Chapter 02
Shit. I'd completely forgotten in my haze this morning that I'd meant to start this thing due to the fact that I'd had what I can only call a more than slightly fucked up dream about British bulldogs hanging in two columns from meat hooks down an impossibly long corridor, and some 20-odd year black man who was viciously sexually molested by a bunch of other 20-odd year old black men. This was all extremely hard for my still stabilizing brain to wrap itself around, considering a number of things, two of which I have to say are the most important: I am not racist either toward the black man, or the British Bulldog. At this point in time, I don't remember much more than that, but I'm wondering if that's so much of a bad thing.
Anyway, on to something possibly a little more sane, though I'm not overly sure. Rehearsals went down a few hours ago. I'm pleased to say it went down very well. Nice and smooth, much like Smirnoff Twisted green apple. Strangely, it felt like many of my fellow actors had consumed a number of those, as craziness ensued quickly and increased at an alarming rate. The show must go on, though, back to business, we were, always willing to suck it up and get what needs done...done. Everything's coming together nicely, scenes are getting blocked, lines are being locked inside weary brains. Nothing like the shitstorm of last year, that near-fatal disaster we lovingly termed, "The Rivals". Dear Lord, how we almost buggered that poor piece of literature, like a neglected koala bear who's had its ass skinned down almost to the bone and left to suffer until finally, reason kicks in. Skinning the poor bastard down to the bone is just too much, the thing could never take that sort of depravity, and the slow healing process begins. What's left will never be as much, or as good, as it once was, and just like a koala bear with its ass half-skinned, the play walked with slight signs of a limp.
Glancing up and seeing the shaking, crazy image of a friend on Winter Avenue not far from my girlfriend in my roommate's webcam window, I remember some of the happenings of last night again. They were good times. Times like those don't come around often, and under normal circumstances, you don't have a hope in hell of those times being accompanied by free food, which made me feel as though the events of last night were fated, in some sense, to happen. A comforting thought, good times being destined for us. Makes up for all the shitty times that you never want to face, but you know they're coming, like a bloody bitch who always touches your hair. You hate it, you don't want it to happen, but you know that it -will- happen, and all of your attempts to prevent it will be to no avail.
Shit, I'd hoped to write more on this, but at least I've gotten this much so far. We'll see what happens in the next few hours...more crazy shit to come, of that...I'm positive.
Anyway, on to something possibly a little more sane, though I'm not overly sure. Rehearsals went down a few hours ago. I'm pleased to say it went down very well. Nice and smooth, much like Smirnoff Twisted green apple. Strangely, it felt like many of my fellow actors had consumed a number of those, as craziness ensued quickly and increased at an alarming rate. The show must go on, though, back to business, we were, always willing to suck it up and get what needs done...done. Everything's coming together nicely, scenes are getting blocked, lines are being locked inside weary brains. Nothing like the shitstorm of last year, that near-fatal disaster we lovingly termed, "The Rivals". Dear Lord, how we almost buggered that poor piece of literature, like a neglected koala bear who's had its ass skinned down almost to the bone and left to suffer until finally, reason kicks in. Skinning the poor bastard down to the bone is just too much, the thing could never take that sort of depravity, and the slow healing process begins. What's left will never be as much, or as good, as it once was, and just like a koala bear with its ass half-skinned, the play walked with slight signs of a limp.
Glancing up and seeing the shaking, crazy image of a friend on Winter Avenue not far from my girlfriend in my roommate's webcam window, I remember some of the happenings of last night again. They were good times. Times like those don't come around often, and under normal circumstances, you don't have a hope in hell of those times being accompanied by free food, which made me feel as though the events of last night were fated, in some sense, to happen. A comforting thought, good times being destined for us. Makes up for all the shitty times that you never want to face, but you know they're coming, like a bloody bitch who always touches your hair. You hate it, you don't want it to happen, but you know that it -will- happen, and all of your attempts to prevent it will be to no avail.
Shit, I'd hoped to write more on this, but at least I've gotten this much so far. We'll see what happens in the next few hours...more crazy shit to come, of that...I'm positive.
posted by Brad Butland at 5:46 PM
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