I'd like to play a tape for you.
Just beginning to take that love away,
just beginning to take that love away,
In a minute I'll wash that love away.
Last show today. Strange feeling of accomplisment; it was a very satisfying ending to an extremely satisfying run. We played Laurel Park, formerly known as 'the Methodist Campgrounds', a civilized little place which I take to be, these days, some kind of religious community. I've been there before, two years ago with Two Gentlemen of Verona, and a year before that as Touchstone in As You Like it. They're very pleasant crowds; they have study groups in the show for a week or two before you get there, so by the time you arrive they already understand a lot of the jokes. They laughed very heartily, and they reacted very well. For instance, when Antonio suggests to Sebastian he 'come by Naples as I came by Milan' and that they 'draw together', I heard a few scattered gasps in the crowd when the sword was drawn.
Awesome.
Meanwhile, as Ferdinand, I have (had!) a number of speeches to deliver directly to the audience. In the past, for instance at Nonotuck Park or Forest Park, I found myself speaking sort of into the air - like, into the audience, but not to the audience. At Laurel Park, though, I was only about three feet from the audience. And they were eager to interact. The speeches were a joy to deliver today.
Also, I play the Boatswain (pronounced bo-SUN) in I.i. So I got to do a lot of yelling. But I've felt, in the past, dissatisfied with all the yelling; I always thought the aggrivation came too early. Today it was a very steady, even build that crescendoed in a really mighty, reverberating way, partially because we were standing at the back of an outdoor chapel projecting into it, where the audience was. It felt fucking awesome.
Now my charms obey, my spirits crack not!
I had a really surreal dream that my father and the actor who played Prospero, a left-seeming Yoga teacher with flashing eyes, and a powerful rumbling voice - ask Louie who saw him, he kind of is Prospero - formed a leftist Private Investigator agency together, where Eric was psychic and a conjurer, and used those abilities to channel spirits, and my father was some kind of hard-bitten investigative printer.
They went on adventures to Vegas or Hawaii, digging up the excesses of the Military-Industrial Complex (have you ever been there?) in increasingly pleasant, scenic locations, interacting with the hidden heart of a forgotten America who assume the future will be all bombs and draft boards, restoring the hope of a nation who has lost mercy.
It was a pretty cool dream. My dad was sort of a John Drake type -- didn't use a gun. Eric was more the enigmatic spiritualist. Swinging seventies investigative liberal anti-Reagan action.
Even now we remember what we used to say,
even now we remember what we used to say,
we'll be together if we wash that love away
Anyway, I wanted to make a longer livejournal entry, but that isn't happening; I'm already late for meeting Louie at his place after he gets out of work at midnight. His place is 45 minutes from here. We're going to Kaner's place on Hampton Beach. I've never been to Hampton Beach. I'm promised crude clubs, cheap drafts, and trashy girls. Excitement thrills the cockles of my heart. I've been really excited the past day or two.
I dream wide awake of the next few days laying on beaches and boardwalks reading obscure texts and drawing disapproving glances from the city fathers. Girls will squint at the reflected light from my pasty white skin - "such albedo does make a femme's heart quiver!" they will swoon, "and the gentle sway of his beer gut, oh majestic creature!"
Talk to you all on Thursday. Call the cellphone which you have been given the number to if any problems arise with the mission; the planning conducted by our ESPers should have been sufficient to prepare you for any condition. In serious doubt, I suggest use of the Precog kit to prevenge any unanticipated kinks.
Preparation for missions by according oneself with lucien midnight's classic text 'How To Futurekill Your Enemy' may also be in order.
You have your orders! Now follow your command! Excel the mission, succeed the expectation! Take the objective in your sight -- futurekill our enemies!
It's a matter of degrees,
that's true,
that's true.
It's taken
to extremes
and that's why we
work so hard to
take that love away,
take that love away,
take that love away,
take that love aaaaaaaaaaaaa-waaaaaaayyyyyyy...! Oh! nonononononono...
Aiming to head into Boston for the Convention. Hopefully, do an episode of Dispatches, bitches.
SPACE COMMANDER NOBLE! OCCULT COMMANDER LANDERS!
WHAT?!
TOGETHER AGAIN AT LONG LAST!
BUT HOW CAN A SIMPLE FM SIGNAL HOPE TO HOLD SUCH HORRORS SUCH WONDERS UNTOLD RICHES ARRAYED AT YOUR FEET!?! LOVE BEADS FOR THE LUST-LORN. ROCK THE TYRANNY. CHANT DOWN THE WALLS OF BABYLON.
DON'T LET THE STATIC CREEP IN TO YOUR PROUD-BEATING HEART, AMERICAN PATRIOT.
LOVE CAN BE A SIGNAL. SO CAN DIGNITY.
STAY TRUE TO THE REVOLUTIONARY SPIRIT AND ROCK IT REBEL ROCK IT ROCK IT INTO THE NIGHT
just beginning to take that love away,
In a minute I'll wash that love away.
Last show today. Strange feeling of accomplisment; it was a very satisfying ending to an extremely satisfying run. We played Laurel Park, formerly known as 'the Methodist Campgrounds', a civilized little place which I take to be, these days, some kind of religious community. I've been there before, two years ago with Two Gentlemen of Verona, and a year before that as Touchstone in As You Like it. They're very pleasant crowds; they have study groups in the show for a week or two before you get there, so by the time you arrive they already understand a lot of the jokes. They laughed very heartily, and they reacted very well. For instance, when Antonio suggests to Sebastian he 'come by Naples as I came by Milan' and that they 'draw together', I heard a few scattered gasps in the crowd when the sword was drawn.
Awesome.
Meanwhile, as Ferdinand, I have (had!) a number of speeches to deliver directly to the audience. In the past, for instance at Nonotuck Park or Forest Park, I found myself speaking sort of into the air - like, into the audience, but not to the audience. At Laurel Park, though, I was only about three feet from the audience. And they were eager to interact. The speeches were a joy to deliver today.
Also, I play the Boatswain (pronounced bo-SUN) in I.i. So I got to do a lot of yelling. But I've felt, in the past, dissatisfied with all the yelling; I always thought the aggrivation came too early. Today it was a very steady, even build that crescendoed in a really mighty, reverberating way, partially because we were standing at the back of an outdoor chapel projecting into it, where the audience was. It felt fucking awesome.
Now my charms obey, my spirits crack not!
I had a really surreal dream that my father and the actor who played Prospero, a left-seeming Yoga teacher with flashing eyes, and a powerful rumbling voice - ask Louie who saw him, he kind of is Prospero - formed a leftist Private Investigator agency together, where Eric was psychic and a conjurer, and used those abilities to channel spirits, and my father was some kind of hard-bitten investigative printer.
They went on adventures to Vegas or Hawaii, digging up the excesses of the Military-Industrial Complex (have you ever been there?) in increasingly pleasant, scenic locations, interacting with the hidden heart of a forgotten America who assume the future will be all bombs and draft boards, restoring the hope of a nation who has lost mercy.
It was a pretty cool dream. My dad was sort of a John Drake type -- didn't use a gun. Eric was more the enigmatic spiritualist. Swinging seventies investigative liberal anti-Reagan action.
Even now we remember what we used to say,
even now we remember what we used to say,
we'll be together if we wash that love away
Anyway, I wanted to make a longer livejournal entry, but that isn't happening; I'm already late for meeting Louie at his place after he gets out of work at midnight. His place is 45 minutes from here. We're going to Kaner's place on Hampton Beach. I've never been to Hampton Beach. I'm promised crude clubs, cheap drafts, and trashy girls. Excitement thrills the cockles of my heart. I've been really excited the past day or two.
I dream wide awake of the next few days laying on beaches and boardwalks reading obscure texts and drawing disapproving glances from the city fathers. Girls will squint at the reflected light from my pasty white skin - "such albedo does make a femme's heart quiver!" they will swoon, "and the gentle sway of his beer gut, oh majestic creature!"
Talk to you all on Thursday. Call the cellphone which you have been given the number to if any problems arise with the mission; the planning conducted by our ESPers should have been sufficient to prepare you for any condition. In serious doubt, I suggest use of the Precog kit to prevenge any unanticipated kinks.
Preparation for missions by according oneself with lucien midnight's classic text 'How To Futurekill Your Enemy' may also be in order.
You have your orders! Now follow your command! Excel the mission, succeed the expectation! Take the objective in your sight -- futurekill our enemies!
It's a matter of degrees,
that's true,
that's true.
It's taken
to extremes
and that's why we
work so hard to
take that love away,
take that love away,
take that love away,
take that love aaaaaaaaaaaaa-waaaaaaayyyyyyy...! Oh! nonononononono...
Aiming to head into Boston for the Convention. Hopefully, do an episode of Dispatches, bitches.
SPACE COMMANDER NOBLE! OCCULT COMMANDER LANDERS!
WHAT?!
TOGETHER AGAIN AT LONG LAST!
BUT HOW CAN A SIMPLE FM SIGNAL HOPE TO HOLD SUCH HORRORS SUCH WONDERS UNTOLD RICHES ARRAYED AT YOUR FEET!?! LOVE BEADS FOR THE LUST-LORN. ROCK THE TYRANNY. CHANT DOWN THE WALLS OF BABYLON.
DON'T LET THE STATIC CREEP IN TO YOUR PROUD-BEATING HEART, AMERICAN PATRIOT.
LOVE CAN BE A SIGNAL. SO CAN DIGNITY.
STAY TRUE TO THE REVOLUTIONARY SPIRIT AND ROCK IT REBEL ROCK IT ROCK IT INTO THE NIGHT