improv yourself.

Though the statistic is being disputed in an upcoming book, it's often said that fifty percent of all marriages end in divorce. I'm not certain which direction that author's research will put the magic number, but I certainly would go up with the offer given how many divorced, divorcing, and divorceable folks I personally know. I even know one couple who hit the judges chambers on the matter just yesterday morning.

I've been there, done that, and got my passport stamped. Mine is nearly three years old at this point. I have noted how we types all seem to flock together, or at least that's the coincidence in my circle of friends. Every Saturday night spent at our favorite pub finds my divorcee wife and I rubbing elbows with a consistent cycle of them. She and I have recently celebrated our one year anniversary. Our nuptials were stacked to the gills with folks who've filed and moved on to greener pastures.

The bright and colorful mystical land of splendor is one possible outcome, but I know a few people who've let the untying of the knot become the bane of their existence, and the source of evermore bitterness. I don't know which is worse, becoming embroiled in the long prison sentence of a stagnant toxin infested marriage or never getting over it. For some it creates intense cynicism and avoidance of relationships of all kinds, for some a continued cycle of the bevy of unresolved issues that marred the previous situation, and for others it allows for unbridled freedom and personal choice.

The key features of an intimate relationship that seem to surface again and again within our culture seem to rely on expectations of overwhelming hard work, petty jealousies, and suggestions that maybe you don't even enjoy your spouse/partner. If these things are true than move the hell on. There's no solid ground to build anything on. It's an emotional sinkhole with no feasible positive result.

The answer is simple, and it comes from an unlikely source: the stage. Sometimes a theatre game, and sometimes the main event, improvisation is a challenging diversion for an actor attempting to hone their skills. Memorizing lines in a script is often the easy part, but going off book and just going with the flow and focusing on the here and now takes far more skill.

The first rule of improv is to never say 'no'. No closes down everything about the scene. It puts up walls for the conversation being conveyed, the joke being set up, or the story that is being told. It grinds the gears to a half. The energy, wit, and creativity of even the weakest playtime improv ceases with answers in the negatory. There's nowhere to go.

The same can be said for relationships. The ground rules of, dare I say, traditional relationships is rife for the planting of the big ol' flag of NO. There simply must be nothing more enjoyable than to limit your partner or yourself from partaking of what life has to offer. This is why marriage, especially, gets a really bad rap. I think it's because most are too foolish and abiding to live it on their own terms, and with freedom, exploration, and a wingin' it regard to what they should do instead of what they truly wanna do. Don't try to control it, don't schedule it, don't set yourself up to fail. Set yourself up to win every single day.

dirty laundry.

I like to keep my issues drawn
But it's always darkest before the dawn
Shake it out. Shake it out,
Shake it out... Oh-woah!!
  ~Florence + the Machine (2011)

When I was just shy of six-years-old I propped myself up on the counter of the second floor bathroom of the family's townhouse. Taking scissors in hand, I did my damnedest to straighten out and clean up what I perceived to be an unkempt mop atop my head. In the meantime since then I have spotted only a mere one or two ugly images from then bearing evidence that foretold of the sophisticated British hairline I would later develop.

Although these are hardly concerns I bother with given the '70's rock star beard and tresses I wear about town these days, the simple fact about hair cuts remains the same about many other aspects of life: there's no taking back too much.

The bane of the social media explosion of the past ten years is that of a pulpit open twenty-four hours a day. The expense of self-expression that unlimited is the construction of endless entitlement, whereby your concerns must be my concerns, your woes are now my woes, your sadness and dwelling shall be my cue to remedy, and so forth. I'm not above being there for a friend truly in need, but there's a harsher judgment to be shown toward those who have no ability to hold their tongue and must air out every thread of their laundry, no matter how snotty, how stained, how bloody, or seriously none of my business.

I take my art creation and consumption to visceral extremes, seeing the daring of new and unsettling exploration. I am not one to be easily offended by these things, but instead find the challenge invigorating. There is certainly a contradiction. I spent part of my morning performing an autopsy on our Amana clothes dryer trying to conclude what killed it. Maybe it's not so much what you do with your dirty laundry, as much as how often.

dark passenger.

Emotions can't be prescribed, prepackaged, manufactured, or otherwise dictated, so why does our culture persist in essentially napalming Valentine's Day all across billboards, advertisements, shopping aisles, and mindsets? Mass marketing and dispassionate displays of repetitive catch phrases, gaudy trinkets, and farm raised bouquets strike up the question of whether we are all supposedly seriously that alike.

I can't think of the last time I took a serious second glance at the card section, heart-shaped candy area, or the cellophane wrapped grab bag of candles, lotions, and other such chick get-up. Even Fresh Market, that small grocery chain who always seems to create an authentic atmosphere for it's passionate relationship with food, sold out to the duplicate gift giving idea. My wife and I tend to venture there on the occasion to window shop primarily and to pick up a few whims mostly. We found ourselves there yesterday afternoon, and were instantly taken aback at the front entrance which had been overtaken by penis wearing vultures tearing at the chocolate covered strawberry and coronary cookie display.

thirty six

identity crisis.

Who are you? Who? Who? I really wanna know....

Who are any of us? There's ever a plethora of identifiers that signify us from other people, whether a thread of embarassing truth in a dossier, or from skewed perspectives of those people in our sight line. We strive to be seen for who were are, but this is not intended to be a still body of water. The ebb and flow of our own character arc is a palm full enough for us to maintain grip on, much less expect our outer circle to keep tabs upon.

So what do we really know? There's that old time paradox threatening calamitous events should one ever take in their own presence whilst time travelling. But the who we are now is barely the who we were then and both of these folks couldn't hold a candle to who we're going to be. What could be the harm?

Think about it. Are you the same person you were five, ten, or even twenty years ago? Can you be held accountable for the actions, the thoughts, the hopelessness, the naivety of the one who was there instead of the present one who can now look back and say, if I had it to do all over again, dot-dot-dot?

be longing

STATICECLECTICISM is an on-line handle I have been carrying around for some time. I chose it based on the title of this brief bit of free form poetry I wrote to a kindred spirit of mine in November of 1998. I found myself attached to it as a secondary identity, because to me it spoke to a desire to be outside of norms and as a reminder to be ever evolving.

For me, creation sprouts from the culling together of many varied elements, whether dream, experience, memory, experimentation, research, synchronicity, or simply blind luck. Yet to remain static within endless possibilities addresses much larger concepts for me. I find that art without obstacles is rarely created and certainly quickly forgotten.

Boundaries can only be pushed when there is resistance and life is barely lived without challenge.

fail blog.

In November of last year I put myself up to the challenge of posting:

314 posts with 314 photos with 365 days to accomplish it.

This is image 235. I have been posting chronologically since I started, to maintain a semblance of structure even as time passed. I took this at the end of August. I have likely taken the remaining eighty photos that I'd like to share on here, but I don't have the time. Last week I worked seventy-six hours, the week before didn't kid around, and this week won't be much better. There's no way I can find the chance to finish this challenge. Oh, and my computer's monitor is starting to give me seasickness.

On the plus side, I'm gaining lots of material for future creative projects.

(235)

team colors

Pride.

Why so revered? It's a known deadly sin. Without it we seem without purpose, and drive. We want to take pride in our homes, pride in our work, and pride in our relationships. Yet it truly is an ugly animal, mauled over time by connotation and misuse.

A vision for it has been on my mind lately, as I have tirelessly expended myself attempting to create an atmosphere where pride can live and grow at my tarnished workplace. I have held all of the power, and none of it likewise. When it slips things go to shambles. This was the case when I arrived on the scene two and some months ago. Morale was in the toilet. Energy was held at a whisper. And anger ruled in a slow rumbling, underneath the surface of this place that leans a little to the west into a literal slowly digesting sinkhole.

I have held onto my pride with all my might. I value these things. Home. Work. Connections. I fight till last breath for them. Sometimes it's my own undoing. I don't always seek a tangible pay-off. I find worth in the action itself. I've always enjoyed kicking up dust, so to speak. I am terrible at being stagnant. I react like an animal in a cage, clawing and biting for any alternative.

I have been trapped here for some time, navigating instead through varied travails I've encountered. I didn't expect to be working for this company so long. It was the first shark that bit. Then I fell and fell into what came next. Inadvertent responsibility is tricky. I have invisibly done more than I have with note. I don't enjoy drawing attention to my contributions. But when you're a number, and little more than a dossier, to an amorphous corporate unit such as this, it becomes necessary evil, and a skill I don't have well tailored.

What I see as braggerts and bullshitters, the machine sees as success stories. I have fundamental disagreement with this methodology. It brings to mind a close friend of mine, who is (amongst other things) an actor. He doesn't believe the hype of his own cheerleaders. And he doesn't like to promote himself and network. My experience in the creative industries has shown the colors of these actions to be a self-congratulatory jerk-off cream toned mess. I can fully understand wanting to avoid it at the cost of... dare I say, pride.

(234)

survival instinct

Fighting is essentially a masculine idea; a woman's weapon is her tongue.
 ~ Hermione Gingold

(232)

floral arrangement

 Welcome every morning with a smile. Look on the new day as another special gift from your Creator, another golden opportunity to complete what you were unable to finish yesterday. Be a self-starter. Let your first hour set the theme of success and positive action that is certain to echo through your entire day. Today will never happen again. Don't waste it with a false start or no start at all. You were not born to fail.
~Og Mandino

 

(231)

blame less

I didn't do it.

I inherited a ship of fools nearly two months ago. Just as personality clashes and mental tensions were becoming unbearable at the Ghetto Shack, I was offered a vaguely spelled-out store manager position at the Brigadoon Shack. Due to its proximity to my home and its distance from all sorts of malicious intent that were urging me postal, I decided to accept. Flight or fight mode was triggered, and I took the leap.

The highers knew I had put in for extended time off for my wedding and honeymoon when I said I'd give the captain's wheel a spin. The first couple weeks were a grand assessment and overhaul period. The longest there had survived the asshole control freak manager and the kickin' back playing games on his phone manager, so my vibe was something new. They were not used to someone who actually worked, got things done, and expected them to as well. But they also were putting up their fight against change.

I left the store like a teacher would leave the place for a substitute teacher, with detailed assignments and expectations. It was a gamble. And unfortunately the dependability of the whole crew as well as the local managers I asked to oversee can easily be questioned. When I arrived back, it barely looked like I had been there in the first place. I checked in with everyone about their progress through their tasks - that they never signed off on, despite my clarity - and fault was thrown around every which way.

(225)

fertile ground

Like a welcome summer rain, humor may suddenly cleanse and cool the earth, the air and you.

  ~ Langston Hughes

 

Any second grader from my generation could tell you the one about Eskimos having hundreds of phrases to describe snow. Sometimes I wonder why we Floridians don't have a similar manual on how to speak of the rain, given its frequency.

(224)

got game.

Believe me! The secret of reaping the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment from life is to live dangerously!
  ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

(223)

act two

The more you are motivated by love,
the more fearless & free your action will be.
◊ Dalai Lama XIV

The last show I directed premiered one year ago, last night. Each and every aspect was a struggle and a fight, that left me longing for a different venue, another collection of board members, and some goddamned dignity. The core group of artists who did ultimately wage the waves with me without jumping ship command my utmost respect.

For a short time, I contemplated submitting a show for the theatre's consideration. Over the past nine months, in fact, I was asked time and again: Are you doing anything next season? What are you directing next? What's your next show? I thought about submitting something partially out of habit and mainly out of yearning to spray my creative juices all over something else.

After the mistreatment the general populace of the behind-the-scenes hacks offered the brilliant piece of theatre I assembled last time out, it appeared the only way to garner their attention and notice was to play it straight and way too safe. It seemed that grit and perversity were much too worrisome for their little minds to take on.

I thought about a few shows that their high school esteem could cheerlead behind that I could likewise add my own particular brand of spice to. I also had my moments of fuck-all, as I reconsidered shows like the unsettling 1979 work, Bent or anything that no one else in this town would have the balls to attempt. But there was nothing I could concieve of putting my blood, sweat, and tears into that wouldn't feel like I was wasting my time for a bunch of amateurs and a likely tainted prospective audience.

Oh, and I suppose there was the little fact that I was getting married. As the year passed, I came to realize such an event shares many attributes with putting on a show.

• BUDGET ($$$) - Whether you love it or hate it, money is a key component to any major undertaking. On previous plays I have done, the above theatre in question offered a reimbursement amount between 200 and 250 dollars, which would presume that a quality show could be put on for that precise amount. I have always disagreed. At ticket prices of ten dollars a pop, I don't believe that amount of moolah can put together squat which would warrant such an entry fee. I was able to pull off the last show for somewhere in the realm of 850 dollars, but the actual retail value far exceeds that given how many things were given to it pro-bono, to say nothing of a fair amount of DIY, which seems the proper buzz word for putting a little freakin' pride into the proceedings. I highly recommend putting yourself into everything you do, regardless the available funds. This is certainly the direction my bride and I took our nuptuals. It doesn't hurt, either, that we are both highly creative individuals who are also really good with money.
• LOCATION - As a wedding is essentially a limited engagement production, finding just the right scene for the folks in question is key. Working the theatre I have for so many years always made the choice an obvious one, but now that things have changed finding another option takes a lot more fore-thought and internal examination. I remember watching Paul Thomas Anderson's masterpiece Boogie Nights in a dingy, piss smelling, grungy dollar theatre that made my boots stick on impact. It was the right place to experience that grimy flick. The choice of venue for a wedding can easily link hands with the tone of the show. We took the better part of our eight month engagement to discover just where our show belonged. Ultimately we decided upon a ceremony venue that accepted our unboxable religious and spiritual belief cornicopia and lent itself to being a place embraceable by each person in attendance. Our reception space was the harder fought decision, which quickly became the obvious answer to the query. We decided on our favorite pub, an establishment with a history itself and for us, positioned on a street corner of much significance.
• PROMOTION - What's the point of putting on a show if no one knows about it? In this new speak age of Facebook and the changed dynamics of social interaction, the release of relevant information was highly considered. In ways we are quite old school. We quietly became engaged and shared the information with close family and friends before presenting the big reveal on the social drone machine. After that we dropped zero hints about any ounce of wedding planning or other adventures we were having, so the few handfuls of people who received our inventive invitation package in the mail by July were understood to be an exclusive lot, and the one-of-a-kind invite was in limited supply.
• CASTING - One can never spend too long in casting. I know from being involved in poorly cast situations. From the month of our engagement until the last few invitations were licked shut and mailed, my fiancee and I toiled over the guest list. Having been harshly shown the true colors of so many so-called friends over the years, we were more assured of the value of people who could see through all of the filth, all of the lies, and were worthwhile participants in our life ahead, as opposed to pawns for someone else's agenda or disingenuous soulless duds. A few additional flies would ultimately drop from view once it became time for the processional. The people who showed up, and gave it their all, and the ones who could not be there but certainly were felt from afar are the ones who continue to hold an invitation to the exclusive inner circle. The rest can sod off.
• SCRIPT - As a self-professed writer, words are significant to me. The tone of a script is often what draws me to material that I would like to share with an audience. The words are important, but so are the spaces between words that draw moment for reflection. Standing in front of our friends and family we heard more than a few people say 'wow' or the like. And there were even welcome moments of levity. The overall response was powerful.
• MUSIC - Music makes all the difference. I don't know if it's related to the choice of music that plays within a movie, at the workplace, in the car, or at a party. If the tone is set inappropriately or arbitrarily, the choice will be the production's undoing.
• COSTUME - If I learned a strong lesson from my first play, I say always have a costumer. Make sure it's their only job. I would certainly contend that my bride and I were the snazziest looking folks at the wedding. It would have been a disappointment if that were not the case. We set down ground rules after that. Everyone needs to wear what they're comfortable in, with the expecation of Florida weather and dancing. Without fail everyone looked like themselves. So much of what goes on inside of each individual was exhibited in their choice of attire. And humorously no one looked like they were going to the same place. The last show I did demanded the actors in essence dress themselves. They were advised to dress like their characters. They were concerned they'd just look like themselves, but in truth they found parts of themselves in their characters and wore that.

(219)

getting hitched

I would climb any mountain
sail across the stormy sea
If that's what it takes me baby
to show how much you mean to me
And I guess that it's just the woman in you,
that brings out in the man in me . . .
  "Feels Like the First Time" (Foreigner, 1977)

(218)

going bananas.

I will have a blushing bride in less than a month.

That sounds like a perfect time to start up a new job, right? Well, the universe seemed to think so. Aspects of the past two months arrive into my memory in a blur. Two months have passed since I was underhandedly demoted from my pseudo-temporary post at my store in the 'hood. Everything there was turned on its head, power struggles ensued, excessive dramas erupted, a mutiny was brewing, and my schedule was in essence flipped.

Now I no longer work there. I bid that old raggedy, stress infested place its due farewell and good riddance yesterday. As of this morning I will be inheriting the trouble on the southwest seas, the S.W. Neglected. In what seems to be likewise surprise attack fashion, I will be taking over the reigns within mere minutes of the lazy, undependable, former manager's forced resignation.

If life were truly a choose your own adventure novel, we'd rarely select the right course of action. Simply following the flow of life as it comes from our hopes, dreams, and prayers, and seeing what doors open and which remain chained, we frequently discover unexpected answers to our problems.

(217)

carbon footprint

From the backstabbing co-worker to the meddling sister-in-law, you are in charge of how you react to the people and events in your life. You can either give negativity power over your life or you can choose happiness instead. Take control and choose to focus on what is important in your life. Those who cannot live fully often become destroyers of life.
   ~Anaïs Nin

(216)

in patience

Good things come to those who wait.

~ Heinz ketchup

Recently I came across a list of twelve traits of happy people. I think we could all learn something from it. Here's the abbreviated version:

1. Express gratitude.
2. Cultivate optimism.
3. Avoid over-thinking and social comparison.
4. Practice acts of kindness.
5. Nurture social relationships.
6. Develop strategies for coping.
7. Learn to forgive.
8. Increase flow experiences.
9. Savor life’s joys.
10. Commit to your goals.
11. Practice spirituality.
12. Take care of your body.

That said. Time to eat.

(215)

the grounded

Here's a truck stop instead of St. Peter's
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
~ "Man on the Moon" by R.E.M. (1992)

During the past couple weeks Netflix has been sending my fiancée and I the award winning mini-series From the Earth to the Moon, which neither of us had seen during the fourteen year stretch since its release. What an appropriate time to take a gander at it, since coincidentally Sally Ride recently passed and an SUV of sorts has landed on Mars!

A little known fact: during my sophomore year of college I receieved my highest grade ever (a ridiculously high A) in Astronomy. For one who went from studying elementary education as a paying job fallback for a posited film career to college dropout turned self-taught whoknowswhat, this comes a bit out of left field. But space is facinating! Give me science fact or give me science fiction, especially of the extra-terrestrial variety, and I'm interested.

The mini-series had its aesthetic failings, primarily minor directorial choices, but it was quite in depth. Separate some added trivia for the noggin one of the things that really stood out is the realization that everything great truly happens at a snail's pace. A million tiny steps, circuits, and moments of time move us from big point A to bigger point B.

(213)

carpet ride

When you get right down to it, we need very little.

(211)