Just Wrought

Recovering playwright, once won a STRANGER Genius Award for theater. Now writing a bloated novel about… G-d help me! Theatre.

Category: Seattle

  • Better Dead, But Rich’ll Do

    Better Dead, But Rich’ll Do

    I don’t even have a dog in the fight that Brendan Kiley’s pulled me into here, but I think I might have to rent one.
    Me on Face Book yesterday
     

    * * *

    Before I retired from theatre nearly two years ago I liked to write essays about the art form’s problems (“On Institutional Arrogance”), and what made it great, (“How Can I Talk About the Borrowers?”), but I never did manage to write all the essays I wanted to. By the end, I had a whole file full of titles I would never flesh out.  I even wrote an essay about that (“Surplus Titles”). One of my favorite leftovers was “Better Dead”, under which I intended to provide an explanation to the uninitiated that despite the image they might hold in their minds of playwrights being central to the making of theatre in modern America, the fact is, our absence is the usual and preferred state of engagement, and if we can manage to be dead, preferably for a long enough time that our work is in the public domain, then we are even more popular among our non-playwriting theatre colleagues.

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  • The Poster is ready for OPENLY WE CARRY / CARRY WE OPENLY

    The Poster is ready for OPENLY WE CARRY / CARRY WE OPENLY

    Oh, I know I’ve said it before, but I can only hope to say it again and again: there is nothing like that new poster smell!

    It says, “Oh, this is coming, baby!  Coming fast!”

  • Jesus Hat

    On the downtown 358.

    In the city I’ll catch the light rail to Beacon Hill where I’ll sit zazen at the temple plus listen to a dharma talk. Should be out by around 8:15, latest. From there, I’ll take the light rail back in to King Street Station and walk to Central Tavern in Pioneer Square, where I’ll chat with Bama, who bounces there, and maybe mooch a beer, or pay for it if I have to.

    Just witnessed the strangest interaction right in front of me. Burnout-looking white dude with one of those hipster hats of knitted wool with ear flaps, comes back and says “Excuse me, sir” to the Hispanic dude with a long goatee and a baseball cap that says “Jesus” in silver Gothic letters. The dude’s halfway into a heroin nod or maybe just really drunk.

    Hipster Hat says it again, real polite, “Excuse me, sir.”

    Guy with Jesus hat opens his eyes.

    “I’m just wondering if you’d like this soda.” And he holds out a paper cup of fountain soda, some sort of dark cola, Coke or Dr. Pepper, near full, complete with plastic lid and straw. Hipster Hat explains that Jesus Hat looks pretty out of it and so he thought he could use a pick me up.

    Jesus Hat says, “I’m fine…. Just tired, man.”

    “Okay. Well, here have this soda.”

    Jesus Hat takes it. “Thanks, man.”

    They fist bump. Then Hipster Hat dude shakes Jesus Hat’s hand.

    “Hey, you want this cigarette?” And Hipster pulls a droopy cigarette from his ear. Jesus Hat takes it between two tentative fingers.

    “You just looked really sleepy to me, man.”

    “Bless you,” says Jesus, and closes his eyes as he tucks the cigarette behind his own ear.

    And the glassy-eyed white dude in the hipster hat sort of lurches with the turns of the bus, back to his seat right behind the driver.

    So what was with all that?

    I mean, here’s the thing: Jesus Hat was shitfaced. A minute or so later I watched him lift himself with considerable effort and stumble to the door to get off in Belltown.

    I got up to get off when we reached downtown a couple stops later. And as I walked to the front of the bus, I saw that the hipster had a bunch of grungy plastic bags stuffed under his seat. He was homeless, and likely a bit crazy.

    After I stepped off the bus, I went down into the light rail tunnel to catch my train to temple.

    Mystery solved. Had to be the hat.

  • Only Took Me 22 Years to Get My Poetry on Buses

    Only Took Me 22 Years to Get My Poetry on Buses

     

    Poetry on Buses is a program currently hosted by King County Metro and curated by 4Culture. It began in 1992 as a presentation of poetry from the Seattle community on the placards found above the bus seats. Says the  website, “The poems are written by that person across the aisle, that kid in the back, or the professional poet.”

    I remember being a young man and new to Seattle and seeing these poems on the buses I rode, my sole mode of transportation at the time. Back then, in the early 1990s, I was so impressed and enamored of the verse I read just above the heads of my fellow riders sitting across from me that I rushed to send in some of my own work. This I did again and again; and again and again I received polite rejection letters from the program. Here is a couple of the poems I sent in through the years: 

    Word Problem:

    How many

    drops

    of rain

    are falling

    at this moment
    on this city
    in this storm

    How many

    on this patch of asphalt

    from now to now

    Count them

    And…

    Seattle

    Gull-angels sculpt the sound winds
    that tunnel through the buildings. Crying wild,
    in wide circles searching, they carve
    a city’s formless redemption; omens of torture and belief.

    What’s to ignore?
    What’s to deny?
    If a transparent pain falls shattering

    on you, what beautiful views?
    What?
    What grays, what greener than greens?


    Looking back through 20/20 critical hindsight lenses: no, I no longer think these pieces are my strongest work. But I still recognize the impulses behind them. And I still stand by those impulses. In other words, I like where my younger self is going. The impulse to create poetry in the context of a city is almost always worthwhile.

    I’m still primarily a bus rider. It’s my only way of commuting to work, since my family only has the one mini-van, which I drive maybe once or twice a week, on errands.

    The Poetry on Buses program went on hiatus for a few years, but I was excited to see on a friend’s Facebook page a few months back that it had returned and new poems were being solicited on the theme of “writing home.” I immediately sent in my piece, Instant Messenger and was utterly charmed and delighted when I got the news that it had been selected as one of the poems that would be shared on selected buses. All 365 poems will be showcased on the Poetry on Buses site, a new poem for each day of the year. My day next year will be August 24, 2015. Additionally, each week, a new portrait of a featured poet and an audio poem will offer you an extra look and a listen. (And, happily I do believe “Instant Messenger” is one of these poems as well.) 125 of the 365 poems will also appear on select RapidRide buses or stations. Some onboard our four RapidRide Poetry Buses and others as discrete poems throughout the RapidRide fleet. The bus and station poems will offer an on-the-spot poetic experience, and also invite visits to the online collection.

    More fun is coming up very soon! The Poetry on Buses launch party will be held November 10, 2014 at the Moore Theater. It’s free and all ages: a vast and necessary celebration of poetry and music, including:  

    • Readings by 36 local poets in English, Russian, Somali, Spanish and Vietnamese. (I’ll be one of the poets reading!)
    • Live music by Love City Love.
    • Special appearances by Seattle Fandango Project, Marianna and Youth Speaks Seattle.
    • The premiere of the Writing Home Collection – all 365 poems!  

    I hope I see you there!

  • Saturday Morning Cartoons LIVE!

    Saturday Morning Cartoons LIVE!

    Death of an Institution

    You may not have noticed, but just a few weeks ago a beloved American institution died the death of a ragdoll; and no less of an American institution itself than The Washington Post announced the passing in its recent article “Saturday Morning Cartoons are No More.” The Post lamented the last holdout:

    This past Saturday, the CW became the last broadcast television network to cut Saturday morning cartoons. The CW is replacing its Saturday cartoon programming, called “The Vortexx,” with “One Magnificent Morning,” a five-hour bloc of non-animated TV geared towards teens and their families.

    Those of us who remember the age of three and only three networks, also recall fondly that, once upon a time the only way you could watch animated cartoons was to wake up on Saturday morning and catch what ABC, NBC or CBS had on offer. Here is what a typical Saturday line up looked like when I was my son Keelans’ age. It includes classics like Bugs Bunny and Woody Woodpecker mixed in with more circa 70’s fair, like The Scooby Doo/Dynamutt Hour, and a personal favorite, Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids, which came on so late, 12 noon, that my mom was usually hectoring me by that time to get outside because I had already wasted too much of “perfectly nice day” watching that “idiot box.”

    “But Mom! It’s Fat Albert!”

    Birth of an Institution

    Happily, theatre—as specifically embodied by director/producer Jim Jewell— did not let the tradition of Saturday morning cartoons go gently into the good night.  Instead, Jewell saw the demise coming, and made a plan to fill the gap with short plays written by teams of local Northwest playwrights and their kids. “Saturday mornings used to belong to kids,” says Jewell. “I remember waiting all week for that one day I could binge on cartoons for hours. So, we wanted to try and create that same feeling with some fun live theater, and what better way to understand what kind of art kids want to see than engaging them in the creation of it?”

    The results of Jewell’s brainstorm will be making their world premiere over three Saturdays this November, at the Pocket Theatre [http://thepocket.org/] on Phinney Ridge in Seattle.

    Saturday Morning cartoons logo

    My sons, Declan and Keelan, and I teamed up to write “Magical Man and the Space Needle of Hideousness”, just one episode in the continuing adventures of Magical Man and his million-plus year sojourn in our paltry four palpable dimensions.

    MAGICAL MAN: I call myself Magical Man. Yeah, I know it sounds stupid, but I can’t say my actual name in your universe. There aren’t enough dimensions.

    I’ve been in your world for one million very, VERY boring years.

    Today I will do what I have waited all those years to accomplish. Confront Roger Wickersham, bring him to justice for his transgressions. . . .

    It certainly doesn’t hurt that Cody Smith and Samuel Hagen will be staring as Magical Man and Roger Wickersham, Evil PhD, respectively.

    Other playwright/kid combinations include:

    • “Don’t Touch That Dial!” by Penelope Venturini and Marcy Rodenborn
    • “Roderick Saves the World (or at least the Day)” by Finn Judd and Maria Glanz
    • “Feline Fitness” by Olivia and Jim Jewell
    • “The Family Jynx” by Jack and Joe Zavadil

    The plays will be brought to life by a talented ensemble, including Val Brunetto, Sam Hagen, D’Arcy Harrison, Cole Hornaday, Kacey Shiflet, and Cody Smith, with a special guest appearance by Paul Shipp. Co-directed by Shawn Belyea and Jim Jewell.

    Here are the details broken out real simple like:

    What?     Saturday Morning Cartoons – Live!

    Who?     B-Sides & Rarities, a Partner Project of The 14/48 Projects, in association with Pocket Theater

    Where?    The Pocket Theater, 8312 Greenwood Ave N

    When?     November 8, 15, 22 @ 10:30am 

    How?     Tickets for Saturday Morning Cartoons are available at The Pocket Theater website (http://thepocket.org/see/) and are $10 adults/$5 kids online (or $14/$7 at the door). Seating is general admission and all children MUST be accompanied by an adult

    Parents, I promise you a good time will be had by all!

  • Tired of Being the Other

    Tired of Being the Other

    Well over a month ago my good friend Bob Williams posted something on Face Book that set me back on my heels and caused me to realize that back when I was doing theatre, and most specifically, when I was sitting at the casting table, I often did not pay close enough attention to the biases of the people making the decisions, myself especially.

    Bob has been a dear friend and treasured collaborator since we first started hanging out and doing improv together at the University of Maryland back in the mid-1980’s. He’s been a cast member of some of my favorite productions of my plays, including Annex Theatre’s An American Book of the Dead – The Game Show and “White Boy can Take a Punch” in Brown Box Theatre’s Hoodie’s Up. Bob’s a terrific actor and a deeply generous person and not exactly known for living on a soap box (unlike some of us – *cough*). So I feel strongly that his words deserve special attention and bear repeating. To that end, I asked Bob if I could republish his Face Book post here at Just Wrought, and he kindly acceded. Part of me is sorry it took me so long to get this up on my blog, the other part isn’t sorry at all, since it’s good sometimes to reemphasize a call to action that may have been otherwise quickly forgotten.

    From Face Book, posted, August 19 at 11:37pm

    My main Point last night at the forum on artistic freedom and artistic responsibility at the Seattle Rep was that, 50 years after the civil rights act removed the signs that told us that Black people were Colored and White people were not, no color at all,(What if the signs said “Black” and “Bleached”?) we still have a culture that normalizes White as neutral, or of no particular ethnicity. And that informs how we cast roles in the arts community and how we see ourselves as a people.

    If a White actor is seen as ethnically neutral, they can play anybody. And non Whites are only seen as their ethnicity. A White guy can play everyman and I can only play Black man, and if a writer does not specify an ethnicity for a character, the default setting is to see that character as White, straight, able bodied, Christian. Should the actor with an eye patch only show up for pirate roles?

    Two guys walk into a bar…

    What color are they? Did one of them use the ramp to enter?

    Our default cultural setting says “White unless specified as other.”

    After all I didn’t say two Asian guys walked into a bar.

    So many people in the Bagley Wright Theater last night are tired of being the other. And we are getting tired of explaining how it is still employed, or having to explain that it still exists.

    This is how you get Jake Gyllenhal as the Prince of Persia and the Last Samurai starring Tom Cruise.

    Or the film honoring Navajo code talkers “Windtalkers” starring Nick Cage.

    Or the film about Indian ballplayers coming to America “Million Dollar Arm” featuring mostly Jon Hamm.

    Or Cotton Club starring Richard Gere.

    Or Mississippi Burning with very few Black characters.

    Or Ghosts of Mississippi with barely a line spoken by a Black actor.

    Or Matthew Broderick as the main character in “Glory”

    Or Matthew Broderick as Simba, King of the plains of Africa, and Jeremy Irons as his uncle.

    It’s this rich history that in no small part brought us to The Mikado controversy, and brought all of us to the forum last night.

    White people can be anything (even Japanese), our shared culture tells us that.

    Edgar Rice Burroughs gave us a template:

    Abandon a White baby in the jungles of Africa. Now come back 20 years later and where’s that baby? Anywhere he pleases. He’s Tarzan, King of the whole damn place.

    And the IMDB page for this second animated feature Disney chose to set in Africa,(Disney’s Tarzan) Has a sea of White headshots on the cast listing. (Seriously, go look.)

    If you are producing this “2 Guys in a Bar” play are you open to guys of different ethnicities? Do either of them have to be a guy? Can two PEOPLE walk into a bar? Do they both have to walk?

    Mostly I wanted to show the room these two photos, taken Saturday at the lower Queen Anne Bartell’s drugstore, a couple hundred yards from where we had gathered. Aisle 12: Ethnic care.

    And the products on Aisle 12 in the other shot. How many ethnicities are represented in the ethnic care aisle? Where should I look for soap, Ethnic cleansing? (Seriously, go look. Take your time, it will still be there. Aisle 12.)

    White/Colored, Ethnic/ non ethnic, how far have we really come?

    Thanks Kathy Hsieh for calling on me and facilitating a discussion. Thanks Annie Lareau for showing us how it can be done right. Thanks Andy Jensen for reminding us all that not every family looks the same and thanks Pamala Mijatov for making Annex one of the places where these issues don’t flare up, and for reminding us what a local treasure Courtney Meaker is.

    I’m getting older, and I’m getting tired of walking some of my White brothers and sisters through the baby steps of “Your people aren’t the only people that are people.”

  • Live Blogging Swing Time: The Riveting Rosies

    Live Blogging Swing Time: The Riveting Rosies

    Just watched The Riveting Rosies sound check.  WOW!  Come just for them and it’ll be well worth the price of admission.

  • Live Blogging SWING TIME: Load-In

    Live Blogging SWING TIME: Load-In

    I took off work today. Nothing sneaky like calling in sick. Nope, I bit the bullet and burned a pre-arranged vacation day, so that I could be at ACT all day in advance of Sandbox Radio’s “Swing Time” going up tonight at 8 pm. As an actor, I’m not called until noon (as a writer, I’m not called at all), and since I’m only in Act I.  I’m not really needed until much later that that, but I volunteered to help with the load-in. It’s something that all genuine theatre artists do, at least every so often. Here’s why…

    All good and true theatre is subversive in some way. Always. It might be subversive in content, but that’s really just a surface aspect. Theatre’s true subversion comes from just existing, when all rights and logic, it shouldn’t. (If this sounds vaguely philosophical, then let me put some practical actuality around it. Václav Havel, the first president of a free Czech Republic, was a playwright before his political success. He made theatre that threatened the Soviet –backed status quo. The powers-that-were would have gladly silenced him, and sometimes did, but the subversive nature of theatre made it impossible for the totalitarian regime to shut up Havel, and other subversive theatre artists, for long.

    Shows like Sandbox Radio Live! “Swing Time” aren’t supposed to happen. They don’t fit any preconceived notion of what theatre is or should be. In fact, Sandbox Radio Live!, like all good and true theatre, explodes those notions. Theatre at its best provides a venue for ideas and visions that don’t fit into the money-making machine of corporate story-telling (i.e. Hollywood, Broadway, etc.)Load in 2

    And in order for such wonderful subversion to take place, sometimes the artists need to make it happen with sweat equity and sheer force of will, doing jobs they were never trained for, working hours no one ever warned them about. 

    And thus the result is like nothing you’ve ever seen. Guaranteed.

    Git yer tix. (There’s only a handful left.)

    SBR Swing Time cover

  • Counting Down to the End of Markheim

    Counting Down to the End of Markheim

    I wrote the first episode of Markheim on a lark. It was several years ago, late in December, that time in corporate America when honestly nothing gets done, but you’re still expected to haunt your cubicle, like the living ghost of Bob Cratchit. I wanted to write a Christmas script, but something also hip and nasty, like we put on at AHA! Theatre for the variety show JunkXmas, way back in the mid-1990’s. It was really only a sketch of a play, tossed off and forgotten. The idea being to mash-up the nearly unnavigable moralities of LeCarre’s brilliant thrillers with the blunt choppy dialogue of Hammett’s incomparable detective stories, with maybe a little Miltonian angelology thrown in for texture.  Even when I didn’t know exactly who was talking, the dialogue seemed to flow of its own volition.

    BEZ:  How long you think they’ll let you just wonder around over here unchaperoned? Paul as Sam

    MARKHEIM:  Why should they care?  They always get what they want.

    BEZ:  Maybe.  But they ain’t crazy about… the unexpected.

    MARKHEIM:  They gonna kill the golden goose?

    BEZ:  They done stupider.

    MARKHEIM:  True that.

    BEZ:  Killed goldener.

    MARKHEIM:  Yeah.  Yeah, they have.

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  • Openly We Carry

    Openly We Carry

    I recently mentioned this play in my last essay “The Misuses of Art” and then realized I had not posted it anywhere for those who might want to read it.

    I had great fun watching my son open and close this piece at last year’s SOAPFest, as well as witness the exquisite work of his fellow cast members Tracy Hyland, Michael Patten and Heather Hawkins, so masterfully directed by Annie Lareau.  Such a great staging. I’ll never forget it.

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