Compile all Decemberists songs about WAR.
The Legionnaire's Lament
Sixteen Military Wives
Yankee Bayonet (I Will Be Home Then)
The Soldiering Life
Summersong
When The War Came
Follow that up with all the Decemberists songs about SAILING
Shanty For Arethusa
From My Own True Love (lost at sea)
Oceanside
The Island-Come & See/The Landlord’s Daughter/You’ll Not Feel The Drowning
The Mariner's Revenge Song
Me, to MAX,
MAX
Life is sweet. Graduated from college. Did absolutely nothing this summer, which was SWEET. Got a job at a theatre (www.PegasusPlayers.org) and I'm currently looking for apartments in downtown Chicago. The real world is, you know, real. I'm really broke. I'm really looking for other theatre jobs to supplement my income. I'm really loving making a living doing what I love to do, and I'm really loving my low paying job at Pegasus, because I get to help inner city highschoolers find their voices, and because Pegasus is a SWEET theatre. This year, our young playwright's festival is HUGE, and our three highscoolers are all individually getting their own professional playwright mentor to help them during their workshop process. I have a feeling the end result is going to be a bombshell, and I'm really excited for writers, because I won this contest years ago and I don't think they have any idea of what's in store for them. I'm afraid I haven't been writing as much as I'd like to. It's mostly because I don't have a writing community yet (I just moved back to Chicago August 1st.) But I'm keeping in touch with my writer friends and I'm about ready to start some big projects. I've had a full length on the boiler for a while, and I'm about ready to knock together the first draft sometime before halloween. I'm also working on a few ten minute plays, one of which I plan to send to ATL for their ten minute contest. The only problem is that my sig-oth (SIGnifican OTHer) is one of their lit interns, so I think I might have to send it under a pseudonym so as to avoid a conflict of interest. I'm also supposed to write a libretto for a friend as a wedding present (which I think will be a robot musical) but I haven't done much more than a rough sketch on it. My si-goth also got me into basketball, and after she wrote a basketball ten minute she said I had her permission to write a full length about basketball if i thanked her on the notes page. That said, I haven't been nearly as prolific lately as I'd like to be. As far as music goes, man, maybe that's another reason why I havent been writing much. Last year I wrote a psuedo-sequel to the moops album, a solo album about the movie JAWS and my breakup with my ex (you know, the one who cheated on me while I was in Denver with you groovy cats) and I'm finishing up another solo album about leaving Iowa City for good. I also got a chance to collaborate with a playwright named W. David Hancock this past spring, and I wrote the music for a play of his that I acted in while he was visiting Iowa. It was called THE PUZZLE LOCKER, and although it got bad reviews (where are online) it really was an amazing play. So all and all, in the past year I've recorded 4 albums and a few singles. My friend Peter, who wrote most of the Moops album and arranged the sequel, is moving in with me for the year and we're planning on starting a music blog together. The idea is that every edition we'll produce at least one complete pop song, based on challenges that come from our readers (example: make a late Pink Floyd song about cabbage without rhyming.) We're tentatively calling it SONGBUSTERS until we come up with a better name. As for the future, I'm planning on applying to grad school again (and again and again until I get in) and I'm working on a couple shows around Chicago to make friends in the area and to find somebody to direct or produce El Dorado. I joined a theatre ensemble called "the shared ensemble" which with its subsidiary "BIG Theatre company" is producing a play by Sharman McDonald (Keira Knightley's mom) called BORDERS OF PARADISE. The play is really cool, its about surfers in England, and we're doing it sight-specific in a new Cafe in Chicago using furniture and alley junk to create an urban landscape that mimics the rocky cliffs of southwest England. I'm conducting the band and designing/running the sound, and I think the show's going to be a hit. So that's it for me, really. How are things going for you? How's Denver? How'd the 'wrighting gig in NY go? How are all my Curious sisters and brothers doing? You graduate this year, don't you? Where are you applying? Most importantly, what have you been writing? *KEEP IN TOUCH*
Stevo
Jamyl, Adriana and Ben Gabriel all returned to work on Rainy Days and Mondays at the NY International Fringe festival. I wonder if Andrew is still having everyone score their scripts...
Back to the doldrums again. Night time. Our dead ship is lost at sea, with no wind, food or freshwater. Only rum. Barrels and barrels of rum. The poor souls upon the (insert insightful name of ship here) hoped to fight in the American Revolution, but went wayward when the captain sold them out to the enemy. They have no idea how the war has gone, nor have they seen any action. Now all aboard are doomed.
But you can't tell it by looking at them. They are as cheery as ever, and the whole play opens with cheery song and dance. The crew has been sleeping under the sails on the deck all day to escape the sun, and wake at dusk to enjoy the cool night air. They know they're screwed, but they can't help but entertain themselves. When they decide the end is unavoidable, they crack open the rum and begin to drink themselves to death.
They tell their stories and share their talents together in a drunken amateur night, organized by a midshipman, Maximillian Griffin, who's only goal is to keep moral high among the few crew members left. Secretly, he stays sober, keeping up hope that they might be rescued.
Inspite of all the insane cheeryness that floats among our crew, a deep bitter hatred is brewing. Things could get out of hand at any moment. As the action progresses, the men (casting made without distinction of gender) become increasingly violent. Rumors of an unlucky shipmate undo many smiles on deck. Things only get worse when the crew learns the truth of their situation.
Act One: Crack Open the Rum
Act Two: Amateur Night
Act Three: A Traitor Revealed
Tomorrow Carl gets Married.
I really must work on some sort of toast.
What do I say?
I suppose what wierdest about this is the indication of all our advancing years. I've known Carl since we were six, and now there are no bones about the fact that we are adults. We're done with school, we've got jobs, and now he's starting his own family. We are definitely adults. Shit.
Anne is wonderful.
The wedding is poised to be one of the best ceremonies I'll ever attend. It's outdoors, behind a lovely farmhouse belonging to their advisors from Wesleyan, and the reception begins immediately after. There is a dog in the wedding party, and every participant unrelated to Carl or Anne is considered a "Maid of Honor" or a "Best Man." I love the shakeup on the traditional American marriage. Carl composed two of the peices to be used in the ceremony. There is no uniform, no tuxedo requirements, and the actually ceremony will be small.
I will be wearing my black pinstripe suit, a solid black t-shirt and no shoes. I will not be shaving my beard. I know this sounds strange and informal. I was encouraged to attend in such attire. I think the off-beat nature of everyone's wardrobe will make the event even more formal/special.
Will bought a white suit and white slipper-shoes for the occasion.
He will not be wearing a tie either.
Pictures soon to follow.
I need to write a toast.
