Archive for the ‘The Stage’ Category


And I shed yet again.

I shed this skin, these eyes, and this voice.

I say goodbye to yet another obsession that was close to my heart. This isn’t the first time. And this won’t be the last. But it has been one of the toughest to cope with.

Never again will I step back into that life. Never again will I see through those eyes and feel with that heart. Never again will I lament in song or sway to the same beat.

It’s all over.

And now I put that all in a box; never to be used again. I won’t step back into that same skin again, but I will remember it whenever I’m looking for inspiration, whenever I’m looking for encouragement, and whenever I’m looking for hope.

I am at a loss for words………..


Thank you to everyone at Hamlet at Elsie’s Bar.

Thank you for the laughs, the warmth, the love, the friendship, and the memories.

It was a pleasure.






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Perilous theater

The Kodak Theater. Everything was set.

I exhaust myself running around in confusion, trying to figure out the pathways to the the dressing room and the corridoors to the stage. I’m feverish. Excitement or stress? My palms are covered in a dripping film of sweat. 


I suddenly realize that I’m all alone. In a dimly lit corridoor all by myself.  Sweat on my palms, and sweat on my palms while I’m alone? For a moment I’m amused that I’m not shitting bricks. This doesn’t look good at all. And to add to the pressure, I hear the chatter of the crowd ever so lightly making its way to my ears through the little cracks and pipes. If I can hear the crowd here it must be one heck of a crowd. It would make a full house at the Lionel Wendt look like little rabbit droppings. And it hits me again…….

Damn. this place is huge. 

As I muse on by myself about the enormity of the place, I wonder why the insides of the Kodak theater resemble the interior of a dark and musty industrial factory. Steam popping out of little vents in pipes, creaking floorboards, and the occasional rat scurrying along to a hole it calls home. 

Then I hear the first bell.

WHAT? First bell? I’m not even ready yet! I have quite a costume to sink myself into and I haven’t even started! And the first bell is going off! I run to the nearest staircase. It’s a weird staircase with Oak bannisters that have lost its sheen and aged velvet carpets adorning its steps. I climb the staircase furiously, part of me angry at myself for being so careless and losing track of time, and the other part; afraid of being the culprit in a part of a crime that is failure. 

I finally find my way to the dressing room after running through a huge maze and quickly change into my elaboarate costume. The second bell goes off just as I start putting on my boots. My goddamn boots. They ALWAYS give me problems. Now I slap myself on the forehead for never taking the time to adjust them. Lazy lazy lazy! And I hear the third bell go off as I struggle to put on my second boot. Confound it! I’m running!

And I run through another maze with a partially hanging boot on my right foot…

And after a frantic search I make my way to the wings of the stage. In a silent moment of relived introspection, I thank my lucky stars (I don’t belive in god) that there’s a couple of minutes more for my entrance. I work myself up and characterize like I’ve never characterized before. I feel the piercing focus of each member of the audience watching what is unfolding on stage. Time to enter. And enter I did with  the exuberance of the wildest mustang. All attention was on me. And it’s time to deliver my first line. An answer to a question of the guy I’m supposed to be interacting with. With a smile on his face, he fires the first question at me.

What the fuck? What the hell was THAT?

No. That wasn’t my line. I didn’t blurt it out either. I swear I was so vexed that the sweat just jumped out of me like the water would do in a fountain. My knees turned into jelly in tandem with the unfamiliar transformation of the music.  What the hell was happening? Everything around me lights up to see a set I’ve never seen before. I’m looking around in bewilderment as familiar faces stare back at me waiting for my line. I’m a mess. A mess in the spotlight. I hear prompts. I hear prompts of lines I’ve never heard before. I put together a couple of words and make a sentence that barely makes any sense or any noise. The other people take it as their cue for the next move and start swirling around me.

Shit. I think I’m supposed to do something.

I take a brief look at the audience only to see them staring at the inanimate object that is in the center of stage: Me. I didn’t know what to do. I was in a state of confusion that could have driven me wild. Why did this have to happen to me, I lamented as the orchestration reached its crescendo after some blank spaces of pure instrumentation. I think I was supposed to sing there. I was helpless. Like a deer stuck in the headlight, I didn’t know what to do. I was caught in a perpetual freeze with tears running down my face. A retarded actor in a big, shiny get up. From the distance I hear a bellowing cry of  STOP! The director stands up in the audience. He makes his way to the stage in the beautifully tailored suit he custom made to impress his crowd of luminaries.

He comes up to me.

“What THE F…….”

He is interrupted by a shrill ringing noise.

Fourth bell?!?

Alarm. Theater nightmare. Sigh of relief.

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