Despite This, I Still Plan to Head to Forever 21 Tomorrow

I am sitting in my hotel room in Milford, CT eating triscuits and hummus and watching back-to-back episodes of Sex and the City.

The equestrian just spent two days in London. He heads to Paris in the morning.

Yeah.

I am so glad to be working one job. It is great to be employed as a director. I am happy with the progress of the show, pleased with the work being done, and invested in the story.

You know what I really wish? I wish I was in London and leaving for Paris in the morning.

Life, right?

It's funny to watch SATC reruns and know which relationships are going to work out. This was the one where Carrie first connected with Berger. Bad news, right? It's as frustrating as watching people in horror movies go down dark alleys or enter scary houses when we all know they shouldn't. Walk away! Post-it note!!!

We start a prolonged tech process tomorrow.

Two nights ago we went for karaoke. I actually sang, which I haven't done in forever. My cast is a fun group to hang out with as long as I don't fixate on the fact that I am at least six years older than any of my actors. A fellow in one of the other casts was, I think, trying to chat me up. At some point he said, "I mean, I really like older women. I think someone who is older has so much more to say about life--they have stronger opinions because they've had like, more life experience. I mean, a woman who is twenty-five or twenty-six has just established more of an identity than the women who are my age--twenty-two. You know?"

I wish I was making this up. I wish he hadn't said it all with a completely straight face.

But he did.

Now, it's possible that someone in my cast set him up. "Go over to Citymouse and refer to twenty-six year olds as *older women*" But I actually think he was sincere. I tried not to laugh. I actually just wanted him to stop talking. I wanted to talk to someone with stronger opinions. Someone with more life experience.

Someone who wasn’t twenty-two.

Almost President

I went for a two-hour walk around Milford this evening. I needed to find space, to move, to walk, and it was the perfect remedy. My rehearsal space is in the hotel we are staying in, literally twenty feet from my room. It tends to get a bit... claustrophobic.

I walked through residential neighborhoods first. Very small town America. Not tract homes, but a town laid out at least a century ago (maybe longer) with homes along once quiet streets that now experience pretty heavy traffic, interspersed with small shopping plazas. Some of the houses look like they might date from the turn of the century, others, more contemporary. Maybe the next walk I'll take pictures to post.

I then wandered to the town center, which I thought was much further away based on my cab ride last night. It's not. It's only about a twenty-minute walk. I think my cabbie took the scenic route.

The town square is like many other New England town squares--a center green space with some sort of war memorial statue in the middle, a flagpole, with small shops and restaurants lining the square. It's charming. Head east and you hit the marina, which I am so glad I found. Fishing boats, sailboats, another memorial kind of relic with children playing around it, nice. The people here are very friendly. I turned around along my walk to head back and a tall man with a Connecticut accent said, "You see what you are turning away from?" There was a gigantic rust colored moon floating in the sky. I was embarrassed to admit he was right. I hadn't even noticed it. A big, beautiful, low-lying moon. Unreal.

And New York? New York was great. I had thai food with my brother and his girlfriend on Monday night and heard about their housing woes, which are frustrating and awful, and so horribly typical of the city. On Tuesday I did some banking I needed to do, browsed the Drama Book Store (didn't buy--plays are ridiculously expensive these days), then met my friend T for lunch. T is expecting her second child. It's very exciting.

We met at Columbus Circle and ventured down into the overwhelming depths of the Whole Foods in the Time Warner building (Remember the New York Coliseum? I used to walk by that building every day.)

The Whole Foods in Columbus Circle is an experience that is at once magnificent and horrifying. While all other Whole Foods have one or two salad bars, this one has about twelve.

After putting together an assortment of salad/middle eastern/indian/comfort food and paying my $20 for three pounds of a "light lunch" we found a spot at the edge of Central Park to eat and chat. It was a beautiful day and a lovely, leisurely meal. From there we wandered around Borders, taking advantage of T's slow day at work. I then headed down to the Holocaust Museum in Lower Manhattan. Because what does one do on their day off from rehearsing a holocaust play? Uh, duh, go to a holocaust museum! I know, pathetic.

It was a worthwhile visit. I'd gone specifically to see an exhibit on forms of resistance during the German occupation and then in the camps, and it was inspiring and helped solidify a lot of the thoughts I'd been mulling over about this play.

When I left the museum they'd closed off several streets in the area. I was all in oppressed mode, and when a cop gently stopped me from walking down a street I was all like "Why? Why can't I walk down that street? (*You going to pin a gold star on me next...?!*) " He didn't know why. He just said I had to walk a different way. I talked myself down. Silly paranoid me.

In retrospect, it probably had something to do with the UN meeting going on. Someone important heading downtown, I'm sure.

I headed uptown to wander The Strand for an hour, and then met Miss Heisler for dinner. It was great to see her, she was all jazzed about a financial planning class she is taking at the Actor's Fund (does everyone know about the Actor's Fund? It's an amazing thing.)

On the walk to another healthy, crunchy salad bar place we were stopped (twice in one day!) from walking down a certain street. Again I was like, "What? Why" because it was sudden and unexpected--two plainclothes guys from out of nowhere stopping us. Heis said, "Look Citymouse!" and pointed to the man crossing our paths not five feet from my reach.

Al Gore. It was Al Gore! Heading in the back entrance to the Hard Rock Cafe for a show. Heis gave a little gasp, and applauded a little. He looked right at us but we were both at a loss for words for some better tribute than that. The people behind us joined in the quiet cheer.

We tried.

Afterwards we debated what else we might have said. "We love you... Al?" which would have sounded kind of lame. Funny how you sort of freeze up in that kind of situation.

Dinner was filled with more great conversation, too short, as always. We closed down the place and then I headed for my train at Grand Central. Where my phone died.

But you already know the rest of this.

Milford Cab Company

We had a very good run through on Monday afternoon, followed by a lovely chat with the artistic director or the theater and her husband--a university professor and playwright--who actually wrote this adaptation of ANNE FRANK. The play is based on an interview they conducted with Miep Gies in the early 90s, and a book by Gies and a co-writer about the experience of living in Amsterdam during the occupation and helping to hide the Frank's. It was great listening to their stories about Miep--truly a fantastic and inspiring woman.

After that a rush to the train station and a visit to NY. It was a great day. Too short. More on that later.

I'm back at the Ho Jo now after a minor getting home ordeal. In my rush to make the train the night before I'd left all my chargers at home. Consequently, my phone died just as I was boarding the metro north at Grand Central, so I couldn't call for a ride or a cab from the train. I walked around the corner from the station into "downtown Milford" (which is actually rather charming) and couldn't find a pay phone. I ended up borrowing a cell phone from a construction guy doing a late night street paving job and calling information for a cab number, which I know requires a charge. I tried to offer him a few dollars in return and he wouldn't hear of it saying, "I have a daughter about your age, I'd want someone to help her out".

Now, the guy couldn't have been older than late 40s, maybe. I thought "Yeah, I doubt you have a daughter my age". But it was sweet--both the phone lending and the assumption that I was young enough to have been conceived by him.

The War

I am watching the Ken Burn's WWII documentary on Connecticut public television. It is riveting. And terrifying.

The War: A Necessary War.

I can't argue with the subtitle.

They just told the story of the Bataan Death March, following the US surrender in the Philippines. I'd never even heard of it.

Bad history student. Bad.

This all happened about sixty-five years ago. So recent.

Now, Japanese internment camps in the States. They didn't imprison the Italian-Americans. Or the German-Americans.

Italy was an axis power. With Germany and Japan. Doesn't that seem strange? Like bedfellows we couldn't even imagine now? How things change.

Working on a story like this (Anne Frank) you want to focus on the triumph of the human spirit, the relationships, the life that can endure impossible conditions. But let that hope flag for a moment, drop the pursuit of the positive, and it is so easy to sink. This all happened. This really happened. It can really get to you. Seriously, the images? The stories? Devastating.

Maybe I should go back to watching bad tv.

Homesick

Working out of town can be kind of lonely. I'd forgotten that.

It's not necessarily a bad thing. To a degree, I think it's a good thing for me. It focuses me. I catch up on reading, on thinking, on emails, on me. I also get to do the work I want to do for eight hours a day and for me that trumps everything.

But it is lonely.

I don't spend a lot of time by myself when I am at home. I just don't.

Here I work, I will get dinner with the cast, but then I just want to go back to my room. Maybe it's because I'm old.

The cast is young, most of them between twenty-three and twenty-six. Maybe I just feel a little bit old. Maybe it would be different if everyone was my age.

Or maybe not. Maybe it is just the nature of the beast.

Anyway, I'm very glad to be here, but I'll be so glad to see you all when I get back.

The Constitution State

I'm watching BEAUTY AND THE GEEK. It is terrible. Absolutely, positively awful. Have you watched this show? Brilliant men, who I bet they make look worse than they normally do, paired with completely idiotic women, who I want to believe are brighter than they seem...wait they're giving them an intelligence test...and yes, these women are truly dumb...anyway they then have to do tasks together or something. And the men all humor and flirt and compliment the women, oh it's sickening, it's awful, it really is. And then you find out several of the men have never been in a relationship. And you feel really awful about reverse lookism. Because I think, in cases like this, it is actually harder for the men.

Last night I watched three episodes of Bridezilla. In a row.

So, here's the problem with not having TV in my real life. When I have it? And I have cable?

I watch the worst TV possible. Awful, horrible, brain-rotting TV.

And I love it.

I'm having a good time in Connecticut. We're at a Ho Jo's that is attached to a Friendly's, there's a diner next door and about 3,000 box stores and chain restaurants within a five mile radius. It's fun. The actors are enthusiastic and bright. The story is worthy and important. And I get to watch bad TV. Every. Single. Night.

So easy to please sometimes.

Miep

It's really all about Miep.

I'm watching Youtube videos about Anne Frank and Miep Gies. Miep was the Austrian born Dutch woman who, along with her husband and another Dutch woman, aided the Frank and Van Daan families in keeping their attic hideout a secret. (Right--these names are not the actual names; rather the pseudonyms Anne gave them.)

It was a very cute moment at a pub in Thurles, Ireland, I am telling the lovely Ms. Rhea about the play I will be doing in Connecticut and she tells me about her sister's brief foray into acting--when she played Miep. How she really wanted to play Anne but then came to realize the importance of Miep.

"It's really all about Miep!" SR tells me "Miep should get her due".

And she does! In this version--which I believe was based in part on interviews the playwright conducted with Miep--one gets an equal perspective of what it was like for the people hiding the refugees as they do of what it was like to be doing the hiding. It's really a remarkable story all around. Ultimately tragic, but still innately hopeful. It kind of gets under your skin.

Miep is still alive! Did you know that? She's almost one hundred now.

It occurred to me today that I should re-read the book (since I last read it about 20 years ago--no exaggeration) so I stopped by Riverby Books and picked up a copy, along with a copy of her additional writing (stuff that didn't make it into the Diary).

And (drum roll) I finished THE GROUND BENEATH HER FEET about twenty minutes ago. Man. That Rushdie. It's great, it really is, and feels like an accomplishment, but truly--I don't remember half of what happened in the first half of the book. And that is partly because I spread out my reading it over so much time, but also because so friggin' much happens. But really, his use of language, breathtaking.

I am embarrassed to admit however, that book took the front burner in part to avoid my Ireland project, ULYSSES. Which I WILL FINISH. And it was going so well--but then I thumbed ahead to the final third of the book and realized that at some point Joyce STOPPED PUNCTUATING ANYTHING.

Come the fuck on, really?

Images from Ireland

1. The theater in Dun Loughrie, the town about fifteen minutes from Dublin where they performed the show.
2. The beach at Dun Loughrie. Around the corner is the swimming hole (Forty-Foot) that James Joyce wrote about in Ulysses.
3. Trinity College in Dublin.
4. The library that holds The Book of Kells.
5. A flower seller on Grafton Street.
6. Musicians on Grafton Street.
(Click on the image for a larger version.)
More to come...

Home

Nothing like twenty-two hours of travel to finish out a trip. Yeeeeeaaaah. And this was from Western Europe. I really don’t see how people do Asia or Australia.

7:30am: Walk from the Hotel to the Kilkenny Train station (with help from the equestrian)
8:00am: Train from Kilkenny to Dublin
10:45am: Shuttle Bus to Dublin Airport
1:30pm: Aer Lingus flight to Heathrow
5:30pm: Virgin Atlantic flight to Dulles (after a minor luggage snafu at Heathrow)
10:30pm (3:30am my time): cab from Dulles to East Falls Church Metro
11:15pm (4:15am my time): Metro from East Falls Church to New York Avenue
12:00am (5:00 am my time): Home again, Home again, Jiggity-Jig

It is, of course, that last part of the journey that should be easiest since it is the most familiar. In truth it was the worst leg since I was so exhausted and travel weary and already settling into a post-trip depression. Waiting to transfer trains at Metro center made me bitter and angry at all the hootchies dressed up for a night on the town simply because I was here and not there. Trust me, there were plenty of hootchies in Ireland as well, it is just easier to tolerate there with a pint and a smile when surrounded by people you love, whereas here—sweaty, sticky, and covered with the hair gel that I discovered had leaked all over one of my bags—well, it grates a bit.

That said—what a great trip. I should write more about it, maybe I will over the next few days, sort of an Ireland retrospective, although I don’t know if any of it is even interesting to anyone but me. Maybe I’ll do a day-by-day, or break it down into categories. We’ll see.

Overall, I had a fabulous time. It was a great combination of oppositionals: urban/rural, alone-time/group-time, small towns/cities, visits with old friends/visits with new friends, high brow/low brow, planned outings/random wandering. Ireland is a really easy place to get used to, save for the price of everything (high) and the food options (tricky still for someone like me). Culturally, sure there are differences, but I have to say—a night out there didn’t feel all that different than a night out in DC (granted, I did not spend time in any very rural areas and I was hanging out with mostly Americans).

But this was actually a good thing. Trips where you face a huge cultural adjustment are fun to take and wonderful learning experiences but can also be very stressful. This trip was virtually stress-free. Which for me-after a very busy last year-was a good thing. The Irish are very friendly and helpful and it never felt like an imposition to ask for help or for directions (unlike in other parts of Europe). And they genuinely seem to like Americans. It is also interesting that, wandering the big cities, there were many people who lived there who seemed more like an outsider culturally and linguistically than I did (the huge influx of Poles and Eastern Europeans in the metropolitan areas). They live there, but they don’t speak the language. We don’t live there, but we do. And culturally and religiously we have many more similarities with the Irish. So, that was interesting.

Tonight I am going to try to see the show at Woolly (if I can get a ticket) and tomorrow will be here, then Tuesday I head up to New York so that Wednesday morning I can take the train to Milford, Connecticut where I’ll be directing a version of The Diary of Anne Frank for a high school tour for two-and-a-half weeks. Keeping busy at this point can only be a good thing. Then I have to figure out that whole day job/earning my keep thing come October. Yeah. Fun.

Happy belated jew new year to all and here’s to the wonder of new places and the comfort of dear friends.

Kilkenny City

Kilkenny is great.

Castles, Cathedrals and Cobblestones, oh my!

I leave for home tomorrow morning. Trying not to sink into post-trip depression before the journey even ends.

Thurles!

All is well. We are in Thurles (yes Messner--Durliss!) I am in the library next door to the arts center where they are performing the show. Tonight however I am not going to see GLENGARRY. On the contrary, I am walking all the way down the one main street of Thules (Durliss!) to go to the movie theater to see KNOCKED UP.

Guilty pleasures.

We stayed up way too late last night and, actually, did a whole lot of nothing today.

It was great.

The accomodations here are beautiful, a huge Georgian style house converted to a B&B. The eq and I have this super luxurious room. It's very nice.

Counting my blessings.

Slept through breakfast this morning and headed into town with that feeling in my stomach like it is eating itself away from the inside out. Looked at a few menus then wandered into a place that had a "Carvery Lunch" which is like a cafeteria style buffet thing. The one veggie option was "deep fried vegetables". I kid you not.
Not so tasty.

The eq got the plate of the roast beef which came with cabbage--boiled beyond flavor, and carrots--cooked until tasteless.

Yeah. Food? Not so happening here.

Though Ray took me to the most impressive sushi-conveyor-belt type place I have been to on Sunday. And his wife made fabulous veggie lasagna for us that night. So I ate well there.

Shoulda stored in up in my cheeks like a squirrel.

More stories later. If all goes well we will do a castle and a big rock tomorrow.

Brief Update

Quick update from the front. Sorry Gallu. I tried.

(To those who received an email much like this, sorry, lame, I know.)

I am here, safe and sound. The flight was without incident, there were empty seats so I was able to sprawl over two seats, which was great. Transfer at Heathrow was a pain in my butt, but that's the way it always is. Lots of long narrow unmarked hallways trying to get to the right terminal and gate, all filled with long serpentine lines of people from many far away places. One line, I swear, consisted of an entire small village from Africa. Anyway, it was a really long line and I was glad I didn't have to get to the end of it.

Highschool friend Ray (see earlier entries) picked me up at the airport and the equestrian met us there, so it was an easy trip back to Dun Lougherie where we are staying (a small beach town about 15 minutes outside of Dublin) despite my increasing exhaustion at that point. It just isn't a long enough flight to really get good sleep, and by the time I landed it was like, 6am my time. In the airport in London I picked up an Irish Times and was very proud to see a review of the show (positive) and praise for the eq's performance. Plus a little picture. I sat munching my jelly babies and licorice all-sorts and smiled.

I love British candy.

We had a bite to eat and a pint, then bid Ray farewell and I went back to crash. The B&B we are staying at here is great--they gave us the "chalet" which is this tiny little cottage in back of the main house. We keep saying that one morning we will come out to breakfast and will have grown hair on our feet--well on our way to full hobbit transformation. Let's hope not. Anyway, it's close quarters but cozy and very well kept.

The weather has been phenomenal. Today is actually the first day that looks at all like Ireland should (grey) after several superbly sunny days.

After a long nap I met the Keegan folk after the show, we hung out at the bar next door (which is actually a very chi-chi tapas place--not at all a traditional pub and last night got to feeling a bit too much like Adam's Morgan for my tastes) but they have a great outdoor patio with a view of the sea so--save the drunk girls in small clothing--it works as a post show hang out.

Anyway, I'm jumping all over the place. Let's see.

Yesterday we spent the morning roaming Dun Lougherie and seeing James Joyce stuff then the guys had rehearsal and I went into Dublin. Went to Trinity College, saw the book of Kells, roamed the campus, then walked around Grafton Street, Saint Stevens Park and the Temple Bar area, then walked back to the train via the canal. It's a great city, vital and brewing (no pun intended) with life.

Ray met me back in Dun Lougherie and was my date to see the show. It was great--Skids did a fabulous job, I was completely engaged and taken in by the play--really, committed, honest work all around. The crowd was great, quiet at first as they warmed to the American idioms (like "fuck you, fuck you, fuck, fuck, cunt, cunt, you cunt" or something along those lines. Love Mamet. But then they got into it and were, literally, on the edge of their seats.

Afterwards we hung out at the tapas place, then Ray took the eq and me into Dublin to a few big pubs, filled with some Irish people and a shitload of Brits, and finally we headed home somewhere into the wee hours.

Ooof.

Taking lots of great pictures. Digital cameras are fun.

I'm back in Dublin now as the crew rehearses for Kevin's put in tonight. In a very hot internet cafe before raoming the city a bit more and heading to the Abbey for the last night of THE BIG HOUSE tongight. I wasn't going to do any moe theater, but then I walked by and it was the last night of the show and figured, "Ahhh, it's the Abbey, I should" We'll see how that goes.

Emerald Isle

The cat peed on my clean laundry tonight.

Excellent.

I'm, ummm, packing now.

It's 2:00 am.

I head out tomorrow. Probably won't be checking in much. Maybe once or twice, then lots of pretty pictures when I get back.

Or maybe not at all (I told Gallu I wouldn't and I think maybe he has the right idea.)

I'll drink a pint for all of you.