Beer and Cigarettes (Past Tense)

More about moderation:

Some of the absolute best, most memorable times in my life (with friends) have been staring up at the world from the bottom of a case of beer (or jug of Carlo Rossi, extra strong Daquiris) and a pack of cigarettes. What is it about the freedom of indulgence that creates such perfect moments in time?

The Rain (All's Well That Ends Well)

I opened my first show proper at my CSC last Thursday, All's Well That Ends Well, and I couldn't be prouder of the work this company does. The script is tricky (clunky) , and we all strove hard to make positive choices, and, even after one of our leads got sick with a stomach flu and the stage manager went on opening night with book in hand, we persevered . It's doubly fitting, because that really became the theme of our All's Well: perseverance. Whether that's being conveyed, I'm not sure... I think so. I know there's some talented folk up on that thar stage speakin true.

After nights of going out, I'm spending this one at home. Recharging. I'm still trying to understand what a normal schedule of behavior is like. Every time I teetotal, I get anxious. Every time I party, I get self-conscious... gotta keep it on the level. Why can't moderation be a thing of simplicity? Moderation is more of an enabler for me... it pushes me to one end or the other. Something to think about...

Until Later

Fall is At the Bottom of Everything

Opened All's Well That Ends Well last night, 5 Bears last evening, and a short meltdown that I was lovingly wrested out of by the best of people. Cincinnati almost skipped Fall, but it certainly is here now. The wind is brisk today, the kind that makes you walk faster without being miserable because of its frigidity.

Bright Eyes - At The Bottom Of Everything

I'm not sure if it's a coincidence that out of my many songs on my computer (more on the future of cataloguing music on a later post) , good ol' boy Conner Oberst comes on and tells me about the futility of the American living-dream in the fitting fashion of Americana Heartland Rock. The impetus, I guess, of this whole blog kinda falls into this song, and I really think this song is a microcosm of what's going on with The Underlying Theme.

Firstly, the song (like, I believe this blog) starts out... just terribly (like this blog). There's Mr. Oberst, talking to us (you) telling this faux-improvised story about a man and a woman on a doomed airplane ride (it's not going well). I often skip this first 90 seconds of the song or so (which I recommend you skip the first 90 or so blog posts until I figure out how best to do this).

BUT, as soon as the song proper starts (a year or 6), Bright Eyes finds a sound that is evident throughout the rest of the cd which is something that's like Ryan Adams without the douchbaggery. Each line starts with a "we must", a call to action and a demand of the listener, which can become laborious in many a tune, but Oberst's rhyme scheme and imagery(we're bed fellows, really) lets us enjoy his demands about the things we have to do to deal with the life we're given; the significance of being small and apart of something you can't understand.

And it's so catchy even Matt Holiday would have been able to hold on to it.

It's late, but, I updated it "today". Probably take tomorrow off. More monday.

Until then.

Stop Making Sense: This is the Water.

I watched "Stop Making Sense", the Talking Heads DVD the other day:

There's water at the bottom of the ocean...
-David Byrne

That reminded me of David Foster Wallace's commencement speech at Kenyon University:

"There are these two young fish swimming along and they happen to meet an older
fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says "Morning, boys. How's the
water?" And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of
them looks over at the other and goes "What the hell is water?

...

[life is] awareness of what is so real and essential, so hidden in plain sight
all around us, all the time, that we have to keep reminding ourselves over and
over: 'This is water.' 'This is water.' "

If ever you wondered why the world wide web needs another blog, I don't really have an answer for you. Fact is, all self-deprication aside, I should delete this thing right now. The internet is a crowded place that I hardly understand, but at the tender, ripe, raw, piping hot on the outside but frozen on the inside age of 24, a local regional actor, I feel I have a voice, a reason, and a sense of humor that unfortunatly revolves around achingly precious wordplay and pop-culture references (Micheal Ian Blackface, Edward James Almost Famous, for two). But I think the reason why I want to write is five-fold:

1. I'm bad at speaking. I speak for a living, but in conversations with other people, I get flustered, and I feel like I constantly have to perform. But, in Blog Lando Calrissian (I'll stop) I can think about what I want to say, I can adjust, delete, use a thesaurus, be verbose, loquacious, garrulous, and it's all recorded for to go back and look at it later and marvel at where I was at this time in my life. "What a dick", he whispered.

2. The title was kind of a joke. I sang Limelight at karaoke the other night, and always thought it was some proggy mess like "beyond the lions teeth" (misquoting lyrics = humorous ) and when I read the lyrics off the screen I was impressed with our beloved prog trio.

Part of my struggle right now is to look for reason in things that don't necessarily have it; to not be discourged by those who are far more talented than I at expressing their thoughts.

3. To air my existential laundry (let's get ansgty, middle class style) and go on about the unwavering aspects of my life that consistantly remind me why there's somethings are just great and worth living for: theatre, music, and community. And bourbon. And Miller High Life.

4. Every day, I'm going to review a song. At random. From my library. I may know a lot about it, or know very little about it. It should prove interesting.

5. I'm constantly influenced by artistic minutia, fleeting blips that have a halflife of about 2 days. Currently it's Talking Head's"Once in a Lifetime" and Michel Houlellbecq. I'll tell you what's in focus. Life in the 21st century is made up of short stories, lists (see?) and momentary fascinations.

So: Stop making sense of the water that is everywhere. This is the water. It makes no sense.

The reviews will begin tomorrow. If anyone does read this, thank you for bearing with me as I get my sea legs on the good ship The Underlying Theme.

Until then.