waiting for god... oh (apologies to Mr. Beckett)

Synopsis: Vladimir and Estragon wait at a tree. They just STAND there. Luckily, Evan and Shama don't hang out with either of these sad sacks and decide to go for more adventures in Paris! Their version of finding hope might make Beckett cringe, but at least they got the absurd part right.

ACT 1:

VLADIMIR: We are waiting for Godot.
EVAN: Well, uh... okay. Have fun guys. We're gonna get some crepes for breakfast. See you around.

later...

VLADIMIR: That passed the time.
ESTRAGON: It would have passed in any case.
SHAMA: But the crepes were delicious! You guys should have come with. I had this delicious concoction of lemon and honey... oh it was tasty.
VLADIMIR: Never neglect the little things in life.
EVAN: Yeah, I agree. Hey, we're going to see Notre Dame now, and maybe Saint-Chapelle.
VLADIMIR: Did you ever read the Bible?
ESTRAGON: The Bible... (he reflects) I must have taken a look at it.

Evan and Shama depart. Vladimir and Estragon continue to stand there. Later...

SHAMA: Wow. That was beautiful! I love that the city left one spire uncleaned, to show how dirty it used to be.
EVAN: They probably just couldn't reach that one. But it was neat. The windows in Saint-Chapelle were incredible.
SHAMA: Have you guys been around much of Paris, or do you just... stand here?
VLADIMIR: Hand in hand from the top of the Eiffel Tower, among the first. We were respectable in those days. Now it's too late. They wouldn't even let us up.
EVAN: The line IS pretty long... Have you been to The Catacombs?
VLADIMIR: (lost in his thoughts) It would be nothing more than a little heap of bones at the present minute, no doubt about it.
SHAMA: Um, yeah. That's why we're going.

Evan and Shama depart for The Catacombs. It is much more than a little heap of bones, though. It's a massive heap of bones, all laid out in tidy stacks that make up the walls of the underground labyrinth. (We were told that there were upwards of 6 million skeletons residing there. It was spooky and very Indiana Jones.)

EVAN: Aw, man! That was so cool. I just wish I hadn't gotten dripped on while we were in there. It was kinda gross.
SHAMA: Ha ha. You have death-water all over you.
VLADIMIR: (angrily) No one ever suffers but you. I don't count. I'd like to hear what you'd say if you had what I have.
SHAMA: Unless if you have a turkey sandwich, I don't think I'm gonna say much to you right now.
EVAN: Hungry?
SHAMA: Always.
ESTRAGON: I'm going. (he does not move)

Evan and Shama get some bread, cheese and tomatoes from one of the numerous fresh produce/cheese shops that surround the accommodations. It is all quite tasty. Shama regrets the food in Ireland, but is much happier with the people there than in Paris.

EVAN: Why don't we go see the Arc de Triomphe and then head north to Montmartre?
SHAMA: That sounds like a great plan! Do you two want to come with?
VLADIMIR: Hmm... It'd give us an erection.
SHAMA: Don't be so dramatic. We know it's the "bohemian" area of Paris, and there are supposed to be, like, sex shops and strip joints, but can't you control yourself?
ESTRAGON: You know the story of the Englishman in the brothel?
EVAN: Englishman? I thought you guys were written by an Irish guy, but he wrote you in French.
ESTRAGON: An Englishman having drunk a little more than usual proceeds to a brothel. The bawd asks him if he wants a fair one, a dark haired one or a red-haired one.
SHAMA: This is absurd.

And it was absurd. We went from churches to underground tombs to a monumental, er, monument, and finished up the day in Montmartre, gazing out at the streets littered with advertisements for dancing girls and booze. At the peak of Montmartre was another church that we promised ourselves we would get to. It was weird to see a church in that neighborhood, but on the other hand, it IS Europe. They give good church.

NOTE: All lines taken from "Waiting For Godot" (Act 1) by Samuel Beckett are used entirely out of context. Mostly. I think.

all my little words

I saw "Fake Lake" on Thursday night and it moved me, but not in the way I think it intended to. I watched the actors, some of whom I knew, and some I did not, reenact an episode from the writer's life, at a time when she left Chicago to pursue... well, something else. The story that was told had humorous, dramatic, emotional, and political points to make, but I walked away from the Welles Park Pool (where, yes, it was performed IN the pool) to ponder my own choices.

Could I write a play based on my life, or a particular point in my life? Sure. Would it be any good? Doubtful. I'm not being self-deprecating, just honest. Honestly, I don't have the time to form my experiences into anything coherently meaningful. I'm too busy living out the episodes in my life, and it's non-stop. The most I can muster is a blog or two.

How do these people make the time to write, practice, perform AND work their day jobs? All of my motivation is tied up in school right now, and I know that's part of the problem. I wish I had gone through my higher education in a conventional method. Four years and a mountain of loans. Done. Instead, I squandered my time and effort and still have little to show for it. I just want to be done with school and get ON with my life, before it's all gone.

For the time being, I suppose I will have to content myself with being consistently impressed with the efforts of artists. One day, I hope to join the ranks of the creatively employed.

chopped liver is pretty good

anyone that knows me knows that i love my big brother something fierce. don't believe me? try saying something disparaging about him in my presence. go on. i dare you.

he's a playwright and actor for The Neo-Fututrists, the good people that brought the world "Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind: 30 Plays in Sixty Minutes", and he's also a professional Awesome Guy. it's true. if you're not familiar with The Neo-Futurists or my brother, i recommend you go check them both out, as soon as possible. you won't be disappointed.

last weekend i went to the Neo-Futurarium to see his first prime-time-writer-directorial debut with the company. i knew that he'd been experiencing some apprehension about the show, but i was geeked to see it. the show,"Contraption", examines "the intersection between innovation and insanity by dissecting the lives of some of history's greatest inventors." i could talk about how great the show was, how i'm gonna see it over and over, how it was one of the best shows the Neo-Futurists had ever done, but instead, i'm going to tell you about the pride i felt for my big bro.

i claim the title of his "biggest fan". i think i may have been impressed with his writing since before i could read, he's THAT good. over the years, he's gotten himself a few more fans, and rightly so. he has an impressive body of work, discipline, talent and monkish humbleness. i'm always happy to meet people that know him, and take great pride in their appreciation. what's starting to bug me though, is the shock and disbelief people express when they find out i'm his little sister.

did Maja Einstein feel this way? by the way, Maja Einstein was Albert's little sister. betcha didn't know that. yep, she lived a decent life, had a good education, married, but had no children. what was it like for her at family dinners?

Ma Einstein: Oh honey, I'm so happy to see you! Al, look! It's your sister!

Pa Einstein: So, what have you kids been up to, lately?

Albert: Well, I just made major contributions to the field of physics, with my special theory of relativity, and I also created a new theory of gravitation.

Ma and Pa Einstein: That's wonderful! You're a genius! We're so proud of you! How about you, Maja?

Maja: Um, I went fishing for the first time. I caught a trout.

Ma and Pa Einstein: Oh... that's nice, dear. Ahem. Uh. Very nice.

i'm not trying to say that i'm jealous of his success, i'm saying that i didn't expect to be graded on a curve. i feel pretty good about my life and the direction it's going in. i don't feel the need to compete with my siblings, at all. they do their thing, and i do mine. we're all equally supportive of each other, and i believe that's what really counts. i'm just starting to wonder if the shock people express, when they find out i'm his sister, is based on a comparison or simple surprise that he even HAS siblings. do people think that genius is a solitary role? he's not just MY big brother, and i'm not just HIS little sister. we're siblings, friends and a mutual support system that we can always be grateful for.