|
traynor
|
read my profile
sign my guestbook
Country: United States
State: New York
Birthday: 8/1/1983
Gender: Male
Interests: anything and everything.
but if you're a bastard and want specifics:
music, writing, boxing, irish history/folklore/artwork, baseball and women.
Expertise: none of the above.
but i play the spoons like a champ.
Occupation: Student
Message: message meEmail: email me
AIM:  tray169
Member Since:
6/21/2004
|
|
SubscriptionsSites I Read
|
|
|
|
| [Good Lordy Lord]
Holy crap. A whole month since I've posted. I'm such a delinquent.
Well I went on vacation to Nantucket, which was amazing as usual. My grandmother was there and it was great to see her. I ran to the beach every morning at like 7am and went swimming. I'm so happy I did that as every day seemed so much more full after a good morning swim. And the six mile run to get there and back. There's something about a completely deserted beach in the early morning that does great things for the soul, that's all I can say.
So now I'm back from New Haven and looking for more theater work while working at my old carpentery/construction manager job. It's a sweet gig money-wise but I feel like it's getting to be time to move on. We'll see what turns up.
Little sister is back at college, so good luck to her. And Christine goes off to work tomorrow, so much luck and love to her.
Me, I gotta go relax.
| | |
| [Phhhhhhbt.]
Happy Birthday to me? | | |
| [AHHHHHHHH]
I'm so damn bored!!!! Damn it people, come to New Haven! I'll buy beer!
One friend is coming into town today, should be fun.
But I sit on my ass until Saturday, which is when strike happens. So come up here and keep me company for a day or two.
And now, a haiku:
My three pairs of shoes
Wait by the door for me to
Get off ass and move.
Yes, it was a cruddy one. But oh so appropriate. | | |
| - Heroin[Heavy Shit]
Man, this fucking play.
I swear to god it's messed up. Rainer Fassbinder had problems and because of these problems he decided to make the audience suffer as much as possible. I really think that this is as close to Artaud's concept of a "theater of cruelty" as I've ever seen. It just takes a toll to watch and perform, so nobody involved in the stage comes out unscathed. In that, I suppose, there is something genius about it.
A wise man I work with said that an audience will have only three possible reactions to a performace: disgust/revulsion (they basically hate it for content, staging, directing, etc), arousal (of emotions and ideas) or they'll simple put up a wall and shut you out.
The amazing thing about this show, in my opinion, is that it makes the third option an impossibility. Putting up walls and desensitizing oneself to violent images is an instinctual mental process. It helps us to avoid over-burdening ourselves. It's also something that all of us do every single day, like when we turn on the news. Violence is so prevelant at this point that we know how to handle it and accept it almost as background noise while we go about our lives. I think a big reason we're able to handle it is that it confronts us in bursts and for the most part we have a say over our composure. We can turn off the news. We can put down a newspaper. Movies and TV shows are designed to give us breaks between the high tension moments.
This play robs the audience of that ability and forces them to look directly at the violent images that basically comprise its text. It keeps the violence, all which is senseless, at a constant pace until it breaks down your protection and makes you observe it. You can't look away because the sound surrounds you and you're left to your own imagination, which is even worse.
The one thing I can't understand is how the actors deal with performing it every damn night. There's one scene where two actors mimick sex to climax in a chair while another one has an epilectic seizure on the ground. They watch the other actor writhe, moan and rant while mocking her and become more aroused as she approaches death. After the scene is complete, they walk behind the curtains and all of them are either shaking or crying. The only thing I can think of that they can do is try to acclimate themselves to that one scene. But in this case it puts them in the situation of deciding between living the material and becoming moved because of it or simply doing their best to go on auto-pilot (which, as I said, is in no way easy). Either way, they kick ass.
And with that I'm going to bed. Early day tomorrow and a good friend from school is coming to hang out and crash at my place overnight. Should be awesome. | | |
| - Bastards on Parade [Tech Blues]
Yesterday I pulled what is referred to in theater jargon as a "ten out of twelve" tech rehearsal. For the uninitiated, this means 10 out of 12 hours is spent in rehearsal, with a 2 hour break for dinner and two ten minute breaks, one pre-dinner and one afterwards.
Yeah, if you think it sucks, it kinda does. More so for me really. As a TD/ME basically I sit there. The Stage Manager, Shawn, runs the show, so he works with the Lighting, Video and Sound Designers to plan the show out cue by cue so he can hit the right lighting combo and sounds at the right time. Basically it involves moving through the show at an agonizingly slow pace and troubleshooting every few minutes.
Problem is, unless something malfunctions or they need consultation about something, I do nothing but sit there and wait for something to break. Which can get a bit old. I can't leave, because I'm required to be present. So instead I sit here and Xanga.
More to come. | | |
|
