Unwicked

I have written on other occasions about the New York Neo-Futurists. I have more to tell.

A while back I filled out an audience survey and checked the box next to where they asked for volunteers. I figured why the hell not. If they needed help sweeping the theater or what not, it would be a good thing to be involved in something I was interested in. This was driven by my desire to start doing things for the pure love and joy of them. Call it feeding my soul.

About a month ago I received an email from Jacquelyn Landgraf (one of the Neos) wherein she asked if I was interested in House Managing. Sure I was. I’ve since done it twice and I’m doing it the third time this Friday October 6. It’s a good environment for me. It’s helping me be social again. That sort of setting will do that to you.

I’m thrilled to be helping out in my limited way. I dig completely what the Neos do, and in the back of my mind, I know it would give Siri a little kick seeing me involved in theater. I think she would have liked what the Neo-Futurists are about. She introduced me to my first positive theater experience (The SITI Company) so I think she’d be thrilled for me as well.

Following one of their recent shows, one of the Neos mentioned the Neo-Futurist Basic Training Workshop they were offering in the fall. I gave a lot of thought to signing up. However, I decided against it. I convinced myself that my reasons for wanting to attend weren’t legit (more on that in a moment). After all, I am not an Actor. I didn’t belong there. Fate or chance determined otherwise. A slot opened up last-minute and Jacquelyn called to ask if I was interested in taking the slot. I took this as an indication that someone or something wanted me to do it, so I agreed to jump in.

I was attracted to the workshop because I thought it would be a good environment for me to work on some personal issues. Primary was my feeling that I never grieved Siri properly. Add to that some daddy issues and regrets about my feelings about how I did as as a father and you’ve got some heavy stuff for me to be tackling. The first session was last Saturday. After four hours, I left the studio emotionally strip-mined. This was good. Stuff was starting to come loose.

I suspect by the time we finish, my “business” might get dull for the others in the group (and what a good group of people I am with—generous, warm, brave), but I see my initial instincts were correct. This is a good place for me to take a sledgehammer to the wall I’ve built up around my heart and head.

I’m working on the assignment for this Saturday, a solo piece about my most successful failure, and the writing of it is working me over. I feel like a gym heavy bag. This afternoon, installers from Time Warner Cable were giving me the magic of high speed Internet. While they worked, I wrote in my composition book, and tears kept pooling in my eyes. I had my back to the installers, thank goodness, or they would have mistaken my ache for tears of joy for the work they were doing. Either way, they wouldn’t have been thrilled to be stuck in my little place while I cried.

I didn’t stop the tears. They were very tiny ones; that’s all I can produce. But at last tears are coming freely—sort of. I dread the next workshop session. I will be doing this piece, and I dearly want to do it without sobbing, but if I cry, well, then I cry. And it will be good for me, because I want to keep this rolling. I finally finally finally feel like a change is taking place.

I’m feeling low, sad, and worn-out, but I will keep on with what’s lately been making me very happy—getting out to listen to live music. Tonight I see Devon Sproule at Pete’s Candy Store. My new book club pal Jen might be going. We saw Nellie McKay last week at the Music Hall of Williamsburg; Nellie was her usual entertaining self. She’s perplexing and wildly talented.

I’m finishing this up while listening to Kelli Rae Powell’s The Scandalous Accounts Of My Youth. (Buy it here!) She’s a blast to listen to. Kelli Rae writes smart and wicked songs, and she sings like she’s channeling the spirits of the best singers of the last sixty years, all while putting her own emphatic mark on the music.

More fun later, kids.