Big Nights

Have wanted to write so many things this week. So many things that it has become difficult to write anything. You know? It kind of bottlenecks at my fingertips. Actually, it never makes it close to my fingertips, rather it bottlenecks at the moment when the synapses fire and it all just jams up in my brain. I try to will myself to go to the computer and it seems my ass is made of lead. But I think I've figured it out. I think I'm fucking exhausted. How, you may ask, did this happen? I was so damned busy all month...sometimes feels like I've been busy for years. Though I know the truth, that I take breaks when I can or need to, but not always, but the truth, the truth...is that it is my own brain that exhausts me. Not as much as it once did, but enough. Enough. So much so that I attribute the strange projectile vomiting incident on Saturday night in Bellingham to overtiredness. I was fine all Saturday and drove down with Rascall Tallulah, then met up with Rascalls Tom and Jeff and Jeff's non Rascally, but rascally, if you get my drift, wife, Courtenay. We went and had some Thai food, I ordered Tom Kai Gai, which I eat all the time, and it was tasty, and within a half an hour was puking my guts out behind the theatre. Grrrross. Couldn't play in the first show of the night and scraped through the first 15 minutes of the second show, then slept aaaaaaaaaaaaalll day Sunday, except during the Oscars, which were the perfect speed for my tender brain and body. Now I seem to be fine, if still a little tired. I have no explanation for the disgusting happening except for my body's remarkable way of making me stay still. I should learn to get on top of that before my body has to shut itself down.

I had an odd and kind of emotional experience on Friday night. I was out with some friends at the Marble Arch nightclub, (weird in and of itself because I NEVER go out dancing anymore, but fun because I ran into lots of people I hardly see), and on my way back to my car a woman stopped me. She was clearly quite mad, (like a hatter, as opposed to angry), and desperate and something about her made me stop. She had long, thick hair, and good teeth, and a full, fleshy face, but she wore no shoes, only sport socks, still some white on the tops, but black as night on the soles, luckily still in tact. She had on a cotton dress and a man's tweed blazer and was terrified. Her eyes were so so green and bright, she'd had highlights in her hair, once. She asked me for money, of which I have none, and a ride, which I couldn't find it in myself to provide, and then she asked me for a hug. I am who I am and I hugged her. She started to cry. Have you ever heard the noise a cat makes when they are watching a bird? This primal chirping...that's how her crying was. High and fraught with fear. She clung to me so hard and cried into my jean jacket. She embarked on a tale I could not follow, something hysterical about her friend getting killed at the hotel, and now they were after her, or something. I just couldn't hear her through the shallow, fast breaths and plaintive moans. I had to pry her off of me and stood there while she yelled at me, clearly in a delusional moment, about something I had apparently promised her or done to her earlier, or on a different day. Using this false information to try to guilt me into giving her a ride to Commercial Drive. I almost did, but I couldn't bring myself to invite her mania into my life, into my heart. I felt like she would never have left my car once she was in there, and would ask for more and more, and I would feel responsible for her. I left and cried a little as I drove exactly where she had wanted to go. I wanted there to be something reasonable I could do for her, someone I could turn to for advice, somewhere I could lead her where she would be touched tenderly, and spoken to softly, and fed and bathed and soothed to sleep. Where is this place? My heart splinters that I cannot fix everything for everyone, and that there is not some way to care for everyone who cannot care for themselves. It just doesn't seem right.

Keep your loved ones close to you, and care for them as you would be cared for. We are all we have in this world, my friends.



Small packages

Well, folks. This is a very good day. A very good day, indeed.

Our shows in Bellingham were great, especially Saturday. We're really settling into knowing each other's strengths, and using them. Also challenging each other in really great ways. Ryan Stiles came to the Friday early show and loved it, which was fun. I made him laugh, like really laugh, which made me very happy. He knew my dad when I was younger, too, so he always does a little check in with me, which is tender and kind. I like him for that.

I don't know how many people know that I have a terrible fear of singing in public, but I do. So during one of the Saturday shows Tallulah set us up to do an improvised blues song, Tom played guitar and Jeff played piano and I SANG. Like, sang sang. Like, with a microphone and all by myself on stage. I wasn't even scared. I loved it like crazy. And, apparently, I was quite good. I have a good low gravelly growly blues thing I can do, I found out, and it's a crowd pleaser! I'm a bit giddy about it. It's a big step.

Then we went down to Seattle yesterday to check out the Unexpected Players at Seattle Theatresports. They've invited us down there to do shows, so hurrah for us! I love the Stretch Mouth'd Rascalls. We're discussing a web site and stuff, and looking for a local theatre space to do weekly shows, so exciting things abound.

Then today....do you remember when I mentioned a few months ago that some comedian friends had written me a part in their indie film? Well, we're shooting in April! I'm freakin' excited, I tells ya. Doing a little jig as we speak.

Plus, it's sunny all the time right now, which is good good good for my demeanor. And I'm getting together with a buddy this week to learn some songs on the guitar and banjo and play and sing them at the same time!!!!!

Happy happy joy joy.



Upcoming Shows

The illustrious Stretch Mouth'd Rascalls are back and hi holy hilarious as ever...we will be doing 4 shows at the Upfront Theater in Bellingham, WA on Friday, February 18th and Saturday the 19th, two shows a night, at 7:30 and 9pm. Love to see you there!



Spring? Sprung? Already?

Now, I don't want to jump the gun, because I heard on the weather today that we're supposed to be having a cold snap this weekend, BUT, still....I saw my first cherry blossoms today. On Victoria drive, in McSpadden park. Every year this is a most joyous event for me, watching the blossoms unfurl and bring a little pink into the rainy day world. Ah.

Warning: The following post contains the word "ruckus".

I saw a bad play tonight. Sometimes when I see a bad play, I think for a while that I really, really hate theatre. But I don't. Not really. I just really, really hate self indulgent rape dramas. Smartly I did not sit next to my friend Pete, but in front of him, which must have been some kind of prescience on my part because it was so boring and irritating that there is no question that, had our proximity been different, we would have caused a real ruckus making jokes and generally being obnoxious. Why, oh why, God, do people use theatre as therapy? Just tell me a fucking story, for crying out loud. I'm sorry to swear AND take the Lord's name in vain, kind of, but the situation warrants it.

Then I went to see some comedy to cleanse my palette, and El Cocal came through. I really think it's my favourite comedy night in town. Wednesdays, 10pm, El Cocal restaurant, Commercial Drive at Napier. It's certainly my favourite place to perform. Which ought to be happening soon. Truth be told, I'm awfully swamped right now, so I'm not sure if I'll be back doing standup before the end of February, but I'll be doing some improv shows, so I'll let you know about that.

I'll be doing up a strictly "plugging" post soon, letting you know about all the cool stuff coming up.

I'm trying to write a joke about Menopausal Women Gone Wild. I think it's a funny premise. Of course, now you damned jokesters are going to send me jokes of that ilk, and I'll feel like a lump of non funny since yours were so much better than mine. Then I'll get bitter and jaded and steal your jokes. It was MY premise, after all.

Everyone turn to the person to your left and kiss them thoroughly. God, what a world THAT would be. I love kissing. Have I mentioned that before? Mm. Kissing.