my pathological need to be liked. So I clicked on her hyperlinked name to find out who she was. It took me to the home page for Colbert Nation. I love Colbert Nation. Stephen Colbert has created a character so satirical that I am sure there are people in the country that don’t know he is joking; people who believe his arch-conservatism is real; people who are really dumb. But I was still looking for “Joan”. Does she work there? How did she find my little blog? Will she pass it along to Stephen? Will they call me for a job? (I am still looking, after all.)

There was no picture of her, just that generic silhouette of a female. They wanted me to “follow” Colbert Nation. Well, I already get daily emails from his website, videos of show highlights and, of course, I watch the show whenever I can stay up late enough. So do I really want more daily contact? I come from a family that kept a running dialogue with each other via the phone several times each day. “I’m going out.” “I just got back.” I’m making dinner.” “I’m in the bathroom!” “What’s new?” What could possibly be new since the last call fifteen minutes ago? This childhood experience has given me an aversion to talking to ANYONE everyday. How soon would even Stephen Colbert become boring if I were to hear from him several times a day? I daren’t risk it. Still, if you are indeed following me, Joan, and are not someone hired by Colbert Nation to recruit more followers for his own blog, then you are reading this now…. And I find that very cool.

Too Busy to Breathe

I'm afraid I am in so far above my head... I spent the day playing with Google. Well, part of the day. The rest was spent cleaning, something I am incapable of doing flat out so I pepper the effort with eating, working on the computer and watching TV. So while I watched "House" and "NCIS" reruns, did the laundry, cleaned the living room, kitchen, two bathrooms, our bedroom and exchanged my summer clothes for my fall/winter clothes, I got myself a Google Voice phone number for my Stray Kats Theatre Company, set up a second Google account attached to my other email address which is attached to my website, and got another Google Voice number for my acting career which makes it look like I live in New York and not in "Bumfuck" as my kids so lovingly call it. Are you as confused as I am? When I tried to post this blog entry Icouldn't remember how to sign in. Too many passwords and usernames. I've either got it straight now or have just complicated my life to the point of insanity.

It has been a strange week. My husband, freaking out when the temperature dropped to the 60s, dashed off to spend a week in Florida with my Mom and brother. I was concerned that his delirium at being in the tropics would wear off after 24 hours and they would kill each other, but he's coming home tomorrow and they all still seem to be happy. (Actually, they're having a ball! Why is it never so peaceful and cheery when I am there too?)

I am still recovering from the back to back marathons of Giants and Jets opening days at the New Meadowlands Stadium last Sunday and Monday. Just getting there was a trip (and I mean that literally and figuratively), waking at 4 a.m., deer-dodging down the Saw Mill River Parkway (I have NEVER seen so many deer) and then almost being blind-sided by one poor, lost, terrified buck on the 8-lane approach to the Tappan Zee Bridge. (What WAS he doing there?!) Two 14 hour days of non-stop catering. We made more coffee than Starbucks! And forget about the beer! I returned home to prepare for the start of my acting classes the next night only to discover I had two students. Then three. I called them to cancel. Then another call and bingo, I had four. I uncancelled. Then only three showed up. I did the class anyway. Then one dropped out because they wouldn't let her pay in installments. I'm sorry, but is there anyone out there who can just plunk down a chunk of change these days? It's fine with me!!! I just want the students! Pay when you can! But no, she's gone. So now I'm down to two. Guess I'll be cancelling that by next week. I'm trying to look past the fear and see the message: What am I supposed to be doing? Meanwhile, I juggle: NMS, Stray Kats, Seven Angels, Play With Your Food, "Cheesecake Proposal" (I'm directing), Flagpole Radio Cafe (I'm going to be acting), and cleaning the house. Is it any wonder I'm confused?

All Around the Mulberry Bush...

How badly did we want the rights to do a reading of Albee's "A Delicate Balance"? First I call the WIlliam Morris Agency as per the instructions in the script. Jonathan Lomma at WMA tells me "This request goes to DPS. Craig Pospisil can help you." Craig Pospisil at DPS tells me Samuel French publishes and licenses A DELICATE BALANCE. Jonathan Donahue at Samuel French tells me to send to Jonathan Lomma at William Morris: 1.      Headshot and resume of each actor (including age) 2.      Director CV 3.      Rehearsal schedule (Minimum 4-week rehearsal period and 4-day tech period, separate and IN ADDITION TO the 4-week rehearsal period) 4.      Performance schedule (Including not shorter than 1 week of previews) 5.      Costume Design Sketches 6.      Set Design Sketches I tell Jonathan Donahue "I JUST WANT TO DO A READING! Besides, I have already contacted Jonathan Lomma and he said to contact you."   Jonathan Donahue replies: "Thank you for this additional information.  You may still be required to provide some materials to Jonathan Lomma at William Morris." And to… "Please also include his assistant on any correspondence…" So I write again to Jonathan Lomma and asks me, "Have you submitted any materials?" I explain. "Catch 22?" Jonathan Lomma writes: Ok. Everybody hold and let’s appreciate how hilarious this is getting. Kate, let me make a phone call… I short order, I hear from Alicia Grey at Samuel French and the arrangements are made. I am given a price for the rights to do two readings plus a "convenience fee" if I pay online. "Convenience?" I send a check.

Afraid to Read

My husband has very good taste in books. I don’t know how he does it but he manages to find books that are really good among the stacks of bestsellers designed to get a person on the subway from point A to point B without missing their stop. He finds books that make you want to ride on until the book is done. His last suggestion was “The True Story of Hansel and Gretel” and I loved every beautifully, painfully crafted page. I picked out the next book by myself and it is so boring and redundant, I stopped midway, unable to believe it made it into print. There is not a single character I care enough about to turn another page. I find myself resisting his latest suggestions though. I am reluctant to begin anything good knowing that it will end. By the same token, I can’t bring myself to get another dog. Dogs and good books are two things that require a commitment knowing full well that they will end, that you will have to go on without them, paying the emotional tax of losing them. Anyone who has ever loved and lost a dog knows what I am talking about. The hole they leave in your life can never be filled. Even now, years after my Roma passed, I cannot drive through Fairfield Hills without seeing her walking up the hill with me, so happy in her outing, only to discover moments later that she was in incredible pain and would have to be put down because of bone cancer in a few short weeks. So it is with characters in books that I come to love and then have to leave, wondering about what they will do next. I am worried about Gretel and the scars she bears. Will Hansel ever be able to trust anyone or will he always sleep with one eye open? My husband is already a few books ahead of me and I sigh looking at them on my nightstand, afraid to take the plunge.

Who Do I Call

It’s been such a busy summer. Here it is, Labor Day weekend, and we haven’t had a single dinner on our lovely deck. We normally reserve the bulk of our meager “entertaining” for summer weekends, placing a couple of tables along the side of the long deck and having what I perceive as Italian style dinners “al fresco”, surrounded by the trees and sometimes dodging the acorns that fall from the trees like bullets. It is Saturday morning and I am contemplating who to call. Who will be available at the last minute? Of the groups of people I think make great dinner combos, which ones do I call first? Which one of each group is pivotal? And which group? Which of my friends won’t look at the hodgepodge my house has become and not shake their heads in disbelief at the chaos? Our son moved back in for the final year of his master’s degree so he could take a hospital post nearby and also so he could afford to eat. With him came all the furniture he accumulated: not much; a desk, a chair, a futon. Consequently, we moved the couch in my office to the living room, put the futon in the office, moved the nightstand in his room to the other side of the bed to make room for the desk and squeezed the chair in between the desk and the bed. He is now able to sit at his desk and stretch his legs out on the bed while studying. The bed also makes a great shelf. As for the living room… well, my husband sat down on one of the two sofas, three armchairs, three dressers, three footstools and a coffee table to have a cup of coffee and I said, “The Doctor will be with you in a moment.” It looks that much like a waiting room. It reminds me of an old story: A woman goes to the Rabbi and says, “Oy, Rabbi, I don’t know what to do! My house is so small and crowded, it’s making me crazy!” He tells her to go to the barn and get all the chickens and put them in the kitchen. They get the goat and the cow and the horse put them in the living room. Then put the rabbit cages in the bedroom. So she does. A week later she returns screaming. “Rabbi, what did you do to me? I have no room even to move!” So he tells her to take the chickens back to the bar, the goat the cow and the horse back to the pasture and the rabbits back outside. She returns a week late and says, “Rabbi, you’re a genius! I have so much room!” So my son says we should have a party because there are so many places for people to sit and talk. I say yes, but is there any place for them to walk? Is the glass half empty or half full? I have never been able to answer that. Meanwhile, who do I call?

Another Opinion of "The Mosque"

I don’t believe that anyone is actually objecting to the construction of an Islamic Center in New York City. What I believe what people are objecting to is the construction of a monument to one of the major causes of the events on 9/11.

Imagine if a Neo-Nazi group wanted to build a Hitler Youth Center across the street from Dachau. They’re not “Nazis” in the 1930s-1940s sense; they just want a place to play basketball. Would anyone object? You betcha! The idea of building a monument in any sense to the terror the Nazis rained down upon the world is unthinkable. The idea that one would be built near any spot where so many died in the name of their ideology is unimaginable. So why is it that there are people who are not affronted by the idea of building a gorgeous, gleaming 13 story tower dedicated to an ideology that brands all non-Muslims as infidels; that to this day, kills people for “spreading Christianity” in Islamic countries, and, to top it off, placing that monument near the site where over 3000 people died in the name of that ideology?

A while back, my family drove to Wallingford CT to protest at a neo-Nazi rally. Some right-wing lunatic was speaking at the library there and hundreds of people showed up to let him and his supporters know they were unwanted. No one stopped him from speaking though; in the U.S. this was his right. No one is objecting to the construction of an Islamic Cultural Center either. We may not agree with the extremist fringe of Islamic ideology but no one is saying “you have no right to be Muslim”; just not here where the sight of such a monument is painful and inappropriate.