Day Three: Carlisle to London - Macking on the Dead

Last night Z. & O. treated us to their own rendition of To My Brother Russell, Whom I Slept With. Blame jet-lag if you like, it was irritating.

The performance at St. Cuthbert's couldn't have gone smoother. Technical considerations can be such a headache, we do not have a large operation and to make this work, every venue agreed to provide everything except me and Kelly and a disk full of cues. The set has to be cobbled together at every site, and they have to be sure to have PowerPoint capabilities.

Since the beginning, every site has needed to provide their own rocking chair, even if I bring everything else. As a result, it's always exciting to see what the chair is going to look like. Carlisle set the record for "Shortest Rocking Chair Ever," but it sure was cute.

Friday my biggest concern was the screen - the projector was no problem but there was no blank wall to cast them on. Libby tried very hard to find one and came up short. I was also concerned that the light fixtures, electric candelabras, were too dim. Lots of bulbs at the "stage" end of the room were burned out.

Well. Night of, Libby arrives with her husband Ian and sister Sue and co-group member Angela. Toni was also on hand and between them and Kelly and I, figured out every concern in short order (including dinner, which I always forget to eat on performance nights.) The room was set up with about thirty chairs, they did succeed in finding the only screen in Cubria so we had that to work with, and Ian "pinched" the lights from the fixtures in the back of the room to fill out those in the front.

There were something short of thirty people in attendance. I was feeling surprisingly relaxed in my delivery (Kelly said she could tell - whenever I am comfortable I "mess up" a lot of lines, but f*ck her, she's just the f*cking stage manager, what does she know. F*ck.) and I felt confident delivering some of my alterations to the "British" text.

I still feel stupid saying, "ice lollies" however.

Toni joined me for the discussion after, and we met some lovely people over tea and cake following that. I had neglected to ask our contact about her own experience - I sometimes need to remember, when dealing with bereavement groups (as opposed to, say, medical institutions) that many of the people I am working with have also lost children. And even when I do, well, I guess I wait for them to bring it up, shame on me.

Libby and Ian lost a boy named Kiran just shy of one year ago. I had a long talk with Ian about the boy, and about the way he has dealt with it. Saying our good-byes I wished Libby a good day on the 28th and that's when the tears started. I felt bad, the way people do, for "bringing it up," which is ridiculous when you think about what I have been doing for the past six years. It also goes to show how ingrained these reactions are.

St. Cuthbert's is a great little church. The sides are lined with old tombstones that, for all appearances, were uprooted from the field next to the building. It's a nice, open space, walled-in. The entire time we were there, all evening, there were young people lying about, eating, drinking, making out, on that space.

I thought it was odd, that they had moved the stones, to make that field. "Why?" Toni asked.

So many of the stones included references to babies that died in infancy. I heard Philip Roth on Terri Gross last week, talking about his book "Everyman." The subject was cemeteries, and he noted there how many stones were for children in the old days, and that you don't see that much anymore, because it isn't as much of a problem. I like Philip Roth, but he's been around too long to be that dumb.

Day Two: Carlisle - Street Walking

Sitting in our hotel room by the window, overlooking Greenmarket Square, praying two children take their naps sometime soon. There is a community band playing in the gazebo.

These kids are craking each other up, each in their own beds. There is also a carousel knocked up in the square, which several family members have indulgently taken them on four times each - and at £2 a pop, too. No wonder they can't get to sleep.

We are staying at the Crown and Mitre, surely the best hotel in Cumbria. The service is just excellent. I forgot, you don't tip room service here - I left a pound on each of the three beds ... and found a pound sitting neatly next to each pillow upon my return this afternoon.

We had an extremely indulgent birthday dinner here atthe hotel for Adrienne last night, each of us at different intervals struggling to keep our sanity and our lunch as we struggled to fight off jet lag. The wine didn't help in this regard, but it was an excellent meal. I thought Zelda did particularly well, she had convinced herself that she had had a full night's sleep the night before because she slept until the sun came up. But her behavior at dinner, at bit fractious at the beginning, was merely as loopy as the rest of ours by dessert.

Orson did what he usually does, which is eat everything in sight. Especially soup. He really, really loves soup.

My family was in bed by ten. We woke twelve hours later when Kelly came knocking at the door. So much for the complmentary breakfast. It was switfly decided that Toni would join the rest of the women to catch a bus to see Hadrian's Wall, and that the kids and I would skulk about Carlisle.

I am sure Toni felt guilty about my missing the wall, but there was no time to get the little ones fed and bathed and clothed and on the bus. For those who are unfamiliar, Hadrian's Wall was the outer edge of the Roman Empire, a great barrier to keep those maurauding Scots out. The greatest empire history had ever known, under attack, nearing its end, running out of ideas, decided to put up a big old wall.

Insert ironic statement here. What I said was, "Nah, I don't need to see it, I'm living in it."

I had no idea what to expect from central Carlisle, but we couldn't have picked a better day to spend time out in it. It's warm and sunny, and the place is just crowded, there's lots of shops, and as I mentioned, plenty of outdoor entertainments.

There are several arcades (I mean walk-throughs that have shops in them, not he game kind) and one featured this lovely not-fountain with bronze otters playing in it. I say not-fountain because the center circle is glass made to look like water with light beneath it.

We had lunch at the Prior's Restaurant, in the former Friary of Carlsile Cathedral. Orson wanted the "pizza" which was actually a red pepper and ricotta quiche, and lentil soup. He ate his and Zelda's. She had cheese on toast and part of my salad. Some women who were seated next to us assured me it wasn't a long walk to Carlisle Castle, but suggested it might not be too interesting for the small ones. I wasn't too sure about that, and I hope I didn't err by not going, because the cathedral was right there and we opted to look at that, and that was brief and interesting. All trips to churches are interesting when your children aren't being taught to worship anything. That and all the dead people under the floor.

Last night we met Libby, our contact for the performance at St. Cuthbert's Church, where we will be perfomring tonight. The crowd is expected to be small, so we will be in a room roughly the size of the fellowship hall I was in last year in Wandsworth. As always, I am concerned about tech. There's no screen for the projector, so we will be setting up something like an easel to cast the slides onto. Also, we haven't had to work with an integrated computer system since Nick incorporate the sound into the PowerPoint presentation, so it will be a mystery as to how acceptable the sound will be coming from the projector. But it is, as I said, a small room.

Day One: Glasgow - A Walk With Death

Photo: Happy 23rd birthday, Adrienne!

On the train from Glasgow to Carlisle. The girls are all making "awwww" noises at the nursing sheep on the hillside.

Okay, something is seriously up with the airlines. Three of the last four flights I have taken have been seriously delayed. On the tramac in Newark we waited a good hour and a half to take off. Nothing like the six hours we waited to board the flight to Lousiville, but aggravating nonetheless when the pilot kept chiming in with promises of "10 minutes" then (15 minutes later) "5 minutes" followed by (a half hour later) "20 minutes." A passegnger was chided to return to his seat or we would miss our place in the take-off queue. How? Does the airline have hall monitors who report on such things?

On numerous occasions in the past tne years, Toni and I have dined at the Garden State Diner, located in Concourse C. It's a diner, there's diner food, and previous the worst service you could find anywhere. But when you want an actual sandwich and your other options are the Clown or Nathan's Famous, we opt for wet fries that take forty-five minutes to arrive.

Photo: An infant cemetery turned into a car park?

HOWEVER, they have really gotten their act together. We walked up - all seven of us - and were seated right away. And it was crowded. Our server met us in two minutes, took all our orders, and they came out fast. We were able to relax, and catch our flight in plenty of time ... more time than we accounted for because of the aforementioned delays. But at least we digested our fried food well.

Z. had a Trans-Atlantic Freak-Out last night (hey, that's the name of my new album, Trans-Atlantic Freak-Out!) She'd fallen asleep, but kept waking herself up, kicking MP and whining terribly. It last maybe twenty minutes, she was just inconsolable until she finally fell asleep. Toni reminded me that the exact same thing happened a year ago, last spring, when we last made this voyage. Weird. Just too much stress, exhaustion, the adrenaline rush of an anticipated trip winding down, turbulence, cramped space (the seats have gotten smaller for her, you know) and who knows what else.

Arriving was a great relief, and we soon settled into what I hope is a regular part of our journey together - not rushing to do anything. We sat around, drinking coffee for a while before we set off to catch a bus. It's Adrienne's birthday today, and sister remembered to bring a present. There's too many bags and people to dash off anywhere, we almost left Toni's bag on the first bus. Heck, we almost left my passport at home.

Photo: The hat is a dead giveaway - it's Sylvester McCoy!

The kids are awesome travelers. At least, they are at this age, I hope they don't lose that. We talk about all the things we see, and don't linger over stuff they don't express much interest in. And hey, today was a walk with death.

Any trip to a British cathedral is a festival of dead people, and I'm not just talking about the torture victim hanging from the tree. There are monuments to fallen soldiers, dead bodies uunder plaques under your feet, and tombs all over the place. But St. Mungo's is a very special place. Not only is there there cathedral (featuring Blackadder Aisle, but it's not what you think) but next to it is the St Mungo Museum of Religious Life and Art, which we unfortunately did not have time to really explore - though Toni did take a moment to tie a ribbon to the Couty Tree to remember Calvin and to give the tour some good juju.

Photo: A shining Necropolis on a hill.

And then there is the Necropolis, a cemetery set into, running up and set high on a hill overlooking Glasgow. Hundreds of prominent Glaswegans are resting there, including the William Miller, the man who wrote Wee-Willie Winkie.

(Toni keeps asking me if I am watching the scenery. Everyone else is asleep, but me, I've got to keep an eye on the livestock.)

Before we had even begun the trek up the hill, we came upon a small plot dedicated to dead children. The stone reads, "I will not forget you ... I have held you in the palm of my hand." - Isaiah 49:15 and there were a large number of soft animals and other soggy mememtoes left there. That was an auspicious sight, and also very sweet.

My name is Toni, and I will be your Cruise Director ...

In a day and a half we begin the UK tour. I have not had time to blog recently, I am aware that most of these posts are just reefers to obnoxious YouTube videos or newspaper articles. I got no time for anything else, I have been juggling three projects at work with a number of other personal and artistic endeavors which may or may not be interesting. May if any of them come to any kind of fruition I can take a moment to reflect on them.

The trip, however, I will be documenting as much as possible, maybe even with pictures, who knows. I do like recording how the performances go, wherever they are, and this should be just fascinating.

But it's not just me going on this trip. Kelly will stage manage - and Toni is coming with the kids. And as if that weren't enough, so is my mother-in-law Connie and Toni's sister Adrienne. So, every plane, every train, every bus will have seven of us getting on and getting off.

This would concern me. But like my father before me, I married someone who is as good at making plans as I am at being largely oblivious to what is going on two feet from my nose or where the hell I am. Pictured above is an actual binder with tabs for every day of the journey. She has listings for everywhere we are staying, everywhere I am performing, all of our boarding info and tips on where we should spend what is actually going to a large amount of free time ... at least for everyone except me and Kelly.

Mom takes good care of us. I am a man who calls his wife Mom.

Spaces

9 Jun: Carlisle, England
St. Cuthbert's Church @ 7 pm

12 Jun: London, England
Royal College of Physicians @ 2 pm

14 Jun: Lincoln, England
Terry O'Toole Theatre @ 8 pm

16 Jun: Birmingham, England
Queen Elizabeth Hospital Post Grad Suite @ 2 pm

18 Jun: Lurgan, Northern Ireland
Lurgan Town Hall @ 7 pm

20 Jun: Exminster, England
Exminster Friends Centre @ 7 pm

22 Jun: Plymouth, England
Plymouth Salvation Army Hall @ 7 pm

Today's Fortune Cookie Fortune:

"The cure for grief is motion."

A palliative perhaps, but not a cure.

"P" as in "Pneumonia" ...

Looking back over this blog you can locate the various points where I realize I had unwittingly (as opposed to intentionally) either emulated or stolen a gag or turn of phrase for use in I HATE THIS. Here's another one.

The entire Mailing List phone thing is straight out of Nichols and May. Now Henrik will tell me he always knew that and assumed I did it on purpose. The truth is, the phone gag doesn't belong to them, it belongs to an entire generation of comedians who made hay out of the emasculating power of the phone, whether speaking to your mother, Ma Bell, or trying to figure out from your best friend exactly what you did last night ("for God's sake - don't fizz.")

In most of these bits, made famous by Bob Newhart or Shelly Berman, you only heard the man, descending further into Hell during every pause which indicated the other person speaking. Nichols and May got to share both parts, Elaine May playing either the officious operator from Hell, or the angelic corproate savior, while Mike Nichols volunteered every shred of his dignity for a dime.

Listening to that routine last night, I didn't think anything of it until I heard something like my own voice say, "Is there someone else there I can speak to?"

The hold music gag, of course, is pure Simpsons. But I always knew that.

Just another Friday morning at UH

So I'm sitting in a waiting room as a nurse goes off to find out where I am supposed to be. My appointment was scheduled for that moment, but the office I had arrived at was dark with a sign clearly reading Open - 8:30 AM.

I had called yesterday to double-check the site - it had changed twice in the last two weeks. I check "outgoing calls" on my cellphone, and hit speed-dial for the number I had used yesterday afternoon.

VOICE: Yeah?

DAVID: Yeah, I have a 7:30 appointment with Dr. Seftel for a vasectomy, can you tell me where I am supposed to be?

VOICE: (pause) This is a restaurant.

I had phoned Tommy's.

I Hate This Book

That joke never gets tired.



Here's the news: SANDS has been working with me to publish a script of IHT in the UK. Hopefully, it will be available at all the tour stops next month. It's not really meant to be used as a play script. Instead, I hope it may be of some comfort to those who are coping with new grief, or trying to come to terms with the world around them, when it insists on moving on and they don't want to. That kind of thing.

These are pencil sketches of some of the illustrations that will be included - these are unfinished, by Cat let me post them, anyway. The top is the cover (which will be color) and this one is the last image.



I like how the feet are slightly exaggerated in the first, and the hands in the last.

Of course, Cat created the poster and head-toppers for the famous "Pin the Hair on Hansen" game at Dave's 35th Birthday Party.

about that site ...

So I got this domain name, see?

It's not a terribly exciting website, just a big online resume - though it does include a lot of info about the show. And I haven't updated it since last summer. The reason for this is Toni got me a beautiful new Mac to replace the G3 tower I acquired back in 98. The oldest computer I'd ever had, so much of it was obsolete I was aching for a new model.

However, once I had retired the screen and keyboard to the attic (I kept the tower networked to get all necessary files and docs from it) I realized how fricking expensive it was going to be to get new copies of Dreamweaver, Photoshop, etc. for the Puma (or whatever cat this OS is called.) I finally decided, as inelegant as it looks, to have two computers next to each other, the pretty one and the hideous one.

Some things are worth saving two thousand dollars in software. Besides, I've tried the new Dreamweaver. It's the same.

davidhansen.org updates - including the UK tour - can be found here.

Calvin doesn't want me to do this show anymore.

I always, always, keep the clothes with me. I never check the sweater or the green Chuck's - the original jeans, alas, went the way of all things a long time ago. They are my costume, they are what I was wearing the day my son was born.

Today, of course, I checked them - there was so much stuff to carry home, among four individuals, I just didn't think. And for the first time in my life, I have lost a bag. Sure, it may turn up, someone may have taken it by mistake - there were so many red bags on that flight that looked similar.

But this incident, coupled with the five hour delay on Thursday, and the number of other things going on in my head lately ... I mean, it makes me not a little nervous about Great Britian.

UPDATE: Found it. Someone accidentally took it to Willoughby. Nice town.

Kentuckianaland

Lovely performance last night for the Consoling Parents Support Group in Louisville, KY. Our hosts have been really wonderful, among other things they brought in dinner from this great local seafood grill place before the performance, and there was childcare for the kids who were there. Z&O had the chance to play with other children for the first time in a few days.

Due to a last minute conflict, Nick couldn't join us to run slides and sound - but he did spend a lot of time in the past couple of weeks updating the entire PowerPoint program so (ta-da) Toni was able to run it herself. Her connection to the show (which she must have seen a dozen times already) made her a little nervous about it, but she exectued everything perfectly.

The performance was held in the Beargrass Christian Church - one of the best spaces I have ever worked in! They recently expanded their facilities, adding a new, state-of-the-art sanctuary. The "stage" was solid hardwood, they have two large projection screens, and automatic shades to cover the stained glass windows. The sound system was okay.

I have found I have three kinds of audiences. Theater or "Fringe" audiences (which I have not performed for in almost three years), medical professionals (nurses, midwives, doctors, etc.) and bereaved parents and the people how love them. I usually know what to expect from any of these audiences. People there for theater find it "interesting." Medical practioners, even those who are affcted by it (and most are) treat it like a learning experience - and don't laugh. And the bereaved see themselves in large parts of the story and gasp, laugh or groan in expected (or not) places.

Last night was different. I knew it was a bereavement organization. Turnout was modest, which can effect reaction. Also, I was not wearing my glasses. This messed up the second line of the show, I said it but muffed it a little, which freaked me out - until I realized I was using part of my brain to focus, to make out faces. So I relaxed, stopped trying to do that, and actually felt a strange peace and relaxation I don't normally feel performing this show, because I had nothing to go on - I could look straight at them without wondering if they were sad, terrified, or just hated me.

But they were very quiet. I think Amy did the most laughing, and - I think, I can't be sure, I couldn't see - her 13 year-old daughter. I was surprised. Maybe concerned. A little worried.

We held a talkback after, and Toni got to join me onstage, which is alwasy good - betterm really - than me doing it on my own. People always have questions for her. And there were a few. Very few. The talkback lasted maybe five minutes, there was mostly a lot of soft talking and pauses.

I had an explanation afterwards, at the reception. What I was stunned to learn was how many of the audience members were fresh in their grief. I met so many women who had lost children in the last six to eighteen months. No wonder their response was muted, they were still in this, deep in the middle of the feelings, the pain, the confusion I go over in my show. In fact, by the end of the play, Toni and I were further along than a number of those in attendance.

I am glad I get the chance, after each performance, to meet so many of the people who come to see it, I would find it very dizzying and uncomfortable to just go backstage, change and leave. I think this is why New York was so difficult. I'd do the show, change, and hit the sidwalk, and everyone would be gone, onto the next thing. Even in Minnesota there were usually a few hanging back to say something.

This has been a very good experience, the folks here have been too kind. Even the hotel's really good (big ups, Courtyard Marriott.) There's even talk of returning, and I think we'd all like that.

I think I'm dumb

Sometimes my performance is part of a larger conference. Here in Louisville, it's actually a separate event which was orchestrated by Amy M. to coincide with a conference. Today there is a day-long event, Postpartum Depression and Infant Development, at Baptist Hospital. The keynote speaker was Dr. T. Berry Brazelton, and it was our desire to get to see him speak.

In brief, we succeeded, in spite of a dear lack of sleep and several wrong turns on our drive to the hospital. Wow, what an incredible man. In short, his was a plea that we basically need to change our medical establishment, our education establishment, our government and our society for the sake of children and their parents - and of course, he's right - but his talk made you believe, as if for the first time, that this is necessary, important, and possible.

Attending such events, as part of my travels presenting IHT, makes me feel how little I have actually picked up, or how few advantages I have taken, presented with the possibility of hearing such lectures, or meeting such people. Sorry, I don't mean to make it all about me, but you know, it is all about me.

I don't just mean to imply I am merely thick or feckless, it is all irritating how many times I have attempted to accomplish something, take advantage of an opportunity, and I end up getting smacked with a migraine or just miss the bus. Today I was terribly grateful, after last night's ordeal, to actually make it to the church on time.

Or the hospital. Tonight I need to make in to the church on time. And I need to decide if I do the show in street clothes with glasses, The Sweater without contacts, or The Sweater with glasses. I really do not want to do the show in The Sweater and glasses, I don't think that looks right. I have done the show in a T-shirt before, but that was because it was sweltering and not because I am a bonehead.

Schmuck, me.

Welcome to Louisville. And thank you, Continental Airlines, for making me and my family sit around Concourse D for five hours, waiting for a delayed flight from LaGuardia. What a lovely evening.

The big shock upon our descent into Kentucky was the discovery that although I have plenty of contact lenses, they are all for my right eye. It will be a very blurry show for me tomorrow.

I mean, today. This is a Heineken. Cheers!

Free Performance in Louisville, KY

Consoling Parents Support Group
In partnership with the Kentuckiana Postpartum Coalition

Parents, Family & Friends Conference
Thursday, May 10 - 6:30 to 9 p.m.
Keynote Session: Men and Women Grieve Differently

Dr. Jim England, Chaplain, Hospice and Palliative Care of Louisville
Breakout Sessions: Parents’ Panel - moving through the experience of infant/young child loss and/or postpartum depression
Family & Friends Group A - supporting people experiencing the loss of an infant or young child
Family & Friends Group B - supporting people experiencing postpartum depression

Theatrical Presentation
Friday, May 11 - 7 to 8:45 p.m.
Performance: I Hate This – A Play Without the Baby

An award-winning play written and performed internationally by David Hansen of The Cleveland Theater. Reception to follow.

Events will be held at Beargrass Christian Church
4100 Shelbyville Road, Louisville, Ky.

These events are free and open to the public. Donations welcome.

To register, call (502)629-1234. Childcare available if you register by May 7th. Call 502-896-1161 or email Jenell@beargrass.org.

Cleveland! We're Number 2.

Alas, yesterday Spencer Tunick photographed over 18,000 naked people in Mexico City, destroying the previous North American record of 2,754 set in Cleveland on June 26, 2004.

Photos of the Cleveland shoot, and my and Toni's radio diary are still available on my website. (Warning: Naked people.)

Breakfast conversation

Zelda is eating Berry Burst Cheerios. Dad is drinking coffee and reading the NY Times.

ZELDA: What are you reading?
DAD: The Queen is having dinner with the President today.
ZELDA: President George Washington?
DAD: No ... George Washington was the first president, we have a different preseident today.
ZELDA: What is his name?
DAD: Today the president is George Bush.
(Long pause)
ZELDA: Most people think George Bush is stupid.

Seven dates in Great Britain

We received our itinerary the other day for the SANDS UK tour of I HATE THIS.

If you know anyone in the British Isles who would like to attend a performance, the SANDS website includes phone numbers for booking.

9 Jun: Carlisle, England @ 7 pm
12 Jun: London, England @ 2 pm
14 Jun: Lincoln, England @ 8 pm
16 Jun: Birmingham, England @ 2 pm
18 Jun: Belfast, Northern Ireland @ 7 pm
20 Jun: Exminster, England @ 7 pm
22 Jun: Plymouth, England @ 7 pm

As you might imagine, this will be one for the books. I only wish the kids were a bit older so they could remember it, I imagine Zelda will, a little. It will be quite a caravan; Kelly will be the stage manager, and will be joined by not only Toni and the kids, but Toni's mother and sister. There will be a lot of child care to go around.

With the exception of London, I have never been to any of these cities, let alone Northern Ireland. There will be lots of pictures.

What are we supposed to say?

Working backwards, let me say the performance went over very well. Most appearances get planned maybe ssix months to a year in advance. Many of my appearances have been for medical health professionals, nurses, midwives and doctors. This was one of those.

My appearance at this conference in Warrensville Heights this past Friday was arranged by Carrie C. - the original Nurse Angel. She is the first nurse I portray in the show (as opposed to the resident and midwife, who were present when we got the news) the one who breezes in like a whirlwind, rattles off a list of awful decisions we need to make, and then breezes out again.

Her role is sometimes misunderstood. She's not meant to come off as callous, but she did have the unevniable job of telling us everything we needed to know and what we needed to think about. I like to think she is presented as efficient, direct and compassionate - in less than thirty seconds.

She was present for the performance. She brought her mom. Toni and I love Carrie.

THE FIRST QUESTION

I could tell the performance had gone well, because there was applause, and a lot of crying. And honestly, I was surprised. It is always difficult to reconnect with this play after a long break. Seven months, in this case. Afterwards someone remarked on how I can remember all those lines. I said it's easier than memorizing a play, because it's my story, I can make stuff up if I want to (more on that later.)

Anyway, I was surprised. The performance was in one of those big, corporate dining facilities, with state-of-the-art sound and video. Last year, both performances in London and even the one if Chicago were marred by hours of tech beforehand where Kelly and I were just trying to figure out some of the most basic stuff. Something was not compatible, and either the sound or PowerPoint would not work until maybe fifteen minutes before curtain.

For the first time since 2003 Nick was on the case. He has merged the sound into the PowerPoint (the way it always should have been, I guess) and our tech on Thursday lasted about five minutes. I was able to waltz into the space a scant thirty minutes befor the show on Friday.

However, as is usually the case in such facilities, it's lights up the whole time. Which means I can see everyone. And it's not a happy happy show. People look sad. Or maybe even bored, it happens. Or ... hostile. I've encountered that before. Feeling insecure already, I simply couldn't tell how the show was going over. There are funny parts, and usually that's my only gauge. If they laugh when they are supposed to, then I know they are with me.

Very few laughs. There was one table, down left, that seemed to have everyone under the age of thirty at it. They laughed. They were my anchor when I thought I was truly sucking, I looked at them.

Apparently this was all in my head, however (and there's a good reason for that, wait for it) maybe I had simply forgotten the difference between the medical practitioner audience and the bereaved parents audience. The bereaved parents - they laugh. Because they know where the jokes are. Heck, sometimes they know when the jokes are coming.

One day, however, I do need to get down to business and write that FAQ for after the performance. I like the Q&A that follows, but we could save some time if I headed off some of the questions beforehand. Because, as sure as an actor is going to be asked, "how do you memorize all those lines," the first question a nurse is going to ask is this:

"What are we supposed to say?"

One time, a few years ago, it was truly aggressive. I opened the floor to questions, there was an icy silence (which was a neat trick, as it was about ninety degrees in the room) and then someone said, "Well, you told us everything we've ever done wrong, what are we supposed to say?"

That's not what I got on Friday. What was asked was concerned and direct - but it was the same question. I truly believe I answer that question in the course of the play, though I am very interested in how readers of this blog would answer that question; "What are we supposed to say?"

WHAT I GOT WRONG - or - THE PLAY WITHOUT ANOTHER BABY

Here's the thing. I work very hard to get this story back up to speed after a long break. But it's very hard. I get surprised sometimes by things that I have forgotten, things that are second-nature. And sometimes I feel I have done it so many times I have locked up a little, and that I am missing out on an opportunity here, to let the play grow with repetition.

And I thought I was doing all right. And sometimes I miss something, like when I didn't mention that my brother lives in London in the first sentence of that scene - I just said it a moment later, where it made sense to include that information. That was odd, but no one could tell.

But then there's the second "Julie" scene, where she calls to apologize for the first phone call. It was all right. I bobbled a line, forgot where I was a little bit, which is odd, that scene is usually solid. But I thought I got it out right. Just felt strange.

Very strange. And as I hung up the phone it occured to me (no, wait, that song comes later) but as I hung up I thought, what is the point of that scene? She just called to apologize? That's it? That felt a little flat ... and I put the phone back in its cradle, and I think, SH*T! I didn't say she was pregnant!

So I spend most of the rest scene flying on automatic, trying to say my lines at the same time I am trying to figure out exactly how much I have destroyed this performance. It took about a minute to realize (this is while I am playing one of the more difficult scenes for me in the entire play) it will just come up at Christmas, it will be a surprise then, but no less significant, and that's all that can be done about it. Can't go back, must move forward.

"Two households, both alike in Verona, in fair ... I'll come in again."

TOOTING YOUR OWN HORN

This past weekend we were in Athens, and checked out a package of short subjects at the Athens Video + Film Festival. Some were good, some were not. The worst piece was The Girls of Elizabeth Street (the promo mats claim it was inspired by Truffant's "Les Mistons" but who gives a f*ck) which wasn't merely pedestrian and poorly made, but was prefaced by a rolling list of all the places it had won awards and all the numerous festivals it had been accepted to.

We just watched as the list went on and on, and I couldn't help but saying out loud, "Well. It better be good."

I don't know what bothered me more. The fact that it was set in 1976 and yet the kid had Star Wars figures, or the fact that there was narration AND numerous title cards, or the fact that the filmmaker had absolutely nothing original or interesting to say about being a pre-adolescent boy. None of these things would have bothered me nearly as much, however, if it hadn't been prefaced by a list of major awards.

Which is how I was feeling right before I went on, when Carrie graciously mentioned to the audience that I HATE THIS had been recongized by the Plain Dealer, the New York Times and the Ohio Society of Professional Journalists.

Well. It better be good.

And so I stepped out, feeling like I had set myself up for mediocrity. And I neglected to mention Julie was pregnant.

I have more to say about this, much more. But it's taken forty-five minutes to get this much out. Excuse me if I sound churlish. As performances of I HATE THIS go, it went very well, all around. Everyone was extremely kind, and I did give them (mostly) the same performance everyone gets. I believe this is more than I have ever said about what goes on in my brain when putting on one of these shows, and I am simply hoping it doesn't reflect too poorly on what I'm doing.

And, oh yeah - "What are we supposed to say?"

My vain struggle for hipness and relevance

Yes I should take a moment and record my reflections on last Friday's performance. They are myriad and dark.

First, however - you know, it has been a few years since a friend of mine suggested I listen to Modest Mouse. I got a good ten years on this person and I respect her taste in music it scares me to touch one of her mix CDs. She was into Death Cab for Cutie before the Postal Service. Woo.

So this new MM album comes out and what do I do, I sample it on iTunes (because that's what you do) and there's one track I respond to, Dashboard and when I listen to the entire thing all I can think it, this isn't just emulating XTC, this is XTC, from the staccato guitar riffs to the descending choruses of "OH! OH! OH! OH! OH!" The lyrics are even Partridge in their extreme.

Thought about getting the rest of the record as part of their "complete your album" promotion ... but I don't want to. The rest of it just sounds like Death Cab.