For the people I care about, far and near.

Transitions

     I am being called again ...

     I look over the past few years and realize with a growing clarity that I have missed my mark. I don't know how it happened. My goals certainly were clear enough, and for a period of time I was meeting them on a regular basis.

     Perhaps that was the problem. I never had a real struggle - doors always opened for me, and I had a lust for achievement that sent me down a number of most interesting paths.

     And I still lean heavily toward those activities in my life that have always been enjoyable, notably, directing stage plays. I joke - and it's true - that the best therapy in the world is to yell at people and constantly tell them where to go ... and they thank me for it. Apparently I have skill to some degree. I have one room filled with awards, certificates, engraved commendations, and on and on and on. Nice, but constantly in need of dusting.

     Would you like to know my secret? I'll tell you my secret - actually three secrets.  And I will give them to you - no charge.

     When you cast a show, bring in the very best people you can find, and then have the good sense to stay out of their way while they do what they are supposed to be good at.

     In herding actors around the stage, make pretty pictures with people.

     Never ever ever ever bore your audience. Pace a play fast, so that the people watching your production will still have time for a drink or two after the show.

     That's it. All my secrets. Now go out there and direct something!

     ... because I won't. Maybe I'm finally growing up. I went to see a show the other night that had several talented friends in it. I couldn't wait for it to end so I could leave and ... and ...

     Ah, the mark I missed. I am directing plays I should be writing. I have a number of works in progress, inching painfully forward. It occurs to me that since I bill myself as a writer, perhaps I should actually take some time and write something.

     And there is a chance that I will.

     j
     

ANNIE, OVER AND OUT.

Okay, so ANNIE opened this weekend. In the span of less than a week it went from being still dismally God awful to marginally acceptable. Like an elephant in a tutu it lumbered around the stage for two hours pretending to be Tinker Bell. The dozens of stage mothers were entranced. Their small unwashed spastic and tone deaf  children had been magically transformed into small unwashed spastic and tone deaf stars of the stage. With the exception of a few seats available on opening night, the entire run is sold out! The theatre is making a $1,500 profit per performance.

It's not fair. It's just not fair.

Rotten orphans.

I'd love to give you more details, but I've been nursing a cold now for a week, lovingly given to me by a chemical weapon in pigtails.

j