BATTEN DOWN THE HATCHES!

I think I promised I'd add an addendum to a previous post. That was a lie. Suffice to say--I was nearly mauled by cougars, my phone broke, and I bought a sweatshirt.

There's your update.

So we had our official first show at the Sumter Amphitheater in Papillion. It was an amazing little space--up on a hill and removed from the sparse little San Jose-outskirtsy city of Papillion. The show itself was a bit wonky--but that's because many of us were worried about the set blowing down around us. That wouldn't NORMALLY be too big a deal, but it consists of five flats-each with at least 4 REALLY POINTY parts that you wouldn't want to be on the business end of. Add to that the fact that the floor was slippery polished concrete, and you have a recipe for a distraction stew. Or, at least, a bisque.

I felt in and out, altogether. This I feel I can attribute to my lack of sleep the previous night. Since my phone broke, I had to find another alarm...and because its one I'd never used before, I couldn't be entirely sure that it would work properly. I spend the night freaking out about it and woke up 3 anxious hours later. GUH.

Aside from that shtorf--it's been an interesting morning. I got the Rifftrax for The Room and watched it--it's funny, but the movie in and of itself might be funnier. The whole basis for the movie is for you and your friends to watch it and make the commentary yourselves--but there ARE some gems.

Also, I've been in a very odd mood. I'm not sure exactly what its about--but I feel like it began with the worry/thought/consideration that I'm beginning to lose something. That sounds ambiguous, and my explanation won't make it make any MORE sense per se--but I'll try anyway. There is always a dissonance between what you find yourself to be and what you expected yourself to be at this point in your life. That's a wonderful thing--it teaches you firsthand that life is an ambivalent beast and you should roll with the punches. That said though, I don't want to lose my grip on the belief that I can still DO ANYTHING. Y'know? If, once I get back, I decide that I want to move to Japan. I'm of two different minds about that--half of me (the grownup?) says "No no no, why would you do that? There's no reason for THAT." and the other half is saying, "Yeah! Are you kidding? What an adventure!" I'm just having some trouble reconciling the 'adventure' part. To be honest--there's a lot of excitement in saying "Fuck everything, there is no 'right way', hoist the sails!" I just want to make abso-tutely sure that 'no path' is a path I can follow, too. I'm nervous, excited, loopy, freaked-out, determined, anxious, and ecstatic. Whew.

Much much much loves!
Dakotah

Fun Sized!

Here are a few nibbles of thought from this evening so far--

How come the one Asian guy at Fuddruckers was wearing a Bruce Lee shirt? Who wrote tonight's goddamn episode? I could use their blatant lack of tact on my staff.

Budweiser is actually the serf of beers. Perhaps in a bloody regime change in might sneak in and usurp the throne.

Where are all my Mexicans at? How am I supposed to practice my awkward, stumbling, Espanol? PISO MOJADO!

Pomplamoose is a band I'd talk about if I wanted to get into bed with a short-haired girl with black-rimmed glasses and an ironic t-shirt.

The night is young, expect a much less cohesive addendum to this post in a matter of hours.

Let the Seasons Begin~

Last night was our final dress for the show, and we're off to our preview today. I feel pretty damn good about it now, too. Matter of fact, I leave for the Omaha Playhouse in about half an hour to meet everyone else at the touring van. We'll drive to Creighton, load in, have a reception, then do the show. Cah-razy!

In other news, the weather has really cooled down. The trees are getting that gutted cigarette color and the gnats have all but instantaneously vanished. I got paid on Wednesday--then after a bit of fantastic irresponsible spending, I've bought (organic!) groceries to last me a good solid week or so. The scariest part is, I think, the fact that I'll be back home in L.A. before I get halfway through my daily vitamins. I think that gives them a profound significance. A weight. I'm going to have to measure my time in milligrams from now on.

But seriously, folks--

I'm a little nervous about tonight. I just don't know what to expect. Its funny, I'd feel fine walking onto the PAT or the Hatlen stage at UCSB and delivering a solo show off the dome, but this new location thing is a bit nerve-wracking. I think the best thing to keep in mind is that an audience is an audience is an audience. People are people are people. Aside from minor technical adjustments, there's not much to even consider worrying about. Our show is good. I know what I'm doing, and most importantly the show knows what it is.

In other news, I finally started setting aside time to read The Gunslinger, which Vince (Macbeth) let me borrow. I'm liking it so far, which is to say--ahem--all 54 pages of it. In addition, I decided to give my least favorite Final Fantasy another go. That's right, I'm replaying FFVIII. I still despise Squall Whinenhart--but I think I have a more refine take on the approach now. It is, EXTREMELY Japanese. It's a highly technological world that centers around an institution of learning, but has a keenly mystical element that centers around deity figures. How did they poosibly come up with oh wait, they looked outside. Thus far, this has been the most interesting aspect of this new playthrough. Well, I mean...that and the fact that this decade old game still has some amazing visuals during the cinematics. We'll see how far I get before I either-

A.) Decide I've been wrong all along and power through the narrative--which I'll undoubtedly find interesting and resonant.

B.) Get so irritated with Squall's bitching that I give it the big Eff You again.

C.) Squeeze every last game-breaking drop out of the junction system for ten hours, and breeze through the four discs in a single afternoon.

In addition, the list of women I'll sadly never marry is growing by leaps and bounds--for instance--enjoy this delicious blog. I guess Beansy knows her or something? She's a CCS alum. Whatever, I don't even care...

I've gotta' wrap this up so I make call time. Love love loves!

Dakotah (the hottest youtube video in the world is right here) Brown.

A Star to Sail Her By

I don't ascribe to any religion. I never have. I've been to church a few times, various temples and what-not, and I do have a healthy respect for others' beliefs. Indeed on the grounds of the Tokyo Meiji shrine, surrounded by Buddhist monks in traditional dress and wooden gates that tower above you like gentle colossi, it isn't hard to be floored by the sheer energy of the place. This brings me quite neatly I think, to the belief system I've sort of cobbled together for myself. I believe in energy, in a sort of larger magnetism. I believe that when we stray from this magnetism, we feel the dissonance somewhere deep within ourselves. That may sound very esoteric or out there, but it basically comes down to listening to your true self. Remember them? That serene fucker who isn't bowled over my minor missteps, the one who calmly watches your misfortunes with a slight grin and offers the quiet advice that we ignore? The one who we shove out of the way when we pretend we know about that one band/movie/book somebody refers to? Now I realize I'm making a broad generalization. Perhaps I should keep this specific.

Me, I'm talking about myself, here.

The reason I started in on beliefs is because I too often feel bogged down by the immense weight of...the universe, I guess? At least, that's a heroically dramatic way to put it. What it really amounts to is the fact that I find myself living under the same rules I unconsciously set for myself when I was a child. I'm certain many folks never grow out of that. It's really easy to abide by the patterns you establish throughout your life and cling to them like a security blanket. I, for one, simply MUST feel like the 'In-Trouble Boy'. A child who hides his true fingerpainting sloppy-eating nature from adults because he has to 'be good'. It's something I feel comfortable with, even though its extremely negative. Its easier though, for me not to be myself in circumstances in which I feel uncomfortable. It's waaay simpler to nod and smile and give the right answers so people will like you. That's the thing nobody tells you. It's actually really difficult to own up to the fact that folks are going to think you're a dick sometimes, and there's absolutely nothing you can do about it. If anything, frankly, you should embrace it! I mean--hell if its who you are, and if its based in honesty and not fear then all you're doing is sifting through the flour. You're finding out who likes you for you and who likes you because you make them feel good about themselves. Unfortunately when your subconscious pattern dictates that you should surround yourself with people who 'accept' you so you can feel confident about where you stand--all you're doing is hanging yourself slowly. You've assembled a parade of empty, smiling backslappers who've crowd-surfed you out of your own body and away from yourself. This is something I set up for myself. This fear-based foot shooting is worse than the weekend-long procrasturbation that keeps us from our to-do list. Personally, I fear that anything I put forth energetically simply won't be good enough--just won't do. And hey, I've got plenty of contradicting evidence, too!

But I can only ignore myself for so long before something breaks. Before something gives way and melts. We are filled to the brim with stardust, and no matter how many coats we throw around our bodies, its not long before we belch up a furious comet or begin to leak nebulas from our navels. 'Be' is good, 'Be Aware' is better, 'Be Bold' is great and 'Be Rad' is what life wants you to do anyway. We're not programmed to fail, which is why we never truly do.

Love Love Love and Love,
Dakotah

Also I got you this website, it seems like the type of thing you'd be into. I mean sure, go ahead and keep the receipt if you want.

Some Directions.

Listen to this at full blast.

Rock the fuck out ('Cock Out' is optional based on availability of equipment.)

Love,
Dakotah

Tuh-GIFF!

I had dinner with half of the cast tonight at a place called Stokes in gorgeously aged Downtown Omaha. It's a little southwestern place that whips up a surprisingly good fish taco for middle America. Their margaritas come in buckets, and I was tempted to snag a second and KEEP THE PARTY GOING as it were. Afterward, we all went for (FREE!) Ice Cream at a place who's name unfortunately escapes me. It's one of those places that has a stable of flavors, but only twelve at a given time--and they rotate daily. SUPER taste. I recommend the Lemon Cake Mix...y'know...next time you're in Omaha.

Rehearsals are picking up as I'm gradually getting more comfortable. We got started on the Banquo/Murderers fight yesterday (almost wrote 'two days ago' man, I'm losing my concept of time..) and its pretty quick n' dirty. Poor guy, gettin' all surprised like that. It's chuggin' along, though. "RELAX and DO WHAT'S IN FRONT OF YOU." is the name of the game.

Oh, by the by, Macbeth Curse Body Count: 1

The super-rad Sean Carlson rolled his ankle a little bit ago. Now I know we're a professional company, and we're not going to believe goofy shit (if you pay attenion, you'll note that Max, like me, is an ass man.) like that...but hey...I've been feeling faint lately...and I did hallucinate and see a toothpick before me. I mean, maybe it's working its way up.

Anyway--its time for sleep. I've got to rest up for the FIRST RUN IN FRONT OF AN AUDIENCE of costumers TOMORROW.

Also, I saw this tonight.

Stars Hollow

I'm sitting in a coffee shop in Midtown-ish Omaha (or Dundee) called 'Espresso Yourself'. It's about a ten minute walk east of the place I'm staying at. The entire walk here I felt like I should have been listening to Aimee Mann or the Decemberists. I fell somewhere to the right of either option with The Sea and Cake. It's not a town for Weezer--or rather--Pinkerton. In L.A., I find myself asking "Wow...where does everyone live?" and here I ask "Wow, where does everyone work?" It's a fluke of SimCity design that all of these residential zones have blossomed into such a well-rooted and beautiful comminuty. I feel like Rage couldn't grow here, who would water such a thing?

The first thing that blew my gourd was the neverending sound of insects. There's a constant chirp that pulls me back almost two decades, and I'm plunged into a past that's chock-full of Baltimore firefly catching and Nintendo in the basement. Oh yeah, there are basements here. The Big Bad Wolf would have a hell of a time blowing down these houses, which I guess is the point. Not like some wood and wallboard affair, these places were built in the 20s and made to remain. Things just feel solid.

A week here has (aside from the worry about the show, which has subsided) been extremely calming. I know for a fact that I'm going to miss it when I leave, and not just because I won't have my own room to walk around pantsless. It'll be the grey skies, sporradic rains, and muggy air who's facebook pages I'll keep checking when I'm lonely.

Ugh....what an INTERNET thing to say.

Love!
Dakotah

EDIT: Nothing to do with Nebraska, but here's some nostalgia for ya'.

Nebraska Shakes: The Process

Real quick--let me mention that the whole "I'm the worst actor in the cast blah blah blah" thing is actually back in full swing for a moment, so to get out of that bullshit rut, I'm going to talk about Le Process(e).

We got the adapted scripts about a month ago, and have been theoretically doing our own text work up until now. It is waaay pared-down, with the Witch playing all the incidental characters, Duncan playing Macduff, and Banquo playing Rosse. Malcom is...well...always Malcom. Then there's M and Lady M.

It seemed like the leads were off-book on day one, but really it took me about a day and a half to be totally solid. The director is an actor director--meaning he'll go in there and tell you to 'move here' or 'this moment worked' and stuff like that. He's got a lot of good ideas and images, and is totally willing to forgo them for stronger ideas and more solid images. I realize that because I've never worked with him before--I've been spending the past several days trying to impress him. Which is not acting. It is, rather, sucking fat hardcore balls. But enough about that (and by that, I mean I'm sure I'll toss some more sardonic self-loathing in here before the end.)

We had the play blocked in about three days, and now we've got room to play.Generally, the director would give the general shape of the scene and leave the playing up to the actors. This was great. The only downside is the nearly zero text work we've done--which actually seems pretty okay for almost everyone. Again, our Lady M is a freaking machine with incredible spot-on instincts. We haven't really done any character exercises either, which is good considering the time frame we've got. Again, to bring this back to 'woe-is-me'ville, I feel like I'm floundering MAJORLY.

The sounds and music were kind of done the same way. We play. The director has an idea and we all sort of throw in what seems to make sense and what sticks sticks and what doesn't doesn't. Given that we have eight hours in a day, we can really dig into it--and that's been the most rewarding part. If I can just get over trying to be good, and start learning, I'll feel solid. It's just tough when my notes are things like, "Try to project." and "It's actually pronounced preTENSE." and "What's your point of view, here?" I certainly don't feel like someone who's just graduated from a theater program. This is all, of course, to say it's day 5 of week 1 of my 3rd Shakespeare show. I'll come off it, but right now its very frustrating.

Alright alright. I'm done. Thanks.

Love or whatever, grumble grumble
Dakotah

It's That Time Again!!

Is it just me who gets extremely, mind-bendingly horny for days on end?

Yum Yum, Honeybuns!

Super Cool Trivia Time: The title of this blog is also the only comment I left on Risa's evaluation sheet. Twice.

I've got to apologize, since my last few blogs were greatly lacking in the ironic link department. My trips to the internet have been few and far-between. I've got no phone service or WiFi in my base of operations, so communication is slim--and basically relegated to when I'm on campus--before or after rehearsal. AND SPEAKING OF WHICH--

Day three of (OH JESUS CHRIST MY FOOT FELL ASLEEP) rehearsal and the whole show is blocked. Everyone is off-book. We only have sound stuff and prop stuff to worry about. WHAT THE HELL. I KNOW! In a SHAKESPEARE play, too! I'm blown away. I've never had a process go this quickly. Even my typical (oh god what am I doing here the director made a mistake I'm the weakest link in the show woe is me I'd better start Craigslisting myself as a whore because this'll never work) process has been cut down to about a day and a half. The coolest part is the fact that this is in my skillset now. I'm going to know how to put up a show like this in this sort of time frame. Hell if I'll have the people, but that's a concern for a later date. Also, once I get back home I can look into that crazy cabaret show I couldn't do--and keep in touch with those fuckers. EXCITEMENT.

And now, I return home to my basement...to feast on peanut butter sandwiches and beer, fall asleep watching 'Trainspotting' and have another EXTREMELY fucked-up dream.

Toodles, doodles...


...godDAMN did that sound gay.

Love,
Dakotah

In The Middle-West

I landed at the Nebraska Airport and immediately saw a 'Tornado Shelter' sign. This felt like an indication that this place would be unlike any other I've been to.

So far though, (all two days) it's been pretty normal. I think the nicest part is, actors are actors are actors, we're basically the same goofy fuckers anywhere. Oh man, let me tell you about the cast for the show. Oh man oh man~

So Vincent and Sarah Carlson-Brown are the road managers and basically THE Nebraska Shakespeare guys. Vincent, who is playing Macbeth, has some serious street cred as we say in the cred business. He's been with the company for about 10 years, doing security at first--then getting on the stage--then apparently making the stage his beeyotch. He is a mental and physical combination of Allie's Jordan and Jason Scott--so an intense actor with a wealth of knowledge on the subject, and also a tattooed goober with a Star Wars obsession that I deeply deeply admire. He and Sarah are married (been together for the better part of about 7 years) and they have proven to me that not only can an actor couple completely thrive, but they can buy A GIANT EFFING HOUSE WITH A STAR-WARS ROOM.

Sarah is rad too, of course. She's playing the Witch/Porter/Old Crone/Child/Set/Audience. She is an equally intense actor with a major goofball side that can kick some ass in the tandem bike on Wii Sports Resort. Oh yes, we got 7th out of 30 people...but we also PUSHED OTHER BIKERS OFF A CLIFF. That's right. MURDER. She gets to fuck around with audience members during the porter speech. SEX-SAY.

Shawn Carlson is Vincent's brother and reminds me of kind of a midwestern B-Frost, except replace all things medieval with all things soccer-related. He gave me the Nebraska Tutorial and showed me where the best pretend Irish dive bars were. Also he taught me double-jump. He's playing Malcom.

Brian, who plays Duncan and Macduff, actually reminds me of the Brian from Much Ado--except he's waaay toned down. He's awesome though, and hilarious, and will destroy you at Wii anything. He's got that gamer's beginners' luck going on. His acting is fuckin' subtle, yo.

Maria is one of the most terrifying actors I have ever met. By that, I mean she is abso-fucking-lutely amazing. She plays Lady M--no no no no, she OWNS Lady M. She's like a tiny, blond, pregnant Christina Ricci. She's got an adorable circular face, and a voice that you completely don't expect. It's deep and resonant, and will make you DO THINGS. I got goosebumps nearly every time she opened her mouth. Goddamn, she scares the living fuck out of me--half because I want to be her.

Anyhowitzer, I'm going to find something to eat in this crazy Baltimore-esque city. I feel like I won't, but its worth a shot. Hopefully I'll have better luck than yesterday, when the University of Omaha security surrounded me because I was using their WiFi after hours.

I mean....shut up....

Love,
Dakotah

Monologue

Hey cats!

First off, I leave for Nebraska tomorrow--so I gotsta pack my shite... but in the meantime, here's a monologue from the play I'm writing!

Now--the way it works--or the way it's supposed to work, this is performed simultaneously with another monologue (which I may post later.) For the most part, the monologues overlap, but for a little while they're spoken in unison. You'll get the idea as you read this one.

MAN A. "It’s kinda weird. I’m kicking this…can down the street and sometimes it clatters off into an alleyway. You know, I always get a little bit upset about that. It’s not an important can. I wasn’t gonna’ use it later or anything, but for some reason I get the tiniest sinking feeling when it rolls under that dumpster. Of course in another block, there’s another can. I pick up right where I left off with the last one. Just kickin’ away, enjoying the little sound it makes when it rolls over gravel or a grate. After a while I had to stop and cross the street, and when I looked up, there were two cars lined up to make a right turn on this corner. The blinkers are on, y’know tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock. I watch these cars and I realize that those turn signals are very very slightly out of rhythm. It’s like each car has its own incremental speed for turn signals or something. The important thing, what happened was, they would be off. Totally off, completely in opposition for a second or two, but then they’d start to overlap, and then suddenly they’re going at the exact same time. Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock. And for those few seconds, while you’re standing there waiting for the light to change, waiting for the oppressive red glove to disappear and make way for the triumphant tall white guy, for that instant, everything is perfect. The sounds of the traffic become a hundred-piece orchestra--I nod my head to the tenor horns and bob to the base notes of the timpani blasting from trunk speakers. All of a sudden, the can is just so so upsetting now. The simple fact that it is means it will never be again. Your connections, your rolodex of connections to all of these people and machines and systems you can rely on become nothing in an instant. Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock. Sometimes life is just too too much. It hits you so damn hard that you have to double over and put your heart back inside. You cram it back in and nail up another layer of hard calloused skin. And those people in our lives--those actors we loved so much a moment ago are hailing cabs outside, or standing in groups of backslapping friends and fans, or smoking cigarettes while talking on their cell phones. Those liars stand there and they lord their normalcy over you. Somehow they can get away with pretending like it never happened. Like they never laughed, screamed, or died in agony. Minutes ago, things seemed so goddamn important, and we always want them to be that way. And yet, our skin sags and our cats die. We turn the heat up, then put a jacket on. The river changes direction. The signals are in time, apart, and then one 90 degree turn later--they’re off. But really…I think that’s beautiful. So so upsetting, but beautiful."

Love love love, and perhaps a real post soon!

-Dak Black

Things to do in the valley at midnight on a Wednesday

Step one: Get in direct contact with a good adventure buddy. David, my soon-to-be-hitched (WEIRD! COOL! WEIRD!) buddy of eight years is the best for these situations. For some reason the universe has a tendency to throw fantastic little quests/adventures our way any time we're in the same 3 mile radius any later than 11pm. It's formulaic, baby. Teeny Example: We've crossed paths with the gayest human being to walk the earth (with style, pink and white three-piece suit) at a Ms. Fields in Hollywood. And that was just to START the evening.

Step two: Complain. I know it sounds counter-intuitive, as if it doesn't mesh with my general philosphy of 'feeling the vibes' or whatnot. Understand, however, that this complaining is essential in throwing the Laws of Comedy in your favor. "There's nothing to effing do at midnight in the valley!" Cue 34th annual transvestite furry parade, right up the Boulevard! How lively!

Step three: Perhaps this post's title was a misnomer...for Step Three typically involves leaving the valley.

And now TO HELL WITH STEPS, IT'S A NAZI SYSTEM PROPPED UP BY THE ESTABLISHMENT! Hell man, I've been reading Hunter S. Thompson! (true) I'm hip to counterculture! (half-true) Don't you forget it!

In any case, we get on the freeway assuming nothing about the evening. All we know is, by an unwritten rule, something has to happen. (Did I contradict myself? Beans has a good quote about this...) I suggested Citywalk at a good place to begin, as we once wandered into a BB King concert there in the wee hours and were nearly sucked into an honest-to-god fight cloud. A few minutes of freeway, a quick spin around the secret entrance, and we're inside. Were it not for the parked cars, you'd think we had hit a dead end--a snag in our journey. We begin to walk along, nearly getting flattened by two large trucks sporting massive cherry-pickers and hosing the place down with jank-water, and hit a fork in the road. Up or down? Eeny or Meeny? We choose eeny, bumble into a concert that must have ended an hour ago, double back and hit up meeny, which leads upstairs to Howl at the Moon--the place we saw BB King.

Howl at the Moon is an interesting cross-section of multiple cultures. First of all, there was US. The normies, I guess? Which is weird considering who we are; David the ThunderJew and me, who sewed goddamn fluer de lise and zippers on his blazer.
The next group is the aged rockstars, the average age being fifty-something, and the average amount of leather being excessive. These guys were still surrounded by groupies of all ages, shapes, and sizes. The skirts we short and the...amenities(?) were--as is typical to 'the club scene'--all out.
Another group were 'the fringe'. These were folks that didn't seem like they belonged there for one reason or another. They wandered in, as we did, but weren't wailing along to 'Living On A Prayer', as we OH MOST DEFINITELY were. They had an aura of discomfort and a glass fortress of half-gone drinks.
Lastly, there were the drunks. One of which had apparently appeared on Howard Stern back in the deezy? He was damn near 70 and AWESOME. He was the type you'd perhaps make fun of if you weren't fully aware of and accepting the ridiculousness of the situation itself.

Also, Dizzy Reed showed up to jam with the band. Holy hell! 80s night = success!

We hung out until the music stopped, met and thanked some of the band, and left to grab something to eat. Deebsie suggested Mel's in Hollywood, and we wound up there at the same time as Raven Symone...because y'know...3am is the best time for sliders. Of course I couldn't avoid muttering, "Coming to Mel's? God, That's So Raven." as we drove up. This was naturally after the ejector seat button was on 'lock'.

A quick fooding and phone-forgetting (NO GUYS, ITS COOL...DAVID HAS HIS BLACKBERRY BACK NOW. JEEZ.) later, we wander back home and drive around Taft--our old stomping ground. Now, its not like we Tresspassed or anything, but the gate was open and we wandered around inside at 4 in the am, reminiscing and nicking tennis balls. "Thooose weeere the daaaaays~" Strangely, the football field was the only place that didn't feel significantly smaller. And the thing is, we haven't really grown since then. Not in the biological sense, anyway.

An interesting evening, all in all. Shit man, I got my 3 hours of sleep. I'M COOL TO DRIVE. Just...just gimmie the keys, man--I can do it!