Performance Angst and Anger

"The LORD will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail." Isaiah 58:11

Takes the pressure off.

Times Square in the morning sun before the rush is a humbling spiritual experience. Standing practically alone in the legendary center of the greatest city in the world aglow with countless flashing lights making Con-Edison profit hand over fist really defines the word AWESOME.

I have a moment to breathe it in before I run up the steps of a very cold 45th Street Chekov Theater for first day rehearsals.

Michael Chekov was gently warned to leave Russia at the height of his dramatic career as the Soviets thought his methods of madness were indeed that...they called his productions "alien and reactionary." Fleeing his country, he eventually came to New York City and trained and coached some of the greatest actors in all film history.

His technique while experimental in a communist country thrived in America and remains to be a widely used technique. His unique contribution to the acting world combined bold imagination, character development, active body and intense intellect resulting in visual physical acting.

Confused? You have to witness it...

Taking the barren frigid stage this morning, coffee barely in my bloodstream, I locked my arms in the throws of passion around an unsuspecting young man and spewed all the lovesick affection and scorned pain I've taken from my past relationships and threw it into my monologue.

To put it simply, I let him have it....

At last word and still clutching a rather shocked boy's shivering arms, the director says few words....baring the likes of Rare. Part made for me. Could go up tonight, and Gets it...he walks over and pens in my name for three Saturday night shows in January.

Yee-Haw! Come one, call all. I just got affirmation and as Oliver would say, Excuse me sir, but can I have some more??

I promise there will be heat.

How sweet is recognition?

An Open Invitation

"What gain is there in my destruction, in my going down into the pit? Will the dust praise you? Will it proclaim your faithfulness?" Psalm 30:9

After discussing the certainties of a faith filled life, I parted ways with my rare needle in a haystack girlfriend. As I walked away from her my audible perception went into overdrive as the raucous conversations on this 35 degree Friday night pounded my ear drums with the unwelcoming sound of live reveille three inches from my ears on a cheap hungover morning.

"Vicodin and Oxy and still I was looking to get higher....so I pounded his bottle of vodka.

She called me this morning, apparently she got so drunk last night she had another threesome...."

"I can't believe you just stole that, I lost the lip gloss you stole me last week."

"Does she know for sure he's cheating again?"

A mere spotlighted sampling, but enough to bring me back to the blogs inception and the reason I started it in the first place... To testify. More importantly to testify to New Yorkers. The land of endless decisions....

I feel quite alone in Manhattan, not in my sense of adventure, drive, or quest for life, but in my solid faith in the Lord and my unwavering allegiance to Him. This is foreign.

Maybe I'm just growing older...

I believe we are living in a world who is running from our spiritual foundation.

We are people of the people with spiritual amnesia. And we are so busy thinking our lifestyle is more important than His glory.

Am I guilty? You bet your ass. I'm caught up in the busyness of life, the competitiveness of success and fame, the envy of money, plenty of this earthly life's pleasure principles.

Yet I am so aware of God's Will for me that I feel grounded in that protection.

He knows the depths of my heart and He loves me just the same.

I'm hooked on the line and He keeps reeling me back in.

I don't want to be in partial obedience. I want my ways to reflect His wonder.

I want to praise the name of Jesus...

It's not judging recreational drugs ( I've done them)

It's not about promiscuity (sex is fun)

I don't knock material want (although paying is better)

But in my limited knowledge of this world, the blind leading the blind never fares well and whatever loss you imagine you will endure in exalting Him , I can insure your gain will be so much greater.

"Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full in his wonderful face and the things of life will grow strangely dim in the Light of His Glory and Grace.

In the words of Peter Frampton, "Do you feel like we do?"

Never Enough

"But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that?" 1 Timothy 6:8

What's worse?

Boring others..

Or boring yourself?

Television, Theater, Film.

Casted today in an NYU thriller shot in the snowy Catskills.

I always knew horror was my genre.

Blessings are abundant so why is my restlessness so prevalent?

Does every single person around you notice you're aging but you?

Are we always our own worse critic?

Did our parent's really do the best they could with what they had?

In this theater of life, will we all have our moment in the light?

Can we accept true love?

Is it laughable that I burn my ass on the radiant heat pipes because my bathroom is that small?

Is my honeymoon with Manhattan over?

"God has paid us the intolerable compliment of loving us, in the deepest, most tragic, most inexorable sense." CS LEWIS

I know the Lord is my portion so why do I find myself asking, what's next?

Quickly Quoted

"I applied my heart to what I observed and learned a lesson from what I saw" Proverbs 24:32

"We live in an enormous novel." JG Ballard

Or on a soundstage.

Happy 40th Birthday Sesame Street....now grow some balls and drop the political correctness ploy. You used to send a real message...

Here's a fun fact.

If I were to take a pencil and trace my steps on a map of Manhattan, it would look like a giant cursive lower case letter q.

Q

Qualm Quaint Quality

Quadriceps Quintessential Quagmire

Quip Quandary Quarrel

The letter Q

In Paul Auster's New York Trilogy, his private detective protagonist follows a potentially dangerous absent minded psychopath through the streets of New York for a series of weeks over the course of a bitter winter. The deranged wanders about picking dried pieces of poop, discarded strands of string, and lost feathers from an unfortunate pigeon. In his meanderings he walks up, down, diagonal, and zig zagged, throwing off the intense sleuth until the eye begins to trace the strange man's steps in the shape of alphabetical letters which in turn spells out his worst nightmare....

The compulsion to invent. This is the necessity of a great fiction writer...

So far in my observations of New York City in the last 10 months...my need to embellish has yet to surface. Using Manhattan has my central setting has lent itself to ceaseless and true material.

However, these words spray painted on a mural outside my window in the 7 AM sun remind me of the open manhole mere steps in front of me.

"The struggle to survive in the city can make you lose sight of your dream. Hang in there."

Dela Vega

This strikes an unpleasant chord the same day I read an article on why so many writers, dreamers, inquisitors, wanderers, lovers, creators move to East Village so they can laze about languidly, observe into the eccentricities of those lives around them, and find themselves whimsically inspired for their art.

I don't sit. I don't even pace. I race.. and with the risk of missing it all.

Thinking my seven day workweek could use a cutback.

As I desperately want to relate to the motto of Paul Auster himself..

"Writing is not longer an act of free will for me, it is a matter of survival." PA

Can you spell FOCUS?

Same Old Song and Dance

"They make many promises, take false oaths and make agreements; therefore lawsuits spring up like poisonous weeds in a plowed field." Hosea 10:4

It took 410 days to construct the magnificent Empire State Building that towers over New York. It's been 365 days since HOPE was voted in and yet we're still waiting for the miraculous architects plans.... **

On this election day... I worked White Collar while enjoying a multi million dollar Hudson view. Played Old Money. Wore a Cameo. Hung my head that I'm not exercising my immense patriotic privilege. I regret to admit the latter.

Strolled down Bleeker past the Marc Jacobs and in the normally dressed window hung a 10 x 10 foot poster of Barak OBama's head that looked like static and blasted across his eyes said.

" You promised, I voted, now deliver."

I've been wondering why I am constantly drawn to the New York Post. I thought for a while it was the mere 50 cents, then I dwelled on the notion of maybe I continue to pick this paper for its compact and handy handling squeezed in on the subway. I found myself often agreeing with the writers and not pulling my hair out as I skimmed the editorials. But today, my reoccurring attraction to the publication became crystal clear. It's owned by our favorite Aussie, Robert Murdoch and doesn't incessantly sing our President's praises. In fact, instead of blowing brown nose honey, it often calls a spade, a spade.

Now America has changed...clearly.

But I know, I would rather be revered with respect than liked by the masses.

And I would want the exact same from my president.

I told a gentleman I was never allowed to address Ronald Reagan as anything but Mr. President or President Reagan. This was my middle class Texas born father's rules. But he was right.

The highest office in the land should command reverence and esteem.

But...

29 speeches on healthcare while the American public scrapes together taxes?

Accepting a premature Nobel peace prize for promises (Oscar for a trailer) JP

Taking photos of dead soldiers while the live ones are waiting in harms way for reinforcements?

Gallivanting off to Chicago to once again stand side by side with Oprah to root the Olympics in Chicago? **

"You know, if I listened to Michael Dukakis long enough, I would be convinced we're in an economic downturn and people are homeless and going without food and medical attention and that we've got to do something about the unemployed." Ronald Reagan

MMMmmm. Do something Mr. President.

Virginia and New Jersey have spoken.

But you be the judge, is he growing into the job?

** Facts taken from New York Post Columnist Andrea Pseyer

Button Bustin Proud

"They honored us in many ways and when we were ready to sail, they furnished us with the supplies we needed." Acts 28:10

Forged in our minds and now in steel.

The USS New York is a floating memorial for the fallen at 9/11. As it sailed into the harbor of its namesake this cold gray morning, the $1 billion dollar vessel paused thoughtfully at Ground Zero for a 21 gun salute... Soldiers stood to attention on the mammoth bow constructed with over seven tons of steel from the World Trade Towers tragic wreckage as they dipped the flag in silence.

You would have to have ice running through your veins not to be stirred today.

So take us home Charlie....

"Well the eagle's been flying slow and the flag's been flying low
And a lot of people are saying that America's fixing to fall
But speaking just for me and some people from Tennessee
We got a thing or two to tell you all
This lady may have stumbled but she ain't never fell
And if the Russians don't believe that they can all go straight to hell
We're gonna put her feet back on the path of righteousness
And then God bless America again...." CD

Who's with me?

Run For Your Life

"To shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the path of peace." Luke 1:79

Forty-thousand determined able-bodies rose this morning to cover 26 miles and five Burroughs in the perfect fall running weather.I cheered for Italians, Brazilians, Scottish, Ethiopians, Thai, New Zealanders, and Masai warriors from Kenya, all inspiring me with every stride.

But for the first time in 25 years an American crossed the finish line first. Victory is ours.

Let's here it for a 4.9 minute mile....Can you feel the legs cramping?

If you've ever been to New York City as a tourist you have most certainly been to 42nd Street, Times Square, Bryant Park, Grand Central Station, United Nations, and various legendary Broadway theaters all call it home. In this excursion you would have dangerously brushed up against sweaty strangers, received multiple and painful "flat tires" from the hurried lot, and navigated around clueless groups of visitors who think stopping in the middle of the sidewalk is a viable option.

Beneath the constant chaos is a long transfer passageway which accesses all the trains from East to West. It's comprised up of a confusing network of tunnels that run for blocks.

I decided to go underground to escape the light of day madness...

A man on my heels quickly sidles up to my left side with the feasible option of pinning me against the subway tiled corridor. He bears a striking resemblance to Lamont Sanford except he's missing his two front teeth and has a soggy roach between his lips. He asks me if I know the quickest way off this crazy train. And if there is an easier way to something better.

I looked at his tight argyle v neck sweater and camel colored leather jacket and ask...

"You mean Eternity?"

He smiles that toothless grin and tokes down the last bit of burning ganja.

"Yeah."

I tell him our time in this chaos is brief and to hold on a little longer.

He nods assuredly.

Step for step he matches my stride but as the space between me and the dirty wall draws tighter my heart rate quickens. Just as I become acutely aware he is nudging me to the 7 tunnel. I stop the race and ask him WHERE EXACTLY does he want to go?

It is at this moment I witness true fear in his eyes. He was counting on me to indeed lead him off this crazy train.

He stutters...."Do do do you know how to get away from all these people and lights, I can't take it anymore, I'm losing my mind."

I point to the 1 train and tell him to take it to the last stop, sit by the water, and pray.

That's where I find momentary peace.

As I hightail it away...He says with a life saving conviction...THANK YOU.

They says Epsom Salt is a cure all for aches of the body, how about an unsound mind?