PINK RAGE

No, it's not the name of a new nail-polish! It's what came up for me when I was doing these little 10-minute drawings (as suggested to me by this airy-fairy book on creativity that I'm currently reading).

My therapist (Remember him? Therapy Thursdays and all that) said... ahh, well, let's just say... Rage came up at our last session.

My therapist is sick of me whining about art and money and thinks that I need to go out there and find ways to show my art and sell it instead of just complaining all the time.

Sitting there and actually DOING it, even just these angry scribbles (which feel extremely therapeutic) for more than 10 minutes at a time is a challenge to me.

But:

It is progess.

Dress-Up

I had my fitting this morning at the SF Opera Costume Shop for "Rigoletto." I was relieved that I could still squeeze into my two costumes-- they were tight back in 2001. The wardrobe dude was actually taking in the pants a bit, which was cool. This one commedia costume has a fake padded pot belly sewn in-- I was taking a good look at the silhouette today. I guess the idea is to make me look more like a buffoon.

Hello, costume people! I do not need that!! I have my own belly to deal with!

I snapped the accompanying camera pic in the lobby of the shop. It's a costume of Desdemona's from another Verdi opera, "Otello." It's a very pretty gown. I wish they had one in my size.

With That Being Said (RE:ality TV Inside Joke)...

On Thursday, I started an oil painting class through City College, at their Fort Mason campus which, as you all remember, was also the site of my Magic Theatre ZEN triumph.

Interesting scene there. Lots of *Ladies Who Paint*. Some (well, actually, ONE): very kooky.

Picking up a paintbrush again is going to be a Deja Vu challenge. I really haven't been in an art class since my early twenties, which is around the same time, give or take a year or two, as the self-portrait shown here (I look exactly the same today except my bangs are a little shorter now).

I've also started rehearsals for "Rigoletto," and I am also heading to a "Tristan and Isolde" stage combat auditon on Tuesday night.

I am a busy boy artistically-- now if I could only solve the $$$ issues!

An Inconvenient Truth

I know that this documentary has been out for quite awhile, but I finally saw it yesterday. I encourage everyone who stumbles upon this entry and hasn't seen it yet to make the effort to see this extremely important film-- to Netflix it when it becomes available or to do whatever you have to do to see it.

It was very *Al Gore-y*, but aside from that minor criticism, I am so glad I saw it.

We have got to get the fucking Republicans out of Congress and the White House or else Greenland is going to completely melt and then San Francisco will be submerged in a very murky and unpleasant overflowing Pacific Ocean, not to mention that many other lands will also be submerged, plus mosquitos and other bad insects will be everywhere because the whole eco-system is getting out of whack... Also, the cute polar bears are in deep trouble already.

We all must take action!!! I'm writing flippantly because I'm kind of tired, haven't been sleeping too well, damn Bipolar again, but anyway... (taking care, don't worry)

Here's the website for the film, chock-full of good information and reviews.

Ahh, the compulsion to keep on blogging, it's strange...

The other day I started re-reading a whole bunch of my *paper journals* from my mid-twenties. I've been compulsively keeping journals for around thirty years now, wow...

Anyway, in the middle of all this very depressed whining, and some quirky anecdotes, and a lot of witty drawings and doodles that I'd like to somehow re-use in an art project, there were a couple of poems that made me chuckle out loud. Here's one:

Poem

It's true.
I'm alone.
But I will not
write a
bad poem.

I will try
to describe
the night:
flash of --
white
(a runner).
2nd cup
(of coffee).
Astor Place
(coffee shop).

Here's another; again, I chuckled when I read this:

Buster

Buster the cat
was a bad cat.
He ate things
ripped things
+ broke things.
He made Andrea
sneeze; he
meowed at 6 a.m.
and he chewed
plants. These
were but a few
of his many
faults.

And yet, he
was cute
when he was asleep,
curled in a
"ball," his little eyes
closed + paws tucked under
his chin,
and so I kept
him + fed him
Beef + Liver Platter, or
Sliced Beef in Bite-Sized Chunks.


Maybe you had to be there. In my brain.

More ZEN, and my next role...

I know the guy who wrote this review of ZEN for a San Fran GLBTQQ rag, The SF Bay Times-- he's not a gay guy, just a Theater Queen-- he's Albert Goodwyn, former Super Captain of SF Opera who gave me my first BIG BREAK in Show Biz back in '95. I think the fact that he knows me is why he started off his review with a line of mine from the play.

http://www.sfbaytimes.com/index.php?sec=article&article_id=5286

I'm going to be reprising my role as Commedia dell'Arte Pig Person in "Rigoletto," rehearsals starting up soon.... yay. All fun, no pressure.

I've been staying home in the evenings and gorging on junk food and Reality TV, trying to gain back all the weight I dropped whilst cavorting around on the Zen Sand as quickly as possible. NOT! :-/