Creative Control

Miscellaneous Mental Musings of an Emerging Artist

Conversations with the Inner Cynic.

I’m currently fighting off a bout of existential angst, for the simple reason that I don’t have time for it.

My average live theatre attendance increases about 400% this week, if my average is one show a week, which it really isn’t (more like 0.33 shows a week, average). On Tuesday, I saw the Lyric Opera’s production of W.A. Mozart’s “The Magic Flute.” I contend that it was a good production, even though parts of it put me straight to sleep. The supporting male actor, the bird-catcher Papageno, was the highlight of the production; entertaining, well-performed, and most importantly, kept me awake.

Wednesday night I saw three one-act plays, including one featuring an actor friend of mine. (He was quite impressive, moreso than I’ve seen him since I first met him.)

Tomorrow night, I’m going to attend “You Can’t Take It With You” at my old high school, seeing as how it is the last production being directed by my high school acting teacher before her retirement (and I owe this woman everything in terms of my decision to pursue theatre as an adult).

Sunday, I will attend “Too Much Light…” and hope that it clarifies any misgivings I have about auditioning for them again. Really, it’s to remind me of their stylistic quirks. In an attempt to continue impressing the Neo-Futurists, my new audition piece is completely wordless, uses fourteen large cue cards, and is done entirely to the Henri Mancini classic “Baby Elephant Walk.”

A few hours ago, I sent off seven plays to two different theatres that are accepting submissions. I wait with bated, bated breath.

Happy Birthday to Cubby’s girlfriend.

A lot of short thoughts today. Not sure why.

The murder of Daniel Pearl has been weighing heavily on my mind, although I’m not quite sure why. But I am distressed. I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m getting that frustrated feeling when I really want, more than anything, to grab Islamic Killers by their collective shoulders, shake violently, and yell “STOP IT, YOU MANIACS! STOP IT, STOP IT, STOP IT!!!”

But they don’t stop.

Last night I stood completely still as an inner-city youth ran past me holding a woman’s purse in his hand, her feeble, heartbreaking voice calling for help behind me. He ran like a gazelle and ducked into a darkened alley, and I kept walking towards my destination, unsure of what to do. How can one have done the rational thing and not have done the right thing?

What it comes down to is that I’m not feeling quite together at the moment. Hopefully I can shake this by the end of this weekend.

Current music: Ani DiFranco, “Living in Clip”

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This entry was posted on February 22, 2002 by in Chicago, Life, News of the World, Theatre, Thoughts.
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