The fairest portion of the earth.

"We find ourselves in the peaceful possession of the fairest portion of the earth, as regards extent of territory, fertility of soil, and salubrity of climate. ... At what point shall we expect the approach of danger? By what means shall we fortify against it? Shall we expect some transatlantic military giant, to step the Ocean, and crush us at a blow? Never! All the armies of Europe, Asia and Africa combined, with all the treasure of the earth (our own excepted) in their military chest; with a Buonaparte for a commander, could not by force, take a drink from the Ohio, or make a track on the Blue Ridge, in a trial of a thousand years.

"At what point then is the approach of danger to be expected? I answer, if it ever reach us, it must spring up amongst us. It cannot come from abroad. If destruction be our lot, we must ourselves be its author and finisher. ...

"I hope I am over wary; but if I am not, there is, even now, something of ill-omen amongst us. I mean the increasing disregard for law which pervades the country; the growing disposition to substitute the wild and furious passions, in lieu of the sober judgment of Courts; and the worse than savage mobs, for the executive minister of justice. ... Accounts of outrages committed by mobs form the everyday news of the times. ...

"When men take it in their heads to day, to hang gamblers, or burn murderers, they should recollect, that, in the confusion usually attending such transactions, they will be as likely to hang or burn someone, who is neither a gambler nor a murderer as one who is; and that, acting upon the example they set, the mob of to-morrow, may, and probably will, hang or burn some of them, by the very same mistake. And not only so; the innocent, those who have ever set their faces against violation of law in every shape, alike with the guilty, fall victims to the ravages of mob law; and thus it goes on, step by step, till all the walls erected for the defense of the persons and property of individuals, are trodden down, and disregarded. But all this even, is not the full extent of the evil. By such examples, by instances of the perpetrators of such acts going unpunished, the lawless in spirit, are encouraged to become lawless in practice; and having been used to restraint, but dread of punishment, they thus become, absolute unrestrained. ... Thus, then, by the operation of this mobocratic spirit, which all must admit is now abroad in the land, the strongest bulwark of any Government, and particularly of those constituted like ours, may effectually be broken down and destroyed ... [and] this Government cannot last. ...

"The question recurs, 'how shall we fortify against it?' The answer is simple. Let every American, every lover of liberty, every well wisher to his posterity, swear by the blood of the Revolution, never to violate in the least particular, the laws of the country; and never to tolerate their violation by others. As the patriots of seventy-six did to the support of the Declaration of Independence, so to the support of the Constitution and Laws, let every man remember that to violate the law, is to trample on the blood of his father, and to tear the character of his own, and his children's liberty. ... In short, let it become the political religion of the nation; and let the old and the young, the rich and the poor, the brave and the gay, of all sexes and tongues, and colors and conditions, sacrifice unceasingly upon its altars.

"The scenes of the revolution are not now or ever will be entirely forgotten; but that like everything else, they must fade upon the memory of the world, and grow more and more dim by the lapse of time. ... They were the pillars of the temple of liberty; and now, that they have crumbled away, that temple must fall, unless we, their descendants, supply their places with other pillars, hewn from the solid quarry of sober reason. Passion has helped us; but can do so no more. It will in future be our enemy. Reason, cold, calculating, unimpassioned reason must furnish all the materials for our future support and defense. Let those materials be molded into general intelligence, sound morality and, in particular, a reverence for the constitution and laws. ...

"Upon these let the proud fabric of freedom rest, as the rock of its basis; and as truly as has been said of the only greater institution, 'the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.' "

Author: Abraham Lincoln
Title: "The Perpetuation of our Political Institutions"
Date: January 1838

I love it...

Vancouver SunTO JACK SCOTT, VANCOUVER SUN

October 1, 1958 57 Perry Street New York City

Sir, 

I got a hell of a kick reading the piece Time magazine did this week on The Sun. In addition to wishing you the best of luck, I'd also like to offer my services.

Since I haven't seen a copy of the "new" Sun yet, I'll have to make this a tentative offer. I stepped into a dung-hole the last time I took a job with a paper I didn't know anything about (see enclosed clippings) and I'm not quite ready to go charging up another blind alley. 

By the time you get this letter, I'll have gotten hold of some of the recent issues of The Sun. Unless it looks totally worthless, I'll let my offer stand. And don't think that my arrogance is unintentional: it's just that I'd rather offend you now than after I started working for you. 

I didn't make myself clear to the last man I worked for until after I took the job. It was as if the Marquis de Sade had suddenly found himself working for Billy Graham. The man despised me, of course, and I had nothing but contempt for him and everything he stood for. If you asked him, he'd tell you that I'm "not very likable, (that I) hate people, (that I) just want to be left alone, and (that I) feel too superior to mingle with the average person." (That's a direct quote from a memo he sent to the publisher.)

Nothing beats having good references.

Of course if you asked some of the other people I've worked for, you'd get a different set of answers. 

If you're interested enough to answer this letter, I'll be glad to furnish you with a list of references — including the lad I work for now. 

The enclosed clippings should give you a rough idea of who I am. It's a year old, however, and I've changed a bit since it was written. I've taken some writing courses from Columbia in my spare time, learned a hell of a lot about the newspaper business, and developed a healthy contempt for journalism as a profession. 

As far as I'm concerned, it's a damned shame that a field as potentially dynamic and vital as journalism should be overrun with dullards, bums, and hacks, hag-ridden with myopia, apathy, and complacence, and generally stuck in a bog of stagnant mediocrity. If this is what you're trying to get The Sun away from, then I think I'd like to work for you 

Most of my experience has been in sports writing, but I can write everything from warmongering propaganda to learned book reviews. 

I can work 25 hours a day if necessary, live on any reasonable salary, and don't give a black damn for job security, office politics, or adverse public relations. 

I would rather be on the dole than work for a paper I was ashamed of. 

It's a long way from here to British Columbia, but I think I'd enjoy the trip. 

If you think you can use me, drop me a line. 

If not, good luck anyway. 

Sincerely, Hunter S. Thompson

ok...so.

I've been thinking a lot about choices lately.

It's totally cheesy... but I am figuring out fist hand that contentment is a choice.

I don't know that I can totally get behind the whole happiness/sadness are choices, but I am absolutely rocking the contentment thing.

Work is hard, life is hard, relationships are hard, but ultimately you have to make the choice to be ok with it all... or not.

I've started a campaign to be aggressively ok with, well, all of it.

So that's that.

I had a great summer.  It was my first time leaving Santa Fe knowing that I don't need to go back.  There are dozens of other people that will get infinitely more out of being in that place... that job... that experience than I will, for one more year.

I also really need some time not working on an opera.  Three years straight is a bit much.

I realize this is maybe the most boring post I've ever posted... but that's pretty much where I'm at right now.

Now, I'm going to go make myself a Rum and Coke, give the new Massive Attack a listen, and track down some CocoRosie tickets for next week.

All in all, pretty content.

The way

it is.

There was a boy... they say he wandered very far... over land and sea.

I want to travel.

Again.

Traveling gains perspective, experience and awakening.  These are apparently, things I want right now.  The last couple of times I've left the country, although amazing experiences in their own right, were very much necessitated and determined by the fact that they were business trips.  Business trips have a strange way of being very... um... business oriented.  Fun, exciting and full of chills and spills however they may be, you can never get over the fact that you are there for a very specific purpose.

To accomplish... something.

Travel, life altering travel, involves a lot more, uselessness.  No hotel reservations, no cab rides from the airport, no "job" to fulfill.  You're just, well, there.  Woken up in the middle of the night by the guy peeing on the floor of your communal bathroom.  Drunk, and figuring out exactly how big vatican city really is, when you have to remember where your bed is.  Discovering that beer costs less than water, and tastes better.  Figuring out that boats do indeed make for much more exciting taxis than cars do.  Knowing how young and naive your own country really is.  And learning just enough in a dozen languages to know where you are, and maybe, where you are going next.

Take it as it comes, leave the rest, never plan out further than you can see.

I miss that.  The immediacy of it.

I have this theory about knowing people.  It involves needing to have three shared experiences with someone else, before you can say you really know them.  You have to travel with them, drink with them, and see them angry.  Oddly enough, taking a trip like the kind I crave right now, will probably involve all those.

I'm thinking, Spain.  Who's in?

My heart's a drummer

I thought I would share the view of my week with you.  I have to say, it is easy to get spoiled working in this profession.  When things like assistants, crew, tech tables, monitors, headsets, and a place to sit down don't exist, this job gets a lot more... complicated.

Don't get me wrong, it's been a blast.  It's just funny to me, when the majority of my job is in the days and weeks spent obsessing over parts of shows that last for seconds, when I spent 45 minutes cueing this show standing backwards on the last row of chairs so I could see/talk to my bored programer (intentional).  Going straight into runs where my head was in a score, calling the cues that I just wrote and still haven't really seen, standing behind a comically large projector shooting translation titles out of the front, and 134º fan blown air out the back, trying to lend a hand to the titles operator when the program she is running to display the translations crashes... again.

But it really has been fun.  Everyone that I am working with is so good at what they do, that putting a show like this one together takes almost nothing.  It just... happens.

So, cheers to my colleagues and compatriots.  May we continue to make things... happen.

It's that time again

Time for Michael to go delving deep into the back log of papers, essays, critiques, and general dribblings that is his evidence of Higher Education.  I will have you know, a lot of time and money were spent in putting that "F" in my B.F.A. and I like to remember, occasionally, the steps I've taken to get... well... here.

That being said, to look at all of this, I'm pretty sure "now me" and "22 year old me" would have some stuff to sort out, were we to have a sit down talk, over drinks.

I mean, wow.

Brief Examples:

I actually started an essay for my "Absurdism in Performance" class with the line, "Citizens of Western Idealism, HEAR ME!".

In an essay for "Western Thought" I described Aristotle's Poetics as "... about as helpful a guidebook for performance and art, as Marxism turned out to be for the Soviets."

Using my newly favored term "Homo Aestheticus" 14 times in a critique describing the modern theater patron. (side note, I still think it's a great book and worth study)

And my personal favorite of this evenings wanderings, in an essay for "Western Thought", describing Aristotle's Poetics as "... about as helpful a guidebook for performance and art, as Marxism turned out to be for the Soviets."

Really?

It is legit fascinating to look over works, deeds, and catalogues of an older version of yourself.  To trace back thoughts, emotions, ideas to a less articulate / more passionate state.

I think it would be truly neat to be able to have that sit down talk, over drinks, with myself.  Just leaving home for the first time, getting into this field of art and performance for the first time, and accepting for the first time that I don't have a clue.  But in the same breath, settling in with the knowledge that I am really not that far removed from that person.  At all.

The only real difference is time spent living, and the interactions of other people...

Hmm.

In other news, the show I've been working on opens Friday / closes Saturday.  Company holiday party tomorrow night (no obscenely loud Karaoke this year... lame).  And wrapping up prep for the Winter shows.

Next time, maybe we can explore some of my pre-18 poetry together...

Get out the eyeliner and the fishnets.

How does one

break the cycle of familiarity and complacency?

Honestly, I'm all ears.

So, quick story.  I say (often, and to the disapproving eye rolls of my room-mate/office-mate/life-partner) that I do not enjoy musicals.  That may not be entirely true.  In fact, there are quite a few musicals that I get a lot of joy-ish listening to.  One of them in-particular has been on my mind a lot lately.

Actually one song, of one of them, has a context that has been robbing me of sleep and general well being.

"What do you get?"

You see, world, I've been thinking a lot about relationships: close distance, long distance, casual, friendly, sexual, confusing, amazing, frustrating, life changing, what we get from them, and what we give to them.

"Someone to crowd you with love."

I think I have come to a point of realization, that the answer to the question that titles this entry, isn't found within yourself.  We lack the perspective on ourselves to radically and powerfully better/change ourselves in any kind of permanent capacity.

"Someone to force you to care."

That's why we entangle ourselves in another's life.  We grow, they grow, and if you are really lucky, you both grow in the same direction, and are able to continue to give that needed perspective throughout a changing, maturing, surprising life.

"Someone to make you come through, who'll always be there..."

But I guess that's what we want in the end, a companion.  In the truest sense.  A pair, intended to compliment or match each other.

"... As frightened as you, of being alive."

So here's to musicals that make you think.  Or rather, here's to created works that make you realize that everyone thinks the same things.

Wow

So I officially lasted with this "Post Blog Every Day" business for about 4 days.  Maybe I should rename this little challenge "Post Blog Most Days Unless It's Not Convenient, Or I Am Too Sleepy".

So today started the week of "Showcase" here in beautiful Midtown Houston.

I could take this opportunity to bitch and moan, but that's tiresome and uninteresting.  To sum up, I was able to clearly hear the voice of my Father, telling me all day long that it's "all in the details, Michael".

Joyous.

I am constantly surprised by how much I overlook, forget about, or simply don't deal with when it comes to life, and specifically my profession.  Time, money, and people do a great job of providing a buffer for those "oops" moments.  Needless to say, this particular production is in short supply of all of those categories.  But hey, it's up, it's working (ish) and and we are ready to spring tomorrow morning and write some cues.  Assuming I can get the correct templates installed in the moving lights.  This time.

Honestly.

I think sleeping well would alleviate a good deal of the aforementioned "oops" moments.  Waking up in the morning feeling less tired than I did when I went to sleep would be great.  Any suggestions?

More to come on "Showcase" as it develops.

Until next time, as long as it's convenient and I am not too sleepy.

Snow

I woke up this morning in an honest to goodness wintery landscape.

-ish.

I guess as wintery a landscape as I have seen in recent memory.  White slushy snow, grey skies, and scores of nervous Houstonians wearing new ankle length North Face down jackets, purchased at great expense for THIS day.

It was just earlier this week that I was reminiscing with a colleague about how I have never experienced that famed "white christmas" that Crosby sang to heartily about.  My Christmas traditions consist of morning walks down to the beach and along the breakwater or to the end of the wharf to peer into the vast infinity of the pacific.  Maybe a game of croquet.  A drive up PCH/101.  In short, mostly things that would be hindered by freezing temperatures, snow, and ice.

I find that I really like the concept of the "white christmas", I have just never ventured to experience one for myself.

I am reminded that every Christmas I've experienced until this point, every tradition, every meal and morsel, every moment sitting on the floor of that house, figuring out which color room I will be sleeping in, every breakfast around that iconic breakfast nook, has passed from expectation into memory.

Don't get me wrong, I don't invalidate all of those experiences, even in the slightest.  I am just acknowledging that with the passing of that amazing women, there's not a lot that I hold true (about family, holidays, and traditions) that hasn't changed, or been replaced completely.

But that is the way of life I suppose.  It's up to those of us remaining, and yet to be born, to make the conscious choice whether to continue on with what has been, or to breach into something new, and yet undiscovered.

Either way, it's going to be a very different Christmas.  And that's alright by me.

::I realize that most of this makes absolutely no sense without the back story.  But I think you get the point::

I might have missed a day

It's true...

It's after midnight and I have not posted anything for my Thursday Dec 3.

To be fair, I had actually written something earlier, but it was gloomy and doomy and boring... nobody wants to read (more) of that here.

So here goes version 2.0.

This seems to be the week of meetings.  I've had meetings to plan having meetings.  And at meetings, we've talked about how we should talk at the end of the meeting about some things or other.

It's out of hand.

I had a (really) early production meeting at Rice about a show next year...  the scale of things amaze me.  From playing in a "pit" orchestra in High School, to running shows at Moorpark, to designing and other at NCSA, to Santa Fe, to HGO... things just keep getting bigger.

Literally.

The spaces get bigger, the money flows faster, the inventory gets ridiculous.  The theater I walked around at Rice could fit snugly inside one of our rehearsal halls downtown... but that makes the work no less valid.  It makes the hours spent there no less important.  It makes the artists that tread there no less talented.  It makes the performances that occur there no less poignant.

What it does do is remind someone, who is used to seeing the lights and colors available to him number in the thousands, that it is actually quite a bit harder to do this job with firm restrictions.  And the likely hood of doing something really interesting with it, gets a lot more likely.

Restrictive environments breed imaginative solutions and brilliance.  Boundlessness breeds sloth and mediocrity.

I am excited to be finally starting to work in the community that I have lived in for the past 3 years.  I can only hope this job leads to my more chances for imagination and brilliance.

We should probably have a meeting about that.

I lost something

When I was in school, I was classified as the idealist.

I fought for and got angry over discussions about the purpose of art, or what can be called art. In a slug out match, across a large black conference table, I fought for the Tolstoy-ian ideal of art as being able to be anything and everything, as long as it creates that beautiful and fragile emotional like between artist and audience. Intent and Reception.

Down with Plato and Wilde, with their shallow and meaningless ties to aesthetics and beauty. Cynics the lot of them.

I thought we had the makings to start a new "-ism". To build an "-ism" in our own image and with our own ideals and morals. Where aesthetics and intention and life could walk hand in hand with success.

I lost something.

I have been thinking an awful lot these past couple of months about where I've gotten to, and what has led up to me sitting on my couch, in this 3rd floor apartment, in Houston Texas, listening to the Smiths (it's been that kind of day). What have I given up, passed over, or ignored to get to where I have gotten, and in the time I've gotten there.

This business demands success.

It demands success of it's people, and it demands success of it's product.

The pursuit of success has a funny way of blurring out the edges of everything else. Your time, your peace, your love, your money... I've been pretty quick the shelve every one of these things at some point to get to where I am today.

I think I'm just getting tired. My life has turned into a seemingly endless stream of opera. Which, to be fair, is exactly what I have been clawing and fighting my way towards for years.

But I miss the idealist.

I think I'm at a point now that need to... have to start un-shelving some things. Even if that means giving up some of that security that I have become so accustomed to.

I lost something.

Now I have to go and find it. And I apologize for the angsty-ness of what you just read. But like I said, it's been that kind of day.

It's Winter

in Houston.

Today.

Today was that lovely day, that seems to happen every year in this fine town, where the weather, seemingly of it's own accord and for no particular reason, turns from "Oh, hey, it's not very hot outside today. That's nice" to "Holy shit, it's freezing!".

Cold, wet, rainy, grim day.

I should preface all of this by sharing that to date I have lived in Los Angeles, North Carolina, Santa Fe, and Houston. None of which would be considered much in the way of the "Wintery North".

For me, Winter is when you can see your breath.

Anything worse than that is unpleasant and should be avoided.

It's Winter in Houston.

Don't get me wrong. I love the concept of winter/snow. It's just that every time I've been in direct physical contact with it, it's been horrible.

Por ejemplo, my first time in Chicago... Thanksgiving day. Took the train into downtown with some family for my first Chi town excursion. Seeing the sights, living the dream, when the sun starts to go down. So there I am, standing in Daley Plaza, waiting for a tree to light up, when it starts to snow...

Sideways.

No one mentioned to me what exactly "Lake Effect" snow was. But I got a pretty clear crash course in it that night. My scarf, was stuck to my face, with ice.

There might have been tears... but who would know. It would have just added to the ice.

No one should live like that.

It's Winter in Houston.

and this nomad of the mostly southern sunny regions, may need a thicker coat.

First Day

back at work.

woot.

Coming back to HGO, even after a meager (2) weeks away, still feels a bit like the first day of school...

New clothes.

New pens.

A new Trapper Keeper (j/k, but how awesome would that be?)

And when you see people for the first time... again, people with whom you have spent countless hours/days/weeks/months with over the course of previous reps, they give you that surprised-interested-mildly-amused-though-not-outwardly-excited-but-good-to-see-you face.

You know the one.

But a good day back it was. Production meeting for Studio Showcase, this and next week, with a Director that I know (apparently) from the SFO Apprentice Scenes. The plot thickens.

Spent (a lot) of time in the comfy chairs in the ATD office.

Emails, plots, work blah, blah, blah

And...

I played Christmas Music all...day...long!

I realize I may be jumping on that horse a little soon, but it is after T-day, and I think I have the right.

Right?

Last year my Room-mate/Office-mate and I made the unspoken decision to exclusively play Christmas music for all of the December prep period (to be fair, mostly my decision, and with much chagrin from the aforementioned Room-mate/Office-mate).

But, as I may have mentioned earlier in this space, I am absolutely and totally swayed emotionally/physically/spiritually by the music I happen to be listening to at that moment. Which means I have the benefit of being able to force myself to be just a little bit more lively and cheerful as we push, unavoidably, towards the jovial Holiday Season by simply hitting play on my "350 Christmas Favorites" playlist.

It is a good skill/curse to have when you need to get the previously discussed emotions/body/spirit back on track, in a professional sense. Considering how useful I have been the week leading up to and the (2) weeks away from my desk, there is a good deal work to be done this week, and a bit of levity and cheer might just tip the scales in my favor.

So, to sum up: First day at school, thickening plot, comfy chairs, christmas music, and cupcakes (I may not have mentioned those).

And, it's only Monday.

350 Christmas Favorites...

PLAY.

I am

A full on Nerd.

Like, no kidding, a nerd in the strictest sense.

The definition of the word (that someone made up one day on wikipedia) is a derogatory connotation or stereotype, that refers to a person who passionately pursues intellectual activities, esoteric knowledge, or other obscure interests that are age-inappropriate rather than engaging in more social or popular activities.

I was raised in a home of Star Trek, Sea Quest (yes, the one with the talking dolphin), and Isaac Asimov.

I wore out my Star Wars, Labyrinth, Krull (yes, the one with the spinning knife), and Willow VHS tapes.

I created whole worlds, universes, story lines, heros, and villains while sitting on my living room floor, using these films as the raw material for my imagination.

Over the course of this last week, I had a few conversations with my Aunt about how and why we think and formulate opinions. Which has a great deal to do with who we are, who we associate with, who we are attracted to, what we excel at, and what we never touch or never let touch us.

I really feel like a lot of it has to do with the media we are exposed to when we are growing up. I will admit to being programmed/wired mostly by the strangeness ( read::awesomeness::) of the 80's. A lot of adjectives could be thrown around to describe this period in Western society, but it could probably be explained by saying that pretty much across the board, it was an era of Aesthetic for the sake of making/showing something New.

REALLY new, in most cases.

Big hair, bigger shoulders, why not?

Hyper-colors, music videos, and electronica...sure.

I feel like my claim to Nerd-ness resonates around my tendency to think a little (read::A lot::) off-center. Combine the strangeness ( read::awesomeness::) of my thought process with the inward-turning-day-dreaming tendencies of an only child, and that pretty much sums me up.

So I'm a Nerd.

But we all have to live out our destiny, right?

I choose to embrace the one that's a little strange (read::awesome::).

So...

March 2008 huh?

Well... I remember writing that last post.

Different apartment.

Different Job (title).

Different people (mostly).

Basically a very different point/place in life.

Sitting in LAX today I had the unexplainable desire to get back to my (newer) apartment in Houston, and write.

Something, anything, doesn't really matter. After the last 20 months, give or take, and all the events, mishaps, wins and losses, it felt like the thing to do.

March 2008 huh?

The last two weeks, give or take, have in some ways enacted more change in my life than the previous 80.

1) My Family has lost it's absolute Matriarch, and perhaps it's physical center.

2) I have been more honest with family/friends about myself than I have been my whole life.

Both of these have, needless to say, changed things quite a bit on the home front. For the better, he tentatively says. But definitely a change.

I'm not great at summing up, and to try to provide some sort of deep insight about my last 20 months would be folly. Lets just say a lot happened, and some things didn't.

So moving forward. I have put forth the challenge to myself to post something to this space at least once a day thru the end of the year.

March 2008 huh? Well this should at the very least take us into 2010, right?

3 Phases

Phase 1:
Acquire a bicycle.

Acquire a helmet.

Acquire WWII era tank goggles (has been proven to be the ultimate accessory)

Get used to, and enjoy riding the surface streets in open air. Wind on face/goggles. Feeling good about my trip to and from work. Get exercise and show up to work looking a mess.

Phase 2:
Acquire a scooter. (yes, I know the one I want, and it rules)

Acquire a better helmet.

Continue to use said tank goggles daily.

Get used to and enjoy motoring the surface streets in open air. Wind on face/goggles. Feeling the exhilaration on my trip to and from work. Get onlookers who wonder who that rad guy on the scooter is, and show up to work looking a mess.

Phase 3:
Officially start a scooter gang, finally. (Oh, we have a name)

Acquire custom jackets with fringe under the arms and our gang name emblazoned across the back.

Get used to and enjoy cruising with my gang thru the surface streets in the open air. Wind on our faces/goggles. Get mad respect when we role up to our café/bar/restaurant/movie theater, not as some strange people on scooters, but as a gang, with all the street cred’ and reverence we deserve.

Oh, and show up to work looking a mess.

The Chinese, and Tapioca

are surrounding me.

I love being the minority.

It is a bit like travel, only it doesn’t take very long and it’s much less expensive.

Houston continues to surprise me, in terms of cultural diversity.

I am currently sitting in the Tapioca House, soaking up my minority-ness and sipping / chewing an earl grey milk tea, with tapioca of course.

I am sitting in a high chair, next to a floor to ceiling window in full sunlight.

As I look around the place, and into the adjoining parking lot, I cannot seem to find a single English word. A great deal of Chinese and Korean, no English.

As I was writing the last sentence 2 men having an argument / conversation sat at my high, round bar table with me. No acknowledgment that I am sitting here. No refrain because it’s such a small table, and I have spread out over most of it. No awkwardness about entering and exiting the Western concept of “personal space” without so much as a glance in my direction.

There were 2 empty seats. And they sat.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t feel like any of this is strange or wrong, I just can’t help but be amused by being forced to confront my own upbringing and culture. Those hardwired modes of operation that make us who we are and yet remain invisible when around like minded, like spoken, and like appearing individuals.

During that last paragraph I attempted contact by saying in “perfect” Mandarin, “how are you?” Which prompted a very broken but perfectly enthusiastic English response of “good, thank you.” Apparently I was sized up as not being able to continue in the conversation much farther than “how are you?” in my “perfect” Mandarin.

It’s a beautiful day in Houston.

The sun is shining, the wind is blowing, and the Chinese, and Tapioca, are surrounding me.

Illness (still)

A list of things that were supposed to make me better:

- Going on a very long drive thru the country(ish).
- Drinking lots of Tea.
- Drinking my weight in Airborne.
- Watching the Second Season of The Office (brit.)
- Watching Dressed to Kill by Eddie Izzard (brit.)
- Staying warm.
- Shopping for Meds.
- Shopping for Soup.
- Being shocked by where all this Mucus actually comes from, because I’m pretty sure Mucus has the ability to break the physical law of conservation of mass.
- And lots, and lots of NyQuil

A list of things that will make me feel better tomorrow:

- Showing up to work with my own boxes of Kleenex and a fresh tube of Airborne.

World Premiere, Horses, Illness

I sit, crossed legged on my couch, sweating from fever, and confused but happy as to why Linksys has once again opened up it’s doors to me.

World Premiere:
In the world of opera that I have known for the past couple of years, world premieres are not that common. Yes, yes, new “productions” of established opera’s have become the norm, but an actual premiere, not that common.

I have to admit that the whole idea of premiere had me a little awe struck on Friday night. I got to be part of a production that, for all intents and purposes had never been seen by an audience before. True, it had been work shopped, honed, practiced, and refined for a very long time, by a great many people. But never before performed.

When one looks in Opera books, libretto’s, et cetra, information you are always given is composer, librettist, date and venue first performed.

This marks the first time I have been a part of that last piece of info about a work.

Horses:
Saturday morning was the Rodeo Parade thru downtown Houston.

So naturally I went.

And naturally, I wore my cowboy boots and faux pearl snap down plaid shirt.

There were many a horse, and cowboy.

One of the more entertaining parts of the event were what could best be described as Houston Zambonis.

Every few thousand horses, there would be an exchange, nay, a dance between 2 miniature street sweepers. Criss Crossing back and forth down the avenues, leaving nothing but a fine mist of vaporized horse manure in the air.

Illness:
For the second time this winter season I am ill.

Nothing quite like getting my first 3 day weekend off in recent memory, than being able to spend it sitting on my couch/bed feeling miserable.

But I am resolved to be healthy by tomorrow so I can go do fun things with my last free day before diving into the next 2 shows for the Spring.

So if you wouldn’t mind, please send positive vibrations and thoughts of warm chicken soup my way.

And I will attempt to put them to good use.

Another Opening

Another Show

The buzz around the office a little louder.

The talk of dresses, shoes, and other accoutrements of the trade.

The paper work appears a little more important.

The problems and accomplishments of the week melt in anticipation of the main event.

Plans for parties are made.

And every time, I am surprised when I walk downstairs, and see the sea of people that have shown up for the festivities.

Who are all these people?

And every time, it takes me a minute to realize that all we have poured into these few brief hours is going to be lain bare before 1000 sets of eyes and minds.

Careers are elevated.

Careers are tarnished.

And we are off and running.

Happy opening.