Time Isn’t After Us

(Why am I naming days?) (And what does it mean to “Help build the honeycomb?)

Well, my brief streak of posting here every day was broken by a streak of resurgent business and lack of Internet access. I resume, moving quickly through the days and honey to catch up and hopefully not fall behind again:

8/15/13, Day 13, 617: Dirty Paki Lingerie

This day is so named for Aizzah Fatima’s wonderful one-woman play Dirty Paki Lingerie that closed at The Flea last weekend. The play is buoyantly funny while cannily moving the pressures of contradictory expectations that surround Pakistani-American women around the audience.   You laugh until you discover there isn’t enough air to laugh, and then Aizzah opens the door again. I wish I had time to recommend it before it closed, but I look forward to seeing what this talented playwright and actor does next.

8/16/13, Day 13,618: Old Familiar Faces

This day is so named for Nat Cassidy’s utterly unique play Old Familiar Faces, which I saw Friday night, and which has one more performance (see it!) this Saturday.  The play is a haunted planet orbited by an even more ghostly moon, circling the sun of Shakespeare’s verse. In addition to Nat’s distinctive wit, which sparks throughout the obsessive darkness, there is a compassionate and nuanced exploration of that hyper-literate, meta-conscious love that  sometimes happens when young and gifted artists “click, kiss like billiard balls, and fall, /Insensible, into odd pockets.” Bravo as well to Marianne Miller for her brave performance, and to Kia Rogers for her lucid translation of the play’s many dimensions into coherent light.

8/17/13, Day 13, 619: Somewhere Safer Feeling Good and Dangerous

This day is so named for our third performance of Somewhere Safer, which played to a surprisingly lovely Saturday matinee audience. The political was personal for that house, and that kind of attention seemed to snap us all into a raw immediacy of which I was delighted to be a part. Two more shows, including one tonight!

8/18/13, Day 13,620: Make Of My Body A Tree, So My Soul May Rustle When Life Passes Through

This Rumi poem of a title is inspired by a board meeting of all things, and a conversation had the night before at the beautiful Double Edge Theatre in Asheville, MA. Speaking to a friend I hadn’t seen in some time, I heard in a story she shared a play, and resisted telling her so until the pressure of that possibility, like swimming in deep water, threatened me to burst…and of course, as soon as I said so, she confirmed that she herself was thinking of turning that story into a play. Sometimes I think our work as artists is to be in tune for the moment when that wind of life blows and the possibility of something new enters the room. It was with this awareness that I entered into our Network of Ensemble Theaters board meeting, and tried to stay open and listen to whatever might blow through–more on that meeting anon.

8/19/13, Day 13, 621: So Help Me Dog

This day is so named because at the reading of Julie Sugar’s Stranded, directed by my love Heather and featuring some sweet-n-funny reads by John Albano, Michael Eisenstein, Anna Rahn and Michael “I’ll Get The Ketchup” Swartz, a friend shared that she had just that day adopted a puppy off the street from a weeping woman who said no shelter would take her and she was going to put the pup down. On this very same day at TCG, I came across this adorable video about a rescued dog starring in a show. Despite all the terrible things our species does, occasionally we are capable of true acts of rescue.

And now…
…looking back at these past days, what small things did I do to help build the Honeycomb?

Technique never stands still: it only advances or retreats…

Writing: 5 out of the last 7 days (Upgrade episode guide complete)
Yoga: 5 out of the last days
Spanish: 6 out of the last 7 days

Published by CorinnaSchulenburg

Artist and Activist

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