Samantha Powers Was Right

Hillary Clinton IS a monster.

It's become a ridiculous charade: what will each new day bring? Will Hillary be making a "heartfelt" gesture of calling for party unity and a positive campaign? Or will she be making some new out-of-left-field, unsubstantiated charge against the Obama campaign? Hillary, just stop. Not because I worry about the divisiveness of a protracted primary campaign, but because you are starting to act like the mean-spirited, tactless political schemester your opponents have always accused you of being.

Besides, you are becoming as annoying as André Rieu.

I'm Not Paid to Write the Lyrics (and a public plea)

Anyone who follows my musical career (by choice, or incidentally), knows that tunesmithing is almost tantalizingly easy for me, but that writing lyrics is an unbelievable drag. I've written words to many songs that I'm pretty happy with, in retrospect (for the most part, songs post-college), but if anyone (outside Gibbs & Sharon) had any idea the extent to which I struggle, painfully, to get my thoughts coalesced into a non-cheesy, lyrical form, you would be amazed that I ever managed to finish anything at all.

The worst part of it is that, especially these days, inspiration is fleeting. The motivation to go down into the basement comes and goes (and is mostly gone). I need to be able to seize those golden moments and hammer the inspiration into reality. What's maddening is that I don't struggle for words at all in almost any other writing endeavor. But it is what it is. Just a bit ago, Sharon gave me a spate of time free to go down into the basement to sit down with pen & paper to come up with some words to got with this new song I'm writing - a song I'm more excited about (the musical basis, and the chorus) than any I've had cooking in recent memory: My Friends, the Brits. But here I am, an hour an a half later, with nothing to show for my time but some frustrated scribbling and my last free daylight hours for at least the next week or two flushed down the toilet. I have enough of an artistic sense to know really, really good words when I see them. And everything I was putting down on paper today was not it.

What to do? I can no longer waste any more time, especially when I am currently riding a wave of motivation to record. I must call on an old friend - my favorite lyricist (right up there with Paul Simon): P. Gibb! I need you! Please, will you write the words for My Friends, the Brits? Just based on the title alone, I think you know where I'm headed with this, but let's connect on the phone and talk it through a bit more (that is, if you think you're up to the task).

The struggling-with-lyrics thing; a significant enough issue in my life that I think a blog is long overdue. The public plea was something I thought I'd do for fun. But I am serious about it. Everyone else can watch this artistic collaboration come together first hand, and maybe even shed a wistful tear (or any kind of tear) thinking about the musical history of Pat & Dan.

February Movie Recap

(still in the wake of my reading of Dracula this past fall, my vampire movie research continues)
Bram Stoker's Dracula
1992
Rating: 7
Surprisingly faithful to the novel (hence title), however, cinematography was dolled up to the point of being downright distracting.. Some fine performances excepting that of Keanu Reaves, who was in way over his head here.

Clerks
1994
Rating: 7
Points for ambitious concept and ability to roll through a one and a half hour parade of goofballs interacting with convenience store clerks. Some genuinely hysterical moments, some groaners. Still trying to get my head around whether the crappy acting was at all intentional or just an aspect of the exceedingly low production value.

Sisters

A twelve-month retrospective

Sisters

Wirelessless

So, the recap:

The guy from Wireless Minneapolisvisited yesterday morning and the long & short of it is that our weak signal was unrelated to the Vonage issue. Doing a test run on an antenna outside our house got us a super strong signal; however we were still unable to get the phone to operate normally, to the utter mystification of the tech. I have a theory that, since we were relatively early adopters of Vonage, we are working with something like a 1st-generation modem, without some of the bulit-in quality assurance technology, and that it is unable to comprehend the varying signal that is through-the-air. I could have potentially worked through Vonage to try and get an updated modem, but I'm not sure the extra hassle (extra days without phone service, and trying to work out something so Comcast didn't terminate our existing contract in the meantime) was worth a gamble on a theory based on nothing buy nearly undeducated speculation.

Wireless Minneapolis may roll out a package option to include internet phone sometime in another year or so. If so, I'm back in the game.

January Movie Recap

Thought I'd take a cue from Mixx and start offering up movie thoughts - recapping a given month's viewings in a single post . It'll be pretty easy, as I'm just lifting the ones I'm already doing for Dan's Movies 2008. You guys in the "inner circle" will just get a sneak preview. Here's January, a little after the fact. Things started out on a slooow pace, owing to an incredibly busy start to the year; but I was fortunate to begin things on a streak of three straight "8s."

Silent Movie
1976
rating: 8
True, Mel Brooks has a weakness for working really hard on gags that don't advance the story, but I found this non-stop smorgasboard of laughs (some big, some small), refreshing and enjoyable; especially as I did not suffer so much as a single, unwelcomed and cheesy, "poignant moment."

Gilbert Goddfried: Dirty Jokes
2005
rating: 8
Laughs aplenty in this vulgar 49-minute capture of a small club show of the comedian, including an impressive, 12-minute version of infamous "The Aristocrats."

The Apartment
1960
rating: 8
Recalling a workday world setting that is dated but themes of skullduggery that are not, this Jack Lemmon, Shirley MacLaine romantic comedy is compelling, involved, and - in the end - quite sweet.

SPAM as Spoken Word

The cast....

Jenifer Grubbs and Luitpold Tarwater (intrepid reporters)
August Freudenburg (the absent-minded reporter)
Bartholomew Cordova (time-traveler)
Gladwyn Barreto (the hit-man)
Brock Bradshaw (the quarterback)
Luke Lathan (man about town)
Toby Cain (the "other man")
Dylan Potts (the struggling musician)
Bruno Colbert and Jake Martin (from the Motor-Cycle gang)
Simon Frye (wealthy financier)
Barton Bellamy (his driver)
Cooper Adams (anchorman)
Cornelia Neri (daughter of the prophesizer)
Gustavo Wolf (of the German Secret Police)
Young Beard (the hero)
and introducing...
Mitchel Starks (the autistic boy nobody notices)

It is What it Is.

In the four days since I've had it set up, my Wireless Minneapolis has been an unequivocable disaster. Our internet connection is usually there (but sometimes not), but the signal strength is too weak to support Vonage. We can make calls (except when we can't, and never from our handheld unit), but cannot receive them (except twice, and then only on the base unit).

We have a transmitter node a half block away and our antenna is about a foot from a window, angled right towards it. My steel siding should not be an issue, according to the most recent tech to whom I've spoken. According to all of them, my connection speed should just be "screaming," but - in fact - it is like a limp dick.

In my last couple of calls in, I've tried to impress upon them the difficulty of leading a normal life when unable to receive phone calls at home. And I have two more days until Comcast sends out some fucker to terminate our connection to them. In one last-ditch effort to try and keep me as a subscriber, Wireless Minneapolis is going to send out a tech Thursday morning to try and see if an externally-mounted antenna will do the trick. They claim a 98% success rate when such odd cases as mine are “escalated.”

I’ll still believe this one when I see it.

From doctors to tech service people to financial advisors, I have a long history of being told: “Now THAT’s a new one.” For me, in issues ranging from foot care to routing numbers to just plain expecting a CD-ROM to work, abnormality is the norm. At this point – and really since about age 16 – I’ve learned to expect the unexpected.

Amazing. Transformative, almost. The journey begins?

(pretty much transcribed from an email to Mixx earlier to-day)

Amazing. Transformative for me, almost.

Last I saw the final two parts of a three-part series on PBS called "Walking the Bible," in which the host, a guy by the name of Bruce Feiler, traces the path of the Israelites during their exodus out of Egypt during the five books of Moses in the Old Testament. But that doesn't do the program, or its effect on me, justice.

Perhaps it was the peaceful, meditative atmosphere surrounding the viewing (Rose fell asleep in my lap in a darkened living room. I didn't want to risk setting her down anywhere & waking her up, so I just hung out there in the dark until I decided to flip on the tv). But - and I've mentioned this before - I sometimes am awe-inspired by the character of religious antiquity. The permanence and history of of some of the places & cultures this guy visited was pretty amazing. I found it interesting, the transformative (to use the word) journey Feiler went through in writing the book/doing the film. Some interesting stuf fif you happen to want to read an interview with him: http://www.pbs.org/walkingthebible/interview.html He sums up his experience with "The story of Walking the Bible for me is that I went inlooking for science, and came out craving meaning, in a nutshell."

I've been so utterly turned off by almost every religious instance I have observed in the world over the past few years, that I've pretty much closed myself off to even being open to an opportunity for my own religious experience. He doesn't exactly come out of the experience saying that his faith in such and such religion has been confirmed, but just that - going into this incredibly stark environment, in the midst of these powerfully moving symbols that are at the root of these religions, you are suddenly able to let go of various rational pieces of your brain and open yourself up to something higher. Don't freak out - I'm not joining a revivalist congregation of any sort any time soon. But I think this whole thing about me being turned offon religion has made me deny a certain aspect of my being, which is thatI still crave a sort of meaning that is beyond that which I can touch and see and examine in a peer-reviewed scientific study. And I found myself, at the end of the viewing, with this sort of "journey" suddenly back on the radar, where before it was not. Wow - this is the power of public media in action, huh?

In any event, a viewing of all three parts in one sitting is currently on the agenda, and the book is definitely going in the GoodReads queue.

I also hope Mixx will post his own perception-altering experience he shared in response to my original email.

Area Premiere: A Mini Serial. Post 4: Takin 'er Home

Where all is well that ends well, except in that Dan is UPSTAGED!!!

This, the final post of the Mini-Serial.

Bittersweet, indeed, as the final weekend of performances came about. Bitter, of course, since a period of intense involvement with a very small group of individuals over a two-month period was coming to a close. Sweet, (equally) of course, because a period of time in which I was - ah - not 100% there for my family was also coming to a close.

Anyone who has put this kind of time into a play understands how tightly-knit a cast and crew can become when all is said and done. Amazing - how well you feel you know these individuals by the end of it all. Without a doubt I felt more comfortable with this lot than I generally do around the people I work with. Some of that has to do with the fact that we're thrown into a position where we're working towards a collective goal that we all believe in passionately (as opposed to working towards a goal which is a joke on the human race). But almost certainly, a lot of it has to do with the simple fact that I am in a group of people with who are simply more my type of people.

So, by Tuesday of the week before the final performance, we were about 10 tickets from selling out for both final shows. The pre-pay option was removed from our website, and the message on our box-office voicemail was changed to announce a sellout. We wanted to keep aside 10 tickets for walk-ups, as well as give ourselves some wiggle room were we to run into a last minute event (such as - hey - Dan's parents decided they could come up!). And, indeed, though my parents had originally said they would "..."not be able to make it because Mystic Lake is sold out" (true story, exact quote), an 11th hour epiphany brought them up Minneapolis way.

Just about every possible seat that could be squeezed out was gone by Friday night, and we were to be facing the "rush line" (the group of walk-ups who wait around to see if reservations don't show up). Which makes it all the more remarkable that Aaron walked right in and got a seat. Still not quite sure what happened there, but I'm so glad he came. "Ha ha funny comments" he may leave after this post notwithstanding, he can now attest to the fact that this whole theatre thing is not a ruse.

Friday night went well - without a hitch and energy level was high. I actually had more people I knew at the show that night (a couple of co-workers, a group of Sharon's old friends as well as both her sisters, and a few of other people who left before I changed and came out from backstage). Magical night. Invigorating, performance. Especially, in front of people I know.

Then, the final night. And it was one to remember. Again, sold out house. And, for those keeping score, that meant we ended our nine-play run on a five sellout streak. Outside of the "Guthries" of this scene, that's pretty uncommon in Twin Cities. There's just so many goddamned theatres. Being part of the company made it all the more special. All these talented theatre folks from throughout the area (well, most from Uptown), many of whom we'd like to see on our stage in the future, are having one of their most positive acting experiences ever, right on our stage. It definitely all bodes well for the future of the company.

Anyway - things were going gangbusters. By this time, I've got my lines so much on autopilot that I can really explore every little nook and cranny of doing just what I want to with my character. Then - as we're just getting into this scene in which my character is supposed to be woo-ing the female lead, I hear a titter from the crowd. As an actor, my focus is bomb-proof. I can blow through this, continue my lines and not let the faintest shadow of any uncertainty cross my face. But inside, I'm starting to wonder "huh? What's going on?" The titter becomes laughter, and suddenly I'm thinking, "OK, my fly is down. I have a booger on my face. My acting is so laughable, they just want me to leave." Yet, the focus and performance continues. Yes, it's a comedy, but - understand - this is not a comedic scene.

That's when I hear the meow. OK...some background. About three weeks into rehearsal, a particularly friendly cat wandered up to a group of us hanging around outside the building, smoking. Long story short: he was adopted by Duane (the guy who owns the facility and is also a company member), and now he lives right there in the building. It was an ongoing "cat-and-mouse game" (so to speak), to make sure he was never able to slip through any of the main three stage doors and get backstage (as, desperately, he wanted to). We wanted to make sure he couldn't make mischief in the prop area and - more importantly - we needed him out before the house opened. At that point, he needed to be locked away in an office for the duration of the show.

Well...on this final night, the box office folks let him wander about in the lobby during the final half of the show. That's when a woman, feeling ill, got up and rushed out of the theatre. And - of course - the cat rushed in.

So here I am, telling the female lead that I have a plan as to how we can be together that night. "I will take Theo out to the boulevard, get him drunk, and return alone..." And at that moment, a gray tail flicked in front of my face. As I was later to find out, this cat was sitting up on the stage stove setpiece, eating a sausage out of a pan.

Different schools of theatre could debate this next moment to the end of time.

The method folks will credit my focus, lauding my ability to not direct my focus for one second away from the scene. For, I never saw the cat, but for the tail. And I also never saw exactly who it was that slipped in, not one foot away from me, and scooped the cat away (though I heard the good natured applause). I thought it was Duane. It was the director, Chris.

All the improvisation folks will chastise and ridicule me for not seizing upon the most Carol Burnett Show-like moment I may ever have the fortune to have bestowed upon me. Imagine how this delightful tale might have turned into the most impeccably delivered comedic moment of my life, had I simply stopped talking mid-sentence, paused, flashed Lindsay (the actress opposite me) a calm set of raise eyebrows, reached over and given the cat a pet, then continued the scene.

Was it a triumph of focus? Or a failure to think on one's feet? Alas, it will go down in my annals (two "n"s, here folks, calm down) of my "might-have-been"s along with that 10+ lb muskie that bit through my fishing line when I was 14 years old.

Classic ending to a classic run of the show, however. After it was done, it was slam bam thank you ma'am, and the set was down and strike party on. I'd pretty much done enough partying to last me for about a six year run of Tony & Tina's Wedding, so I acted with my hoped-for level of discretion and left at a modest 12:30 am. All's well that ends well. I got some acting out of my system, and I'm hopefully ready to pursue some other facets of my life with increased vigor.

Peace out.

"The latest fashion is right about..."

"Here."

Area Premiere: A Mini Serial. Post 3: WTC Sells Out

Following up on the good review, we were mentioned by one of the "big three" theatre critics in town, and made the City Pages' coveted "A-List" (actually for the 2nd time in as many shows).

Not sure if that played into attendance numbers over this past weekend, if word-of-mouth is spreading, or what, but our attendance is suddenly of control. Our Thursday night "Camden Night" was filled to the gills, with attendance further stretching our opening night record, this time pulling in a whopping 52 patrons. Additional chairs had to be brought in. Older, somewhat less comfortable ones. It was a boisterous night, made up (we imagine) of the blue-collar second-generation Camdenites; the ones who don't normally make live theatre part of their lifestyle, but know a good deal in their backyards when they see it. Laughter was frequent and loud, if sometimes somewhat oddly-placed, with the place generally sporting a faint odor of cigarettes and booze. There was a particular fellow in the back, with a deep resonant voice, who followed a number of lines delivered by actors onstage with a hearty affirmation of "hear, hear!" Good times, and quite rewarding.

The following day I sent emails to people I knew to be considering coming that night or the following, letting them know 1) if you haven't reserved your ticket, get on the stick 2) get there early if you want a good seat 3) consider going next weekend, when there's less people on the list - for the moment. And that night, had to squeeze even more chairs in and attendance was up to a whopping 56. Not too many more seats to squeeze people in.

Or so we thought.

The show tonight was unbelievable. Fifteen minutes prior to curtain we were told people were waiting in the lobby to see if there would be any no-shows. The box office people scrambled (ending up actually using the chair behind the ticket counter) and fit as many people as could possibly be squeezed into the space. Grand total of 66. And it was a fun-loving, seemingly theatre-literate crowd that went with every moment right along with us.

As far as the show itself, the repeated performances (seven under our belts thus far, with one weekend remaining) have continued to solidify. Second nature, now, are lines, "bits," and even appropriate places to anticipate holding for laughter (though "Camden Night" did throw us for a bit of a collective loop). It's immensely satisfying to have enough performances to continue to develop a character, and also to note & correct minor pieces of a performance that might not be to my satisfaction on a given night.

Two shows left, then some much needed down-time (until I fly to Austin on business the first week of March). It's going to be pretty crazy, not thinking, breathing, and dreaming The Underpants over the next five days.

Area Premiere: A Mini Serial. Post 2: Opening Weekend

In Which "Delightfully Over-The-Top" and "Not-So-Delighfully Over-The-Top" are Used To Describe Dan in the Same Evening

Bam-bam-bam-bam. Four shows in four days, following the dress rehearsal. Attendance has been up, and we even had a man who is probably the pre-eminent "theatre blogger" in the Twin Cities show up for night one and praise us somewhat lavishly in a review that just came out yesterday. If want to take time to read the entire article, he actually describes the play and just about everything that went into it, while heaping compliments on just about everything and everyone involved. If you don't want to take time to read through, I'll just note that my performance was described as being "...delightfully over-the-top." Thank goodness for that particular choice of adverb. But anyway - everything in the first night's show could not have gone much better. Huge crowd (49 patrons - we had to add chairs from our standard arrangment, which is somewhat smaller with the new, expanded stage and some somewhat reduced sightlines), lots of laughs, and I was very humbled by a lot of very kind things people said at the opening night reception, following the show.

That is - I must assume I felt that way at the reception, because I do not remember the hours after 10 pm very clearly.

I'm going to make a long and messy story very short and simply say - WHY O WHY do I not have the ability to just kind of party?

And I'm going to follow it up by saying that my hangover I had the next day was beyond agonizing. To the point that, after I had suffered through a day of a severe chills (yes, friends, chills), and probably my seventh fit of vomiting (no exaggeration) at 4:30 pm (2nd night show approaching fast with a 6:30 call-time), I actually had begun to wonder if I was maybe actually suffering, instead, from a bout of food poisoning. (I happened to posit that possible theory in the presence of my fellow actors that evening - while strategically placing plastic bags backstage - and it since become the stuff of legends, with the term "food poisoning" always being accompanied by requisite "finger quotes").

Funny also (only in retrospect) as I was curled up in front of a space heater, shaking, at 5:45 or so when Sharon came in and asked how late I'd wait till I'd decide whether to call someone.

"Call someone?" (I shot upright) "What are you talking about?!?"

"About whether you can do the show."

"And what do you suppose they'd do if I said I couldn't do the show."

"Cancel it?"

She's so cute.

Aaaanyway, the food poisoning had worked its way out of my body in time for the Sunday matinee. Crowds (from Friday through the Monday pay-what-you-can-night) have gotten steadily smaller (par for the course; they'll pick up again for the final two weekends), while I have felt my performance get more comfortable and "on."

For now, I'm looking forward to a solid final couple of weeks of the show and a little more recreational discretion in my remaining decades of This Life.

Area Premiere: A Mini Serial. Post 1: Dress Rehearsal

In which Dan prepares himself and his daughter for the dress rehearsal and valiantly fights off an infirmity.

Tonight is Dress Rehearsal. For the layperson, that's the final rehearsal - often with close friends, family, & production crew in attendance so the performers can get a sense of timing with laughs & other audience reaction - before opening night.

Sharon & Lucy will be there. It's a pretty innuendo-laden, suggestive show, but all that stuff is going to fly right over Lucy's head. She's going to love the constant mugging, the flying in & out of doors, and the general sense of zaniness, as well as joining in with the rest of the audience when they have a good belly laugh. And she'll get a huge kick out of seeing her dad. I've been talking her through the production process; she's gotten to meet the other actors and see behind the stage doors (to backstage!), and all sort of other this-is-how-it's-done stuff and this will be a great opportunity to see how all the pieces of a production come together; how a group of committed individuals can work together to produce something that adds something to the fabric of her community. Whether or not she sees in quite those terms at age four, something will stick in that little head, somewhere. And it also is pretty cool to be a dad who can grant special privleges (Lucy wearing her own costume in the "costume parade," seeing portions of rehearsals, etc.) as a result of me being a fancy-schmancy company member.

I woke up yesterday sick. Nearly full-blown cold. Poor, poor timing. In the past 36 hours, however, an unGodly amount of forced down time, Vitamin-C, Zicam, water, (and even the mysterious, homeopathic aconite) has managed to force the thing more or less out of my body and I think I'm ready to go.

The last few nights of tech week (the final week, when all the "technical" pieces are in place), I've been either attempting to meditate, running through my scenes in my head, or reading The Geography of Nowhere (see GoodReads sidebar). Tonight I'm going to sit back and listen to the audience (hopefully) enjoy the show in the way I'm expecting them to.

The board is set. The pieces are in motion.

A Tale of Two Parties, Minneapolis MN, 02/02/08

Mitt Romney in an unnamed office complex in Edina.

Barack Obama at the Target Center.

(photos by Jennifer Simonson and Alissa Haupt, Star Tribune)

To Kill A Mockingbird

Overated?

Even just a bit?

Discuss...

And Proud Of It

The Whistle Stop Tour

US Senate candidate Al Franken came to do a North Minneapolis meet & greet at the facility where my theatre group performs. Coolio! PMixx & I both streamed his show pretty religiously for the two-odd years it was on, and consider him to be a helluva guy, with the makings to be a public servant of the highest order.


It was nice to see him in person, and pretty wild that he was sitting there, addressing a crowd of supporters, on the same stage I will be performing on in less than three weeks.

Al on our stage. Note the ever-improving interior set.

Al, Lucy, & me. Lucy doing quite well, actually, being held by a strange man. This shot is going in a box somewhere right next to the one with me & George Takei.

The Underpants

Louise discovers the fleeting price of fame when her underpants drop during the King’s parade, much to her stuffy bureaucratic husband’s dismay. Suddenly, the couple’s "Room for Rent" sign goes down and the renters (all male) seem to want their sugar included. The Underpants is Steve Martin’s riotous adaptation of Carl Sternheim’s 1910 German farce, Die Hose. Things haven’t changed much since 1910… think Janet Jackson’s Superbowl fiasco or the recent Brittney Spears tabloid shots.

So, my theatre company has been quietly marching along this season, at least as far as my communication in this venue is concerned. But I guess it is time to mention that we have an upcoming show, The Underpants, by Steve Martin (yes, that Steve Martin), and I'm in it.

You get the gist of the show in the description above. It's a sex farce; and a fast-paced, pun-laden, slapstick one at that. I play one of the renters - Frank Versati - an elegant poet (and foppish womanizer) who works to seduce Louise (unbeknownst to her husband) and makes an enemy of a rival suitor - Cohen, an asthmatic barber who seeks to thwart my efforts.

We play nine shows over three weekends beginning on Feb. 9. For those in town or within striking distance, I'd love to see you there. And for anyone who last saw one of our full-length plays in the community center, this may blow your balls off. We now have a (semi) permanent raised stage, a fully-constructed set with three doors (the more doors, the more hi-larious the farce!), and a full lighting system. The space is hot.

Smell ya later.

Project 365 is So 2007...

See the ambitious endeavor upon which my friend Matt has embarked...

(actually - Kudos to the Project 365ers. Stephen doing what I could not - again - and Aaron for going against the odds)