Oh My..

March 22, 2016
Still touting Casa Valentina at the Playhouse.  Dental issues and insurance changes.  

I guess it's difficult for me to hold forth on a topic with these mundane issues in my face..Literally! 

Income tax time is looming.  This is so boring.  So.. another image from the porch. A beauty of a day and that's that. 

michaelsheehan
march 22, 2016

ARIES!

March 31, 2016

Into Aries we fly.  It's Jill Bell's birthday and that's always a celebration. 

Last night's opening of Casa Valentina at the Pasadena Playhouse left more questions begging than questions answered.  A truly gorgeous production of Harvey Fierstein's recent play will hold forth until the tenth of April.  Highly recommended. 

http://onstagelosangeles.blogspot.com/2016/03/casa-valentina-by-harvey-fierstein.html 

My meeting with Scott Ochoa to hustle petanque for the City of Glendale has been postponed. He's a busy guy and the only problem was that when the cancellation call came, I was soaking wet, actually opting to bathe in honor of the meeting!  Sheesh.

Today's photo is a little later in the day. Earlier, the scene across the hill was really gray.  June Gloom and May Gray may be creeping into earlier months.  We still hope for some rain, yes!

The Independent Shakespeare Company will present Othello with a cast of eight including a Desdemona who looks like she may have trouble filling the category of 'white ewe.'  I love the work I've seen this company do and look forward to their always innovative approach to Shakespeare. 

Monday..  Hold a good thought...

michaelsheehan

March 21, 2016

B O I N G!!!! (ALMOST SPRING)

March 20, 2016

It is almost spring!  Morning overcast and chill are in high contrast to our warm and sunny days.  Oh well.

Jill Bell's birthday is coming.  Aries! 

I went to see an excellently written play last night, "The Andersonville Trial" by Saul Levitt. How many of us were taught in American History about the deaths of fourteen thousand Union prisoners held in the Georgia compound that, toward the end of the Civil War (how can any war be "civil??"), became, literally, Hell on Earth for the unfortunate soldiers? It may have been Hell for their captors as well.  The problem that I had was that the performance was exceedingly uneven.  I singled out one performer in my review and was too tired to really discuss other performances, save the guy who had only a few lines, but was believably present through the entire play.  

http://onstagelosangeles.blogspot.com/2016/03/the-andersonville-trial-by-saul-levitt.html 

Coming home I thought about the diverse acting styles that the director had failed to reign in to insure that the production lived up the the text.   The apparent deliberate neglect of human beings is the foundation for the play.  That enormous issue must be instilled in the actors. If it had, it was not immediately apparent to me.  

I got to thinking about the seven chakras of the body as discussed in the Hindu faith.  A chakra or 'center of power' starts with the Root Chakra at the base of the spine with "openings" up through the center of the body emanating up through the Crown Chakra at the top of the head.  Each of the actors in this play seemed to be dominated by energies coming from different areas of their bodies. The least effective cast member, the judge advocate, was thinking more about remembering his lines than presenting the story.  Others in the cast came from different techniques, delivering either truly thoughtful deep emotion or what they thought was a strong delivery.  Becoming a character is an individual effort guided with the over all vision of the collaboration with a strong director.  One of the most boring discussions, to me, is a discussion about how to act.  Suffice it to say that when all of the cast members are on the same page and in the same play thanks to a director's vision (or maybe in spite of it!), then magic can happen. 

It's Palm Sunday and a local priest is on the TV news having a ball sprinkling folks with water as they wave palm fronds in the air.  Happy Easter.  

There's a sale at Harbor Freight today!  The fog will lift.  Off to the Playhouse this afternoon. Dinner with a good friend.  Another play to review.  How much does Matthew McConaughey make from those silly Lincoln commercials? Would you ever have a car like that? Seriously.

March 20, 2016

michaelsheehan

REMINDED OF THE WAR

March 19, 2016

Reading the amazing poetry of William Faulkner: LIGHT IN AUGUST.   His descriptive passages are pure and have words that I do not know.. And, I thought I was so smart.  

Then, a wonderful artist I met because of Claes Oldenburg, Lurline Weatherly, posted a photo of a Zippo lighter inscribed with  a "Peace Sign" (the semaphore for N and D: Nuclear Disarmament) this pithy thought:

"NAM 71 - 72 "

WE THE 

UNWILLING

LET BY THE

UNQUALIFIED

TO KILL THE

UNFORTUNATE

DIE FOR THE

UNGRATEFUL

Those years were changling years for me in another way. A better way.  Serendipity and action that literally kept me alive and changed my life. In '72 I met a friend who is my friend for life. A good thing.

I had not intended to be so serious this morning.  Reading Faulkner (thanks to Jan Munroe) and anticipating a review to write tonight.  But, war is what is killing and maiming unfortunate young men and women as 'we speak.'  The fears of the looming tide of sewage spewing from political candidates are on us all, like it or not.  How to survive? Seriously?  T.S. Eliot's The Hollow Men's conclusion creeps in, "This is the way the world ends. This is the way the world ends... not with a bang, but a whimper." 

Oh well...

My plumbing woes are (knock wood) behind me for now.  Repair of a sponge mop when a new one should be on my list of stuff to buy and looking forward to the day is what is should all be about. 

On the way to the recycling center yesterday, I lucked into an encounter with Popeye!  He was strong to the finish!  Of course, his answer to everything was to beat the crap out of it.  Sigh. 

 

March 19, 2016

michaelsheehan   and popeye, the sailor man

WHICH WRENCH??

March 18, 2016

As if..  as if my home fixin' up was a topic.  But.. as the day gets going.. all philosophy takes a back set to a leak!  My home is about ninety some years old.  Now and then.. something leaks.. just like me.

So.. back to the Home Depot for a couple of simple faucets.. (yeh right!!) and all shall be well.

I hope.  2:40PM.. Spoke too soon..  Jeans are all wet, bathroom floor is all wet.  The thirty minute easy fix took me to Home Depot twice.  Traffic jam on Colorado with some issue on the 5 North? The air filter for the bus is lost in traffic, too. But.. the guys waving at you at Home Depot are friendly.  I got a nice note from a former student (he's a doctor, no thanks to me!!) and I'll scrub the bathroom floor and then.. we'll see if it all holds together.  

Adam Rugg!  I needed you, but..  I did it myself. You'd have done it faster and tidier .. but.. it's a beauty of a day.  There's Appalachian Music at The Coffee Gallery tonight.  Too many extra frets for me.  Jean Ritchie would have something to say, too.  
enda addenda. 

March 18, 2016

michaelsheehan

THE WEARIN' O' THE GREEN

March 17, 2016

St. Patrick's Day..  Sitting here in my green sweatshirt, tracing the shadows and the sunlight on the house across the street.   Sorry for the death of Frank Sinatra, Jr.  On one of today's episodes of Adam 12, Frank is featured as a cop.  He had a nice career in his own right, always in the shadow of his dad.   I was always jealous of him.  Won't tell the story, but a girl I liked was swept away by him one time!  Sheesh.. 

I'm working on my VW bus and yesterday prompted this email to one of my best friends. He would have had the job done in twenty minutes.  Me?  about four hours. 

 /////////

Duncan: 

It's almost seven.  At about 3:30 I took some tools out to the bus to change the brackets for my groovy back bumper.. that would be a two by six.  For three and a half hours, dealing with impossible space to do the work, lying on my back gazing up into the blue skies and the palm trees gently swaying over my head, I thought of you.  I thought of how you'd just get under there and I'd hand you a wrench and you'd cuss and I'd hand you the right wrench.. and you'd get those pesky old brackets off in no time and then we'd stick the new brackets right on and in twenty minutes it would be done.

I thought of you as a little gnat wanted to land in my eye and then some piece of loose crud managed to fall in but I was not going to stop.  But, I wished you were here.

I got one bracket on and then went to the side of bus where the muffler sticks out so that it's more difficult to do the work, but, I should have learned from the first bracket.  Hah.. It's the opposite side and therefore everything is reversed.  But, had you been here, it would not have been a problem.  Lying on the concrete is so nice and comfy, especially with the squirrels peering down and chuckling, as you may be now.  Just quit it.. It is NOT funny!  Well ..maybe to you.. but my body is barking and I'm not going back out there until I've had a couple of Ibuprophen and finished this note to you.   Right now I miss you like anything.. Not because of your superior mechanical skills..  but.. oh wait.. Yes. It IS your mechanical skills that I miss right now.. Sorry..  I was getting nostalgic, but all I needed was your expertise.

The upside is that all the while I'm unscrewing and then screwing again because "righty tighty and lefty loosey" get mixed up when you are lying on your back in pain and wanting to strangle a squirrel and grateful that that one big bird that covered the porch with poop a while back was not resting up in the palm trees with the danged squirrel. 

New bolts for the brackets??  What a concept.. If I can haul myself to the Nissan and set the cruise control for Home Depot, I'll buy two new bolts and send these old ones to you as a souvenir!

What? Do I feel better now? What??  Why yes  I do. Oh.  My neck just made a sound like Rice Krispies!   Hmmm.

 

March 17, 2016

michaelsheehan

FAULKNER!

March 16, 2016

I see these images side by side sometimes in the thumbnails. Today's view from the porch looks almost identical to yesterday's.  I really hope that if I do make it all the way to next Winter Solstice (I'm gonna capitalize that because I want to..) and install all of the photos that the subtle differences will be what the art/the installation is all about.  The reflection of the sun on the house, the shadows on the roof, the shadows on the palms.. Every one is different.  

In my dream this morning there were two distinct scenes.  One was my overhearing someone talking about William Schallert.  Schallert was the president of the Screen Actors Guild when I joined and had my first TV series back in the seventies. I had a question about session fees and made an appointment to ask him about this problem.  He was open and attentive and explained things as one professional to another.  He has remained a pal and we've chatted on the phone or seen one another occasionally over these many years.  In my dream, I was telling the other person what a great guy Bill is. I even became emotional about it.  Deep feelings. He'll be 94 in July.  Being treated like a peer by the likes of this kind man makes being an actor who is not so well known feel very special.  

Also in my dream I was with my dear friend, Ken Rugg.  Rugg is only 82, but is now in the land of memory loss and is fortunate to have his daughter, Shelley, looking out for him.  In my dream, Rugg was somewhat grizzled and shorn.  He may have been in a wheel chair.  This is probably spinning off of looking in the rear view mirror of my VW bus yesterday and seeing a guy with a white beard and glasses who closely resembled Rugg.  In my dream I was behind and to the left of him. I told him that I loved him. He called me 'Fred.'.. but even in his memory loss, the last time I saw him and when we have chatted on the phone, he still remembered me. In my dream he smiled at his own joke.  

Reading The Light in August by William Faulkner.  The man is a poet. This novel is starting out with the young heroine trudging along the rutted red dirt roads of Alabama; knocked up by a guy who may or may not be on the run from responsibility.  Faulkner's vernacular is palpable and the language of the deep, deep south, the prejudices and the dust are all just hanging in the stillness of the stillness.  

michaelsheehan

March 16, 2016