| Present Laughter |
[Apr. 18th, 2005|01:03 pm] |
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I went to go see the Bergen community college production of Present Laughter this weekend. I will start with what I really liked about it. It was really funny. The Blocking was so well choreographed and practiced and was really sharp. The cast did a very good job on a whole. The script was well written and had some brilliant dialogue. It was a script with a lot of possibilities that were well utilized. I fell the story was kind of anticlimactic. Not for a normal play but for a farce. A farce is meant to build up to a certain anarchy. Although it had some of it wasn’t balanced well enough at the end. I took in a matinee on Sunday of this. This is the perfect time to go if you don’t want to hear an audience react at all. It was mostly a crowd of senior citizens who like to sit back and quietly enjoy a play. Even though they may have enjoyed it this can ruin the power of a good comedy. I would turn around every ten minutes to see stone faced nodding geriatrics. Without the actors feeding off laughter they loose energy. An actor needs to feel the audience and I don’t believe they did this day. because of the audience the cast said they could hear my lone laughter coming from the house. It was a great play however. |
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| Kindertransport |
[Mar. 3rd, 2005|12:00 pm] |
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I have been doing prop construction and design for the play Kindertransport here at Bergen Community college. It has been more difficult then most of the plays I have done in the past. despite that looking over the production it dosent seem like I did Alot. I belive this stems from all the work I did to find things THat took a long time. and period reaserch. Its funny how some plays can take a week and cost fifty bucks, other plays can take two months and gost four hundrad dollars, and It is hard to tell which just by watching a show or reading a script. I thought the production was pretty good. I thought the script was week. It was just kept jamming Metaphors down the throughts of the audience. The Charectors dont seemed to be justifyed enough in there actions. One charector is doing one irrational thing after another, and whille that might be the case in the real world I think A charector in a play needs to be more accesible to an audience. There is one scene were two charectors are spouting cliches at each other, pour writeing. The story However is well balenced. It hops between flash backs and the current very well. The Whole Ratcatcher theme running threw it was fascinateing. The ending feels kind of tacked on. The writer could have done a better job of leading the charectors to an unpredictible solution. For a school production It was performed well. The Script is overthrown by the quality set design and directing. |
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| Synopsis of my project. |
[Mar. 3rd, 2005|11:49 am] |
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The project I am working on is a tale of a Young guy on a business trip. He is expecting an all expenses paid romp with little work. A free Vacation. It seems the ideal situation at first, but things go very wrong. Tis is something that happened to me and I think will make a funny exciting story. I am going to add new elements situations and charectors to the mix to make it even more exciting. Im going to change the names and things like that but most of it is going to be plucked from real life. THe story will be riddled with commentary on modern commercialism because it is a marketing trip and about how savage people can be when they know it two days they will never see the person again. IT will be a short story, probably twenty to thirty pages. |
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| The Cereal Travisty |
[Feb. 20th, 2005|02:06 am] |
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What ever happened to Cereal? I remember as a kid shuffling thew the Cereal Isle with a joyous sprint. I could care less what the cereal brand was, I looked for the best toy. What wonderful things Ceareal toys were. Crawling Octopuses, Bobbing submarines, Gyro Tops, Power rings. Then one day Cereal toys got worse... then worse... the worse... then you had to order away for your toy with three dollors shipping and handling. I could get two cereal prizes for that in the old days. Then came the most horrible day for me, when Some Cereals in Lu of a Prize gave you a new Marshmellow shape, or a new color. Who gives a shit about the Marshmellows! I mean come on! It dosent change the taste, it dosnet give you anything extra, who cares that its shaped like a banana now or has a marshmellow pirate ship! And yet, more and more cereal began to do it, instead of a prize a new shape! or Swirly frosting! Are kids that dumb? Now I walk down the cereal isle and see no prizes. It makes me want to eat healthy ceareal. They should be ashmed of themeslefs down at the ceareal company. |
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| Exactly as it happened, No lie. |
[Feb. 20th, 2005|01:05 am] |
It all began at a school talent show one night when I was about seventeen. It was important to say I was at a talent show because of what I was wearing. I was dressed in very loud crazy jacket. I was playing a character in the eighties or something. After the show I spent a long night talking and discussing different issues with a friend of mine. We took a long walk. At around midnight or so we decided to part ways. He walked towards his house and I towards mine. I began very leisurely walking home taking in the night air. Soon I got the strange feeling I was being followed. I looked behind me... there was nothing. I walked a little further and heard a noise. I turned around... nothing. I continued on. Very soon a red SUV speed up beside me on the street.
"Excuse me." A mans voice said. I was nervous, wondering why this person was talking to me. "Can I help you?" I moved away, getting ready to run.
"What do you think your doing?" He said. I didn’t know how to react. He got out of the passenger side of the vehicle and flipped out a badge like someone out of a bad cop show. "Police... I saw you looking behind yourself a lot there... looking for something?"
"No sir... I just thought someone was following..."
"It’s a little suspicious to see someone looking behind them as they walk." I never encountered anything like this. I was nervous and could hardly answer his questions. He seemed to take this as an admission of guilt. Within seconds five police cars peeled in surrounding the "scene".
"A crime took place in town, you know anything about that?"
"No..."
"Come on, your looking behind you... your nervous, anything you want to tell us."
"I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"What are you a Fucking wise ass?" the cop said. I was asked what I had been doing that night. I gave my story detail for detail exactly as it happened. They didn’t buy it. After some more probing questions and the good cop bad cop game, I was thrown against a Cop car and searched. I was near tears. I was a good kid; I didn’t know what was going on. If I actually was guilty I was would have been a total mess, but I wasn’t so I was partly angry, but I kept my mouth shut anyway.
A piece of tin foil came out of my pocket. I honestly didn’t remember what it was.
"What the fuck is this? We got drugs! Are these drugs?" He opened it up the cops were bouncing with glee and excitement at the possibility I was holding. The tin foil was opened to reveal a single M and M... Garbage from an old lunch or something.
"Are these drugs?"
"That’s an M and M."
"Get this tested. Another cop carefully took it for analysis. I never saw it again. I was soon asked some of the same questions as well as some new questions by a little Cop with a blond flat top military Haircut. His questions were riddled with curses, Sarcasm and Smugness. Soon another cop car rolled up slowly. I was given a quick run down. "You will not turn around; you will not move your head. You will not say anything..." I stood there shaking with fear. I had my hands behind my head as I was facing away from the police. I soon heard voices, the police and an older woman.
"Is that Him ma'am?"
"I don’t know"
"Is this him?"
"I guess it could be."
"It’s him! We have an ID!"
I was soon over run with terror, I was fingered for something I didn’t do by a women who didn’t want to finger me. She didn’t even get to see my face. I slightly twisted my body and yelled out.
"I didn’t do anything! What’s going on..." soon guns were drawn on me. I don’t know how many.
"DO NOT TURN AROUND! DO NOT TURN AROUND!" I shrunk to a speck on the gravel I turned back around.
"Thank you Miss..." She was allowed to leave.
"Well" The little cop swaggered over to me. "This witness puts you at the scene of the crime. Doesn’t look to good for you. She says she saw someone wearing a multi colored jacket covered with words at the scene of the crime. Just like your coat. I bet you'd be convicted right now. Maybe you should confess now and maybe I'll see if they can go easy on you. Best way to go about it." I didn’t really understand. My jacket was so wild and Crazy there is no way another person could have been wearing it. Something wasn’t right.
"What’s going on?" Listen you shit we have evidence against you! You’re the only one on the street."
"I didn’t do anything" I insisted. This angered and frustrated the cop.
I was taken over to one of the cop cars. Another cop approached me.
"You understand we are not arresting you, we are simply taking you into custody during our investigation?"
"Y- Yes" I said like a frightened mouse. The cop grabbed my head and I was put in the cop car and brought to where a whole other fleet of cop cars were spread out. It was like out of a movie. Groups of cops stood around cracking wise with each other, puzzling about things. Telling stories. The door was opened. I was ordered to remove my right shoe, A Chuck tailor all star sneaker. It was taken carefully to an Alley behind a small strip of business. While I waited I got another speech about how it would be in my best interest to confess from the Officer in the driver's seat. Another car pulled up and out of the car came my friend I had been with earlier. He looked in awful shape. His hair a mess wearing pajama pants. Apparently His mother was woken up and He was pulled out of bed and dragged down to the crime scene. I can’t imagine what his mother thought of a swarm of cops pulling her seventeen year old son out of bed. He stood there Dazed giving his side of the story. I could hear a thing I could just see him talking. An officer came by and took one of his shoes. It was about that time the little cop opened the door and got in my face.
"Looks like your shoes foot print matches the prints on the crime scene." I still didn’t know what the crime was. "You’re going to jail for a long time..." he assured me.” Theres no getting out of this one." I went numb.
After what seemed like forever the other shoe came back. I could hear them saying that my friends shoe matched the same print. He was wearing a shoe so different in style and size I didn’t really see how that was possible. I sat in the car with one shoe. Looking threw the grate in front of me. Red and blue lights danced on my face. I wondered if I was going to court. I wondered if I would be found guilty, I wondered if I was going to prison. I looked out the back window to see a bunch of cops shaking their heads. One came up to me and opened the car door. He threw my shoe in.
"Well, it looks like you and your friends stories matched up... So were going to let you off." The generous favor was handed down to me like a golden torch. I spent the next couple of hours at the station filling out papers and signing documents making it impossible for me to sue or anything. I didn’t know if I should sign them but I did. I looked around the small police station. Across from me by the desk sat a rifle as tall as me. On top of a file cabinet sat a pair of night vision goggles. I passed in the hall way state of the art molded white computer locking jail cells. This would not be strange if our town wasn’t only one square mile in size. Soon a police man approached me that I hadn’t seen earlier. He was over the top friendly and nice. He romanced me with humor and politeness. I was allowed to sit in the front seat of the cop car and driven home. Four in the morning. Not one phone call to my parents. I was pulled up. My father was in a panic. "I'll explain things" the officer said. Another generous gift. He smooth talked my father and was on his way.
It seems a mysterious hulligan matching my discription "Male... Two arms... hair on head... ummm able to cut things." cut the wire to a security system in the alley behind a pizzeria. This was witnessed by a woman who phoned the police. The place was never broken into, however he managed to dismantle all security for the building by cutting an exposed wire... wow.
My dad fumed for awhile and soon let it go. I never looked at authority figures the same way thanks to the board Leonia Police department. |
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| My Birth |
[Feb. 19th, 2005|01:16 am] |
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I was born in october 1979 in brooklyn New York. My parents had a good deal already with a boy and a girl, till I was born. Not to say there wasent joy involved but apperently I was a bit of a surpise. I was delivered by a doctor of middle eastern desent. His name rhymed, thats all I can remember. The family doctor was unable to deliver me and he filled in. My mother thought he was really nice and kept in contact with him for awhille. He was still pracicing as of ten years ago. I dont know about now. From what I hear I was born with a perfectly parted full head of hair. My mother says it seemed like it was combed already out of the womb. I dont know if thats completly accurete but I like to believe it. I was apparently a very quiet peaceful baby. Very Kind and loveing. Thats about all I can recall... not to say I remember it but thats what I recall being told. |
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| the animal |
[Feb. 3rd, 2005|11:47 am] |
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I remember first seeing a commerical for "the animal" on television. I was breathless. What seemed like an ordinary remote control truck driveing down a dirt road soon reached a mountain of boulders. The triumphent music began. Shurly a even with such motivational music this truck could in no way climb those boulders. But like nothing I had ever seen before out of the tires spawned the mighty claws of a lion! Three claws on each wheel. I was not only a truck... it was also an animal. The truck then began to assend the mountain practicly verticly pulling it self upwords rock after rock. It succcried up the boilders effortlessly with all the might of a warrior. My Jaw dropped from my face, this was not possible. A truck with the power to climb? I ran off to my parents begging for it. "Nothing can stop the Animal!" was my plee. I waited for my birthday. Commercial after commercial passed, each time makeing me want it more and more. I would look at huge rocks on the side of the road, "the animal can climb that." I would see large wooden steps. "that too." I would see a dog sleeping in the street. "no challenge." The day of my birth arrived. I looked nervously at a box that might be what I hopped it was. I ripped the paper open and there it stood in all its glory. I was bouncing off the walls as it was takein out of the package and the batteries were put in. I walked out side with it proudly. The neighborhood kids gathered in amazment. I held it up in the air and the sun bounced off its shimering plastic. It seemed like cheers and applause came as is made its way to the sidewalk. I lowered it carefully. I built up a large mountain out of anything I could gather, rocks, sticks. and got it ready to pouce about five feet away. A hush fell over the crowd. I turned it on. It began to roll. Then it spawned the claws. I could almost here it growl. But it was no mighty growl, it was the sound of a wheel struggling to move. The claw on its front wheel could not clear a tiny crack in the sidewalk. I stood staring at it for what seemed like forever. I was betrayed. The animal was no warrior. But a pawn. a week pleeb. I went to bed that night an older and wiser boy |
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| changed my life |
[Feb. 3rd, 2005|11:14 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  nervous | ] |
I was working for a marketing company at the time, Going from store to store pushing toys on people that didnt want them. It was a good job, I had no complaints really, it was fun. I was getting ready for work one day when I got a call from my uncle. He was upset, He usually spoke to my grandfather every day on the phone, that morning he called him numerous times. My grandfather didnt pick up and he was wondering if I or my parents had spoke to him. I hadent. He asked me if I could go over and check up on things. I had no car at the time and it was a bit of a walk but i was the only one remotly close to his apartment. I am ashamed to say I didnt really think there was a problem at the time, I thought my uncle was being paranoid. He was probably at the grocery store, or out for a walk. I headed down the street to his apartment. I saw a friend of mine along the was and we said hello. I told him I had to keep moveing so he walked with me. A couple of blocks later I suddenly got a strange worried feeling. Out of no where my heart began to race. I told my friend I had to go and began to run down the block leaving him behind with no explenation. I reached the apartment building where he lived and rang the door bell. I rang it over and over. I had the spare key I picked up from the house. I opened up the door and ran to the first floor apartment. I was so nervous I couldnt keep the key in my hand straight. I managed to get it in the door and unlocked it. I pushed open the door and it stopped, something was blocking it, my heart stopped. I squessed threw to see my grandfather on the floor. He was twitching and mumbeling. One shoe on, one shoe a few feet away. I dropped to the floor and began calling to him for a response. There was none. I grabbed the phone and dialed 911. I was so nervous i could hardly speak. I had no idea what the address was so I just muttered anything I knew about the building. As I was on the phone I took a pillow from the couch and put it under his head. I told my grandfather I would be back and ran to open up the front door to the building. I grabbed a big plant and propped it open. When the medical unit arrived they ran in asked quick questions and went to work, they proped him up against the wall. A police man came in and began talking to me asking me some stuff. They came in with a stretcher and took my grandfather out of there. like a poof of smoke everyone was gone. I stood in the street not knowing what to do next. I went back inside and made a bunch of phone calls. It was a stroke and My grandfather pulled threw it what seemed uneffected. The doctor told me If he was by himself for any longer it would have been a very different story. My grandfather died severel months later but it was time I am glad I had. |
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| Memories of my Catholicism |
[Jan. 26th, 2005|10:25 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  chipper | ] |
I grew up in Brooklyn in a primary Italian neighborhood. I remember a part of my education as a child was known as C.C.D. This was the religious lesson I had to get every Wednesday as a small kid. My parents were not religious by any means but I guess they figured since they did it I would have to as well. After all, it was only three hours a week of my life and perhaps I would gain some moral fabric. I would step out in the stone courtyard beside my elementary school. It would be empty except for the kids who had to go to religion school. It was bitter sweet, a half hour early release from the agony of elementary school, But there was no going home and watching TV, or playing. Looking down the street we all saw what we would soon face. Not a block away stood the Church. The Roman Catholic Palace. Its mighty steeple peering over the skyline. Inside layed all the shiny gold and mammoth statues suitable to please a God. I used to speculate with my schoolmates what would happen if I just made a left and walked home. My house was only a block away. Maybe they wouldn’t notice I wasn’t there, maybe they wouldn’t know. But it wouldn’t happen on a normal Wednesday.
The classes were cold and stone. Painted with the greens and yellows one might find on sale at the hardware store. Little cardboard posters with bible passages we’re everywhere. A nun would teach the class. She would pace back and forth and recite from the bible. I and my classmates, during our brief break, would sit around and lie about how we were each more evil then the other. We would talk about all the crazy things we did, in hopes of impressing each other; sex, vandalism, alcohol. “ I once had a whole six pack of beer when my old man was asleep!” “If you ever see graffiti that’s red spray paint… I did that.” “I had sex with two girls at the same time! At least I think I did I was asleep most of the night.” Then we would continue to receive our lecture on the bible. Not a discussion on the bible, but a lecture. We weren’t aloud to dispute the bible or express our own opinions, but if we wanted to talk about how much we loved Jesus we would be more then welcomed. I remember on a particular class bringing up evolution. “I learned in my Science class today something that doesn’t really mesh with what your saying and in my personal opinion, If I were to decide…” The class grew silent and turned to the Nun. Say a kid says something you don’t agree with, a person might laugh it off as the mind of a child. This was not the nuns’ reaction; I was dug into like sand on the beach. After I was put in my place I was made to sit out in the hall. Not for bringing up Evolution, but for calling the nun a liar. Every once in awhile we would be sorted down to confession in the church. I would wait on line trying to stir up something to tell the priest. Every little sound would echo threw the large stone building. The ground was so crisp that any movement of the feet was a stomp. I would stand perfectly still in the silence trying too cook something up to tell the priest. I was a kid, I couldn’t remember sinning. I was sure I did but I never had anything on hand. I had to think of something however before it was my turn. So I would say I lied like six times just to safely cover the lie about lying. I said my groups of prayers and was fresh to sin another day. On Sundays it was a requirement for the class to go to church. To prove we went we would have to have the priest autograph the flyer. I'm sure it made the priest fell like a rock star, which is nice. There’s something so strange about that situation. We had to provide proof we did something that should by all rights be a voluntary activity. Perhaps they thought if i went enough I would get to like church. I haven’t gone to church much since, and I cant say I follow Catholicism so there methods didn’t seem to work to well. |
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