Writings On The Wall

So you’re sayin’ there’s a chance. – Dumb and Dumber

It became pretty apparent to me early this week that by the end of the fiscal year at work they will no longer need me. Sad fact, but surprisingly enough, I didn’t flinch. Okay, maybe a little. I called up Sara and proposed the idea of staying in Sacramento as opposed to her moving down to San Diego with me. Let’s just say that the idea was less than thrilling to her, sparking an outrage of emotion with a time span that only a woman can dwell on. But she was right in the end. And though doubting the truthfulness to this statement, the night she got mad at me I figured it all out. Maybe it’s not foolproof; maybe it’s not even feasible; but it’s definitely a shot. Basically it came down to them sort of “announcing” the next season. It’s got smaller casts to cut down on paying more people when unnecessary. Smaller casts means reduced people needed for transportation and less of a need for apartments (along with people to maintain those apartments). I saw it and knew I had to make a plan. Shirley still has my writing samples from about six weeks ago, to which she told me at the Christmas party on Monday that I’d have an answer before the holidays. I also came into a bit of information both sweet and sour: my friend Johanna in the education department is leaving for New York to be with her boyfriend and attend the New School. I drop a tear to see her leave yet leap for the opportunity to do her job of education manager. Her boss loves me. There’s more of an artistic component to it. And, despite no one getting raises next year, would be a promotion for me. We talk tomorrow.

Take a lot more than that to get rid of me/See I do what they can’t do/I just do me. – Eve, “Let Me Blow Ya Mind”

Everything I’ve ever wanted to do in my life I have done. That’s not to say I’ve done everything in the world I’ve ever wanted to do (being a gaucho in Argentina’s Las Pampas, you’ve been tapped). Check list, please: performing improv comedy professionally. Check. Living in New York for an extended amount of time (and throw NYU in there for good measure). Check. Working for the Cherry Lane Theater and the La Jolla Playhouse. Check and check. I don’t get everything I want, but once I set my mind to something it’s almost a surefire shot that I’ll get it, with questions ranging only from the when and now, never the if or why. We celebrated Martin’s birthday last week with a bonfire on the sea at night. It was one of my best nights in California thus far. Some of the actor’s came down and one of them, Vince, asked me if I was looking to be a company manager some day. I laughed out loud and replied, “Hell no!” then went on to describe my ambitions for playwriting, how hopefully next season I’d be in literary. I then spent the next 30 minutes helping him out with an idea he’d been tinkering with for a while. “All right…I’d hire you,” said Vince. If only he were in a position to do so. Even more than that I met a guy named Dewey who’d worked at the Playhouse off and on for more than ten years. “I just told them what I wanted to do and they let me do it, “ Dewey explained to me, “at first it was front of house, then box office, then props and shops, back to box office, and then to backstage. I was an actor for a while, but I like backstage the most…so…that’s where I ended up.” And he seemed so confident that whatever came his way he’d be able to do his work. “Plus, when they like someone they don’t lose them without a fight.” That’s how last week started and that’s how this one will have to as well. Comin’ out the doors swingin’…

I wasn’t meant to play the role of the son. – The Wire, “Transitions”

Back in the South Bronx, things have changed and they are looking to go for better days. I have rewritten almost the entire play. It’s still about gang bangers and the emotional ties between them, but now it’s a gay love story between a graffiti artist and a barrio boy who’s on the straight and narrow. I’m going to repost it where I posted the original first act in some of my older posts so look for it soon (sorry to everyone who read the original first act; this one is different, but better, trust me). Jen and I started casting and while last night’s no show effort proved worthless, we Craigslist-ed that bitch to get her fired up for tomorrow. Hopefully someone will bite. I can’t wait to hear it read aloud. I can’t wait to see if the humor and irony and drama all collide like I imagine when I’m writing it in my head. Callan told me to write the play I believed in so I did. Sara made me an awesome t-shirt saying And The Bronx Got Bombed on it so I needed to write an equally awesome play to match it. And Douglas Carter Beane said don’t stop writing so I won’t. Maybe even Chris Ashley will come see it, find it perfect for the last play needed for the season, and I’ll be in business for the rest of my life. Or…perhaps baby steps…baby steps…inch by inch…