Panic Panic Panic Panic Panic ... wait. Yes: Panic.

So today was the first day, since

starting

this Aviary of Odin's, that I came into work with plenty of free time, and didn't feel remotely like doing an entry.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!

Perhaps you think I'm overreacting. Perhaps I am. I've been sitting here, between assignments, trying to conceive of what innocuous reason might be attributed to this change. I've considered: having finished my apartment hunt, coming up on a birthday, not having worked in a while ("a while" in this context being two weeks) and my recent forays into "interior massage," as my physical therapist(s) refer(s) to it. None of these offers me decent enough explanation, so I begin to fear the worst.

Odin's Aviary may be going the way of every previous attempt at journaling I've ever ventured, and losing relevance in my grand scheme of things.

I don't want to jump the gun on this. I mean, one day of waning enthusiasm in a five-month run is hardly a death knell. Still, it worries me. Prefer my day job over my 'blog? What's next? Preferring collating over memorizing lines? Choosing to compile uncontested divorce papers over practicing my handstand? That was part of the idea in starting this thing in this way. If there's one thing in my life I'm unlikely to lose enthusiasm for--not to mention one thing I

need to be aware of

losing enthusiasm for--it's my pursuit of fulfilling work, and a fulfilling life thereby. So the panic seemed a bit more justified in that context. This isn't just some private diary for recording my thoughts on who I'd like to sleep with (Rachael Leigh Cook,

I'm looking in your direction...

), but a gauge for and exploration of my choice of T

he Third Life

(all rights reserved).

So what do I do in my office-ensnared panic? I turn to the interwebzizines for comfort. Fortunately, I didn't resort to YouTube or some such nonsense, but turned instead to one of the great gifts of these worldwidenettingz:

xkcd

. Wherein I found

this

.

And I was struck by how funny I found it. It's so CRUEL. So cruel. But it's a delicate thing, too, up for interpretation. If there was a punchline, even one preceded by an ellipse (suggesting a pause) it would lose its charm. Instead, the punchline is the silence. I love that. I love how funny a silence, even (or perhaps: particularly) an awkward or painful one, can be. The lack of information is a significant part of the humor. Similar to Buster Keaton's

stoneface

, a stick figure can reveal nothing about the slighted character's reaction, and we are instantly compelled to identify with it, to interpret the blank according to our own experiences and needs.

AND THEN

Friend Todd

, amidst a flurry of emails confirming travel plans (apparently I am to be the Sherpa of Todd's toiletries; no sacrifice too small for our art), recommends to the kernel group of

Zuppa del Giorno

this article

. For those of you unfamiliar with Bill Irwin, for shame. Plus: You're probably more familiar than you think (he was in the music video for "

Be Happy

" and made an appearance on

The Cosby Show

. . . so everyone knows his face, if not his name). A lot of his self-generated, clown-style work is silent, though now he is clearly transitioning into more conventional theatre. He's an amazing physical performer.

All of which serves to reorient my mind toward work, and thereby away from panic. Now I'm thinking about how my noseless clown (dubbed Lloyd Schlemiel in some circles) came to life the last time I was in Italy, and how little I've done with him since, and how the few times I have revisited him it's been surprisingly fulfilling. I'm thinking about the pure joy of the first time I stilted in the New York Halloween parade, silently communicating with hundreds of revelers from the middle of the Avenue of the Americas. I'm thinking about how easily I can post my work online now, and the possibilities of that.

I'd be panicking, but I'm too excited.

Abandonment Issues

I know. Shh, shhh . . . it's okay. Everything's going to be . . . okay now. I'm back.

I am

so sorry

I left you for so many days without an update on my life and times. You must have felt hollow inside, devoid of hope and desperate for some word of me. Perhaps you even considered desperate measures in the interim, such as calling or emailing me. Well, I think we can all say with a sigh of relief that it did not, ultimately, come to anything so drastic as all that. Though some did text message me. I won't name names here. We all do things from time to time that seem reasonable at the time, yet in retrospect make us woozy. And I won't be held responsible for anyone's wooziness.

It is, in a way, apt that I abandoned the 'blog for a good four days. Not merely because my readership seems to

drop drastically

in the period between Thursday and Tuesday (What is it about midweek that makes folks flock to me weblog?), but because in this particular case I did nothing remotely theatrical. I didn't even think about theatre that much, if you can believe it. It's true. I would venture to say I made not one allegory betwixt theatre (or acting) and anything else. What could possibly inspire such aberrant behavior? Let me put it this way:

I have an apartment now.

Oh yes. The deed is done, if you'll forgive the pun. It's not exactly what I was looking for, but it's pretty durn close. A "cozy" studio (for $800 a month, it can be as cozy as it wants) on Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn, just a hop and a skip (no additional jump necessary) away from southeast

Prospect Park

. It'll do for a year, and hey: It may do for a good bit longer, depending on how things go.

All that remains is to actually move. Then my thirtieth birthday will follow hard and fast upon. Then I'll be in Italy. Then Pennsylvania.

Hm.

Maybe I should get used to keeping up the theatrical allegory whilst doing a million other things. Like the training sequence (

gonna need a montage

) in

Remo Williams: The Adventure Begins

.

You know packing to move is kind of like acting . . .

Read Me?

Before you ask: My butt feels okay today, inasmuch as a butt can that is apparently seriously damaged.

Some have expressed confusion at my schedule, of late and upcoming. I can't begin to imagine why. I suppose it could have something to do with the way in which I myself never actually know what I'll be doing much in advance of a week beforehand. Such is the life of the unrepresented, slightly-whorish-about-work actor. (Come on. Everyone's a little whorish about the stuff they love.) So I thought I would give an update on what I think is happening for me this summer. What I

think

is happening, mind you. You don't get to hold me to this, because I don't get to hold anybody to anything they promise me regarding work and travel. Them's the breaks.

Some of the more niggling questions of late:

By-Stander of Innocence:

Hey Jeff, how come you aren't in Italy right now?

VERY good question, helpful By-Stander. I myself am often amazed by life's little surprises. It turned out that we did not achieve our enrollment quota for

In Bocca al Lupo

, and thus it seemed we weren't able to go. Then David Zarko, artistic director of

The Northeast Theatre

, asked us if we could apply for grants and pay part of our airfare as actors. To the first we said yes, the second, no. We did not get the grants, and most of we lot are pretty shallow-of-pocket. Suddenly David pipes in again, saying, "Well, what the hell! I want to go with youse guys, and--being that I am gradually becoming the real estate baron of Upper Left-Hand Scranton--if we make it a two-week trip I can afford to take you." So we were on again, for the last two weeks in May. But then one of us had show conflicts with that time, and David thought we could get better prices later, so now we are positively, definitively going to be there the last two weeks of June. Maybe.

B-SoI:

Soooooo . . . how comes you hain't been writing about teaching with Wingspan Arts all month, then?

Well, when I left off teaching with

Wingspan

at the start of May, it was with the idea that I had two weeks to find a new apartment before going to Italy, and very little money to accomplish this. Now I have a little more money and Italy is put off, but I am still, technically, apartmentless. So it's best for both me and the youth of America that I NOT be compelled to invoke any disciplinary action upon them.

BSoI:

Enough said. Do you miss it?

Badly. I miss the kids, and Alex. Hopefully the timing will work out that I can see their final presentation before really, truly (maybe) leaving for Italy.

BSI:

And what of

The Torture Project

and

Joint Stock Theatre Alliance

? Are they still going strong? Are you still strongly going along with them, or have you been left at the side of Collaboration Road with nothing but a few creative notions wrapped in a handkerchief tied to the end of a stick?

Er . . . . That's very poetic, By-Stander. Are YOU by any chance involved with a collaborative theatre project?

BSI:

Who isn't?

Indeed. Well, refer to a previous entry of mine (

5/3/07

) and you will see that the above project has miraculously transformed itself unto a show entitled

As Far As We Know

, created by a theatre company now monikered as

UnCommon Cause

. Same bat-people, same bat-project, different bat-names. And yes, as far as I know, I'll still appear on stage. (Speaking of which: Todd. I need those work-out tips NOW.) In fact,

As Far As We Know

shall grace one of the stages of the

NYC Fringe

in August. So we're gearing up to hustle and bustle to create the most fully realized version of the show to date. With a script, and everything. Hopefully we'll maintain some of the homey effects, like string lights. String lights make everything pretty. Currently, along with several writer meetings prior, we're planning to escape to

New Hampshire

once again at the end of July to get some focused development done.

BI:

Wait, wait. At the end of July? Won't that conflict with projects you've mentioned previously?

The Exiled

, and something with Friend Melissa's company,

Kinesis Project Dance Theatre

?

Yes and no, happily and sadly.

The Exiled

(which I keep thinking of as

Teh Exiled

; consider it, Nat...?) was not accepted into the Fringe, obviously because the Fringe only accepts fluffy, unresearched and underdeveloped material. Wait. No. Um . . . I guess . . . LOOK! A SEAGULL! {sound of hurried footsteps, fading into the distance} But never fear: Friend Nat fully intends to mount the show all the same (fan as he is of mounting things), possibly at the end of August, when all of this Fringe-related madness has blown over.

Kinesis

, however, I had to bow out of, owing to conflicts at both ends of the project's development. This makes me very sad, as it is hardly the first time I've had to abandon both Friends

Melissa

and

Patrick

--creatively speaking--and their faith in me probably can't take much more. That's not to their discredit AT ALL. Quite the contrary. I just basically owe them a percentage of all the cash I make from other shows I end up doing during the time we had planned to work together. Guys, your checks for 72 cents are in the mail.

B:

Okay. I'm starting to get the picture here. So you'll be around more than usual this summer?

Yes (if by "more than usual" you mean, "at all"), and I have aspirations of many open acrobalance sessions in Central Park as a result. I will, of course, keep my hungry public updated on the progress of that as it develops.

B:

Great! So the rest of the summer, you'll be busy, but around--

Ah, not quite. There is also a week at the start of July--from the 2nd to the 6th, to be precise--when I will be in Pennsylvania teaching children ages six to sixteen about the glories of physical theatre and acrobalance.

b:

I see. BUT, apart from that, your summer will be spent in and around the Big Apple, and of course in the fall there's so much going on here you'll need to stay local--

Er. Um.

b:

. . . What?

I, uh. Starting August 27th I'll be out of town for over two months collaborating on the newest

Zuppa del Giorno

show,

Prohibitive Standards

.

: . . .

Sorry. Sorry. It's like this: See, I work really hard at my craft. The only thing that limits me in this is the opportunity to do so in any context that supports the rest of my life, which opportunity is unpredictable in occasion and duration. So when I get to do it,

and

in a context in which I really, personally care about the work itself . . . well, it's not to be missed, no matter how much it may rattle the equilibrium of my life at large. Hence the mad schedule, and feeling all warm and fuzzy inside the more theatrical obligations I have to run around to. It doesn't make sense. It does, however, make me happy.

By-Stander of Now Somewhat Less Innocence:

But how's your butt feeling?

Quiet, you.

Let the Games Begin

So I'm still thinking muchly about

Camp Nerdly

and with what I came away from it. The connections between it and some of my other work--in a theatrical milieu--are striking. Here are some of my thoughts on this . . .

As Far As We Know

: A show developed through the combination of elements from

actual events

and improvisational explorations of the ramifications of those events on the people involved. I was reminded of this show whilst playing

Dogs in the Vineyard

, what with the cultural fact/fiction overlap and the issues of faith and violence that are predominant to that particular game. I played a character taken from Mormon history, who believed in blood-letting being good for the purification of the soul. (This is based in biblical quotation, believe it or not. Mormons do not believe this now.) It was hard to find a way to play this character with sincerity, since his beliefs were so different from my own, and I feel very strongly about issues such as missionary work, the concept of sin and the pursuit of violent means for a peaceful end. Playing a soldier in

As Far As We Know

has helped me explore some of these issues, and so playing

Dogs in the Vineyard

was made more difficult for me given my inability to disassociate from the implications of its story. This difficulty made for a good game, because it's a game that thrives on conflict, internal and external. Rather like theatre.

In Bocca al Lupo

: This isn't a show, but an entire program involving traveling to Italy, taking Italian classes and teaching commedia dell'arte to American students, all of it culminating in a show in that style performed in Italian, for Italians. The Camp Nerdly experience was reminiscent of last year's first contact with Italy, in that at first I felt incapable of contributing anything due to the language barrier, but eventually I learned to express myself to good effect. Moreover, I had two experiences directly relevant to the work I do in

In Bocca al Lupo

: I was constantly trying to pick up the rules as I went along, and I got to participate in an improvisation class as a student (whereas lately I have invariably been the teacher). There is much to apply from these experiences to my teaching. (Is there no word, in any language, to encapsulate the phenomenon between student and teacher in which both are constantly learning from one another?) Mistakes can be learned from in terms of improving one's craft, but still others can serve to simply blow the doors off conventional wisdom, and thereby make new rules. Game-playing generates desire in addition to goals, which in turn can fuel a performance. And what of the element of chance? We in theatre talk a good game when we spout off about audience interaction and ad lib dialogue, but most of our efforts at creating theatre are concerned with removing elements of chance. How many of us would be willing to trust a plot change to a chaotic mechanic element?

Zuppa del Giorno

: This is the connection that felt most fruitful for me. In fact, it may merit an entire entry of its own some time this month, but for now a few observations. For our first show as

Zuppa del Giorno

(the mad-cap contemporary commedia dell'arte troupe) each actor was asked to build four characters from scratch, based on an appetite or desire and with certain details fleshed in. These characters were applied to a scenario we had already begun to conceive of, and there was a back-and-forth between the two as we tried to work out the entire show. It was a rather painstaking process, particularly because we were doing it for the first time, but eventually we developed a show called

Noble Aspirations

. Playing

Inuma

with Clinton R. Nixon while at Camp Nerdly, I and my fellow journeypersons created an entire world in under two hours, and somehow without once screaming at somebody for holding up the process. Now, that hardly compares--in terms of priorities--to the work of

Zuppa

. We have many additional pressures upon us, not the least of which is to create something accessible to a wide community of audience members. Yet there was something in the

Inuma

system that was highly effective, and which must be applicable. Our

Zuppa

shows are almost always created from very specific given circumstances (see the development sites for

Operation Opera

and the burgeoning

Prohibitive Standards

), just as the

Inuma

system works. Even putting

Inuma

aside for a moment, most role-playing games have something interesting to add to the method of creating a character, either from scratch or from the given circumstances of a script.

One interesting thing to note when comparing role-playing with theatre is a term used in the former's circles: conflict resolution mechanism. This term refers to the dice rolls, or the card draws, or what-have-you device used in determining things otherwise undetermined, such as whether or not you can succeed in leaping from a moving car and survive. In theatre,

very

generally speaking, there is no conflict resolution per se, apart perhaps from the comedies that supposedly end happily when everyone gets married off. Conflicts can transform, but the moment they become resolved is the end of the show, because the audience came to see a fight. "The show must go on" is not simply an axiom expressing an actor's work ethic, but the spirit of theatre in general. Is it any wonder that so much of our entertainment (including role-playing games) is motivated by battle or violence? It's a tireless metaphor for individual struggle.

If a "conflict resolution mechanism" existed in real life, we'd have nothing to tell stories about.

Serving One's Country

Worry not. I am not about to chime in on the political a la

Friend Nat

(although if naughty words were permissible there, Nat would already be employed by The Nation). Rather I write to update the confused and huddled masses (Readership of Odin's Aviary now in the double digits! What what!) on the status of that collaborative project celebrating its second birthday some time soon. That one that I occasionally travel to Vermont/New Hampshire for, and what deals in large part with the war/conflict/mess-o'-potamia in Iraq. That

Project

, if you get my meaning, mentored by Moises Kaufman and occasionally exhibited in workshops around the Isle of Manhattan.

Why am I being so coy about the name? Because, dear friends, we have a new working title. Yay! I am so pleased. Telling people about

The Torture Project

had gotten old long ago. It reminded me of the conversations I have with strangers when I'm wearing my stilts. "How's the weather up there?" "You really drank your milk, didn't you?" Except it was usually something like "And is the project torture?" (Answer: No. Except when I have to hold the Shabaq position for five minutes.) Plus, the name just wasn't appropriate after about the first year of development. We got stuck on the word as a guide instead of a label. So the

TP

's new moniker...?

As Far As We Know

I like it. It sums up a lot about the show as far as we've developed it, and is less obscure than a previous consideration for a title:

DUSTWUN - Duty Status: Whereabouts Unknown

. But that's not all, folks! To add to the total anonymity of the project, the producing company has also changed its name.

Joint Stock Theatre Alliance

is dead; long live--

UnCommon Cause

I also like this name, but I'm uncertain as to why they changed this aspect. It may have been because the project itself is taking a dramatic new turn. It may also be that there is, in fact, already a

Joint Stock

theatre company out there. The only thing I miss from the old name is the word "alliance." Good word. UnCommon word, if you will, and it pretty accurately describes what the producing directors aspire to in their working style.

So what, besides nomenclature, has changed? Well, it remains to be seen. What has definitively happened is that our directors have received an almost unheard-of amount of input from the real hometown of Keith "Matt" Maupin. Last Saturday we met for about four hours, just to cover a fraction of the photographs and interviews they returned with. It was exciting and humbling, and made me wish I could have been along for the ride. There's promises that the entire company will make a trip out there soon, but that seems a pretty grand undertaking to me, and may take time. In the meantime, the next step is a series of biweekly (Wait...wait.... That means twice a week, not every two weeks, right? I'm almost positive...) rehearsals through June to explore new avenues in the--frankly--new show. Our first assignment being to take the transcriptions of interviews with assigned people from the community and present a short piece illustrating that person (or those people).

And I've been chosen to do two of Matt's commanding officers. This was the assignment I hoped for, though I have no idea what I will do with it creatively yet. I've spent so much time trying to imagine a military head-space that I'm eager to have actual examples. Also, these guys know Mat. They just do. It's insane to imagine. One anecdote sticks out from the Saturday session. They said Matt would carry around a rubber ball (I wasn't clear if it was like a bouncy-ball, or racket ball, or what) to play with to combat the urge to smoke. I don't know if I'll ultimately be playing the soldier character in our story--there's some concern that I look too old--but I carry a liberty dollar coin with me to combat smoking/nail biting, and it meant something to me that there's at least one, small commonality between I and my character's real-life counterpart.

There's something else, too. Patriotism. I fret sometimes over the distinction between patriotism and nationalism, but there's no use denying that I feel like a patriot--at least in the sense that I believe in my country in ways it doesn't always live up to. Now, if someone had asked me at age nineteen to serve my country by going to war, I probably would have turned them down. I fear bodily harm when it comes to flying metal, and would have felt ill-equipped for the challenges. Nevertheless, I believe hard in this idea called America. I grew up in the Boy Scouts, for f%$k's sakes. This is something I'm eager to explore in my work on

As Far As We Know.

What is it that takes people a step farther into patriotism, to the extent that they feel justified in killing and dying for it?

Of course, fanaticism and fear are powerful imitators of just about any conviction, and that can lead to really irrational decisions. (For example:

Break me a freaking give.

) People need belief as much as they need food and water. I just hope, personally, that belief is something that saves lives without taking them.