Saturday, July 29, 2006

Gone with the Wind

Last night, Alice turned to me after too many rum-and-cokes and asked, "What do you really think has happened to the city?"

I tried to explain my belief, in too many words, that New Orleans is dead and that something new and different would replace it.

This morning I came across this. Read this special report from The Guardian.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

I Met Jorge Last Night

Take Me Out has its first Hispanic actor, or at least, the first one who has committed to doing the play and subsequently showed up for rehearsal. Not only showed up for rehearsal, but stepped right into the shower scene in Act Two, meaning he is willing to appear nude in our production. So few Hispanics who expressed an interest in doing the play were willing to do nudity that we were reblocking in order to take them out of that scene altogether. Jorge, I love you.

I love all my actors, Darren, David, Carlos, Steve and Steve, Chris, Alphonse, and Gemayel. It's such a beautiful thing to see actors going through the steps of cobbling together a performance. I'd forgotten the sheer beauty of that process, the actors starting with baby steps, then learning to speak, gaining confidence, moving out on their own, taking the space you once commanded and making it - their world now - totally their own.

They grow so fast.

It's a good thing I didn't have children. I would have driven them away - driven them bats - mooning over this all-too-common, banal, and tragic cycle of life.

It's going well, and I cannot sleep.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

First Rehearsal under Our Belts

Last night marked our first read-through for the New Orleans premiere of Take Me Out by Richard Greenberg. Unfortunately, although we started with one character not cast, three actors chose not to show up for rehearsal. Unbelievable but not atypical in this town. A real shame, though, because the cast we've put together really has what it takes to make a mark on this community. They are already relating to each other as if they've worked together before, and should be able to draw fire off each other in the clinch of performance. Some are very experienced, some are beginners, but all of them have what it takes.

God, what a team.

Monday, July 17, 2006

July 17

Today is my birthday. Happy birthday to me.

I've decided to be 48 again. 48 is a good age, mature, rugged. Not old. Not slimy, saggy, and squishy. Rugged. Yeah, that's me. I expect to be 48 for the next 10 years or so. Fuck 'em if they don't think I look it.

This is the Hebrew script for raham. It's a loaded word, meaning so many things on top of its major meaning of compassion. I'm going to have it tattooed on me. It's my birthday gift to myself.

Haven't figured out how to keep Bob from noticing it yet. But that shouldn't be a problem. He didn't notice when I had my nipples pierced 20 years ago. How the hell do you not see that?

The translation above came from It's where the Beckhams stop to shop.

Wish me well.

Sunday, July 16, 2006


I had a bad night last night. I'm fine and will continue going on.

Saturday, July 15, 2006

I Wish I Were Dead

I've been hanging on for the past several months, hoping to see daylight. It never comes. The city is still bone-white dead. I have been contemplating retirement from my job, suicide, forced annihilation, oblivion, etc. But too many people have influenced me, to my detriment, to "go on" (in the stark words of Samuel Beckett) that, in spite of everything, I still just sit here, useless, worthless - for no obvious reason - gestating.

My job is metamorphosing into something Medusa-like that cannot succeed. People in need are being denied basic benefits by the state. But I cannot talk about that.

Let's talk about my void.

For the past few months, I have been a wraith. Non-existent, pointless, and of no use for anything or anyone.

Day after tomorrow, I tackle directorship of a play that is being forecast as an abject failure in the Times-Picayune. What's the point? Maybe the point is that I no longer care. What can anyone do to me that I haven't already done to myself? So fuck you, Mr. [sic] Know-Nothing Reviewer.
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