poop jokes, this very weird play, and a killer pair of overalls
Hello friends!
I'm trying something new, dictating this into my phone as I hike through the neighborhood instead of drafting longhand on Ye Olde Yellow Legal Pad.
If I was brave, I'd publish as is without going back through and… Poop, nope.* Just scrolled up and changed Ye Olde Yellow Legal Pad to title case. It's funnier that way, no?
*Speaking of funny: I said "whoop comma nope," not "poop comma nope," but poop is maybe funnier.
This is gonna be a weird one.
AnyWho.
We got rain last night, the first rain in… I can't remember. It's been a long time. So I'm forcing myself to go for a hike, enjoy the fresh air before I get in the car and drive to Hollywood, to Theatre of NOTE where I've been spending every evening in rehearsal.
I'm fried. I'd forgotten, somehow, that directing a play is a full time job, even if I'm mostly only in rehearsal for three or four hours at a time.
So the draft of the new thing I'd intended to finish by October 15? That didn't happen. And the just write for an hour a day, Laramie hasn't happened either. Nor has the just get a little bit of writing done.
On the bright side, look at me, out for a hike! It does feel good to get some exercise.
And we're barreling along with this play. This weird, brilliant play, garrulously titled A Beautiful Day in November on the Banks of the Greatest of the Great Lakes.
My cast is terrific. Though they're semi-terrified, some of them, to be told, "Just do the thing you're doing, without actually doing it." Actual words that came out of my mouth the other day. Chris Neiman, who is playing a sportscaster named #, keeps quoting me. He contends that those words sum up the entire process so far.
You see, my weird, brilliant playwright, Kate Benson, has written a play about a dysfunctional family Thanksgiving, replete with turkey and gravy and Green Frosty Punch, and she has specified—firmly—that there be no props and no mime.
So what are my actors d o i n g while I strand them up there on stage for 80 minutes? That is the burning question.
We open November 10, just as pre-holiday anxiety should really be kicking in. I'll send word the instant tickets go on sale.
There's a fundraising campaign in progress (<--click link), which I am so relieved not to be in charge of. If you have 10 or 20 or 500 dollars to contribute, it would be a load off my hard-working producers. You may rest assured, not a penny will go to Big Turkey.
(Get it? Because no props. No game birds will be harmed in the making of this—)
(It was a stretch.)
*****
My things of the month are 75% things I wish I'd done. Or, things I would have liked to do had I more hours in the day, maybe that's a better way to put it.
This month in movies I haven't yet seen: Andrea Arnold's American Honey and Kelly Reichardt's Certain Women are playing right this minute. Two lady directors I love. Two movies I am BEYOND excited about. As I drive past ArcLight, I daydream about taking a five-hour detour and catching them both.
This month in cocktails I haven't yet developed: A dirty dill pickle martini. Doesn't that sound delicious? We've been eating tubs of whole koshers from Sonoma Brinery, and the brine is sooo good. Seems like a waste to dump it out.
This month in fashion: Ricky bought me a pair of canvas overalls at Pilgrim Surf + Supply, and they've become my directing uniform. Super comfy, stylish-yet-rugged, and so easy to throw on over a t-shirt when I realize it's 5:35 and oh shit my rehearsal starts at 6. (Sold out in olive, sadly, but you can snap them up in beige.)
*****
xoxo,
Laramie
p.s. Pls forward this to a lady director!
I'm trying something new, dictating this into my phone as I hike through the neighborhood instead of drafting longhand on Ye Olde Yellow Legal Pad.
If I was brave, I'd publish as is without going back through and… Poop, nope.* Just scrolled up and changed Ye Olde Yellow Legal Pad to title case. It's funnier that way, no?
*Speaking of funny: I said "whoop comma nope," not "poop comma nope," but poop is maybe funnier.
This is gonna be a weird one.
AnyWho.
We got rain last night, the first rain in… I can't remember. It's been a long time. So I'm forcing myself to go for a hike, enjoy the fresh air before I get in the car and drive to Hollywood, to Theatre of NOTE where I've been spending every evening in rehearsal.
I'm fried. I'd forgotten, somehow, that directing a play is a full time job, even if I'm mostly only in rehearsal for three or four hours at a time.
So the draft of the new thing I'd intended to finish by October 15? That didn't happen. And the just write for an hour a day, Laramie hasn't happened either. Nor has the just get a little bit of writing done.
On the bright side, look at me, out for a hike! It does feel good to get some exercise.
And we're barreling along with this play. This weird, brilliant play, garrulously titled A Beautiful Day in November on the Banks of the Greatest of the Great Lakes.
My cast is terrific. Though they're semi-terrified, some of them, to be told, "Just do the thing you're doing, without actually doing it." Actual words that came out of my mouth the other day. Chris Neiman, who is playing a sportscaster named #, keeps quoting me. He contends that those words sum up the entire process so far.
You see, my weird, brilliant playwright, Kate Benson, has written a play about a dysfunctional family Thanksgiving, replete with turkey and gravy and Green Frosty Punch, and she has specified—firmly—that there be no props and no mime.
So what are my actors d o i n g while I strand them up there on stage for 80 minutes? That is the burning question.
We open November 10, just as pre-holiday anxiety should really be kicking in. I'll send word the instant tickets go on sale.
There's a fundraising campaign in progress (<--click link), which I am so relieved not to be in charge of. If you have 10 or 20 or 500 dollars to contribute, it would be a load off my hard-working producers. You may rest assured, not a penny will go to Big Turkey.
(Get it? Because no props. No game birds will be harmed in the making of this—)
(It was a stretch.)
*****
My things of the month are 75% things I wish I'd done. Or, things I would have liked to do had I more hours in the day, maybe that's a better way to put it.
This month in movies I haven't yet seen: Andrea Arnold's American Honey and Kelly Reichardt's Certain Women are playing right this minute. Two lady directors I love. Two movies I am BEYOND excited about. As I drive past ArcLight, I daydream about taking a five-hour detour and catching them both.
This month in cocktails I haven't yet developed: A dirty dill pickle martini. Doesn't that sound delicious? We've been eating tubs of whole koshers from Sonoma Brinery, and the brine is sooo good. Seems like a waste to dump it out.
This month in fashion: Ricky bought me a pair of canvas overalls at Pilgrim Surf + Supply, and they've become my directing uniform. Super comfy, stylish-yet-rugged, and so easy to throw on over a t-shirt when I realize it's 5:35 and oh shit my rehearsal starts at 6. (Sold out in olive, sadly, but you can snap them up in beige.)
*****
xoxo,
Laramie
p.s. Pls forward this to a lady director!
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