Uncomfortable Nod

The Rising Fallen have stolen my little heart. Maybe if you give them yours, they'll be willing to give mine back.

Find them: http://www.myspace.com/therisingfallenmusic

Buh-buh-buh-bye. Bye.

Dear Sarah and Brendan (and Brooklyn, NY),

Pizza, beer, and whiskey at the Alligator Lounge (reminiscent of the first time I met you, Brendan), and now I'm actually panicking about leaving the dirty, pretty city. A month ago, and I was gung ho. Now that I am packed and have a flight out tomorrow, I am melancholic, to put it mildly.

Don't get me wrong, I am secure in my decision to go and work on theatre with incredible friends in an incredible town. However, I don't know what I'll do without you and others like you.

Thank you for the flowers. Please don't forget me while I'm away.

Love always,
-b

Rockabye Baby (Automatically Real)

In less than half an hour, they will start striking the set that we began building last September.

By morning, it will be as though it had never been.

And in 10 days, it could be as though I never lived here.

And when I say, "Oh, yeah, I've lived in New York," I might feel as though I'm lying.

I'm sorry it has to be this way, New York. Maybe I'm just too young for this intense of a relationship.

Pop Culture News

Will John Norris report on the happenings of the Ontological Theatre for MTV?

We get the best avant-pop celebs in this place.

Tu me fais chier

After the latest hiatus, full of parents and friends and less lonely times, I'd love to offer you brilliant pearls of relevent wisdom.

However, all I really have to impart this evening is this: two very angry French (does this sound familiar?) parents, yelling in English about the opera, yelling in French about how disgusting, disturbing, and rude we all are, while their teenage son stands around, looking at the floor, quietly trying to calm them down. Their daughter picked up the tickets (on time) and is sitting inside, enjoying the show, and they are 5 minutes (too) late and completely livid.

No, we will not ask your daughter to come out here. Why? For the same reason that we won't let you inside to see the show. Hard to understand? Really?

Je vous deteste, aussi.

Suddenly Everything Has Changed

Yesterday, 10:30 A.M. A balmy 62 degrees in NYC. People are out without coats on.

Yesterday, 3:30 P.M. Rainy, 40 degrees. I check mattmat.com for the first time in ages, read the new posts, make plans to start listening to Mr. F's eternal mix as soon as possible.

Today, 4 P.M. It hasn't stopped snowing in 9 hours, and mattmat.com is now a website for flooring.

The world is crumbling all around me. I think I need a hug.

Tonight's Special Guest

Michael Stipe. Yes. Seriously.

In other Mr. Sleepy news, surf on over to http://christianscientistsonline.blogspot.com/, scroll to February 5th, and read what the Christian Scientists have to say about the show. Yes. Seriously.

189 Fiber Pills Later. . .

Thinner. More regular. Happily full of banana pancakes, eggs, and coffee.

It's a good day to be alive and no longer dietarily restricted.

Stars In My Eyes

Laurie Anderson and Lou Reed picked up tickets for the show tonight. Seeing Laurie Anderson in the flesh took my breath away, in the silliest, most wonderful schoolgirl way, while Eduardo kicked my chair like a little boy. Whee!

I did manage to pull it together enough to tell them that they had seats in Row 3.

Awkward Moon

Full Moon Treats Tonight, Kiddies:

Two cranky Parisians sat in seats at the theatre that were reserved for someone else, and when they were asked to kindly move their butts, they refused, and were promptly asked to leave. A small altercation between the Parisians and our Maestro ensued, in which he called them "very unpleasant people," they referred to him as the "very unpleasant manager," and claimed rights to any seat they liked as per the general seating advisory online. He's the Maestro, he tells you to jump and you jump, goddamit. They didnt' seem to understand this idea, or perhaps have any idea who they were dealing with.

Too bad they paid with a credit card so they had to stand around while I refunded their tickets via the internet and have Shannon print out the receipt, all the while the Maestro telling them just to take cash and telling me we'd eat the difference, just to get them out of the box office faster. (They ended up taking Shannon's name and number instead, and for that our cash box thanks them.)

The Cranky Parisian gentleman's last words? "Yes, well, take a good look at my face." Really? Now what is it, exactly, that this face is planning to do?

Uncomfortable.

Because God Likes It That Way

Why, oh, why does St. Mark's always have to be SO FUCKING COLD inside? I have to keep on my coat and my gloves just to be reasonably defrosted. Snow I can handle, but this I can't take much more of. Box office girl needs a space heater.

Luckily (knock on wood) tonight is quiet out in the lobby. It is my job to sell tickets and merchandise, of course, but really I have been hired as the front line of defense against over-enthusiastic talkers and loud dance shows and 9/11 conspiracy meetings. The biggest event so far that I've been involved in dealing with was when the security alarms got triggered by one of the church staff and he couldn't get them to shut off. They were going off in two parts of the building. . .I couldn't help, because I didn't have the code, Shannon ran out of her office to help, Richard left the theatre in the middle of the show to tell us this was a disaster (yes, we know), thankfully the show kept going (thank God), and eventually things got settled down. I had to talk to the police ("no, officer, everything is fine. could you please keep your voice down, we have a performance going on."), but now I have the code, should it happen again. Yikes.

Well, those crashes sound like the end of the show. Better get ready to open the doors.

B-b-b-bye.

Blind Travels

I walked to return a video/ rent some bad TV at Reel Life, about a 20 minute walk from my house, since I don't have to be anywhere tomorrow until 6 (I have a few of these kind of days coming up, and plan to balance useful and useless activities. So far, useful: laundry, useless: Nip/Tuck. If you have any papers you'd like me to edit or liturature you think I ought to drink in, please help me add them to the "useful" category.), and I had to walk most of the way there by memory because my glasses were coated in snow. That's right, we're finally having some winter weather here in NYC, a fact by which I was initially perturbed, as my coat was breaking and I couldn't keep track of my gloves, but with this incredibly beautiful snowfall, all I could think as I was walking was, "I. Fucking. Love. Snow." Bring it on, Winter. I'm going to buy a hat, and then I'll be fucking READY.

I'm waiting for my asparagus to finish cooking, which I am having with baby carrots for a late dinner, proud to be at the end of day 7 of my liver reconfiguration.

(Yet I am dreaming, once again, of banana pancakes.)

Buildings and Bridges

We closed wicked fast tonight, and I was out the door by 1:15. I took this, and the extremely mild weather of the wee hours, as a sign that I should walk home. Perhaps not the safest idea, but what the hey, you only live once, etc.

Half way across the Williamsburg bridge, right when I was over the river, I realized that literally no one else was on the whole foot bridge, going either direction. I only saw three cyclists the whole half hour I spent walking the bridge. I took this as another sign: that I should start singing very loudly along with my music. I didn't stop until I was a block away from my house.

I hope to remember this evening most of all.

Always Yes? Always (No)?

Numero Uno: I've spent too many hours a week (say, 45 minimum) around baked goods and chocolate. I've been eating too many waffles/ not enough vegetables. My body is revolting against this routine, and I am paying attention, so a week from tomorrow I am going to start re-cleansing my liver. I'm waiting until after the big dinner that Richard is having for everyone working on the show, and I should be done just in time for my mother's visit to the city. Wish me and my digestive system luck.

Numero Dos: Exciting things are happening in May. I'll give more public info as the Spring draws nearer, or if you'd like to know more now, just ask.

Much love from a much less grumpy girl.

Post Script

Okay, I can't lie.

I miss my Kansas friends like mad. All of you. Those of you still there and those of you galavanting. I'm glad that I'm here but I sure wish that I was seeing you all sooner.

Love love love,
-b

The Stone That Rolls Up the Hill Backwards Is Called. . .

There are so many things that I've been meaning to tell you, darling. More than I could ever go into without a seriously long vacation on a beach somewhere and your solemn promise not interrupt me, or to be irritated about not interrupting me. So we'll just start fresh in the new year, and we'll keep the lines of communication open. Cheers to a healthier, more active relationship, Blog! To 2007!

I would like you to know this, however, because I feel it is important:

Richard Foreman's two favorite horror movies are:

1. The Shining

and

2. "The first one of the those Sam Raimi things," also known as Evil Dead.

While sometimes a little too discerning, I do respect the man's taste.

(Note: I am, sadly, giving up my position at the bakery de la country music as of next Saturday, but for a good reason that I will go into at a later date. This means, however, that in two weeks I'm going to have the first entire day off from working somewhere (if not multiple locations) that I've had in three months. I'm going to get to have a day off EVERY WEEK. Big plans for actually seeing some of this city I live in, and entertaining visitors.)

Just Like Little Red Riding Hood

Today, one of the actors in the show had an appointment he could not reschedule. Guess who got to stand in for him all morning, pretend she was acting in the play, AND wear his fighter pilot hat and goggles? Yep, that's right.

Value Judgements (RE: Job Security)

1. One of my beautiful/terrifying bosses at the chocolate mecca told me I had made him the best Milk Chocolat he had ever tasted in said establishment. My face got hot and I had to take deep breaths, as this was as bold (coming from a man that first told me that he would send his drinks back until they were passable, and to whom "Not bad" is his version of "Excellent" ) as him asking me to marry him.

2. I was late to work (again) at the bakery on Saturday, and as I sat on the train running deep into Brooklyn, all I could think of was how I was going to get fired, and how I wouldn't be able to say anything other than, "Yes, I understand. I am much more trouble than I am worth." Turns out, the first thing my boss did when I got there was ask me if I would join her family for Thanksgiving dinner. This is the opposite of getting fired.

3. I'm going to start training tomorrow to be an expeditor. This means more responsibility without a raise in pay, and more waiters spending time hating me. I am, however, kind of excited. I like the idea of being the captain of this particular (sometimes sinking) ship.

Also, a simple delight: I've started making friends. The real kind you hang out with when you're not working. I didn't think I would ever have time for such a thing, but even half hour lunch breaks can prove useful in this endeavor. I'm starting to feel like I have a place in this dirty, pretty city.

Chocolate Is Good For You

Now, usually I am not really in a position to consume the massive quantities of chocolate that I handle each week. Eating behind the bar is completely forbidden, and the only time desserts are free for employees is when they are either 1. broken or 2. a mistake. So, my chocolate consumption is basically limited to drinks that I make when no one is paying attention to me. Tonight, though, I got to try three of the big sellers, due to some training session I didn't particularly understand, and DAMN do we make fine desserts. I was taking my dinner break at the time, and any attention I might have paid to my chicken sandwich was given over to bites of a hazelnut praline and chocolate crepe, a "Munchies" waffle (sweet waffles with whipped cream, toasted hazelnuts, ice cream, and chocolate coated wheat balls), and "Mess" (chocolate sponge cake, chocolate ganosh, ice cream, whipped cream, milk chocolate chunks and sprinkles). I realized what a blessing it is that we don't have access to these desserts on a regular basis, because our staff is shockingly attractive and fit across the board, and I'm certain this wouldn't stay the case for long if it weren't for strict consumption rules.

In a few weeks, before they open the new store, they're having an open house for employees at which we can order anything we want, and nurse it for hours, if we so desire. I've hatched a plan with one of my favorite co-workers to first get extremely intoxicated pre-soiree, then to order one Banana Mess and one Strawberry Mess (enough to feed 8-12 people), stay for as many hours as it takes to eat every last bite, and find someone who will care for us during the food coma that will follow.

I'm thinking of fasting in preparation.

"Ah, It Comes and Goes, Comes and Goes."

Okay, I've neglected my duties as a New York City Blogger for over a month now, a fact which was brought to my attention just enough times by groups spanning just enough geographical space for me to realize that if people are reading, then I should be writing. So, while my laundry spins to the sounds of Univision at the laundromat around the corner, I will be sipping a Smuttynose Pumpkin Ale and filling in some gaps.

Job Update:
I work 'til the wee hours in the land of chocolate. I am trained to dress waffles, crepes, and other chocolate goodies, as well as making frozen drinks, hot drinks (my favorite. . .I get to do extra hot drink training next week because I show promise, or something similar), register, and take-out. I, along with my fellows behind the bar, make uncomfortably less than the waitstaff for many hours of hard work, but we're surviving. The pressure is always on, and the turn-over rate is kind of insane. I, however, am sticking it out and enjoying getting to know all of my ridiculously beautiful co-workers. In a few weeks, they're opening a second location a mere block from the Ontological, and I have yet to hear whether or not I'm going to be transfered. I have heard, though, that I was being fought over by the bar managers of each; yay, job security! I leave everyday covered in crusty chocolate.

Also, I still work on Saturdays at a bakery in Brooklyn. This makes life complicated, but my boss asks me about my internship and my mother, so I've grown attached to her, and can't imagine quitting. Also, they haven't fired me even though I've been late for 4 out of my last 5 shifts, all for totally unrelated reasons. I think that my boss's husband would enjoy firing me, but my boss won't let him. Heh.

OHT Update:
I'm an ASM, so I take blocking notes (and occassionally notes for Richard) three days a week at rehearsal. Used to be four, but we had some interns quit, so schedules got shifted and I got moved to an extra night of tech. Seeing Richard work never ceases to be a kick in the pants- he works his way through the show, then goes back to the beginning and keeps a few elements but basically changes the whole thing. He will often say outloud, "Well. That's stupid." Most used sentence opener: "I'm concerned that. . ." usually having to do with the stability of props. The new ending, as of yesterday, involves shackles and dancing parachutes. We'll have to see exactly how long that lasts.

Rehearsals are Tuesday through Sunday, 10-4:30. Tech is Sunday through Friday, 5-9, with a full day on Monday. Interns do about seven shifts a week, split between the two. Tech shifts are used to accomplish the notes that Richard gives after rehearsal, to further develop/create costumes, props, and scenic elements. Initially, I thought that I would just kind of grit-my-teeth-and-bear-it through tech shifts, using rehearsals as the bulk of my learning process. It turns out, though, that I while watching Richard work is bizarre and amazing, I often have very little to do during rehearsals, especially when he's messing with lighting. Not being actively involved sometimes makes it hard to be completely engaged in what's going on. During tech, on the other hand, there is always something to get done, and the work is continuously shifting and growing. I get to put into play all of the random skills I learned in production classes in college, as well as traverse the city in search of materials ranging from mundane (dry wall screws, black elastic) to complicated (4-wire cables) to utterly bizarre (shackles). I am consistantly delighted to be working with my superiors (Peter, Megan, Brendan, and Shannon), as well as my intern cohorts.

I realize that watching the show develop makes it hard for me to keep a grip on what the overall product will evoke, or be 'about' as it were. The themes running through expand and contract, but don't disappear completely, since the video that Richard is working with is in itself a static entity, not subject to a change in content; so, too, are the data banks of voice tapes that Richard has on file. However, the eventual combination of elements could become anything, and we won't know what that is for a long time. What I am looking forward to, in the distant future, is viewing the finished product with people who don't carrywith them the history that I will have, the history of the development, and discussing what they experience in comparison to what I know and see. So, come to New York, fine friends, and we'll have an extravaganza.

If anyone is interested, there's a live podcast of rehearsal every Wednesday at Free103point9.org from 10-4:30 EST, and we have a blog available for your perusal at http://www.wakeupmrsleepy.blogspot.com .

Physical Negligence Update:
1. My second day at the Ontological, I almost got a concussion. I was cutting wood on the chop saw, and when I finished, promptly stood up into the steel stairs to the dimmer room. I immediately had a walnut sized goose egg on my forehead, and had to spend an hour in the production office, icing my head and making sure I didn't vomit. Perks: the swelling went down by the time I went to bed, and I got to hear about every theatre related injury ever sustained by the TD.

2. I have cut both my left hand on the knuckle and my right on my index finger tip while cleaning the meat slicer at the bakery.

3. I sustained a long thin burn on my left arm last Friday on a pizza pan.

4. While not initially painful, I warded off the advances of a Ukranian man on the train on Halloween night by vomiting the entire contents of my stomach (cream of spinach soup, chicken wrap, whiskey and water, orange cosmopolitan, etc.) into my purse. Totally disgusting, I know, but please picture me on the train, one minute trying not to have a conversation with a 35-year-old Ukranian, the next making every effort not to throw up, giving up that effort, throwing up into my bag, excusing myself, getting off the train a stop early, and walking the rest of the way home. Now, that's comedy. The pain, of course, came the next morning/day with the raging, equalibrium-busting hangover that I suffered during rehearsal. Oh, Trashy New York can be so entertaining.

Tomorrow morning I am waking up early to help one of the other interns shoot some footage for an experimental film he's making. On that note, this will have to be all for now, but there will be more to come, in a timely fashion.

All the best from Brooklyn!