I have been constant in directing one show after another lately. I am aware of that as a fact. Add the classes and seminars I occasionally teach plus the reviews I write, and I seem to find a barrage of projects in front of me at any given moment. I am rarely home (explaining, in part, why these posts normally find life at somewhere around three in the morning.)
I tell myself these are all things I sincerely want to do. And this is true. I love my work.
I tell myself that I am finite, that eventually there will be an ending, and that I should go and do now, while I can, because there will come a time when I will want to make other choices.
I tell myself that, because of the constant string of shows, mostly successful, I am in demand - that if I stop, even for a relatively short period of time, I will be forgotten. No, I'm not being paranoid. This is also true - the nature of show business. What have you done for me lately - like, this morning?
But events over the past few months (which you might refer to as "life") have given me pause. Is there the (of course) remote possibility that I'm using all this as an escape? Might there be other things worth doing, worth saying?
I am tentatively reaching in new directions. So far I haven't had the greatest of successes. But I'll let you know how it all works out.
I am presently working as a production advisor to a nearby theatre group now in rehearsal for a December production of ANNIE.
(And just where did that come from?!)
The director had called me to borrow the bunks used in OF MICE AND MEN. I was flattered, told her they belonged to the theatre that had produced the show, and thought that would be the end of the matter.
It wasn’t. She called again, this time with questions. Over the next few days we talked often and at some length. Since I had directed ANNIE (twice), it pleased me to point out a few land mines written into the show.
She offered me a position with the company. I declined. She offered again. I told her that, having directed this epic with thousands of smelly children and a dog, I would rather die than be involved with yet another production.
Call me Lazarus.
The first actual rehearsal was today. I had to admit I was impressed – the major roles have been cast with seriously talented people. On the other hand, surrounding them were the two dozen or so “orphans” and the equal number of stage mothers (who could have given Hitler lessons in aggression).
Suddenly I remembered why I hated this show with a passion. Too late.
Oh well. The cookies are free and I get along great with the dog.
OF MICE AND MEN closed, as all plays do. The set was taken down, dismantled, some sections placed in storage for future use, some portions deemed of little or no value, destroyed.
But this set was different - literally a work of art. A number of people involved in the production (including the art director) rescued sections of "skin" as they were heading toward large no-nonsense dumpsters. I have an entire section of what had been the barn.
These panels are now momentarily occupying space in my den. They are safe and saved. When I get an afternoon free, I plan to have them mounted and framed. I already know where they will hang.
In Xanadu did Kubla Kahn a stately pleasure-dome decree: where Alph, the sacred river, ran through caverns measureless to man down to a sunless sea. So twice five miles of fertile ground with walls and towers were girdled round: And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; And here were forests ancient as the hills, enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
Jack Bunny is the alter ego of a playwright, theatrical director, and drama critic. If you are at a party and see a 150 pound rabbit at the punch bowl, it might be him!
(On the other hand, it might also mean that perhaps you should step away from the punch bowl for awhile.)
ANOTHER DUMB GHOST STORY (Full length)
THE REVENANT (Full length)
CORIE (Full length)
MORGAN (Full length)
VOLLEYS (Full length)
ELYCE TIMES ONE (Full length - written with J.E. Ocean)
THE DISENCHANTED FROG (Children's One-act)
THE ART OF BUILDING BRIDGES (One-act)
FROM MY VANTAGE POINT (One-act)
THE TRIAL (One-act)
WHAT'S NEW IN LATHERDUE? (Reader theatre One-act)
ROUGH DRAFT (One-act)
THE GRAND GILDER (One-act)
Old friend remembered
We don't stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.
George Bernard Shaw
I hate writing, I love having written.
If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.
It must be summer. I can smell California burning.
Starbucks is where certain relationships go to die.
I can only answer the question 'What am I to do?' if I can answer the prior question, 'Of what story do I find myself a part?'
Walmart always makes me cry ...
Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; Truth isn’t.
The Bible in the hand of one man is more dangerous than a whiskey bottle in the hand of another.
Can people stop dying please? Just for a little bit. maybe.
Mettle not in the affairs of Dragons, for thou art crunchy and good with ketchup.
He that troubleth his own house shall inherit the wind: and the fool shall be servant to the wise in heart.
Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned/nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.
This above all: to thine own self be true. And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.
In my many years I have come to the conclusion that one useless person is a shame, two is a law firm and three or more is a Congress.
Wearing underwear is as formal as I get.
"Pay No Attention To That Man Behind The Curtain ..."
Our revels now are ended.
These, our actors, as I foretold you, were all spirits, and are melted into air, into thin air:
And like the baseless fabric of this vision, the cloud-capp'd tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, the great globe itself, yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, and, like this insubstantial pageant faded, leave not a rack behind.
We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep.