My, what an exciting day. We had our first technical run-through this morning beginning at 10 am - and it was virtually flawless. Kudos to my men Tommy & Nick, they had everything so perfect from the get-go I was able to get a complete, uninterrupted rehearsal in. We’ll do another tomorrow and be good to go for tomorrow night.

I have gotten so comfortable with the show I was really able to play around today. Unfortunately, a lot of it sounded flip or arch, a little too funny and not very sincere. And you know what they say about sincerity ...

I was in the middle of one bit, and I hear someone enter the stage behind me. I mean, Tom is the only person in the house, sitting right in front of me, and he looks a little concerned, but not enough. I almost stopped it was very distracting - but it was only a rehearsal, and I chose to plunge through.

Afterwards I asked Tom if there was a gremlin onstage during the show, and he confirmed that yes there was, and the only gremlin he would not choose to get outraged about - it was the Fire Marshall. You know, the guy who lets theaters exist sometimes in spite of the million violations that are apparent to the lay electrician.

Toni, Z. and I then went to fill my new contact lens prescription, and to get new sunglasses. I lost my old pair at Blossom a few weeks back, and I will be damned if I am driving six hours a day, two days in a row without sunglasses.

So I needed my eyes dilated. They still are, I am wearing my new sunglasses in lieu of my real glasses, because I am still to blinded by bright lights to look at a computer screen. Am digging these new frames - Toni says I look like a hit-man.
´

Yep. We’re gonna need all three hours of tech in Mpls. Today we began cue to cue at 8:30 - conflicts required us to break by 11:30. I thought it went very smoothly, for a show that has already been done. Tommy and I knew where and when things were supposed to happen, and Nick had a pretty well organized book, which was only missing a few cues we had to reimagine. As I said, it was all smooth, we got along great, no headaches, no confusion. And it took three hours.

I am losing my voice. My supervisor at Great Lakes and I talked for hours the other night about next year, it was very exciting and when it was all through I thought my, is my throat tired. Trying to match Lisa in conversation will do that to you. And after this morning ... I just need to force fluids and shut up.

* * * * * * * * * *

Got the cards from Hotcards, they are AWESOME! I am dropping these puppies off in every square corner of the Minneapolis AND St. Paul - I better make sure to keep some archive copies because I ain’t bringing any home.

* * * * * * * * * *

Got mojo plug-a-rama action in Cool Cleveland today - Mr. Mulready’s arts e-zine is the hot new place to be mentioned, and I, for one, am digging the attention.

Things are looking up - that place on Mayfield (hey, isn’t that a restaurant - sorry, dumb east side joke) will do the work by Friday! So I have the rocking chair. Guy says the chair must be a hundred years old, I don’t believe him. Didn’t keep him fro m making the repair expensive, but I don’t have much of a choice. Besides, we have wanted it fixed since March, anyway.

This morning I couldn’t get my head on straight - Nick and Tom were setting light cues and I was running around, chauffeuring rocking chairs and then I forgot to bring the slides and CD of music.

We cleared the stage (it still hasn’t been painted black) hung the slide projector, stripped the last noticeable remnants of the kids’ playwriting festival from the upstage facade. So now we have three more mornings to whip this show back into shape, beginning with our first cue-to-cue tomorrow. I continue to run through lines in my head and out loud whenever possible.

Toni is at the bookstore this afternoon and I have Zelda. Now I know w hat Toni has been talking about, this girl is not to be pleased these days. Must be the teeth or something.

I finished the program design last night, looks good. One sheet. Way to go! We’ll be using the same one at Dobama that we are taking to the Fringe.

Oh, and Brian got the postcards yesterday, he says they look good. And with the mad promoiton money we saved on the cards, he has suggested getting bumper stickers. The original gag was the paste them over other Fringe shows - just a big sticker saying I HATE THIS!

Ha ha ha - of course we wouldn’t do that.

Okay, this stuff is just getting dumb ...

First off, someone on the Dobama staff (who shall remain nameless ... let’s just say she is blonde and short) scheduled an audition during our tech this morning. A 10 o’clock tech is strange enough in this neighborhood, but an audition is simply ridiculous.

The guys were creating the light plot, a simple affair that we can count on replicating in Minneapolis. Meanwhile I have forgotten to tend to the furniture. The Wolf family rocking chair, which was damaged during the last run of IHT has not been repaired. The place Nick suggested on Mayfield takes “three to four weeks” to do the job ... I’d feel bad about putting it off, but Nick made the suggestion last week.

So I need a rocking chair. And a hospital stool. I went to four resale shops this afternoon and came up empty. Oh, and I need new contacts, the last pair ripped on me before that audition last week. They were supposed to be good for six months, I have been using them for four years, so I can’t complain.

Yes, I am procrastination boy. Always something.

There’s a party going on, only I haven’t arrived yet ...

I was reading Brian’s “Vox Fringe” run-down on the showcase at Balls’ Cabaret on Saturday night. Sounds like a gas. The Fringe has begun and we won’t be leaving for a week. Feels weird.

I am physically pathetic this summer. I worked like hell to get back on schedule, I ran every day through the month of June - making time for personal exercise just hasn’t seemed a priority since the baby was born - and that was really, really hard. I never seemed to enjoy it, I was simply exhausted all the time.

Did the five mile run on July 4th, beat my personal best time ... and I haven’t been running a day since. I dropped dead with a cold right after that, and I just haven’t gotten back into it.

Why is that relevant to this journal? I am not sure, but I think it is. IHT isn’t the most physically demanding show I have ever done (sit back, children, and I will tell you about when I played the Elephant Man) but it does require a great deal of mental stamina, these things work together, you know.

* * * * * * * * * *

Yesterday was the final birthday benefit meeting. This thing is going to be a gas. Everyone has done a tremendous job, we’ve got food and drinks and decorations and music and games and I think everyone is going to have a great time. Like all other benefits, we have NO IDEA how many people will attend (no one RSVPs anymore) but as usual I am expecting we will be surprised.

That’s an oxymoron, isn’t it?

Hey! Matthew A. Everett just fingered my show!

Toni just threatened to kick my ass if I ever again use the word “journal” as a verb.

Oh sure, the rest of the United States uses the word “impact” as a verb, and I get my ass kicked.

So today has been non-traditional. Actually, the morning started the way it has most days this week - with the door of the theater still locked at 10 AM. We had gotten used to running lines in the coffee shop until whenever the skeleton crew that runs Dobama during the summer gets in, but today we just said the hell with it and I did scenes out in the Courtyard, in front of the former Arabica.

Man, that place used to be so nice. Now it isn’t. Maybe the Grog Shop relocation will help things, but I doubt it.

Anyway, actually moving around makes it easier to get the lines perfect. Later I ran into someone downtown who saw me there, acting. Cool!

So anyway, downtown they were having some kind of arts fair near Playhouse Square. There were vendors outside where E. 14th and Hudson meet Euclid, and then the Cleveland Theater Collective had set up a place they were calling the “Rehearsal Room” in the Halle Building - a little trivia for those who don’t live here, the Halle Building, in particular the Wyndham Hotel facade part of the Halle Building, is the establishing shot for Drew Carey’s department store, whatever that place is called.

The “Rehearsal Room” was a former men’s store or something, and they set up a stage in front of the window on Euclid, with folding chairs facing it, and of course, the street. Anyone standing on the stage, facing the audience, gave Cleveland’s busiest thoroughfare a great view of their ass. For a half-hour today, that would be me.

Yes, I had agreed to do part of IHT for the event. Greg Vovos’ directed a piece that came before me, Michael Sepesy was doing bits from his play “Loserville” (which he is taking to FringeNYC this summer) and I got what was supposed to be twenty minutes, which was expanded at the last minute to a half-hour.

At first I was kind of cheesed, but then I thought, well, that’s half the show - and why not? It may be good promotion for the Dobama gig next weekend.

And it didn’t go badly. No lights, sound, slides, props, nothing, just me and a half dozen people who wandered off the street - and they stayed! They watched the whole thing, it was very nice. We were all nervous at first, it was awkward, I had to introduce myself, and then I didn’t know where to look, at them (seated below me) or above their heads ... but as it went along we all got more comfortable.

I can do this play anywhere, any place, any time. Bring it on!

Interesting discussion at rehearsal this morning - when is the narrator? Is he speaking during the events in question, just after them, when I wrote the play or as I am performing it. This was easily answered last August (the narrator was speaking at that point in time) and last March (the narrator was speaking from that point in time) but what of this August? What about the future?

The words do not change, but the point of view certainly does. Case in point - “... but they are different clubs.” My friend has a child with Downs Syndrome. I have a child that died before birth. She says we are members of a club we never wanted to join, I agree - but observe that they are different clubs.

In August, I was harsh. It was as if I were saying “at least your child lives.” That was not what I was thinking, I was really thinking, “you have your situation, I have mine, we should accept that we do not understand each other” or something to that effect. But everyone thought I meant “at least your child lives.” You can see how that interpretation might seem a tad, oh, unsympathetic. But there I was, and I was not apologizing for voicing my thoughts at the time.

In March, things had changed. I had visited my friend, and met her beautiful daughter. The fact that our own, healthy daughter had recently been born did not really enter into it (well, okay, she must have, but I didn’t realize how) and the line was much more “Zen”. You have your club. I have my club. They are different. And we may, someday, understand each other, if we do not at this moment.

And today? Today I look at my own, healthy daughter - super healthy, uberhealthy, a monolith of an infant. And I see my friend, loving her child, cheering her child’s accomplishments, and I think, I have had my tragedy, and I live with it every day, and I think I am strong ... but I will never know if I could be strong like that.

And so the delivery is different - if I am speaking from today. And though I do a lot of acting here, it is a play after all, it is hard to be the narrator and not be me, the real me, the me that is standing on stage right now and talking to you.

I got hided by some members of the pre-natal death community in March for something I was quoted for in the paper. I said Zelda had changed my play. They thought I meant I had changed the play, the words, because I now had a living, healthy child. This is not true. But I could not articulate what I did mean by that comment. And now I just have.

An unfortunate work conflict kept Tommy from rehearsal again today. Nick was assisting me in running lines though we did spend most of the time chatting about theater in general, the show he is doing out at Porthouse in specific, and just about really anything to keep us from work. This is all right - I mean, all right for him, I was not able to look at my lines at all since yesterday, so the work we were doing seemed a bit perfunctory. I need to make time today to really do my homework.

Ad in the Free Times today. Thank you, Sponsor, my Print Sponsor. I was a little cheesed when they said an advance article was not a possibility - they said this a month or so ago, the theater critic sheepishly informing me there is a bizarre amount of theater at the end of July. I thought he was full of it, but it turns out he is absolutely right, I know of three shows that opened last week that didn’t get reviewed this week, in addition to the two that did.

Lot of talk on the “official” Fringe blogs about the value, or lack thereof, inherent in autobiographical one-man shows. And I am here to weigh in - I, too, would encourage people to stay away from them.

Ha ha, funny funny, I am doing a solo performance I wrote about my own deeply personal experiences, I am joking. I joke. Only I am not joking.

I have seen a lot of solo performances in the past few years, they are the thing, aren’t they? Their cheap for theaters to produce, and easy for artists to d o - I write! I act! I can make a show for me and take it absolutely anywhere!

Some of the best are based on historical material, and I am not just talking about your Hal Holbrooks of the world doing Mark Twain (though I have seen that - there’s some le gendary theater for you) but the ones where people find some obscure but important figure and tell their story. It’s hard work - how much exposition, how much “playing the scene.” Playing the scene can be so cheesy, but exposition, direct address - I me an, why not just give a lecture? But I dig history, so it helps. I want to enjoy those shows.

It’s the ones that are based on personal experience which can be difficult - though, man, there was this one at FringeNYC two years ago about this guy who did puppet ministry, he was dynamite. Very funny.

And that’s the thing, if you are funny, then you can’t lose, right? It’s the overwrought stuff ... I have seen no less than two one-man shows that were not only all about coming-out, but also about how messed up their mothers were AND they both included really, really bad, middle-of-the-road ballads at all the “emotional highpoints.” They sang. They sang their own original, really bad songs.

There is no singing in my show. That’s not true - I sing one verse of one song, and it’s very, very brief. And I didn’t write the song, Bob Dorough wrote the song, so you know it is a very cool song.

So, I guess what I am saying is there are enough very bad, autobiographical solo performances out there to make th e average audience member wary, especially if they feel their time is limited and want to make the right choice.

But then, that is entirely not what a fringe festival is about. It is about taking a risk - go see the show you know is going to be excellen t and you may very well be let down. And if you walk into the solo performance about the guy’s personal experiences losing his first child, well, you may be surprised there, too.

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Can you feel the love? I’m feeling it.

Not only did Amy send me a very kind message (Amy's Blog) reassuring me that I am not a complete loser because I didn’t get a spot in a showcase. That was really cool.

But then - I got offered a spot in the showcase! Just this morning! So I will be there at the Balls (what?) sometime after midnight on Saturday, August 2nd.

It’s a great morning, already, and we haven’t even taken Zelda swimming yet.

Note to Brian at Shortened Coffin: at least you have two chins, I do not have any.

Shortened Coffin's Blog ˇ

Adventures in P.R. They say I am very good at p.r., but trying to promote my show in a different city, a city where I have no contacts (well, that’s not exactly true) is proving a major challenge. Especially when you are one of 160 shows. Especially when yours in from out-of-town. And perhaps even because the show is about stillbirth - but what do I know?

In addition, I do not help matters when I shoot myself in the foot. I did not get my application for the “out-of-town” showcases in soon enough, and as a result I am in neither of them. This is really disappointing, but oh well, regardless, I will attend them. Just another misstep. I will still take the opportunity to meet people and hand out postcards.

We missed Tommy this morning, he was at work until the wee hours last night, and feeling ill this morning. Nick helped me cram lines - I know them, but I need to get them perfect, again. Nick said he wouldn’t quibble with a small word change here or there, but I asked him to anyway. Yes, I wrote it, but when I start paraphrasing my own work, I get “mushy” - add “y’knows” and “I means” and there are enough of those in the script already.

It’s nice hanging out with Nick, he’s really funny and he’s all about the work.

Got an audition this afternoon for a film they’ll be shooting in town in September. Wish me luck.

Back into rehearsal. Tommy, Nick and I met at Dobama at 10 this morning (God, rehearsing in the morning is a great thing ... must be nice to be a professional) and discussed technical matters, pertaining more to the Cleveland performances than the Minneapolis ones; what set pieces do we have, do we need to get from the Salvation Army, what is Denny finding me in the Twin Cities ...

... is anyone reading this ..?

... and then I did a speed-through of the entire show. Strange, I haven’t performed it since March, just crammed lines the past few days, didn’t even block it at home, and most of it is still right there. The brain is a tremendous thing. My brain, anyway.

Tommy, the director and Nick, the technical coordinator. It’s fun to watch them work together. Tom keeps suggestions what additional stuff we might be able to add once we get to the Fringe, and Nick plays the hard realist, “we didn’t ask for that, we can’t have that.” They are both important roles. Tom is just trying to make sure the show looks the best it can, and not all of his suggestions sound like they will be challenged at the festival - it’s hard to say, really, because we haven’t been provided with a light plot. So they each make up all of these theories for how it might work, once we get there.

Meanwhile, I have been fiddling with a few lines in the show - the ones I mentioned earlier, about “Nurse Evil,” they felt undercut the strength of the piece, but we changed it a little and made it stronger ... I think. We’ll see how it plays tomorrow.

Right now I am challenged to see how much time I can spend running trouble spots - I don’t want to walk in tomorrow with the same errors I had today. That’s the worst thing an actor can do - the director gives you a number of helpful comments and notes, and then you show up at the next rehearsal and make it painfully obvious you haven’t thought about the show at all since you left the building the day before.

See, this is why I tell people being a director has made me a better actor.

Now the big question is ... Cedar Point or Six Flags? Cedar Point or Six Flags? Cedar Point sounds funnier ... but do the people in Minnesota know what it is?

The “birthday benefit committee” met today at the Juniper Street Arabica. I am extremely grateful so many have signed on to help, everyone is so enthusiastic. I try not to think too hard about it - this is a benefit to help send a show we are producing to a theater festival. It is also a birthday party being thrown for me (my idea) to send me to a theater festival to present a show I wrote starring me.

Me, me, me.

The Bad Epitaph board initially balked at the idea of having a post-show birthday party (balked is a strong word - they had reservations) because it might be seen as kind of weird. And I thought of that, too. A birthday party for me, after a show about how my son doesn’t get any birthdays. That’s not accurate either - it ends with his birth, and his first birthday, and arrrrrrrgh - anyway, it’s odd. Seems kind of selfish.

But then, we wanted to have a party, a fund-raiser, a celebration - were we supposed to all wear black crepe and sing hymns?

Several weeks back Nick (who is on the board, too) talked us back into treating it like a real birthday party, with games, adult games - there will be a pinata with little bottles of alcohol in it, and “Pin the Hair on Hansen” (yes, love that one) and a Twister tournament with rules I cannot begin to fathom.

I am glad it’s going this way. I think it is going to be an excellent and joyful send-off.

In a different life, I would be taking this show to a number of festivals this summer. I think back to my work with DNK, or Guerrilla, and I had no idea what was going on in the larger theater community. There were so many of those shows which would have made excellent fringe material.

It wasn’t until 2000, when Toni and I happened to be in NYC when their fringe was going on. I was like, what the hell is this? And that led to Toni’s show, ANGST:84 getting into the ‘01 FringeNYC.

Of course, we had already lost Calvin then. It was a difficult trip for Toni - she had a great time, to be sure, but it was all a little overwhelming for her. I have to admit I had the time of my life, I was “only” running sound, but that was great because I wasn’t nearly as exhausted as everyone else (though it was pretty damn hot in that booth) and took the time to see thirteen different shows. And almost all of them were really good, if not really, really good.

But my choices were somewhat limited as to what festivals I could take this to, because at the beginning of the year we still didn’t know where we would be in the fall, if we would be selling the house or what. I was relieved to discover the Minnesota festival fit into our schedule (such as it was at the time) because I love the Twin Cities, and because my brother lives there, which has made planning for it much, much easier.

So, as I was saying, in a different life, I may have attempted an entire Fringe Circuit for myself, running all over North America this summer ... but then, in a different life, I wouldn’t have had to write this show. We’ll see if I can take it anywhere else next summer.

No one has asked me so far if I have done any revisions, and I really haven’t, not since February ... well, that’s not true, a word creeps in here or there, or a phrase is added or eliminated, as it was during the run at CPT.

The piece I think I am least happy with in the entire show is the final “Nurse Evil” segment, which just kind of ends. Well, it used to just kind of end, and then I tacked on a little, conspiratorial laugh between David & Toni ... but I still feel something is missing. I came up with something that plays up my impotence in the situation, and brings up issues such as “informed consent” ... that and I am replacing “Cedar Point” with “Six Flags” - it didn’t get a laugh as Cedar Point, anyway.

On a different note, I am disappointed to learn I cannot participate in the night-before-opening “Out Of Towners” showcase on the 31st. We’ll still be in tech when that is going on. Oops. And scheduling tech last minute on Thursday was our first choice. I guess we didn’t know how soon we would be ready to go after arriving ... Toni and I will get there the day before, so I guess it didn’t make any difference.

Oh Jesus. Nike is acquiring Converse. I am pretty lame when it comes to sticking to an altruistic lifestyle (do I eat at MacDonald’s? Not as much as I used to ... but yes, of course I do) and as it happens, Converse was purchased by an independent company a year or so ago, and they were the ones who ended Converse’s reign as the last American company to make tennis shoes. Since then I have looked the other way as I bought my beloved Chuck Taylors, aware that the “Made In Indonesia” tag meant they were made by little hands at pennies an hour.

But this I cannot abide. I will not buy products that go to make money for Nike until the change their methods of production. So my world-famous collection of sneakers has reached its end.

Now, the really difficult question ... do I continue to wear the Chuck’s I already have?

Welcome to my blog, created specifically to chronicle my experience with the Minnesota Fringe Festival. This is an experiment, I do not really approve of these things, as I try to avoid one-sided conversations and, evidence to the contrary, do not like posting my inner-most thoughts where just anyone can see them.

Having said that ...

I am spending way too much time clocking the MN Fringe website (fringefestival.org) and it's making my eyes hurt. Perhaps I should be spending that time busy rehearsing, or promoting my show - not just in Minneapolis (although that wouldn't hurt) but here as well. I have less than three weeks to get IHT back on its feet for a weekend at Dobama Theatre (dobama.org) before packing up for the Twin Cities.

Toni is participating in a big writers' conference this week, and so I am spending more time alone with Zelda than I have ever done before. Today we went swimming and then I took Lady Z to the art museum, which she enjoyed an awful lot. People all smile when they see her.ˇˇ

Sins of Father

Who is my father? An adopted man (I began looking up his roots, stopped, I don't have time and I guess I do not care enough) a man with no history, and who does not want one. 

A selfish man who lived his life in pursuit of nothing but his own interests. He hated his job, sure, but he was there first (in order to beat rush hour, it was frustrating for him to have to deal with traffic, so he left the house at six or six-thirty) and came home last, maybe in time for the six o'clock news. Twelve hours out of the house for a job he didn't care about, the job his father did. No imagination. No creativity. Only sitting up late in his underpants, eating cheese and bologna, reading history.

How did I come from this man? Yes, thanks to him (and mother) I have learned how to be wildly out of touch with my emotions, how to be politely passive-aggressive, how to mutter under my breath. How to desire nothing, how to achieve nothing. How have I come as far as I have with parents like these? How did I develop a need to show off, to attract attention, and how did I come to a place where people look to me as a leader?

Has Toni taught me everything? How to cope with being needed? How to make difficult decisions? How to enjoy the air, the animals, other people? How not to suffer fools gladly?

I was feeling dowdy the other day, the weather has been crummy again, we are short on laundry and I never had particularly attractive winter clothes, anyway (like father, like son - we all dress terribly until there is a woman to dress us up) and my hair was longish, it cannot grow too long on my bald head without looking bad. So I trimmed it, but trimmed it closer than normal, and I shaved, trimmed my goatee and I thought, hey, that's an attractive man. An attractive, bald man in his thirties. Not a young man who has grown too old and doesn't know what to do with his life, but a man, a simple man, a man who has a wife and owns a house and is expecting a child and is living a life, and he looks all right.

What if the child isn't healthy? Will I blame myself for not insisting she not have that occasional glass of wine, to not take so much Tylenol, will it be my fault?

What if the child isn't healthy? What will I do? I will cope. I will cope. We will cope. Cope like I was never taught how.

The books say it is normal for a father-to-be to assess their own father in this way. But it is still awful. And he is changing, too. It's not just me. He is becoming like his father in so many way he talks about things without care for whether or not he's being a bore, he foists strong philosophical and religious beliefs on us. He sees the end and he is desperate to make an impact. His father has annoyed him for so long. And now he is annoying me. What a terrible cycle.

It's 11:30.

Nesting

Good morning. Happy Saint Patrick's Day.

Toni's appetite is up, we have been consuming the calories we need (she needs) for the baby. But as of yesterday we were both concerned that the baby isn't moving as much as it used to, it doesn't kick as heard, and only moves occasionally.

She was very upset. She is way behind in school and before spring break her boss let her go with some unfair words of criticism. And she is upset about the baby.

I asked her to call the midwife and she said she would feel stupid, she should have called her days ago and besides, we will see her on Monday and it was last-thing Friday. We went round and round and I began getting upset, the old Father's Rights thing, but I was only getting emotional about it. I froze up for awhile, I was feeling all kinds of terrible things, then it became about me, and it all came spilling out -- well, no, it came in bursts, it was hard. About the first blood test, about the baby disappearing in my head, like we would wake up one morning from a dream, together, and think, weren't we pregnant? Wasn't that a happy dream?

She called. We got advice -- a cold glass of juice and then lie down and wait for kicks. Less than 3 in a half hour. We wait another half hour -- less than four in an hour, call the doctor.

She felt seven faint movements in 25 minutes.

We went out for Chinese -- another good indicator is when you eat, it should move around a lot right after that. She was kicked in the bladder several times after we had begun eating.

Before we called, I wanted to sing to it. I sand the Mockingbird song, and it moved, right then when I started.

We came home. We watched "The West Wing" on tape. We got in bed. We had sex. Toni slept all night long ... for the first time in months.

I am up early to work on the nursery, but I owed myself time to drink coffee, write in my journal, maybe have breakfast. Nothing but work on the house today, and dinner with the Pedacis tonight.

Headache

Every night is awful. It used to be that she would get terrible indigestion just as she got into bed -- and then there was the snoring. 

She is now used to having the indigestion (it is still no picnic, but she is used to it) and I got earplugs -- and just as I was used to those, she now develops terrible head and neck aches in the middle of the night and I rouse myself to rub her head or neck or whatever. She then sleeps in the morning and I feel like shit.

Yesterday (or the day before) she said she never wants to have a baby again and I think she means it. I think I never want her to have a baby again. 

Of course, I was never kidding myself (though I think she was) into believing a pregnancy would be easy. Nothing else is easy, she was always been susceptible to slight alterations in her physical condition. She becomes faint easily, succumbs to heat, she is ill very, very often. I mean, she gets sick all the time and she always has.

After last weekend she missed Monday, half of Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday from work -- and then her boss said some unfair things to her over the phone, about Toni warning them at the beginning of the week about not coming in, and worse, on Friday when she did get into work the boss suggested we threw a holiday dinner party (one which this woman did not even attend) to make up for lost hours last semester.

Toni may have missed a lot of time at work over this pregnancy, but her boss sounds truly fucked-up for some of the things she said to Toni this week and it has made Toni furious.

Would she be getting headaches anyway? I say yes, the books say yes, but this gives her something to really focus on.

For the moment

How is Toni?

Good question. Again, last night, she was up a good portion of the night. After Saturday, she did not go to work on Monday, then tried on Tuesday but could only make it through half of the day. She took another suppository that night but was determined last night not to, hence she was awake. Achy, stiff, pain in her stomach.

She thinks she picked up a flu bug that simply has not gone away -- she cannot take the kind of drugs that would defeat such a virus, they would harm the fetus. So she muddles through. She did not attend the Bradley class last Sunday, but I did. I recorded it for her, but she hasn't listened to the recording, it is still sitting on my desk.

How is the Fetus/Creature?

We do not know. It is upsetting to me that she has been so continually ill throughout the pregnancy, and I do not just mean nauseous, Toni is regularly nauseous at the best of time. I mean sick, writhing in pain, not getting any sleep.

Sometimes I think Toni thinks I am not taking the baby seriously. I know I do not do my reading ... but I do clean the cat box and feed the cats, something she should not do, and I wash the dishes and do all of the picking up, i maintain the order of the house, such as i is so she can be free to be pregnant.

Wait, we're not talking about me yet. The baby.

So the baby, which used to do amniotic backflips, has settled down a lot. We do not know if this is because it is growing very fast now (we are entering the seventh month, getting there ...) or because of all of the medication has affected it. Is it a lot of medication? Who knows, I wish I had asked, but if the midwife said it was all right, maybe it is. We do not know.

What can you do but worry? There's no turning back.

I sing to it when I think to. Beatles songs, Toni tries to get me to sing proper children's songs, I want to sing Cole Porter. I think children's songs are childish. I don't know what effect this will have on the baby, maybe it will arrive smoking a reefer.

How is Dave?

Good question. Little regular sleep and lots of other things going on, it has been quite a strain.

Monday we bought a new board game, listened to CDs and enjoyed each others' company.

Tuesday we watched "The Contender" on video.

Last night friends came over and we ate corned beef sandwiches and played a board game.

Tonight I got Indian food for Toni (it is quite the restorative for her, calm, comforting) and spent the evening ... well, it's just nine and I already took out the trash, put leftovers in plasticware, and here I am writing, something I never do.

I feel more private. Work is work. Home is home. Play is play. In theater all those things overlap. But this feels nice, for the moment.

As will be suggested by the autopsy, Calvin dies sometime between now and next Tuesday, March 13.

Long night

I can't believe it's after five ... what a difficult ... day?

I was really looking forward to the final GULF cast party, which we had last night here at the house. Only the cast and company were here, and that was great. We talked, watched videos -- Toni went to bed around midnight. The cast stayed until 3:30 AM.

Toni was up. She had terrible stomach pain, and was unable to sleep. Even when she could relax her stomach, her back would hurt and if she got her back comfortable, her stomach would hurt. I didn't know what to do, and I had been up since seven the morning before, I wanted to sleep so badly.

By five o'clock I deduced this had gone far enough, I had run a bath for her (to help with the aches) but then she began vomiting and I would rub her back for a while. I tried a relaxation exercise but then her stomach kept hurting and she needed to vomit again. I called her mother (I scared her by calling so early -- but not for waking her, she is always up around four in the morning) and she told us to go to the hospital, which is what we did after consulting the midwife.


From six-thirty-ish until nine-ish we were delirious in a hospital room, Toni on an IV drip to keep her from dehydrating, they observed her, decided she has a rather serious stomach flu and sent us home with a prescription for medication to take care of the nausea. Toni has been sleeping since we got home, I slept for about four or five hours. I am wrecked, my body aches but I am not sleepy enough to sleep.

A Saturday. I was going to do housework but I can't piddle around upstairs while Toni needs her rest -- besides, I am exhausted. I did pay the bills (a few days late) and began tax preparations. Now I am writing. I need to finish benefit letters ... and blah, blah, blah, so many other things.

I wanted to work on the nursery, or at least ruminate on it, that's my next big project. I think. There's always some big project. I think I will call for Monday off from work, I need to catch up from all of this.

The Event

Partiers L to R: Toni, Leah, Rob & Scollard

We were up late for Bad Epitaph's CARNIVAL Benefit. I had to drive Heather all the way back to her place in western Lakewood, I was in bed by three and up again by ten to get to the brewery by noon. I was tired. And I was there to help everyone tear down the benefit.

Two and a half hours later I was rushing downtown for what? For the event, the commemoration of the tenth anniversary of the end of the Gulf War, of the "liberation of Kuwait." Two weeks earlier John Campbell (I still don't know his rank) also known as "Leah's vet" invited all of us. I knew Leah would be there, she was supposed to get an award or something, or so she had told me though it was supposed to be a secret. I assumed no one else from the show would show up, but who knows?

The Naval Reserve Center, where the event was to be held was on "East Ninth across from the Rock Hall" -- little did I know that was exactly where it was, a completely unnoticeable building down there by the harbor. I had parked way up a Lakeside and though it was unseasonably warm (61 degrees said the billboard on the stadium) it was so windy.

Just across I-90 this guy is on the off-ramp at the light in an I-Roc, he rolls down the window, "Hey!"

"Yeah?" I ask, but miss his question, it's blown away on the wind. I get closer.
"What?"

"Where's the Rock Hall?" he asks.

I swing my arm behind me and point at the extremely odd-looking glass pyramid that stands out against the sky like the world renown building that it is.

"That's the Rock Hall," I shout.

When I walk through the doors of the Naval Center, I am wind-whipped and nervous. A man in cammos waiting at the door doesn't even ask what I am there for, he tells me "downstairs, end of the hall." So that's where I go.

It's a long narrow hall, I have to go through a few doors and it actually gets quieter not louder so I don't know if I have passed it or what. At the end of the hall there are cadets, at least six deep, on either side of the hall.

As I approach the first (perhaps to ask - is this the room?) they all snap to attention and salute. I actually jumped back. The one on the end smirked. I didn't know what to do. At the end of them I see Campbell, waving me forward. He's got a big smile on his face. "Don't be scared," he said.

I walked through, nodding deferentially at the cadets. Freaky.

Leah and her parents are right there, in the front row and they make room for me. I am still freaked. We are the only two of the cast who come.

Campbell apparently organized this chapter of Gulf vets, and they seem to love him a great deal. A lot of awards were handed out, he put together most of them though a few were from others to him, and he was noticeably surprised and choked up. I already knew from Leah's work that he is quite an emotionally connected man.

I finally see him bring up an award that had a copy of "The Gulf" program in it. He talks to these people, this room full of veterans, cadets, parents of soldiers who died in Saudi Arabia, journalists, about our little play. About these teenagers and young adults, who searched their hearts, asked difficult questions, wrote short plays and put on a show about their war. We remembered what they had done.

Then he asked me to join him at the podium. I was very surprised.

I walked up, he thanked me, I cannot remember what he said (he, of course, made a joke about my looking like Dr. Green) and gave me an award, a frame with a black, cloth background -- the program, a U.S. flag patch, a commemorative stamp, a Gulf War medal with the state of Kuwait on it -- and the caduceus, the symbol of medicine, the symbol of healing. I thanked him. I took the plaque. I sat down.

Leah was honored next, she received the plaque and an American flag.

We were the only two people who were not affiliated with the military or politics who were honored that day. And I have conflicted feelings. I am proud, and I feel so strange about where I came to be honored by a veterans group. I protested this war. I set out the produce a play that condemned this war as a cynical exercise. I bristled at plays called "Patriotism" and plays that went out of their way to vilify Saddam Hussein. And yet something honest came through, so honest that even those who might be offended by its candor, by its questioning, by its refusal to accept the line as it has been handed down, saw what was real, and special about this work.

I don' know what to think about it. I didn't know what to say -- others had given speeches and I didn't thank I would have if I had been ready for it. It was all said in the play.

Enjoying the mystery

First Bradley Method class. We move on, our pregnancy moves from a personal realm to a much more public one, interacting with other couples, couples we never speak directly to for an entire two hours who we will see, week after week, for twelve weeks. Learning how to give birth. Learning how to coach birth. Learning a method for making a truly distressing life experience as pain-free and easy as is is possible. As is possible.

I put my head against Toni's belly -- we have begin to sing songs. We sing together. And we sing stupid children's songs to the creature inside. "I've Been Working On The Railroad." The "Mockingbird" song (what are those lyrics?) John Jacob Jingleheimerschmidt. Are we going to have to sing children's songs to our child? Wow. I assumed we would sing cool songs, Cole Porter.

I press my head against her belly and I feel the baby kick my face. I listen, in the quiet, to the noises inside Toni, the noise that the baby hears (yes, now a baby, not just "the fetus" or "the creature") because, you know, I cannot picture it as a baby. Because it isn't one yet. I was never good at imagining myself as a grown up, nor anyone else. I do not play such fantasy games, maybe it's because my father never encouraged us to have goals. But I want to know what it is like now, to meet the baby on its own terms, not make up some imagining future I cannot possibly know.

It's warm. It's wet. It's dark. It swims around, there's still enough room. I don't know if it's a boy or a girl. But it swims around in there, and kicks, registers its opinion to its mother.

When it joins us out here, I will know the answers to so many questions. Right now I am enjoying the mystery.

Fever

Yesterday I developed a fever, and last night was difficult ... I had to sleep apart from Toni, we were waking each other up. Things are very difficult, she gets indigestion, and she snores and I cannot sleep. Couple that with the fact that I could not get warm in bed, with her ... that was weird, I actually warmed up on my own in a different part of the house. So I was at home today, successfully doing nothing. The day after a show closed. I think that's a good thing.

The Gulf

Saturday there was a large crowd (for this show) roughly sixty people. Included were the subject of Heather's "I'd See You Again" piece, the mother who served and her daughter, then 10 years old, now a student at CSU. They were both tremendously moved. The mother never knew what it was like at home during that time, she had no idea how tumultuous it was for us as well. She has boxes of stuff from that time, but she hasn't looked at any of them. Some are filled with letters from children at home.

Last night, closing night, "Leah's Vet" came. She had mentioned him several times, he was a medic, and she had written a play or two about his experiences but they just didn't fit. But he came anyhow, with his wife, who was also in the Marines during the war, and their young son.

Leah had said, a week or two ago before the show opened, that this man wanted to speak to us, all of us,personally, while we were still working on this. That kind of creeped me out. Leah had remarked that, despite his emotions, how moved to tears he was remembering stories for her, she was also virulently anti-Iraqi. I didn't want any of the actors spooked by the potentially emotive, possibly angry rhetoric that might be shared.

But he was there, and insisted on all of us, the entire company, gathering together so he could speak to us, last night. And what he had to say was how much he and his wife loved the show, how grateful they were that we remembered them. He said Sean's portrayal of "PFC Guttenburg" and his talk about "family" was right on target, and how Josh's "Gulf War Syndrome" series was also very important, how many vets have died from the Syndrome, and how no one cares.

He also invited us all to an event commemorating the 10th anniversary of the peace declaration (Sun., Feb. 25) downtown. Rumor has it they will be honoring Leah at the event.

I realized some things myself last night. Of course, I discouraged the marketing director from promoting this event through VA halls. I am anti-war, a pacifist, and just assumed what we said was potentially offensive to Gulf War vets.

That was assuming all (or most even) vets haven't also spent the past ten years wondering what happened, and why no one talks about it. Sure, it was a decisive victory, and when they came home everyone was all gung-ho, yippee, all those stupid parades, &c. ... that was a long time ago. They, too, wonder what it was all about, and why no one walks about it. The fact that we decided to mention it at all was enough to make at least these three veterans thrilled. And they were all wise enough to know we weren't dissing them. The government maybe, but not them.

I was so depressed going into this ... a play about a war? What was I thinking? This isn't Guerrilla Theater Company, you can't just sling half-baked generalized opinions around, not about this. But the crew was fantastic. And for once I knew how to get the results I wanted. I wasn't always sure, but I followed my instincts and opened myself up for commentary from people like Sean and others. The format worked, the materials worked, the artists worked.

Despite the small houses (and what did I expect) I am immensely proud of this show. I am proud of all the people who made it, I am proud of myself.

Oh, and I was right about not needed the "Patriotism" monologue. Those vets let us know the show already had "patriotism" written all over it.

The Big Chill

So about a half-hour ago I gave up and woke up. Toni has been snoring very loudly, it wakes me up and then she gets all upset because I am awake and fidgety or that I get up too early. I'm only trying to let her sleep but it upsets here. But then I got to wash dishes, update the website and now I get to write in my journal.

I am about to be a father. And I read in one of these books how neglected fathers can feel (it was a touchy-feely DAD book - "The Expectant Father") but man, here I am and no one asks me how I am, what I think about being a father - they ask about Toni, which is great and I really shouldn't be thinking more of myself than her, but the fact that my friends don't even ask is a little chilling.

Long Time Passing

A Scene from "The Gulf"
Dobama's Night Kitchen

Confidence

The creature (as we now call it) is very active at funny times. It was enjoying "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" last night. Apparently it also has something to say about Toni's poetry analysis class. I haven't felt it yet, but it is slowly becoming more real. When there were doubts about its health I could image it disappearing, getting smaller - I was afraid to acknowledge it, to say good morning, to talk to it. Now it grows and grows. And I get excited.

Of course, that doesn't help me work any harder on the nursery, or anything else. But I did make dinner three times this week, and did clean out my office closet. This morning we saw the midwife, Ellen. She's great. Everything seems to be normal, normal weight gain, normal heartbeat, everything.

I have gotten in touch with a man through the Internet who maintains a site about the "Kassels" of Saint Louis, MO. I am trying to locate my father's birth parents. I have always wanted to do this, but after the scare with the fetus, I want to know as much as I can about my blood relatives. I do not wish to meet them, however. I just want to know.

Free Times Review

A stylish, energized and surprisingly impactful use of this late-night platform. A nice achievement, particularly considering all the things that might not have gelled with this production, including the format: 32 short plays by nine different authors crammed into one short, low-budget hour.

"The Gulf" ... manages to transcend the ambivalence inherent in the theme. It was a short and uninspiring war, but soldiers faced death and civilians felt loss. So it is possible that this recent and brief period in history, when examined thoughtfully, can yield insight into greater and darker events of the more distant past.

Support the troops. See "The Gulf." - Marie Andrusewicz

Responsibilities

My weight is staying around 170, which doesn't suck. I do not feel bloated or fat. I have resumed going to the gym, have done twice in the last two weeks which isn't enough, beet than nothing, and I will try to get into the habit of going at least twice a week.

Toni keep getting bigger. The fetus, the creature, the baby, is very active, swimming around inside of her. A little tiny human, inside of her, getting bigger every day.

The show has opened. There are responsibilities, my job, my theater, benefits to throw, classes to schedule, a book to sell (got another rejection letter yesterday) -- but there are also clothes to wash and put away, food to purchase and meals to prepare, and a nursery to create. For when we become a family. The Thayer-Hansen family. I am scared, and I am unsure. I am nervous that I will be a joke of a father. But I want this so badly and I can't even begin to explain why.

Remember

I came home from rehearsals so exhausted, just wanting to get it all out of my system, and the days have been spent caring for a poor sick Toni ... and you know, I think I am not in the habit of taking notes on everything -- productions, my personal life -- because my life is the full, busy, and largely well-run thing that it is. I do not need to remind myself how to do certain things, I remember.

But then there are the things we forget and I should be writing those down. I hope some can be found here.

Grinding halt

And things are all right and not all right. The second ultrasound visit yesterday showed absolutely no abnormalities at all, but that doesn't prove there aren't any. Just as Toni's increased ABF levels don't prove there is anything wrong. (Uh, I think they are "AFB" levels.)

We were supposed to have dinner at the Pedacis' tonight but had to cancel. At first Toni seemed to be coming down with a cold but now she's vomiting again and can't lie down without becoming very ill. I may be sleeping in another room if only to keep me from becoming sick -- I haven't been sleeping very well with all of this going on and it makes it difficult for me to care for her.

Why why why why why why. I am grinding to a halt here, I can't get anything done except for this stupid play I am directing.

High levels

And things are not all right. Toni's levels are still high, they seem to have escalated. We will go in for another ultrasound tomorrow. I have an image from the previous ultrasound on my desktop. That is a little person to me, or is becoming so, and gradually. But there it is. And there is a slight possibility it will have problems. That it may have difficulty walking or need some kind of special therapy.

Toni told me about the tests not being what we wanted them to be while I was at work. I was crying at the office. I came home and just burst open with Toni. I am so scared, so sad -- I wanted everything to be perfect. Maybe they won't be perfect. When is anything perfect?

The War

And now it's a story. Our story of the war. I didn't think we were going to do this, it seems too ambitious to work. There's very little satire, just true stories of the war, fought at home and abroad. There are so many gaps in the "factual" account ... but I'm not certain it won't work. Tonight will be a very telling run-through. I hope it is enjoyable. Personal complications have made things ... complicated.

Reassurance

Things are all right. The ultrasound (one of which I am using for my desktop graphic) displayed no defects ... the fetuses' head is intact, strong looking, the spine looks strong, two hands, two feet, they couldn't see the very very base of the spine, where a lot of spinal openings, if present, can be found. They drew more blood, if the levels Toni had in the previous screening dropped we can safely chalk up the former test to, well, something else, something unknown. It was a stressful but reassuring experience.

Yes, there are a lot of things you can share with others, or rely on others for, but this is truly one where the two of you are on your own. Fortunately, Toni and I have been on our own for so much of our relationship already, it's just another part of the journey. One we knew we would have to take. I think we knew that.

Worry

Level 2 Ultrasound today. We will know a lot more today and I am scared. Not as scared as Toni. There's a reassuring voice in my head that tells me everything will be all right, and that voice is called denial. I simply cannot honestly fathom what to do if anything were wrong. So I don't. I acknowledge the possibility but take comfort (perhaps too much comfort) in the odds.

My father was adopted. I wish I'd found out why before I chose to get someone pregnant.

Complication

The new year has brought with it a series of complications and anxieties. Toni had a blood test, a screening test, to determine if there were any major genetic abnormalities with the fetus. She tested negative for Down's Syndrome, but got an abnormal in another part of the test, which could mean a host of things including (but the odds are against it) Spina Bifida.

It wasn't the news so much, she knows that could mean a number of things, including the fact that sh has, for example, twins (something she is almost sure she has thought I feel she is only being fanciful) but the way sh received it was outside the close knit loop we and the midwives have formed, it came from a dupe who works for University Hospitals. Someone mistakenly suggested she was automatically signed up for an amniocentesis test (which, at this stage and at her young age would cause more problems that it would detect, not to mention be traumatic and extremely painful) and anyway Toni had a really lousy Thursday last week.

We have calmed down a little, but the fear that our fetus might be deformed, genetically, has made me separate from it, want not to be too attached. What does Toni think? We haven't discussed it. Abortion is still an option, though a much more difficult one than it would have been even a month ago. She has really begun to grow. Everyone knows we are pregnant, so do we tell them we had to get rid of the "baby"?

I don't even want to think too closely on this, see, it probably isn't necessary but we must think about the worst to be prepared for it. But I want to be close to the baby, singing to it, telling it stories, but then I have already become so attached if anything should go wrong I will be one sad man.

Rested

Prince of Wales Hotel - Niagara-On-The-Lake

Delightful night's sleep, almost delirious. I keep waiting to have a real cold but it never comes.

And so, rested (very well rested) Toni and I will return home, ready to tackle the new year with energy. More to do now than ever, including construct a nursery. Not much time for anything else, huh? We shall see ...

She thinks she felt it move.

Happy New Year was spent in bed. After a harrowing, then pleasant time at the Skylon, we figured ringing in the new year in bed, warm and alone was better than doing it in the park with 30,000 others.

I have decided that, of all places here, I severely dislike the Skylon. It was uninviting and cramped. The floors downstairs are bare cement, giving it that Richfield Coliseum feeling, and upstairs, in the tower, JESUS.

We arrived at 8:30 for our 8:30 seating. Actually, we arrived at 8 or so, but it took a wait in line for the elevator to get to the lobby. In the lobby we waited for almost an hour to be seated. Toni was extremely unhappy, with people on all sides, alternately hot and cold, and having to stand.

There was this glad-handing stooge in a yellow turtleneck who cut in line. He emerged from the elevator in the middle of the queue, and never checked to see if that wasn't the wrong place to be. He was from Canton, he owns a Humvee - I'd seen him around town. On these roads, in a HUMMER. What a prick. I hated overhearing his conversations on line. "Solid!"

Our table was a booth, for two, facing out of the tower. So that was good. And the food, though not exemplary, made us very happy. I bought Toni a rose. It was our 12th new year's together. We speculated on future new years. What do you do with a baby?

Toni tells me she thinks she felt it move in the middle of the night.

Criticism

Vacation Inn - Niagara Falls, Ontario

There are things they don't tell you about pregnancy.

Breakfast, like dinner, was sub-par but tasty. Tacky restaurant, tacky diners. Lots of older people. I can only imagine how demoralizing it is to work there, most of their business must come from packages with this hotel. Free meals = no tips, I am sure.

It feels colder today, not inviting to walk around. We dressed warmly but not warm enough. I didn't bring a baseball cap which was dumb because I need to keep my head warm, even inside.

Today was a perfect day for a slow start, we'll do one or two things before our 8:30 dinner at the Skylon. Toni will need a nap in a few hours, anyway. She was feeling pukey after breakfast.

Must take photos of Niagara. My favorite spot, where the falls meets the wall, is frozen! Strange tendrils of ice, pointing in odd directions, like coral. Beautiful.

Ever since the plumbing in our bathroom at home got f*cked up, the most decadent thing imaginable is a bath. We took one together last night, I am running one for myself now.

I have decided Toni and I should do anything or nothing on this trip. She is far too susceptible to nausea or weakness and it's too cold out, it wears us both down to spend too much time outside, if only to scurry from place to place.

She wanted lunch at the Victorian Park Restaurant, where we had lunch in 96, but the restaurant is closed during the winter.

So we had a buffet (Toni dislikes buffets) at the Table Park complex, right next to the falls. Then we went to the park greenhouse. And now we are back, and Toni is napping. See? Perfect.

There was a striking red-head at the restaurant, like a cross between Bjork and Donna from "That 70s Show."

Looking out the window, at the falls, with ice coating everything ... must wreak havok on all the man-made construction, the mist, the ice, the freezing, contracting thawing. I don't know how the trees make it, let alone the buildings.

A greenhouse in winter, lots of frisky birds. I love that. Now I will settle in and read "What Is Theatre?" a book by Eric Bentley Dad gave me for Christmas.

"If you were the playwright, wouldn't you rather have a critic take issue with your play than be so ecstatic that you can tell he's making it up?" - Bentley

No, of course not, don't be arrogant. You are free advertising, if you cared about improving theater you would be in it and not whoring yourself to a media conglomerate.

Niagara

Vacation Inn - Niagara Falls, Ontario

Back in Niagara after 4 1/2 years, now for New Year's Eve. After last year's millennial bash, I vowed this year would be private, just Toni and I. And where better?

It's cold, not as cold as it has been, though. We took off after 1:30 PM, had to stop at an Applebee's - we tried to find a local place,the weather and Toni's pregnancy blood-sugar was prohibitive. Got here after dark. Homely motel, not bad, great, wide tub. Excellent deal. Two nights, free breakfast and dinner at the Skylon, tomorrow night. This is nice.

After dinner at Biffy's we drive down to the falls. Iced over at the edges, the mist leaves stalactite-type icicles on everything. Spidery or tentacle-like.

We took a horse ride, and then came home and defrosted with a bath.

Research

Wednesday morning was spent in the Alden Library at Ohio University, poring over old copies of THE POST. Fall 1990, Winter 1991. Man, how depressing. It really was as awful as I remembered, protests every day, the coverage of the war (man, that paper is really good) and all of those letters to the editor -- none during the build-up, almost none -- but after New Year's two or three a day. Amazing. And SO poorly written.

Finish line

The year winds down, I am headed for the goal -- Christmas. Haven't prepared at all, shopped for a few presents, wrapped nothing, the house is a mess, I have a three-day gig this week shooting this awful industrial film based on "Austin Powers", and I just want to reach the finish line ... Niagara Falls.

Proof

Heard the baby's heartbeat on Thursday. I almost cried, except there was the nurse midwife standing right there. It was very exciting.

Catching up

Wow. Found it very difficult to sleep. Didn't snooze until midnight (went to bed at 10:30) and woke around three or four to discover I just couldn't get back to sleep. Got up a half-hour ago. I want to be at work by eight, that shouldn't be impossible. Big day, I have an audition for a commercial at noon, a midwife appointment at one, there's the ACLU party beginning at five but then I have a rehearsal at seven.

Wow. Glad I don't feel ill anymore. Surprise twenty-four hour thing. Toni is so worried about all the work she has to catch up on. I must wake her at six so she can do some of it. She was so preoccupied with her play, and having sever bouts of morning sickness (she's over them, mostly) that it threw her ... I knew this would be difficult, but I had no idea how much.

Mental Assessment

The Wayward Angel

Things are hectic, at least they are in my head. But they are more enjoyable than they have been. I thought they might, hoped they might, once the Christmas shows opened. The Santaland benefit has passed, The Wayward Angel has actually come off well, it is December.

Toni is at writers' group. I sit in my bathrobe, writing here, thinking of what to do next. I have all day. I will no doubt clean up a little, maybe make the downstairs a Christmas place, that would be great.

I had double-booked myself yesterday, working Wayward in the afternoon and Santaland at night. I got a sub for myself at the evening show because Toni wanted me at home. She needed to do homework, but she wanted me at home. I wanted to be home, too. So I was home. I made dinner. She couldn't eat, but we sit together.

Bliss

Just listened to the This American Life episode, We Didn’t (first broadcast July 12, 1999) which includes an excellent rumination by Geoff Dyer on the subject of procrastination. And here I am, folding laundry when I should be on the phone to the media, But I haven’t folded and put away laundry in so long the heap in our bedroom is comical, spending the last month or two rummaging through clean clothes in hampers to the side of the bed as the heap grows.

Dyer describes how artists have children just so they will have someone to blame for their own inability to write that book, something they never would have accomplished anyway. I know I will never do that. In fact, I used to blame D. for holding me back, if it hadn’t been for D. I would have been such a success in my early to mid 20s.

And yet, it is so clear to me how Toni has encouraged me to accomplish more than I ever would have without her – and I feel I have helped her do more than she would have without me.

And the child. What will the child do? Keep me from directing, or acting, for a very long time. I will need to care for the child while mommy is at work. I don’t even consider resenting that. I think it is something I have always wanted.

Toni has made me feel experiencing life it is own work of art, from visiting museums, to watching people or listening in on their conversations, to watching plants grow and die, to listening to music to beautiful smells, to experiencing stupid roadside attractions. How could sharing that with a child be anything but bliss?

Bring it on.

The election is in five days, and we are coming to the end of a great era in American history, at least I think so. An era of tolerance and acceptance.

Clinton's Era did so much that people are painfully ignorant of now, with two major losers running for President - and Nader, who I am voting for, let Gore lose, it's his own fault.

"What?" you might say. "But the early 90s were divisive and full of hate and vitriol, what about Waco, what about the OK City Bombing, what about O.J. and Monica and all the rest?"

Yes, yes, and what about a female Attorney General, one who lasted the administration despite continual calls for her resignation by the fear merchants. What about the female Secretary of State, negotiating Post-Cold War Politics as we know it? What about the Blacks and Latinos and gays who have risen to a level of visibility and prominence and acceptance in the 90s as never before?

Oh no, maybe we shouldn't give Clinton the credit, not personally, but the past eight years have encouraged discussions on hate and love and tolerance and respect - conversations and arguments about things which were never discussed at all in the previous era.

Bring George W. Bush on.

Happy All Saints' Day

Me and Nick in a promotional photo for Cloud 9

Now that "Cloud 9" has opened and I have a little breathing space, I am trying to be a better househusband. Toni goes off for such long days, I need to make sure more and better food is in her bag. She is ill from time to time (she has a little cold right now -- what does that mean?!) but she is also doing a hellish amount of work. I am very proud of her.

What to do

How chilly this morning. Had the heat turned on a week or so ago, but we both smelled what we thought was the faint odor of gas ... but only around the stairwell. In any case the weather has been mild, but no longer.

I have been working overtime on "Cloud 9" and deserve a break, my traditional break. Last year, after Sin opened I think I went to the zoo and got very depressed. I can't decide whether to go to the Rainforest or the art museum.

I also need to rake the leaves.

Housework

Spent the morning, since I rose at 7ish (7:30?) washing dishes, taking care of Toni, making breakfast, taking care of Toni ... feels like so much time spent doing housework but I'm not really doing any. I am always doing something yet it feels I am further and further behind.

Which is to say nothing of how Toni feels, by her own assessment "four weeks behind" in her homework, she was written a play and is acting as its sound designer (she is there, at a sound design meeting this morning) as well as being hideously fraught with morning sickness. She has been unsteady and unwell for three days. I hope she shakes it off by this afternoon, the mornings can be treacherous.

I was formerly sad and depressed because I feared we would never have a child, now I fear sometimes she will hate me for forcing her to have one.

Accutane

Just read an article on Salon about a teenager who shot himself, and the parents are suing the manufacturer of Accutane, or their doctor or something.

In 1998 the FDA instructed doctors to warn people to whom they prescribe Accutane that it has been linked to depression. I took Accutane in 1987. By the following fall, I was almost entirely despondent, angry, irrationally upset ... that drug (almost) cured me of disfiguring and extremely painful acne. It also brought on rather swift hair loss as well as extreme sensitivity to cold weather and eternally chapped lips. I cannot tell whether or not that was a good thing.

My ex-wife took Accutane during our first year of marriage. Hmn.

Success

Toni is pregnant. This is a good thing, this is something we planned, something we worked together for. I wanted a baby, and I wanted one now. I felt, I have felt, that I have been waiting my entire life for when everything was on the right order - right career, right mate, right time, house clean, office organized, head in a good place - before I could. By those criteria I would wait forever. I asked Toni if we could, she said yes, some time ago. Only now we have done it.

I worried it would never happen, that now that I was ready she wouldn't be, and wasn't for a time, like I wasn't ready for marriage, and yet here we are. She's been off the pill for ages, taking B vitamins, trying to be in good health (though, again, can't wait forever) and last month we began trying to get pregnant and bam, it worked. Damn, I'm good.

This morning was a monster. We have both been doing so much work, getting little sleep, and the stress is telling on her - pregnant, in grad school, and having a play she wrote produced at Dobama's Night Kitchen. She was very unhappy this morning.

Tech Week

Last October, as Roger began directing 'Compleat Works', he shared with me some ingiht into his anxiety about the project. We had just opened 'Sin" at Bad Epitaph, and there he was, with me and Nick and Al, Don McBride, and he was panicked - how would we do this show? How could he get everything done? There wasn't time for this!

And then he stepped back and realized he was still in Tech Week from 'Sin.' This show wasn't about to open, we had some five weeks to get it done. Five weeks is a long time to get anything done.

I have been in Tech Week for months now, and I do not know how to get out of it.

I suppose a great deal of this has to do with my actually fulfilling the promises I made to myself years ago. I have my own company, and all the stress that comes with (how do I produce an entire season right now, during Tech Week?) Or that I have a part-time job doing web design for the ACLU (I work five hours a day there, but they can't expect me to charge their entire website during Tech Week!)

And the baby. We are trying to get pregnant. And she's going to have a baby tomorrow. Because it is Tech Week. And the house isn't ready for a baby yet.

Nine months is a long time to accomplish anything. Tech Week isn't.

I am wearing a sweater Toni picked out for me from land's End. It's cozy, warm, a nice, homely cotton sweater. In green. I used to hate green. When the baby comes we will paint one of these rooms green for it.