Everything in its right place.

Backstage
6:50 PM

The year 2000 Radiohead album Kid A included many themes I shared with Dennis to compose to original music for I HATE THIS. And we used it for pre-show at Big Box, in Minnesota, in New York. Since then there has been no call for "pre-show," not in conference halls and hospitals and church basements.

It is playing now. We are five minutes from our first run-through. Takes a person back.

9:59 PM

Act One: Hour Five
Act Two: Hour Eleven

Not so heartbreaking, I have not run these in several days. I know we will rip some out tomorrow night.

During notes Ali got a little sheepish, pointing out the proximity of the lights and how I might need to ... powder my head. I reassured her I was going to do that, anyway. But then Christopher whispered to Kelly, "Oh no! At the beginning of Act Two, that's the only way I can see him!"

Good run. Two more to go. Gotta pick up some milk.

Teching Doughnuts

11:11 AM

Cue-to-cue begins.

Good God. Ali provied a table of food and drink ... bagels, cream cheese, strawberries, Cheetos, orange juice, Coke, doughnuts -- f*cking doughnuts?

That's a line from the show, by the way.

12:22 PM

We just finished doing to cue-to-cue for I HATE THIS.

THESE PEOPLE ARE AWESOME. I BOW DOWN TO THEIR ULTIMATE INCREDIBLENESS.

I have not performed this show with anything approximating light cues for seven years. It looks beautiful. Well, I think it looks beautiful, I can't see it from where I am sitting.

I can't wait to discover what the second act looks like.

1:25 PM

First snag. Everyone laughs. It is taken care of in less than five minutes. That is how this crew rolls.

2:15 PM

And we are done. Hear that? Done. Tech in three.

Now, three nights of run-throughs and we open on Thursday. Or Preview. Whatever Raymond says.

Memo to myself: Ali's medal, extra music.

KEEP UP

AND THEN YOU DIE run-through: 1 hour, seven minutes. Hells, YEAH!

Whew.

You can peruse my running blog to get a grasp of my silly preoccupation with my weight. You can also check out HOW LITTLE I HAVE BEEN RUNNING THIS YEAR. Damn.

But you know what? This was the first time running through ATYD has been fun. Just pure fun. Ali mentioned this, I was discovering new things all over the place tonight, with more sympathy for others, more self-effacement for myself, it all had a lighter touch.

Because, you know ... after performing I HATE THIS, doing a play about relationships and training for a marathon just can't hold up. So it won't. It is the digestif. Having realized that, it takes a lot of WEIGHT off the shoulders of this piece.

6-Step

Tonight is night off from rehearsal. And this is how I will be spending it.



NOTE:
DO NOT ATTEMPT TO RUSH THIS MOVE, IT IS THE FOUNDATION OF DOWNROCK AND YOU SHOULD PERFECT IT BEFORE SPEEDING IT UP.

Josh.

6:39 PM

Yay! Tonight is not about me!

Josh (multimedia) and Joshhawk (light) are present, we are working tech tonight. They are currently trying to get the video projector set, I am getting a few glimpses of Josh's animations ... and OOOH! I am getting excited. Looking good.

7:56 PM

Rolling through the slides of I HATE THIS. The music of Dennis Yurich.

9:03 PM

Finished setting cues for I HATE THIS. We are a happy family. So happy with Josh's work. Christopher is our tech booth guy, taking over for Josh when he runs FEVER DREAM.

9:37 PM

I have been dismissed, we skated through slides from AND THEN YOU DIE in short order so I could see the changes -- this multimedia rom this piece will largely resemble the 2009 production. Well, no that's not true, either, there are some great additions to clear things up ... good gravy we will be going much faster this time.

More flab on me, but much less on the show.

Speed The Play

7:50 PM

We are not tech'ing this evening. Poor Josh. So excited about being to ask to design multimedia for three shows ... only they all are happening at once. My show requires some deceptively not-simple tricks (a speedometer? that's easy ... right ..?)

So ... yesterday I had asked for a speed through for Wednesday ... so Kelly announced today we'd be having one tonight.

Okay. Not prepared for that. I should be, no one's fault but my own. And here we are, during the first break.

I sped through I HATE THIS in 38 minutes.

8:50 PM

AND THEN YOU DIE in 45 minutes. Whew. That means Josh & Josh get 15 minutes to mess around.

(Ha ha ha.)

Ali says I can go home.

Okay. Tomorrow we tech.

Her story

Herstory. Get it?
Spent the evening at Arts Collinwood for the Sunday Roast, featuring writers Lee Chilcote, Catherine Donnelly and Toni K. Thayer. I like Lee and Catherine's work, but I was really there to see my wife. You know how it is.

When I first presented the staged reading in August 2002, someone, I think it was Faye, said it is a long-standing belief that it takes ten years to be able to grapple with and present a major life trauma as a piece of writing. I had done it in less than two. I don't know if it was the right thing to do or not, but that's the way I swing.

When Christine Howey reviewed I HATE THIS after the 2003 Big Box run, she had one little thing to quibble about, and that was that Toni didn't get much of a voice. This is true, but I also think it is only correct. This is about the father, the guy on the outside. Her story, her voice, is hers. If she weren't a writer, maybe I would try to tell that story for her, but I knew I did not have to, that her story is hers, and that she would tell it.

Eventually.

It has taken ten years.

Tonight she told the story, her story, in person. She has incorporated aspects of her experience into other works, but not THE STORY. Calvin's story, as told by the mother.

She'd written this some time ago, and it has sat. It needed work. Her peers had several extremely helpful notes about elements of it which led her story in different directions which strayed from this story. This time. What happened, to her. And she spent a great deal of the day today finishing. She never let it rest - not even when I told her just to let it go, that what she had was fine, that the crowd tonight would eat it up, that she needed distance, and that she could polish it afterward.

Shame on me.

Thankfully, she did not rest. And she got it right. And she read it, out loud. And now her story is ready to reach a larger world.

Someone should publish this.

I do not want to die.

Sunday Run-Through

2:25 PM

I HATE THIS 1 hour 6 minutes. This will change, we are used to holding for music, this will change. I am delighted to be more animated in this production. We are sharing. We are getting close to the audiences. We need to stop writing in first person plural.

Broke out the sweater for today's run. Ten year-old Land's End sweater. Pale green, iconic. I feel comfortable in it. The sweater acts for me in places. I hold the sleeves every now and then, and connect with my 32 year-old hipster self.

4:01 PM

AND THEN YOU DIE 1 hour 23 minutes???!! How the hell did that work? The show was 1:20 BEFORE I CUT ALL THESE LINES AND ALL THE COSTUME CHANGES ...

Something has got to give.

4:41 PM

After notes. I am feeling a little sore. I need to hammer down these lines and have a speed through. One day. Not yet. We do have time, a lot of time. In fact, we are teching tomorrow. I will have sound and video and light by Wednesday, I will be running with full technical elements a full week before we open, how awesome is that?

So. If it is all too much, we have time, to cut, to shape. To make it work.

Cut it now.

I would bemoan the fact that my current schedule still makes it very challenging to get a run in ... except we worked AND THEN YOU DIE tonight, from 6:30 to almost ten. Bouncing up and down on my toes for three and a half hours, leaping onto and off of cubes and platforms, running circles around you sooner than you know. ... and dancing. Don't forget the dancing.

Exhausted and hungry, my throat very tired -- my neck even hurts, why does my neck hurt? And then there are my knees. They are both very sore. This is going to be a joy.

At a little after eight, Ali asked if I wanted to "run" it again. And I said ... yes.

That's how I said it. "...yes."

I have been working, in my so-called spare time, on running lines. New lines, to be sure, and old lines. It's just not all in there for me, yet. I keep changing things -- cutting things, mostly. There was a lot of stop-and-start but hearing the first run took an hour twenty was disheartening. I mean, yes, I stopped and started a lot but I have to know, to believe it will be an hour. I cut more. Do I hate saying that? It's out. Have I made my point? It's out.

I had more ideas for revisions before I had even left the parking lot.

Chalkhills and children

Chalk hills and children anchor my feet.
Chalk hills and children. Oddly complete.

Process. Or whatever.

What comes through? Repetition, comfort, knowledge ... this play is not, actually in my bones. The words can surprise me. "It has been so long since he died." How do you say that when what you mean is that it has been two months when you also know it has been ten years. Which do you play? You must play two months, only that is a lie, and I hate lying.

The joy emerges, the joy of telling. It has been hard to feel joy. I am just too tired. And busy. Distracted. This is nothing new.

And then there's Ali and Kelly over there, commenting on my blogging. This is my ten minute break, yo.

Dammit.

Jesus. Will you look at this?
Working AND THEN YOU DIE in the Storefront tonight. First night in the Storefront, first night with actual space to move, to run ... and something hurts in my left knee. Kelly, the stage managerest with the mostest had ICY HOT and an ace bandage, and so it feels better, but come on. Major suckage.

UPDATE: My knee is fine, actually. But ever since ... well, ever since my knee was first damaged in 2008 I have worried about re-injuring it. Or the other knee. Or anything. I first performed ATYD four months after knee surgery. It's been over two years. But only two years. I just stepped off to jog to my right tonight, and the knee hurt. No popping. Nothing odd. Just couldn't put much weight on it any more. Really dragged down my mood. But we reblocked the entire act.

Tomorrow, Kelly and I crunch lines. Wednesday a run of IHT in the space, Friday ATYD. And Sunday -- run-through. I am looking forward to that.

X

"Run" Through (Get it?)

Oh my God what was I thinking.

We had a "run-through" tonight for the benefit of our video sound guy, Josh, and the lighting designer, Josh. They are two different guys named Josh. The LD has a mohawk so Ali calls him Joshhawk, but that is confusing to Josh because it makes him think there's an actual bird in the room.

Act One (I HATE THIS) went not so piss-poorly. There was a performance of DARWINII going on nearby in the storefront, so I have not been speaking full-out ... which means I cannot "bring" much to the performance (as the kids say) but at least it makes sense. It has been sketched out in blocking, I have an idea of where to be. And the lines are, well ... okay, let's not talk about the lines. They exist. They are simply not accurate.

As for Act Two (AND THEN YOU DIE) well, crap. The running, all the running ... the truth is, my ass is bouncing in the most unpleasant way. This is not where I wanted to be right now. Oh well. Let's see what I can pull together in the next few weeks.

Then there's the text, thing. I mean, even that is not so horrid. We only attempted it so the designers, especially Joshhawk could get the gist of everything and have something to work with. Tomorrow afternoon, Monday, we will get this sucker into some blocking order.

Plans are coming together for Sunday's festivities. Need to go grocery shopping tomorrow, make arrangements with Mom and Dad, we may see them on Sunday, too. Weather suggest 50 degrees and partly sunny. I'd like it to be warmer, but as long as there is no snow or rain, I should be satisfied. I'd like to run around the zoo with the children.

Celebration

I am supposed to be off-book my next Tuesday. This was an arbitrary date arrived at Monday night when it was decided that rehearsal would proceed even though my director needs to be absent. Kelly and I will read lines, I must be off-book. This worried me ... until the past two nights when I discovered exactly how valuable to human mind is and how much can be retained through sheer repetition. So much, locked up there, waiting to re-emerge.

Ali has cut my tethers. So much of the original I HATE THIS was static. Sitting. Telling stories. Until I suddenly leap into action, bolting around the hospital bed in order to hit the intercom, movement is pretty slow and measured. These things will change. Working in Fefu's Kitchen, a tiny room but pretty much the dimensions of the stage in the Storefront, I am encouraged to address everyone, on all four sides, in close. This is new. Turning around, putting my back to the corners, using the entire space. We have been playing, I have been speaking low -- so as not to interrupt performances of DARWINII, but also because I am reserving strength, I am very tired from work, and am aware of how much energy the ATYD rehearsals will take out of me.

Bounce on your toes for three hours. It's a little trying.

We play with gestures, those I was aping for ATYD, get folded back into IHT. Reflection. Memory.

My family is making plans for Sunday. Calvin would be ten. Calvin is ten. How do you fill a decade? With words, to be sure. The girl is looking forward to visiting the zoo. The boy ... has been invited to someone else's birthday party. How do you tell a five year-old he can't go to a birthday party for his schoolmate so you can commemorate a dead sibling? That's easy -- you don't. You take him there. You make it work. It's all a celebration.

First Read-Through ... Again.

CPT Poster!
No, I have not read these plays out loud, back to back, at one time. Ever. Until tonight. The rehearsals begin, Ali, Kelly and I huddled in Fefu's Kitchen, listening to me read the complete script of I HATE THIS/AND THEN YOU DIE.

First act (IHT): 50 minutes
Second Act (ATYD): 53 minutes

Hey, what? Really? Well, that's good news already. I mean, that's not run time, no way, we'll tack ten minutes onto each, I am sure. But IHT used to be 1:07 and ATYD was at least 1:20. Cutting is good. Cutting is very good.

Ali set some of my fears to rest tonight. She says they have the same voice, even if they have different energy. Her concern, if I understand it correctly, was whether these pieces are realistically about the same "character." Can we believe David in the first act is Pengo is the second.

She wanted Pengo to be called "David" once during the second act. I think I put it in the right place. Doesn't matter to me, neither of them are my proper name, anyway.

My voice is tired. I need water near to me at all times. I must be careful.

Evolution

Seated in the Storefront Studio Theatre at CPT. IHT/ATYD opens here in what, four weeks? I am here to see Brett Keyser in the solo performance Darwinii. The family is out of town for roughly 36 hours so they can visit Toni's ailing grandmother. I take this freedom of responsibility to check out theater and later, to fold laundry.

Went to the bathroom. It is a little jarring. This bathroom. It is comfortable. I mean, it is warm. My earliest memories of this bathroom are cold, the coldest kind of bathroom. Cold toilet seat. Hateful thing, a cold toilet seat. As a performer I subjected myself to that seat numerous times, practicing for Junk Bonds, for Love In Pieces. Before CPT bought the building this was an appliance store called Giant Elephant or White Elephant or something. In the mid-to-late 90s it was a frigid rehearsal space, later an independent bookstore. Now it is a proper black box-type space. The Storefront. This is a keeper. This makes me happy.

I would be happier with beer. No beer for this show, just self-serve soda, water and candy. I neglected to have dinner. I trust that will sharpen my attention on the show.

I understand all 50 seats for Darwinii are sold tonight. The reviews have been very good. I'd see it even if they hadn't been, Brett is an immensely watchable performer. The show lasts 70 minutes, I am sure I could watch him sit still without speaking for three hours.

We begin rehearsals this weekend. I have a production meeting this Sunday morning. I go over lines in my head. I will be in this space. I open my mouth, running lines, in the car, and I am surprised by the sound of my voice. Less insecure, unsure. I told myself, and everyone else, that I play a character in I HATE THIS, but I was so much closer then. I sound authoritative, to myself. Expert. Deep-throated. Wizened. Is that a good thing?

I am 42. I was 32. Which do I play?

The show starts in five. I must put away my laptop. I am looking forward to this. All of this.

Who am I?

Investigating my 2001 journals has not been an emotional journey. And I have felt bad about that. I mean, they are interesting, to me anyway. They make me feel kind of sad, wistful, what have you. I know these things, and there have been a few surprises but largely I see a callow youth, walking blindly into a dark forest.

At least, that was how I had been until I began peeking ahead. The last entry before we learn the truth will be that of March 18. The next day we go the hospital, and emerge five days later. My next journal entry is several pages long, detailing our experience. If you know I Hate This, you know that part. And you would think I know it, too. But I was surprised.

Surprised because, up until this point, reading about the expectancy, the planning, such as it was, for this first child, I have been reading the words of a stranger. I am no longer that guy, and have not been since March 19, 2001. When I pick up the story after, then the words I am reading are mine. That's me, ten years ago. When I was born into this new world. I know who that guy is.

Fail

Have You Seen Me?
Male - Answers to the name "TIGER"
Last seen on Castleton Road Thursday night 2/17/11
Look at that photo. In the upper left corner you can see my girl's smile. She loves this cat. She sleeps with this cat, or did so, until Thursday when it got out the side door and has not come back. It was in the upper 50s that night. Today there is a blanket of snow on the ground. He has been sighted in various parts of the neighborhood, or at least he was until a few nights ago.

My daughter's cat disappeared. The next night my wife was informed at a pizza party being thrown by one of the school mom's that not one, but three of my daughter's friends will be attending different schools -- not at the beginning of the school year, but starting next week. A month ago she learned another of her friends will be moving at the end of the school year. Two of her friends she made last year in first grade are in different schools now, or have moved away entirely.

I pray God that I or my wife do not get hit by a truck in the near future, I am seriously concerned about my eight year-old developing a deep fear of commitment.

Where did I go wrong? Why do I not have a higher paying job, why am I not more successful in my chosen career?

Why did I not choose a different career?

I would like to think I send my kids to public school for altruistic reasons. I believe deeply in public education, especially now when it is so severely under attack. And I like the school she goes to. But the truth of the matter is I could not afford to send my children to a private school if I wanted to. That is the fact.

I cannot protect my children's pets, cannot find them, cannot keep them from running away. I have no illusions about finding this animal. An indoor cat, we have read all of the information about how far afield they may or may not roam, and heard apocryphal stories about how cats just come back, sometimes after days and days. I do not believe this. Tiger is miles away, or dead, or seriously injured, or freezing in someone's garage. I cannot save him. And it is my fault.

I allowed my son to have a horrible domestic accident which broke his skull and has left him with a long, dramatic scar on the back of his head. He likes having his hair cut very short, so it is there all the time, a constant reminder to me of my utter failure to be vigilant. It was not an accident. It was a lack of responsibility.

And this takes us back to my original sin, not knowing the signs. My first child died because I was ignorant, feckless, full of guile, stepping into a dangerous and unknown world like I was walking into a bar or a department store. Just looking around.

I have no idea what I am doing. I never have.

UPDATE: 2/23 Cat came back last night, safe and sound and none the worse for wear. He actually keeps trying to get outside, I think he had quite an adventure and is ready for more. We are still stressed at home, but for now there was a little more to celebrate, and a cloud has lifted from over my girl.

Details

Last Sunday I botched my first production meeting. Scheduled for 11 AM at CPT, I wrote it down as 1 PM. Alas. Beth and Ali were able to work out the most important elements in my absence, but still. Oops. This is not how I want to start.

My stage manager, my graphic designer, my director, want some kind of clean copy of the script. Kelly was generous enough to give me a deadline of MARCH 9. Seriously? You are too kind. That's a scant month before opening. Who knows, maybe, perhaps, I will complete it this weekend. Maybe fireworks will spring from my tits.

It has been unseasonably mild the past few days. It feels like Spring. I cover the moments I recorded ten years ago. I remember so much, but I had forgotten even more. March 3 is a significant entry. A horrifying entry. The true beginning of the end, in spite of the fact that ... nothing happens. But uncertainty is not merely present, it is concrete.

As for this moment in time, ten years ago, things are still all right. They are just all right. And we sing.