i love improv
however, every time someone says “cut to…” from the backline i want to run ass first into a metal javelin. get your hands dirty
I am with you, sir. As I am with “we see that he is wearing…” or “we that they are in a…”
wanted to add that, didn’t want to see too crotchety. glad i didn’t, bc now i know we have more in common
Yep. We are both crotchety.
I teach that if you say “We cut to…” you HAVE to come out and support it. Also, my students are never, ever, ever allowed to say “We cut to that.” I told them I will find out and have them arrested.
The growing up, the falling down, the throwing up, the shame, the silent prayers, the nausea, the game.
- William Finn, the Nausea before the game, In Trousers
Tomorrow night is Bucky’s last Harold Night.
Robber Baron’s first show was May 12, 2009.
I tried writing something long and sentimental about the whole thing but it seems very, very indulgent.
The gist is: I cried a lot after Robber Baron’s early shows (don’t cry at McDonalds, do cry on the steps outside the post office).
I had a really hard time on Harold Night for most of my time here. A lot of Wednesday mornings I woke up from fever dreams about the night before. I’m too insecure, too sensitive.
I emailed or met with every Artistic Director we’ve had (all two) to ask in some passive way the vague question “WHY IS THIS SO HARD FOR ME” (disguised as something else.) And somehow, through the magic of empathy and insight, I got good advice back every time. (Even if I didn’t realize right away.)
But then something happened in the last year of Bucky and it’s been nothing but rich, rewarding, stupid fun. I feel so so lucky that this thing that I loved, that was so hard for so long, finally just became fun through no work or effort or character growth on my part. (That’s true. This is not a post about perseverance or morality or lessons. This is a valentine to luck.)
I think it maybe happened when Frank gave me a Wonder Woman mug for the teacher’s lounge but it would take a whole post to parse out the significance of that gesture.
Being on Harold Night requires a strength of character that I did not, do not, and never will have. It requires the ability to enjoy a good show even if you weren’t in it that much. And the ability to shut your mouth about certain things even when you’re really, really sure that your opinion is the just and true one and these other numbskulls do not know what they’re talking about. I can still do none of these things. The one time I mentally accepted with grace that I might not be in a monoscene harold very much, Jeremy pulled me on stage to play the most fun matching characters I have ever played.
The hardest thing was consistently appreciating and respecting the seven random fucking yahoos that I didn’t ask anybody to put on MY Harold Team. And then realizing - oh wait - I am also a random fucking yahoo who they didn’t ask anybody to put on THEIR harold team. But really truly, it’s about realizing there is no my harold team or their harold team but only - gross alert - our harold team.
I love the nine random fucking yahoos who have been on Bucky. And tomorrow night I am very, very excited to take the Chelsea stage with the six random fucking yahoos who have been there from the beginning.
I made Chris change my tumblr and twitter password - for reasons - last month and then promise not to give them back to me until today. I learned nothing from the hiatus but I think it was nice to have two less things to have feelings about?
Here are some other things I had feelings about during that time:
Teaching three improv classes - a 101, 201, and a 401 - that were each preposterously talented and delightful to work with and the highlight of every week. Usually you strike the jackpot a couple times a year as a teacher so to strike it three times at once is ridic.
Bucky is moving to Fridays at the Beast and our last Harold night is next Tuesday.
I accidentally started a Book Club that has, technically, 50 people in it and then when I told people you can’t really have 50 people in a book club it got weird.
Chris and I waited in the cold at 8am outside of the Cort Theatre to see Waiting For Godot and No Man’s Land and we almost died. That might not be real but it felt like it. Chris gave me his scarf and when he disappeared for a few minutes to go for a walk he came back with a hot chocolate for me. Also, it was our five year anniversary.
Kristen and I went wedding dress shopping - nobody is getting married - and it was insane and emotionally loaded and also fraught with lies but maybe important for our friendship? I would say pretending one of you is getting married and lying to the dress consultant is the friendship equivalent of flirting for a long time and then sleeping together. I’m excited about what this new phase means. (PS There is a reason for the dress.)
I wrote a SPANK that will be at 6:30 on March 20th and Melinda Taub is directing and Kristen and Noah and Dwyer are in it and we had a rehearsal on Thursday and I just thought “this is wonderful and supportive and I would be jealous of other people if they were in this room and I wasn’t” and I think that’s a good way to feel about your life?
okay bye. I tried to learn the lesson that you don’t need to share everything about your life on the internet but I did not.