My evening with Jay Aston.

by alex

We are looking at a week now until we head out. Which is really strange. I had these wild dreams last night that I was home, shopping for food with mom and I keeps on talking about Edinburgh and being all sad that I was not here and thinking of all of the things that I didn't do. I cant believe how many things are left that I want to see here that I just haven't had the chance. One of the first things that Tyler and I said when we got here was that we believed we could live here. But, the interesting thing is after a month of running around, shopping for food and last min. Props, and going to venues on every end of town... I feel like I live here. I will be sad to leave. Last night my dreams were so real that I kept on waking up and thinking that I was home in sandy, on my futon and looking around the room just to find that I was still here. I suppose that in those dreams I learned that I should be thankful and savor the time I have left. Not that profound, but considering how tired the cast and crew are and how many shows we have done at this point and all of the ups and downs and near disasters, and spent money... It is harder than it used to be to get out of the flat and enjoy the city. And I think that is another testament to how much this place feels like another home. I have said before that Oxford is nice, but it is a little pretentious, and posh... And segregated. Edinburgh is too in its own way. There is the 'capital' part of the city that is blocks and blocks from my flat now. It is industrial feeling and odd. There is also Princess street, that feels like a giant mall. But those are just areas. The heart of endinburgh, the ancient part of the city and the center of the festival is here, around us and our home and I feel welcome in it.

I think that one of the stressors is being packed in a flat full of people that I wouldn't necessarily chose to live with on my own. But it has been good. Tyler and I are now thankful for the skills learned in our dodgy little wpc dorms in our fresh and sophomore years. The people skills learned with roomates and halls full of people you had no say in your proximity to are VERY useful skills right now. I do some times frown on the members of our flat that I feel were never taught, or put in the situation to learn those skills, it shows. Ok, I am going to stop going on about all of this. Just know that along with Tyler and I's relief to leave some were that we have to calculate out how much our money is really worth, somewhere that we cant get out of the apartment with out a tag along, a place that we cant find a good cup of coffee, a place that it is sometimes hard to be american ... I could go on, but wont... lets just say that, lthough we have our frustrations... we are very sad to leave.

Enough, I have some photos.

Tyler insisted that we go to the woolen mill yesterday and we did, and it was well worth it. Here are some fashion victims that I couldn't help but snap a photo of.

this is the floor of the mill. It is really interesting, it is still fully functioning, and you can just wander around in it.

and this is yesterday, when our venue was on fire...


not really, but the hair salon next door seemed to be.

we were all very scared.

this is my new favorite place in Edinburgh. CHOCOLATE SOUP. They give you a whole damn bowl of chocolate milky / hot chocolate goodness.


and here are a few of the photos that I took on the creepy, but gimmick filled ghost tour. I have to admit I was incredibly scared and I got a lot of really good material to tell at slumber parties... But I think most of the creepiness came from the kind of night it was. This is are creepy guide slipping down the narrowest street in Edinburgh.

this is Tyler by the underbelly on the way to the graveyard.

scary Tyler!

and the church in the graveyard and one of the creepiest sky's I have seen in my whole life.... WHOLE LIFE. All of it.

We (bill, Liz, Aaron, Tyler, me) went and saw a show called "Night of a Thousand Jay Astons" it was... Something.
I thought maybe a photo of part of our venue would be interesting. This is the entrance to C main, the mothership for C Electric (where I am now), C Central (where our show is) and C too (the lame ginger step child). So this is the C.

aannnd, this is the cast of the show we saw. Reflections? None. Other than I thought it was a 5 star show and Tyler thought it was a 4.... Go figure.


love you all!

alex

posts for the wobbly hearted

Wow! How did it come down to five more performances and less than a week from when we arrive home?! Thank you to all who responded to my existential theatrical post; I appreciate all the wisdom and concerrn and have thought about it as the performances persist. What a strange phenomenon though, theatre. I do love it a great deal.

Now that I have had the shock of realization that I will be leaving this place soon, I all of the sudden miss it. I love the way it looks at night, and how the clouds move so close to the ground. I love that it looks as if it has been dipped in a vat of gothic age and aura. I love the Scottish spirit and tenacity and folklore (even if the Scottish charge was only unbeatable twice...damn Romans). I love the terrain here. Though it is no Oregon, it does indeed have terrain. It is a good reminder of the land that we build on. But enough of this, I haven't left yet!

My irritation with my director has subsided. We still disagree on some interpretation, but I am not as bothered by it now. Let time heal most things.

In other news. We are still awaiting aa couple more reviews. One from Fest and another from the List. I will get ahold of those asap. I went to a show the other night called "Stories for the Wobbly Hearted" by Daniel Kitson (http://danielkitson.com/) he was brilliant. If anyone can find any books or transcripts by him, you will not be sorry; he is a beautiful story-teller.

I am getting distracted by what's going on in the bar here, so I am gonna go now. Take care everyone. I love you and miss you.

Love,
Tyler

Performance #17

by Tyler

Sunday, August 21, 2005.

Today was our 17th performance; we have 8 left. This has been the biggest run I have ever participated in. Before, the most I had ever done was 8 consecutive shows. Today there was something missing. James said that it was a great show, "it was rreally good." He always says that with his head tilted forward and his eyes large with emphasis (it kind of lost its emphasis though). He said it was very crisp and snappy (just the way he likes it). On stage I felt like it was going too fast, that people weren't listening to one another, and that the words had lost something. I couldn't explain myself very well. I don't even think those are really what concerns me about the show. Those are more superficial than what I am trying to get at; I think. "perhaps it's your tendency to want to 'actor pause', coming out," he said. I don't believe this is a characteristic of mine, and I don't trust him when he says it, but I am not writing about him.
Something was missing today. I do not feel Peck at my fingertips. I feel he is a machine I am operating from the inside. I don't care how it looks, it feels mechanical. This does not surprise me. I foresaw something like this happening. This is theatre, and this was bound to happen. So what to do about it now? There are small things one can do onstage that gives one a thrill, creates a sense of risk and newness, like I am on the cusp of something incredible. But these are temporary solutions. The other night, I reinserted some of my lines that were originally cut for time. I got a thrill out of that. Every once and a while I ad-lib a line here or there when something goes wrong or its unusually hot in the theatre, "It sure is warm tonight," I said tonight at the opening of a scene. Part of me was acknowledging the audiences discomfort and another part of me was explaining the sweat that had now soaked through the back of my shirt. Those are little things though, and they too fall under the same spell.
I desperately want to see myself. I want to tape one of the performances to see what I looks like. Can this fix the problem I am trying to get at though? Or can this only go so deep. I may find an awkward step here, or a clumsy hand gesture there, but will I be able to see what isn't going on beneath?
There are infinities within the words. Yet they are as temporary as one life is against the persistence of time; a blip on a the horizon. What can I do to realize this paradox again? Perhaps, as in life, the answer to this is in the questions, is in love, the moment? It helps to talk about it with people who have seen it for the first time. To see what inspired them. What they took away from it. I wish I could be involved in but a hand full of the conversations that take place after this show. I don't care about the technical mumbo-jumbo, or whether or not someone thought I was good or not. I want to know how they have been changed. I want to know. I want to be changed as well.
"It doesn't affect me the way it used to," Alex just told me. She opted sound today, and said the performance went well. It did. On our worst days, we are a good show to watch, but let me find the infinity within the words. Perhaps I will return to the script and read it again. Perhaps I will ask some different questions about it. Perhaps I will find something new. Is this not how it is with every text? Is this not the question that haunts all spirituality? This is why I know it's not a question of the pace or energy. This is why I don't trust James all the time...