Outrider

[Sammy]

5/11/02--Saturday--Morning

Double Feature opens tonight.

I'm somewhere beyond nervous...almost calm, even.

* * *

Erin Cunningham figured out a show CD for Courtesy Sleeve and Sven Weschler is going to burn it for us. Thanks, Erin. Thanks, Sven. Still don't have a tech person yet.

* * *

Last night I went to a dinner party at Dawn Franklin's and Ally Stinchfield's place. It was their last party there before they move to their new loft--which is in the same building as the Annoyance.

I felt really out of place.

It's like, c'mon, I'm an improviser, right? In theory, I should be able to handle some awkward situations right?

Yeah, in theory.

I remember thinking, "Man, I wish I was catching a show at the Playground and then hanging out at Tavern 33 afterwards. That'd be cool. That'd be comfortable."

That came minutes after, "This should be interesting, I could watch and study how this dinner party thing goes down so I could play one on stage some day."

Why was it awkward?

It's still kinda nebulous to me exactly why I felt awkward. I guess eating dinner and chatting with a bunch of people I don't know who brought their own wine to drink--all underscored by Spanish guitar music on the CD player is something that is so foreign to me it's terrifying. (Kay Drucker, a former neighbor of mine, was there and made pleasant small talk with me. What a sweetie.)

I remember at one point of being insanely jealous of Ally's dog, Rocky. Still can't figure THAT out.

Eventually, Dawn and I ended up in the living room alone and chatted for a bit. That was the part of the evening I really enjoyed. Just me and her, fully stuffed and slightly buzzed, chatting about what was going on in our lives. That made everything previous tolerable.

I left around 10, explaining I had to work on Saturday and then had the show premiere afterwards and needed some sleep. That was partially true--I really needed to retreat, gather myself and analyze why I felt so weirded out at the dinner party.

* * *

I missed my stop. I was thinking about the test I took the on-line personality test I took other day.

Technically, I'm an ENFP--an Extroverted Intuitive Feeling

I decided to take it again to see what if last night's experience affected my answers.


continues

 

[Sammy]

6/1/02--Saturday--Noon

I feel a bit lost.

For the last half year I've had clearly defined goals that I've actively pursued.

I'm back on a Harold team. The Project (AKA Courtesy Sleeve) is halfway through its run.

I've achieved what I set out to do.

What now?

What now?

What now?

 

[Sammy]

6/1/02--Saturday--Noon-ish

I've been pulling lights a lot lately.

I've been getting complimented on my light pulls.

Thank you.

If I seem aloof or dismissive, it's not because I don't want to talk to you or think lightly of your opinion--I'm just embarrassed. I just pulling lights--the performers on the stage do all the real work. And if I'm lucky, they serve up the out on big fat platter for me. They make it easy for me...and that's why I'm embarassed when I get complimented.

But thanks anyway.

 

[Sammy]

6/1/02--Saturday--Noon-ish

Schneider-Man became Missing Ricky and the Grits became The Grits became Grits which was outvoted in favor of Trick Dogs! which was born of a 10-second silly-as-shit group game in a rehearsal Harold.

So if you hear any of the Dawgs around the theater shouting "Trick Dogs!" at each other and throwing gang signs, please indulge us--it truly amuses the hell out of us

 

[Sammy]

6/1/02--Saturday--Noon-ish

I want to get drunk tonight.

In all honestly, I need to get drunk tonight.

That sounded horrible.

I just want to cut loose and lose myself in a bacchanal haze of alcohol and music and flipcup tonight at Zach Ward's party.

I want to drink crappy Old Style and scream when I lose at Flipcup and scream when I win at Flipcup and scream when I'm not playing Flipcup.

I just want to vent, to release, to explode, to supernova into nothing. To be spent and empty when all is said and done.

I don't want to think anymore. Just feel. Just be.

I say this knowing more than likely I will in no way approach the levels of release I seek--the governor on my mental inhibitions will not be broken by binge drinking, no matter how hard I pretend to try.

I've said it before--sometimes I wish I could shut off my brain...or turn down the volume. The mental wheels never stop spinning, the gears never stop turning and sometimes I just want to scream "Enough!" at the top of my lungs and go make my mind go blank.

Maybe that's why I seek relief in simple jobs, repetitive tasks and (mostly) mind-numbing videogames--because for a little while, if I'm lucky, I don't think. I just do.

 

[Sammy]

6/5/02--Wednesday--12:15 in the p.m.

Day 7 of no coffee.

I've been pretty good about avoiding caffeinated drinks altogether and the fact that this is the longest I've gone without drinking a hot cup of joe makes me proud of myself. I'll admit though that during some of the shitty, cold weather Chicago has seen the last couple of days, it's been very hard to resist the urge to curl up in an overstuffed chair with a whipcream topped mochaccino or a steaming coffee (light and sweet)--but I resist I did.

I'd like to pretend that I'm quitting for some really health conscious reason (i.e.--empty calories, ending caffeine addiction, etc.) but the reality is all too sad...

I'm doing it for my teeth.

Yep. I broke down and bought some Crest Whitestrips (tm) the other week and I figured while I'm doing the whole whiter teeth thing, I might as well kick the habit that got 'em stained.

I've started drinking a lot more water and, strangely enough, I've started eating a skosh better.

Perhaps my vanity will be the life of me yet.

 

[Sammy]

6/10/02--Monday--Noon


One thing ends, another begins.

This coming Saturday, Courtesy Sleeve will have its last show. What a long and interesting process it has been. From the frustration of coordinating schedules to the early Sunday rehearsals to finally getting it up on stage, it's been a major learning experience about what to do, and what not to do, when putting up an improvised show. We've had good shows and we've had mediocre shows in our run, but more importantly, this show has taught me more about the business part of show business than anything else.

Anyways, what actually is our form?

In the dark, we come out and form a line onstage. Colors only fade up, hold on us for three seconds and then fade back to black. Cast disperses throughout theater (backstage, hallway, in the audience, etc.)

One person remains and gets a suggestion of a "rich environment full of sounds and images, such as a water park or a blacksmith shop."

Fade to colors.

As the lights fade up, cast slowly returns to stage, making the sounds that may be heard at the suggested location. Once on stage, you would also create the object that would make the noise. Once everyone has established their object/sound in the stage picture, the cast starts trading objects/sounds amongst themselves. So, if I were I leaky radiatior and you were a ceiling fan, I would simply walk over to you and take over radiator and you would take over somebody else's object and so on. Three times during the opening, as a group, we focus in on one object and all make the same noise/motion for a couple of beats and then go back to trading objects.

Eventually, the ending organically ends and we begin our scenes. A scene can be initiated by using a sound from the opening or by a player taking the physicality of an object from the opening...and the sound or object aren't necessarily the same thing from the opening (i.e. the celing fan may become a helicopter's blades or the radiator's steam leak the hiss of a snake). Also, during scenes, sonic/physical echoes may pop-up briefly as symbolism or metaphor. Scenes transform between each other using soundbridges to tie them together.

About halfway through the show, we "reset" to a new environment to refuel for the second half of the show. The last half eventually ends in a run.

Or that's how it's supposed to work.

Some weeks we don't hit the reset, others we don't really get to a run, and others we rely too much on organic transformations and don't do a hard sweep edit when it's needed...but it's definitely cool trying to explore the nuances of what works and what doesn't week to week.

I found it somewhat amusing that after all our months of work and playing with various structured ideas, that we ended up with a very free-flowing, transformative piece--which was the goal oh-so-long-ago when I started Our Thing last summer.

Heh heh. Go figure.

* * *

One thing ends, another begins.

Well, on the same weekend Courtesy Sleeve has it's last show, another project has its first rehearsal.

Once again, I'm coordinating schedules, contacting people and wondering if it'll all work out.

I put together an ensemble of about 7 ladies and 2 guys...and it's hard work. Everytime I got one lady on board, another would beg off due to scheduling issues--talented women are in demand, gentlemen, so lay the groundwork early. The cast list may have changed, but the talent level is still right up there. Lucky me

Hopefully, this will all work out (fingers crossed).

 

[Sammy]

6/11/02--Tuesday--Noon

My workplace is buying lunch today.

Thank god. I'm broke.

I honestly have no idea where my money goes...and even if I did, I would deny all knowledge of what I spend it on.

I think the combined total of my checking and savings account is some where in the vicinity of $90. And to be perfectly frank, I had the very frightening thought on the El that maybe it was only $30 because I couldn't remember if I ATM'd any money out this weekend.

I hate money. I hate not having it. I hate having to have it even more. I hate what it does to people. I hate what people will suffer to get it. I hate the worry it creates and the arrogance it births. I hate the resentment it foments between the haves and the have-nots. In my opinion, the paper of money has caused more anguish than the papyrus of holy texts.

Fuck you, money. Fuck you.


My financial wet dream come true--I would never have to worry about bills again. That's it. I wouldn't want a new car, a 57" Plasma TV or blazing fast uber-PC...I would be happy just knowing I don't have to worry about paying rent or utility bills ever again. I would want somewhere nice to live (meaning lots of light and space and a nice view) but that's not key to the dream.

* * *

ATM update: I had $60 or so.

Dammit.

 

[Sammy]

6/11/02--Tuesday--12:30

Out of the periphery of my vision, I scope her out.

She's kinda cute. Blonde. Glasses.

She braces herself as the EL sways.

Definitely cute.

Her purse swings around and faces me. There are clear plastic pouches for pictures on it. All pouches have pictures. All the pictures are of her cats.

Cats--PLURAL.

Cats--PLURAL--3 PLUS.

*alarm* *alarm* *alarm* *alarm*

I shift away.

No sir, I ain't got no brook with a Cat-Lady...especially a Cats--PLURAL--3 PLUS-Lady...even if she is cute.

After all, a guy in frayed khaki shorts, a torn t-shirt, crooked glasses and tattered sneakers (AKA King Scruff of Ragamuff Mountain) has got to have his standards.

 

[Sammy]

6/12/02--Wednesday--2 in the p.m.

ATM update:

Savings--$5.

Checking--$30.


I hate money.

 

[Sammy]

6/15/02--Saturday--Afternoon

Despite myself, I survived to Friday and payday. I was literally down to $7 between the two accounts...Friday morning.

I'm so pathetic.

* * *

Closing night for Courtesy Sleeve.

I'm not sad. I'm totally pumped--everybody's interested in getting together at the end of summer and working on another show. I'm almost impatient to get this all over so we can start on the next show

* * *

A small delay for the other group--we need to delay one week before getting started. No biggie. This group looks like major funtimes: Andrea Swanson, Laurel Coppock, Erin Cunningham, Rebecca Hanson, Megan Hovde, Jane Menendez, Erica Reid, Tim Whetham and myself directed by one Ms. Abby Sher.

Awww yeah...

* * *

Shout out: Jake Martin, you crack my shit up.

 

[Sammy]

The sketch wasn't that bad.

I could tell it was a heavyset man with glasses and stringy hair, the harshness of the lines muted by the plexiglass divider I leaned against. For several crowded stops on the EL I watched the girl's pencil skip along the page, filling in a shadow here, accenting a feature there. I was mesmerized by her simple act of creation.

Then I looked up and saw the subject of the sketch.

I realized two things:

Number one, the heavyset person in the picture was a woman, not a man.

Number two, she did not look happy at all.

Just like me, the woman must have been entranced by the birth of the drawing...and she must have been horrified to realize this image was of her. I guess in her mind she looked much prettier than this unflattering sketch--and if not prettier at least a lot less uglier. I guess in her mind she had only one chin, a set of visible cheekbones and oil free hair. You could sense resentment boiling beneath her pallid skin. But just like me, she couldn't look away for long.

The artist, a plump but tiny latina girl, didn't notice either of us staring. She drew furiously, lost in her own world.

My eyes flicked back and forth between the two--the angry subject and the oblivious artist--and for a few tense moments I was afraid the women would go gonzo on the girl. Luckily, the EL lurched to a stop at Chicago and both the girl and I got off. We both used the same exit. We both walked the same streets. We both entered the same building. We both rode the same elevator. We both entered the same office.

I realized with start that she works in the cubicle right next to mine and I didn't recognize her.

Maybe I should tell her sketch wasn't that bad.

 

[Sammy]

Some of the Courtesy Sleeve peeps are getting restless, so I've begun the slow process of coordinating schedules and gearing up for mid-September rehearsals. I've also put in an application in for the Sleeve to perform in the Around the Coyote Festival in Wicker Park--which if we get accepted, would accelerate the Sleeve timetable considerably. But everyone seems jazzed to get back in action.

* * *

After 4 rehearsals, "Sundays"--the rehearsal group of mostly women--feels like it has turned the corner. I really don't know how to explain it...we're starting to get comfortable and grooved with each other and our relaxed freeplay is giving Abby Sher, our director, ideas on where to focus the rest of the rehearsal process.

I occasionally catch myself comparing Sundays to the Sleeve--even though I shouldn't. While the talent level is about the same, the flavor of the groupmind is so radically different it's almost disconcerting (in a good way). I feel like I'm struggling a bit to find my role in the ensemble, to find how my personal voice fits in and accents everybody else's.

One cool thing we do is that every week is that one of us is responsible for bringing in an improv exercise for the group to do. Last Sunday it was my turn and thought up a weird combination of exercises--combining the Documentary with the La Ronde. (Joe Canale claims that the Documentary was originally called "The Messing" since his wife, Susan Messing, invented it.)

Two people start out doing the Documentary (not an Interview). At the end of their round, Player A leaves and Player B stays. Player C comes in with a new character. Player B keeps the same character as before. They begin another Documentary. At the end of the round, Player B leaves and Player C stays. Player D enters with a new character, while Player C keeps his character. Begin a new Documentary. Continue until you cycle through everyone.

The goal of the exercise is for the new player to heighten/contrast/broaden the previous player's character. By exploring the other person's character, you reveal your own character...which in turn will be heightened/contrasted/broadened by the next player. The other goal of the exercise is to avoid story and to focus on the relationship between the characters.

It went very, very well.

Watch out boys, these ladies got chops.

* * *

The Trick Dogs! roll on. We had a solid Harold show last Tuesday when opened for the Lottery--everyone got their little piece of the pie that night. We have two shows left this schedule and I hope we can keep the upward arc of show quality going.

* * *

Despite being voted the "Biggest Gossip" at the Del Awards, I have nothing else to say.

 

[Sammy]

If you were to ask me, what my favorite ImprovOlympic memories are, strangely enough, they wouldn't include improv.

In no particular order:

*Playing Murder! in the green room after Armando shows.

*Playing Risk on the holidays with Jason Chin and the boys.

*Smooching an ex-lady friend on New Year's Eve a couple years back.

*Bullshitting with bartender Jamie Swise on the weekends before shows in the Del Close Theatre.

*Attending all the various Halloween and Christmas parties.


I don't know why that popped into my head, but I realized that most of my favorite moments at IO weren't performance related but people related. I guess ImprovOlympic has become such a fixed part of my life, that it's no longer about performing or learning there, but socializing with the people I really enjoy being with. I still take my performances very seriously, but I now place more value on the friends that I've made there.


Anyway, if you were to ask me what my favorite improv memories were, they would be:

*Homey Loves Chachi's trio of 3-man improv shows at the Playground. (w/ bold and wacky duo of John Eiberger and Peter Fitzsimmons)

*The simultaneous Jumping Miles 5b show and Uncle Joe CageMatch run. (I got to play with friends AND the big kids all on the same night)

*Our Thing's first show in the back of some bar. (w/ Jumping Miles pals Ben Bass, Jim Schiedhauer and Mato Grbvac)

*The Rich Tallarico master's workshop. (Lloyd Ahlquist, I still have flashbacks to our raft scene...)

*The whole Courtesy Sleeve rehearsal process. (Evan Makela, I'm sorry you had to get punched--but it was soooo hilarious)


Just wanted to share something that was rattling around my head this morning.

 

[Sammy]

I am so pissed at myself.

When did I turn into such a lazy motherfucker?

I have been laid off for about a month and a half and I've accomplished absolutely nothing significant other than registering for unemployment.

I always thought that if I didn't have to work, I would take full advantage of all the time I had and do the things I really wanted to do: sit in a cafe and teach myself Italian, sequester myself away and write for hours on end, work out on a consistent basis, wander all over Chicago like an urban nomad, etc...

Nope. Not even close.

What I have actually done: slept in past noon every day, read almost all of Border's and Virgin's stock of graphic novels, cleaned my studio out of boredom, cashed my paltry unemployment checks and seen too much improv at IO.

(I discount the short burst of activity the week following my lay off from VMS because, apparently, it was an anomaly.)

Sure, I've done some things that I should be happy with--an outdoor Courtesy Sleeve performance at the Around the Coyote arts festival (with a possible new run at IO in the offing), a possible run in the Second City Skybox with the Sundays ensemble, some fiddling around with a couple script ideas--

--but those are things I would have done even if I was still employed.

And that's why I'm pissed off at myself.

 

[Sammy]

10/31/02--Thursday--too damn late in the night...

My third Harold team is dead, slain in the most recent culling of IO teams. The Schedule is not "officially" out yet--but it will be following the Trick Dogs' last performance as a Harold team.

Ironically, I'm teching a show that Paul O'Toole is acting in and Jim Carlson is directing (Paul was a teammate in and Jim the coach of my previous Harold team, The Donk). We were joking about how much our lives had changed since the The Donk was broken up a year ago at this same time; since then Jim has become a respected director and improv coach and Paul has focused more on writing shows...little did I know history would repeat itself.

The weird thing is that I'm soooo OK with it.

KOKO (formerly "Sundays") just finished a four-week run at the Second City Skybox and is looking at remounting at The Playground soon and then, maybe, IO early next year. Courtesy Sleeve is about to begin a four-week run at IO on Sundays in the Quartet slot and then goes into rehearsals with Bumper Carroll in January. Add to that yet another ensemble (2 girls, 2 guys) I put together that may work with Jeff Griggs starting in January and I've got a full plate.

I still wish the Trick Dogs were still together...but it's not the end of the world, or a major catastrophe or even the lead story on the evening news for me...it's just the end of something old and the beginning of something new.

Damn. When did I get all this perspective?

Damn. Why do I think I have perspective all of a sudden?

* * *

Since I moved to Chicago 2 1/2 years ago, I've been a part of 11 different ensembles (including 2 student shows):

Adjustable Wrench (Playground)
Garbage (ImprovOlympic)
Homey Loves Chachi (PG)
Jumping Miles (IO--Student Show)
Uncle Joe (Cagematch champs for 16 weeks in a row)
The Donk (IO)
Courtesy Sleeve (Independent)
Celtic Shame Circle (IO--Student Show)
Trick Dogs (IO)
KOKO (Independent)
San Martino (Independent)

God, I suddenly feel old.

* * *

So, hopefully, team #4 looms on the horizon for me. As of this writing Local 914, Lulah, Old Friends and Trick Dogs are definitely cut. Supposedly 8 teams got cut in toto, but we'll see how things shake out Thursday night.

* * *

On Monday, there was a big theater meeting. By big, I mean all the IO teams were required to attend--and there are...were...26 teams on the Schedule. It was amazing to look around the Del Close Theater and see 150+ improvisers crammed in to hear what Charna (and Jeff, Jason and Joe) had to say. Dunbar, formerly of Lulah, compared it to major comic crossover--you get performers who you normally wouldn't see on the same stage sitting right next to each other chatting. The meeting itself was anti-climatic after all the days of conjecture and whatnot on the IC message board and the assorted rumors (and team break ups) that leaked out early.

I'll spare you the useless insights and thoughts about the meeting (except that Joe Canale is one funny motherfucker) and give an interesting observation instead--of all the improvisers who came for the show, maybe 20 stayed to watch the Mosaic a half hour later.

* * *

KOKO.

These fucking kids rock my world.

This ensemble has succeeded beyond my wildest dreams. I honestly feel that I am a part of something greater...I don't know how to put it--in most teams I feel like an equal member, creating and performing in towards a common goal with my peers, where on KOKO I feel like I'm subordinate and serving an undefinable force that has us in its thrall.

That sounded totally queerballs.

Regardless, the ladies (and Tim Whetham) have helped me explore a different style of improv: with my Harold teams, my play tends to be loud, fast and funny; with Courtesy Sleeve, I get to stretch my artsy-fartsy chops AND play silly; and with KOKO we tend to play grounded, emotion-based characters in two-person scenes. I truly think the coaching of Abby Sher and the inspiring play of my fellow KOKO peeps has helped me develop a different facet of improv skillset.

"has helped me develop a different facet of improv skillset."

Ugh.

Let's say I'm a better performer because of them.

* * *

You know what makes me tired?

My unrelating drive to perform as often as possible.

No, wait.

What makes me tired is the fact I'm a pro-active improviser who makes shows happen instead of waiting around and hoping to be asked to join someone else's gig.

I'm pro-active because I want to explore every nuance about the art of improv with as many different people as I possibly can...but there's also a little more to it than that. I shouldn't say this but I will: it sucks never being asked to be a part of someone else's improv show, or being invited sit-in when a team is short or being drafted for the IFL or etc., etc. It doesn't suck, it hurts the ego a bit too. Sometimes I think I never will be asked to do someone else's project, so I'm constantly starting my own. Some of this is based in my own insecurity, but mostly based in the fact that I'm just another average improviser in a town full of excellent improvisers.

* * *

Ever since the Dave Pasquesi's Inside the Improvisor's Studio, I've made a simple vow--just do good work.

Don't worry about what other people think about you, just do good work. Don't compare yourself to other performers, just do good work. Don't worry about shows you're not in, just do good work.

You get the idea.

Just do good work...because that's all you can control.

(Jesus, looks like another attack of "the perspectives")

* * *

Dave Pasquesi's Improv Commandments:

"Well yeah...

Listen up--that’s the one.

Pay attention.

Shut up.

That’s it, there’s only three. "

* * *

I've written too much and not said anything worth shit to anyone who doesn't do what we do...so go read Bill Saveley's Journal or bug Jason Chin of the Argos Agency to update his.

Sammy

 

[Sammy]

After eight months of busting my balls and hustling for gigs, for once, I feel good about where I'm at.

I feel comfortable.

I feel relaxed.

I feel ready.

But not satisfied; not content.

There's more work to be done, more art to be explored. I feel like I scrambled up a towering mountain...and now I want to jump off the peak, fly into the sky and chase the clouds.

I love that feeling.

 

[Sammy]

.

How fucking cool was that!?

Last night, KOKO made our debut performance as part of Second City Unhinged.

It was amazing.

Full house. Fun show. Good times.

I had never played on the SC ETC stage. It was truly an honor to get up there and do the make 'em ups with the ladies of KOKO. The coolest parts:

-The Crowd. The SC Mainstage show had sold out, so the people coming to the ETC theater had no idea what they were in for. It was cool to win 'em over with our gay-ass, artsy-fartsy improv stylings.

-Holding Our Own. After KOKO, four SC peeps went and did a montage that kicked serious, serious ass. Even though we are not at that level of pure awesomeness, I think KOKO showed our improv chops last night

-The Path Less Travelled. KOKO has gone from doing sparsely attended Skybox shows (October, February, March) to decently attended Playground shows (December, May, June) to playing to a huge house for Unhinged. I think it goes to show that if you do good work and persevere, you will find opportunities to do what you love.

Of course, with the good comes the not so good...

-Exhaustion. It was my first day of work at a law firm as an office assistant and they kept me busy from clock in to clock out. By the time I got to SC, I felt like the living dead. During the show, the adrenaline kicked in and I played my usual super high energy, but the crash afterwards was brutal. (Props to Andrea who biked all the way from UIC to SC to make our show!)

-Del Awards. The Homerun Kids were up for several awards at the Del Awards and I was supposed to head over to IO right after our KOKO show. So, not only did I miss the Del Awards (for the first time ever), I missed hanging out with my team due to the aforementioned exhaustion.

Anyways, it was it an amazing moment in our lives and I just wanted to share

Sammy

PS
We got INTERVIEWED! Now that was cool

(link to internet archive version of page)

 

[Sammy]

As one of my job duties as an office assistant at a small Chicago Law Firm, I act as a relief receptionist during the lunch hour. Relief reception involves the following:

Answering the phone.

Surfing the internet.

Occasionally making awkward small talk with the lawerly folk.*

* = Them: "Heya." Me: "Hello." Silence ensues.

---------------

Jean Augustyn is amazing.

While Abby Sher was out gallavanting around Europe for the Boom Chicago / Second City stage swap, Jean sub-coached the last two KOKO rehearsals. Holy smokes is she good! Sometimes you see someone perform so much, you forget that they probably know their stuff inside and out...and boy does she.

Jean pretty much came in with only a general idea with what we did for our form and in two short rehearsals gave us new tools and new approaches to use in our shows. Not only that, she did some kickass warm-up stuff that totally felt like it had been custom tailored for our group. Between her notes and her exercises, Jean was just the right jolt of energy and inspiration to help KOKO kick off our Unhinged run.

-----------------

For the first time, I'm seriously considering putting a word in at IO or the Playground about my interest in coaching--the urge to try my hand at coaching an ensemble has slowly grown over the last couple of months to the point I'm less afraid of coaching than inspired by the sheer challenge of it. I know my independent projects (The Bruise, KOKO, Courtesy Sleeve) pushed me as a performer and exposed me to different styles of play (and direction), but just like when I played tennis, the next step might be to kick up the intellectual side of things. Also, seeing the sheer joy my peers derive from coaching makes me want to give it a shot--they seem so happy to coach that you want to share what you know too!

--------------

Relief duty done. Over and out.

 

[Sammy]

ON THE ROAD AGAIN...

For the fifth time in three years, I’m moving...

When I first arrived in Chicago back in 2000, I moved into a crappy efficiency in Edgewater near Kenmore and Bryn Mawr--an efficiency I ended up sharing with Dawn Franklin for many months.

Then in April of 2001, Dawn and I moved further south in Chicago to Little Vietnam near Kenmore near Argyle into a three-bedroom. Dawn would move out and I’d soon see Ed O’Rourke, Aaron Caponigro and Jon Forsythe as my various roommates.

Looking for some privacy (and to finally get out of Uptown), I found a decent studio in Wrigleyville near Fremont and Sheridan in April of 2002. It was near-perfect--“perfect” in that it was right around the corner from Gil Park, walking distance from IO and had easy access to everything I really needed; “near” in that my studio had a propensity for spawning a blackish mold.

After being laid off and horribly in arrears with my rent, I jumped ship and crashed at Laura Stark’s condo in March of 2003. Laura’s joint is WAY up north at Clark and Grandville (yes, that’s 6200 North)--I think it’s far northern Uptown or the beginnings of Rogers Park, but I’m not sure though. So, now, at the of July, she’s moving to DC and I’m on the move. Again. I don’t know if I have the energy for roommates. I don’t know if I have the cashflow for a place of my own. Either way, the clock’s a tick-tick-tickin’ away.

The three major things I have to consider:

#1--There’s a decent two-bedroom at a great price that may be available...but not until September. So, I’d have to find a month hold-over spot until I could secure it.

#2--If I decide just to go it alone, I’m worried about how my credit report will affect my rental chances. I got a full-time job, but if the people I rent from actually run a credit check they may have a heart attack wandering through ruins of my financial apocalypse from last year. I always assume the semi-shady (or just plain) operations just call your current employer to check that you actually have a job and then pocket the “credit check deposit” for themselves. Regardless, I may have to go the roommate route even though I’d rather not.

#3--How quickly I can get cable.

#3 is just as, if not more, important than the other two.

What the?!


LONDON CALLING...

I have become hopelessly addicted to BBC America’s “EastEnders”--a long-running British soap opera that airs four times a week in the UK but only once a week in a 2 1/2 hour block state-side. If I start talking about it, I won’t stop...so all I’ll say is that it’s the best thing since N64 GoldenEye multi-player and it’s way more addictive than crack.

So, no matter where or with who I live, I must have BBC America on the telly.

Now, while I’m on the topic of relocating and British soaps, something else I’ve been thinking about has been London...and maybe moving there one day. Now, I won’t lie and say EastEnders or BBC America had nothing to do with it, but the urge has always been there--it’s just that all the British accents on TV brought the urge to the surface. (Those accents and Devon Dudgeon’s London Journal

I’ve decided that the two things in life I really want to do before I die is A) Thru-Hike the Appalachian Trail and B) Live in London for several years. Ideally in that order. (If Charna ever opens an IO London, I will be the first telling her I want to be a part of it...whether it be performing, teching or cleaning the toil--er--loo.)

Seriously. To live in London would be such a rush!


MOMMA SAID KNOCK YOU OUT

So, I’m on the Red Line North. It’s rush hour. It’s crowded...’cept by me. I’m by one of the inter-car doors at the end of the car and everyone’s crowded by the normal doors towards the middle of the car. The entire way from Downtown, your typical ignorant Cubs fans (white, young, obnoxious) block the doorway--i.e. they don’t move out of the way so people can get in and out easily. The train hits Fullerton. People try to push past. The Cubs fans don’t move. A lady pointedly says, “Excuse me! We’re trying to get OUT!” The Cubs fans kinda move but not really. The most irritating, the blonde giant, one begins in a mocking voice, “Excuse me! We’re...”

I lose it.

“Step off the train so people can get off, dumbass! It’s not that hard! Just move!”

* * *

Let’s interrupt this story for a second. #1--This is not the first time I’ve yelled something most people wouldn’t have. #2--This is not the first time I’ve yelled something in an angry, confrontational manner. #3--This is not the first time I yelled at a group (or individual) quite capable of seriously kicking my ass. #4--I’m quite overdue for an ass-kicking.

* * *

The Cubs fans (white, young, obnoxious) are shocked. They glare at me. The very tall, very muscular, very blonde Cubs fan says, “I didn’t know they wanted out” in a dumb, retarded, defensive way. Behind him, I hear his very short, very wiry, very pissed friend egg him on and say, “Did he just call you a dumb ass?!”

(I would like to pretend at this point I stared him down and the Cubs fans all retreated to the other end of the car as other Red Line riders silently glared at them, each gravely nodding in agreement with me and ready to kick the shit out of the Cubs fans should a fracas ensue.)

* * *

Here’s the thing. Whenever I lose it (extremely rare, but it happens) I am more than willing to go toe-to-toe with whatever idiot pissed me off. I’ve yelled at a train car-full of drunk Loyola students on the train and challenged them to a fight. I’ve spit out harsh words at drunk Cubs fans on the streets of Wrigleyville. I’ve yelled back at passing cars full of assholes...and if they slow down I’m ready and willing to go at it. It has never come down to a physical confrontation. Yet.

I don’t know why.

I don’t have an intimidating presence--5’10” and 280 soft, doughy pounds. So either A) my righteous wrath and sheer volume tend to deter potential antagonists or B) most people don’t feel like going through the trouble of pummeling a fat guy.

* * *

What actually happened:

I glared at him. He glared at me. We both broke eye contact. For the next couple of stops, we pointedly DIDN’T look at each other but still kinda looked at each other in that dumb macho way. His friends were silent. I mentally figured out, if it came down to it, how to inflict the most damage in the shortest amount of time on this 6’3” musclehead. At Addison, the group stepped off and continued their pilgrimmage to the Temple of Drunken Assholes, Wrigley Field.

* * *

I would like to add at this point that most of my friends don’t realize the following fact about me:

If I ever get in a fight, I will fight to win.

I will either get my ass seriously kicked because I won’t stay down or I will make sure to hurt you very badly. This isn’t my general life philosophy, not by a long shot, but if I’m gonna get in a fight, I will do whatever it takes to take you down. End of story.

* * *

For the rest of my trip, I sit next to a pretty young lady who seems very uncomfortable to be next to me. I stifle the urge to lean over and say, "Really, though. I'm a nice guy, y'know." I also stifle the urge to say, "Really, though. They shoulda moved."

I never used to be this confrontational (and 99% of the time I'm not), but ever since I moved to Chicago I think my Bullshit Tolerance Levels have dropped preciptiously. Or perhaps I am just turning into an old crank who sits on his porch and yells at traffic and noisy kids