Sam

'Sam' is the stanza of this show I may have the most fun in, admittedly. The last few days, I've heard things from her about someone - a former friend of hers (or perhaps current, but soon to be former) which have been quite cruel, and unfair (and when I get to Montreal, if I see this particular man, I'll make sure I let him know of my displeasure with his ill behaviour) This man doubts her desire, and will to live, and the things she will choose to do, but I do not at all. His words have been the words of a small man, who to me, sounds like the kind of man who once he does not get what he wants, resorts to pathetic insults, and unjustified begging in the subtext (I'm a fan of blatant begging while naked in a bed with someone - it's the only appropriate place for such behaviour, eh?) I don't really think this man knows Sam, and knowing her as I do, I could not help but have her be the topic of one of the stanzas of this show. This particular stanza, I will only say, pays tribute to the nature of our connection (You don't expect me to give away the specifics of my show in a blogspot entry now, do you?) It's done with a laugh, and channels one of the scenes of a favourite movie of mine (think David Lynch, and I'm not telling you the film) but with a different spin, shall we say (If this scene went in another direction, this would be the result) I may never laugh so much on a stage as this point, nor will you ever see such a blatant expression of desire in any kind of performance, in such a wild setting. I've already told her that there is a clear purpose to why I'm doing this particular narrative, and she knows, at the core, the reason for it. The girl in the photograph is complimented widely, and is wanted by many, without a doubt. I've stopped concerning myself, though, with things like want, and would just rather express a different style of wanting (and one that is so bold, I know she'll love it, because I know her) The girl is my friend, and she opens up to me, and leans on me, which I absolutely appreciate, and though I don't know if we're going out for tea after my many performances in Montreal, I have this sneaky suspicion that the first day this narrative is performed in Montreal (and trust, there will be a few performances in my OWN bedroom) she'll be sitting on a pillow at the foot of a bed, watching what she's done to this particular man. I don't know if she'll stay after the audience disappears, and truly, I don't really know if it matters if she does, because the performing of this stanza, if it as gratifying of an act as I have experienced during rehearsal, may have been one of the greatest gifts this man has ever been given, and I hope she is aware of that, and contrasts it against the words of the other man, this week. That is your effect, Samantha. Not cruelty, but desire, and you are one of the four I speak of (and the most honest expression of desire you'll ever see)

Thanks, darling.

The Show

I've got a slight cold, but enough time to write for a moment, before attending to the first of three training sessions today. I've been asked several times in the last week or so as to the nature of my show (apparently I haven't explained it enough, so I'll attend to it one more time) The narrative is a series of physical monologues, all based upon a bed. The topic is unrequited desire - things that either were, and did not fully come to pass (or things that have not been, or have not been just yet) I felt that since the pieces were of such an intimate nature, rather than stage them in a conventional setting, like a theatre, I felt it was a better idea if I staged it in the bedrooms of the world (which apparently, considering the recent response, is quite a good idea) It's not dance, but theatre, but very physical theatre - the 'choreography' is mostly improvised - the text is the thing, and the body will naturally follow (and I trust myself now as a performer, more than I ever have) I've been able to set up these performances without doing proper publicity, simply because with work, I've had no time. This week, though, is the last full week of work I have for three weeks, and in that three week period, all the publicity will be done, the photoshoots will occur, the press releases will be sent out, and the outreach is going forward, fully. In that time as well, I have the time to commit all text to memory, and prepare the body properly after a long winter, for what is to come in springtime.

This show is not fiction, though the character is the man I aspire to be. The subjects are quite real, and every narrative stanza, is either about a girl I know, or who I have known.

This blog is starting to be read a lot more, I just realized, so I am going to take the time now, to stop talking about myself the next few days, and talk about the women who've inspired it, and each stanza (and this will be the only other space I really speak of it, aside from the stage)

So with that...