naked rehearsal

The show I'm working on now is set in a morgue and five of six characters are dead. And naked. They're going to have body makeup eventually (surely cold comfort) but for now we're just starting to work on being naked all the time.

Yesterday was the first naked day and we, ladies of the loyal production crew, pitched in to help the gender ratio and the camaraderie. The six actors, the director, and we three "staff" all stood on a circle, faced outwards, stripped, and turned around. Then we all giggled and said hello and shook hands and were polite. Director Dan commented on the absence of uncircumcised cast members (sic). Brief discussion ensued. Then we sang a song together! It was like naked preschool. After a while the staff put on our underwear (hey, it's hot in there) and sat around disinterestedly talking about how women's 'boy-short' underwear always creeps up your butt.

The actors got their team robes and made some naked sculptures. What a great job I have.

hit the ground running

I returned from the giant Israel debacle on Tuesday morning and after a too-brief nap, went straight to rehearsal.

I'm working on Romeo&Juliet (in Clark Park! August 1-5 at 7pm, be there) and the immense undertaking that is Pig Iron's latest Live Arts Festival offering (Sept 1-16, be there) and the Jewish Dialogue Group deliberation guide and of course the sainted Day Job as simulated patient. And that's just the stuff I get paid to do.

Did I provide these links before? Can't even remember. Photos of Israel upcoming but for the now, get on Facebook and become my "friend" and you'll see some other people's great photos (of me). I miss having noodle-around time with teh internets.

I feel overwhelmed. Physically tired and a bit shaky. I'll to bed, but first say: this too shall pass. I'm going to be circumspect in the fall about how much I try to do. Also, though: I love traveling and miss it. Haven't been anyplace new in a year and a half. Want to live abroad, despite having just moved into a bigger lovelier room in my apartment. Ugh, moving; sigh, new space. Hm.

praise them in the highest

Pig Iron, that is. Looks like they're hiring me as dramaturg for their Live Arts festival commissioned production: ISABELLA, aka Measure for Measure in a morgue. I will see dead people. Huzzah with a cherry on top.

I've moved my Israel return flight to accommodate the rehearsal schedule. Damn, no time to visit Nablus and the international human rights workers. I've started looking at my SP schedule with misty eyes; jumping into that will wait until September. Or, rather, I'll do my training and work the minimum hours to stay involved.

And we're looking for new roommates, and I saw a good show (The Four of Us, by Itamar Moses), and there are all kinds of meetings and things dashing about. I'm teaching a clown workshop for non-actors, focused on presentation skills, for the next couple of weeks. That's sort of embarrassing because I don't think I'm qualified, but I planned it, and it will be fun. It's hazy hot and humid. I want some ice cream. Need to get some stuff done on the writing project. Ho hum.

On another note: outrage: the Gaza situation. Israeli Foreign Ministry spokesman Mark Regev (always spouting criminally ridiculous lies on BBC in his charming accent) says "it is not our intention to sit idly by during a human rights crisis in Gaza." Of course not, you effing salesman, you don't sit idly by, your government creates and aggravates the human rights crises in Gaza.

why blog?

not because I got an interesting new job (standardized patient)

not because I started writing a guide (scroll down) to the Israel-Palestine conflict

not because I saw the last episode of the Sopranos without ever seeing it before

not because I went to Boston and heard crazy news (George is engaged!) or saw wonderful people (happy birthday, Mom, enjoy that extra cheesecake)

not because I went to New York and heard crazy news (oh Louisa!) or saw wonderful people (all yall)

not because we had a great meeting with synagogue folks to theorize prayer

not because of all the random articles online that I bookmark in order to remember to share

...no, I save my writing for petty ludicrous hijinx:

Yesterday I flew from Boston to Philly. I packed a big backpack just about solid with books and clothes from the mothership (Forest Street) and my usual courier with the current book and calendar and water and (gasp) mesh pouch of sundry hygiene items. Nothing over 3oz, 4 tiny bottles total. I get to the TSA gauntlet, and feign naivete when the 7-foot-tall inquisitor guy asks me if I have a Ziploc baggie. In my mind, this should be appropriately copyright-tagged: "Ziploc brand resealable plastic storage bag."

I have no baggie. He says I can dump my stuff (perfume! no.) or go out to the newsstand, where they sell "Ziploc baggies" for 35 cents. I note the lack of people in line, exit the TSA danger zone, buy my baggie. My mother laughs at me. I reload, stowing the hazardous teeny-Tom's-of-Maine in a few microns of crisp plastic, sealing up those menacing eyedrops, and hustle through the gauntlet. Mr Inquisitor ignores me, now "wanding" a hapless teenage droneboy with a suitcaseful of trashy Tom Clancys and nondescript garb.

Sparing you the details of a plane-hop (though it must be asked, what makes these pretzels 'gourmet'?) and train-slog homewards, I arrive at my front porch in West Philly, fumble archetypically with my keys, and realize:

On the keychain is my 2" folding pocketknife, slim, classy, and razor-sharp. That little beauty went through a scanner twice without notice, and, as Laurel commented, "could definitely kill someone."

dear WHYY, I am so sorry

It's membership time, and when they did it last quarter, I joined. this time I have no reason to be guilty, but they've got me on the coals again. oy.

Cashflow isn't such a problem right now, but I'm still watching the expenses and holding my breath over the next few potential contracts. In case you hadn't heard, I lost my job at the msngrbag joint, so. Other projects abound, and the shekels aren't clinking like they sort of once used to. (Always the way: too much work, no time to blow the cash; less work, no mad-money.) I did take a cab last night, though, thereby puttin' on the personal Ritz.

But, dearest Marty and Terry and Doctor-Dan, I wish I had a little more to spare. Maiken Scott, if you're reading this, be assured that I feel justly shamed and rightly harassed by the pledge-drive begging, and I'm not complaining.

a zisn peysekh dir
shoppin'n'choppin

Because RELoad is moving, and because it's Pesach, and because it's beautiful, and because I need some time to just bike around and get things done--I'm off work. Went to yoga, ran into Z there, had some great backward bending. I like thinking about my lungs' shapes, especially in Wheel pose.

Next up come the making of Sri Lankan charoset, my great contribution to Jewish cuisine. First, hit up the various foodsources. I'm thinking Supremo for matzo and suchlike, International Spice for bitter-melons (Sri Lankan maror!), and co-op for everything else. Planning to make matzonachos for lunch tomorrow. Today I'm firstborn-fasting. Yeah yeah, women don't count, shut up.

Morgan is coming! Zisn indeed. Liberation + visitation. Can't wait. I just miss my sweetheart, over there in the Holy Land. Better that I'm here, though; the potential for speaking about 'redemption' in the midst of that quagmire, well, let's just say that Israel starts feeling like a narrow place. Malka's there too now, post-Darfur-job. She's so amazing.

A little sweetness for you all: I've found that when I'm a-fretting (gawsh, over all the work these days) the best mood-fixer is at Cute Overload, where I found this clip of otters in love. Weep for joy.

spring redemption

...hi. how are you? I've been busy.

Closed "The Eye of the Storm" on Monday night. In two weeks "The Fishbowl" opens. It is so good that the weather has become lively and energizing.

I'm sitting on the couch in the new house, with no one else home for once--last night I got home before 11 for the first time in forever--took the day off work to do shopping for the show and instead I read a book and did my taxes online and caught up with some email. (How can I possibly owe them $60? I had a gross income of $5581! I'm going to re-do it on paper and see if I can legally weasel a better deal.)

One email contained the invitation and draft Haggadah for a friend's seder next week. Just beginning to look at the text I begin to weep. Devoted readers, you may recall a certain past surfeit of Passover writing--well, again my Passover-lovin' spirit awakens. Bonnie the catloaf is sleeping chunkily on the couch, the breeze is ruffling the houseplant leaves, I've got a bellyful of corn muffins. Got to eat up those grains, though with three non-observant roommates I'm just going to kasher/designate a small cupboard-section. It's a good time, because of/despite all the work I have to do.

Thinking over the past year, wow, there have been liberations in my life. Recently I read about the Jewish concept of 'liberation' as not unbounded, self-centered ability to "do whatever I want" but rather freedom from the false demands of the economic and social status quo, the (American?) idols we know so well. In the past year I've seen more and more the liberation that inheres in 'making your own rules,' not having no rules; living by idealistic and perhaps devotional principle with love and faith. The commentary in Michael Strassfeld's The Jewish Holidays says, "true liberation binds us, false service giving way to true." So, I'm learning. I trust the Process.

The people around me these days are really a great set. In theater, at work, at home, in the West Phila community, I'm a bit starry-eyed. Grateful.