when it rains

For one of my Comprehensive Exams in Spring of 2006 I wrote:

In Victor Hugo’s 1827 Preface to Cromwell...he proposes that God did not create humans as a perfect species; thus, it is inappropriate and, for that matter, untruthful for dramatists to ignore the unpleasant side of human behavior. Classical dramatists have focused too much on the ideal soul and not enough of the corporeal body with all of its passions, impulses, instincts, and desires. That is not to say that the concept of human frailty was completely absent from the history of dramatic texts, but such moments were masked and hidden. Such ugliness was purposely pushed to the back of the viewers [sic; shit] mind in order to emphasize human spiritual nobility. The solution Hugo proposes is a "comedy" in which the sublime and grotesque compliment each other.

This fascinated me. Ever since that fateful day I took my first playwriting class with Carter (Lewis), I have been drawn to the dark, to the cynical, and to, though I didn't know this at the time because I would not learn about his theories for another four years, Hugo's concept of the grotesque. One of my first plays for Carter centered around a son and his dad: both were dead, and the dad had no affection for his son and in fact blamed him for getting in the way of his dreams. The they returned to the land of the living and "got mom." Happy stuff right? When Carter first met my mom, he said something along the lines of "Boy your son is morbid." My mom was a bit perplexed (probably still is). "He's seems like such a happy grounded person."

Though perversely flattering, I'm not sure Carter's description was necessarily true. I would not characterize myself as "abnormally susceptible to or characterized by gloomy or unwholesome feelings," but I would certainly agree that I am intrigued by gloomy and unwholesome feelings. Maybe its the sincerity of them? Maybe its their complexity and the unseen backstory. Maybe its the potential energy I fancy they have: energy that at any moment might break through its casing and explode into a glorious white light. There is something honest and human about the struggle. "I find happy people suspect," a character in one of the plays I am currently dramaturging explains.

And I do too. But it's kind of exhausting. And I'm not sure its healthy to think happy people are just sad people in hiding.

I have for a long time now (half a year?) been trying to bring more unabashed, unsoiled happiness into my writing. If you read the two "Towers" entries, that was what that exercise was about: transforming ugly tragedy into hopeful tragedy. Which is still tragedy. I realize this. I'm a work in progress.

But this week I decided I wanted to bring more happiness into my every day life, not just my writing. My outlook. It was a good week for this apparently because a good many things happened that made looking on the bright side of life that much easier:

0) Rachel made me join a gym. I forgot how good it feels when your muscles ache.

1) I'm in rehearsal for Girl in the Goldfish Bowl with a company I adore, with a director I trust, with a cast I believe in, and a play that surprises me every time with its lovely articulation of a painful situation (oh yes, it is VERY grotesque indeed!). Furthermore, we have been nomads due to some contractional mishap with New Leaf's normal rehearsal space, and we have been rehearsing at the Heart of Gold which is an amazing artist Commune with incredible digs. The kind of digs any artist who has ever gotten his hands dirty would want to live in. We return to the New Leaf space tomorrow, and everyone is thrilled. But I'll miss the Heart of Gold. It makes me happy that places like that exist.

2) I landed my first free-lance writing gig: I will be ghost-rewriting a play for a local non-profit. The "ghost" part of this means that I will not get any credit or future residuals, but the commission fee makes it worth my while. Let me put into practical terms: two months' rent! I asked advice from every professional dramaturg I'm friendly with, and I was introduced to some I hadn't previously known, and they were so generous with their time and their thoughts. Dramaturgs rock.

New T-shirt: Dramaturgs Rock.

3) The Goodman called yesterday, and they need a personal assistant for Horton Foote when he comes in for a festival of four of his plays. If you don't know who Horton Foote is, you're not alone. He is American Theatre's best kept secret: he is a 91 year old playwright who has been writing since the 40s. He adapted To Kill a Mockingbird and Of Mice and Men, but I am only telling you that so that you can say "Oh yeah I know those!" because he is above all else a stellar playwright. I have no business liking his work. It is not like the theatre I usually enjoy because it is simple: chronological, straight-forward, no frills, storytelling. He's just so damn good at it.

4)

For release after 12:00 pm, Friday, January 25, 2008:
NOMINEES FOR THE THIRD ANNUAL KEVIN KLINE AWARDS ANNOUNCED
Twenty-four theater companies in the St. Louis area receive 118 nominations in 22 different categories
Forty-five different productions receive nominations; twenty-five productions receive multiple nominations

Outstanding New Play or Musical

Philip Boehm, Return of the Bedbug (Upstream Theater)
Joe Hanrahan, Soldier Boy/The Little Frenchy Files (After Midnight)
Andrew Michael Nieman, Veil of Silence (Veterans for Peace)
Dan Rubin, Demons…and Other Blunt Objects (HotCity Theatre)
James Russell Wax, Insignificant Others (Hydeware Theatre)


It has been a good week. A blessed week, my mom said, quoting the woman from the metrolink.

I am now going to go buy a couple lottery tickets.