What's in a Name? Limericks and a Video Worth a Thousand Words

Cindy1 and Prince1 stand in the royal garden, ostensibly preparing to make out some more, when the clock starts chiming midnight.

Prince1:  Tell me your name.

Cindy1:  The Clock.

Prince1:  What kind of ridiculous name is that?  Well, she did say I would think her name was silly.  And what do I care if the girl of my dreams has a silly name.  It's a lot better than the chick with the creaky knee.

But alas, during these internal deliberations Cindy1 has hightailed it out of the garden and, depending on Prince1's reaction time, made it all the way back to her chair by the fire before Prince1 gave any thought to pursuit.  But what's this?  Cindy1 left behind a glass slipper which luckily did not revert to its previous form of an antique glass coffee percolater.  That would have made the search scene much more difficult.  Incidentally, in the act of lurking backstage I discovered the fact that Cindy1 leaves that garden wearing two glass slippers.  I have kept this to myself until now so as not to spoil the magic for Prince1 and the rest of you.

At the request of Palace Guard1 I authored some limmericks.  It is my pleasure to torture you with them now.

There once was a show that started with a flash

And the flames shooting out might have ignited the sash

If a sash were a part of the gown that she wore

The burns that resulted might have been quite sore

The boxes ignited with a flash and a pop

Fairy Godmother's wand looked a bit like a mop

And the audience clapped and were generous with laughter

And Cinderella lived happily ever after.

Four mice in a hole - in a hole in the floor

A hole that appeared with an opening trap door

Fairy Godmother said words and waved her wand

And nobody noticed that she was a blond

Next there came flashes and smoke

And before any more words were spoke

There appeared four ponies, which in fact were phonies

These horses were white unitard-clad chicks

Who after their dance were ready for a fix

They guided the carriage to the edge of the stage

The horse dancing girls are all the rage

The palace guard prepares to blow his horn

He has been preparing for this moment since he was born

He puffs up his cheeks and turns his face red.

And visions of sugar plums start dancing in his head.

So instead of escorting the princess to the ball

It will be up to Cinderella to do it all

And finally this video, created by Gary Dieter, will be where I go when I want to remember.

If you saw us live, thank you from the bottom of my heart.  If you didn't, perhaps this video will make you wish you had!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fVpaXk5yBwM

In the words of Fairy Godmother1, I'll see all of you later.

In the words of The Terminator, Come with me if you want to live.

Sorry, wrong quote.  I meant, I'll be back.

Opening Night!

What is it about Opening Night?  True, we're just going out there and doing the same thing we've done repeatedly in rehearsal, but the night has a feeling of experimentation, is fraught with emotion, and is heavy with the knowledge that we don't know how this will play before a live audience.  And then it turns out that your effort and tears and emotions-laid-bare, and singing and acting and dancing and comedic timing and the sets and the costumes and the music and stage magic - are enough, and even more than enough, to capture 400 in your world for a couple of hours on a Friday night.  I think I'm safe in saying that it is not possible to get much higher than on Opening Night.  Not in this life, anyway.

It was interesting to the me that the audience found humor in places I did not necessarily notice.  Generally speaking, I try to notice humor that is overlooked.  It fuels my writing, and my life.  Here are a couple of unexpected laughs, each one of which caused me to laugh along in surprise.  This is not an exhaustive list.  I lurk backstage as much as possible, but not all the time.  I am also engaged in mining non-existent humor in other places.

Fairy Godmother1 to Cindy1:  Stand back.  This could be dangerous (when about to supersize the pumpkin)

FG1 to Cindy1:  Well don't go kicking any rocks or anything (with your glass slippers)

FG1 to Cindy1:  This is no joke! (after summarizing the reverse transformations to take place at midnight)

Cindy1 to Prince1:    You might be surprised. (answering the question about the harm of leaving a few minutes past midnight)

Prince1 to Cindy1:    I tell you I love you and you don't say anything (about Cindy1 not replying to Prince1's assertion of love)

Herald1 to Step Sister1:  Space is limited. (regarding ballroom capacity while considering SS1's ample body)

And a word about happily-ever-after.  Did you notice the looming issues between Cindy1 and Prince1?  For instance, did you notice that she never tells him her name?  Do you know where Prince1 hears her name?  Step Mother1 blurts it out in the 11th hour before the last fitting of that size 11 glass slipper (sorry Cindy1, I couldn't resist).  So Prince1 hears Cindy1's name from his future Step-Mother-In-Law.  That's right Prince1.  You'll be related!  Maybe you'll put her and her and Step Sister1 and Step Sister2 (your future Step-Sisters-In-Law) up in a nice suite in the castle, so you'll be under the same roof! 

Ah, wedded bliss.  Enjoy your Champagne, Prince1.

Scientific Inconsistencies, Kate Middleton and Examiner.com

From backstage yesterday I observed the mouse/horse/rat/coachman/pumpkin/carriage/rags/ballgown transformation scene.  And I determined that there's a lot going on there!  That's an amazing scene.

And yet, there is some unintentional comedy that I also observed.

Fairy Godmother1: Why don't you go find a nice pumpkin?

Cindy1: Oh, look.  Here's one.  Conveniently placed behind the edge of this curtain here.

Have you been to a pumpkin patch lately?  Selecting the ideal pumpkin is just about as difficult as picking a nice Christmas tree.  Is is too tall or too squat?  Is it dented?  What about that rotten spot, or the rodent-chewed spot?  I liked this scene a lot better when Cindy1 had to at least run off stage and scour the prop table to find the pumpkin, while FG1 entertained herself by checking her hair in the reflection of the star on her wand.  That's real life.  What we have now is like something out of a fantasy story.  Which, I guess, uh, this is.

About that pumpkin.  FG1 is about to supersize it when she starts asking Cindy1 questions about pumpkin physiology, and realizes that some preparation would be prudent.  We wouldn't want to supersize the seeds and the pumpkin goo, now would we?  But one minute later FG1 identifies a fat rat and his brother, and turns them into Henchmen.  Or something.  I can identify a fat rat from 30 feet away.  But his brother?  FG1 is able to sex (that is - identify the sex of, dirty minds) a rat and also determine sibling status from 30 feet away?  What a woman!  Without closer scrutiny and extensive behavioral studies, I would be concerned that coming through the smoke would be the Coachman and some chick from the local Rat pickup joint.  Yikes!

Just out of curiosity I did a web search on the following terms: Cinderella Kate Middleton.  I am pleased to report I am not the first person to have thought of this. Check this out: http://blog.zap2it.com/pop2it/2011/05/cinderella-vs-prince-william-and-kate-middleton-which-royals-wore-it-best.html

OK, It was I who previewed the show in the Examiner.  But still.

Check this out:  http://tinyurl.com/3t38jy7

My top two favorite moments from the show.

1.  The King's Waltz.  We have, over the weeks, grown in confidence in this number to the point where we can sing, dance, have eye contact with each other, and quite obviously enjoy ourselves.  No acting necessary.  And don't we all strive to be able to say that in all aspects of life?  That we are so much in the moment that we are genuine, and truthful, and real?  I love it.  No acting necessary.

2.  Disrobing at the end of the show.  And the sighs of relief from my fellow cast members indicate I am not alone in this favorite moment.

Favorite random quotes, heard in random places, randomly:

1.  Excuse me, would you please tie me up?

2.  Hold me tighter.

Interviews, Dreams, and Pictures Worth a Thousand Words

OK I admit it.  I am not the most organized person in the world.  Stage Wife1, although she does not know me well, can attest to that.  And as an aside, Stage Wife1 might very well be the most organized person in the world.  But that's not important now.

What is important is that an hour before leaving for my job interview today I glanced at the email confirmation and learned some disturbing things. 1. The attached application was to be completed and brought to the interview. 2. The attached application was 16 pages long.  3.  I was unaware of the location or cleanliness status of any interview-worthy shirts.  4.  I was, shall we say, not yet dressed for my day.
Add to this the idea that I had only a vague notion of what this position was, and you have a recipe for something approaching...
the best interview ever. 

No kidding.  I had to jump up and leave to avoid being put to work running the company on the spot.  I now have a workable template for future interviews, and I can also provide a unique approach to job-hunting that I have not seen offered elsewhere.  All that time you've wasted in the past honing your resume and preparing for interviews that didn't lead anywhere?  You won't get that time back.  Use The Chris Barsam System for Acing Interviews Without Effort!  I didn't end up getting an offer, but still.

I had a dream.
I was the manager of an extremely low budget live theater operation.  We were performing Cinderella.  We had intended to invest in special effects but financial limitations, well, limited us - so for instance when Fairy Godmother made her entrance there were no fireworks, concussion grenades, or flashes.  What we had instead was Director1's recorded voice, synthesized to edit out all abnormalities, yelling "Flash Box!"  We did not have smoke, either.  What we did have were scantily clad young women carrying large cards with SMOKE! written in bold letters.  The dream did not last long enough for me to say what our balance sheet looked like or even how this production turned out, but in the next dream I was skiing down the side of a volcano.  I think the moral of the story is that if you are involved in theatre - or pretty much anything -  it has to be for the love of it, and you have to do it now before the dream changes.

The pictures sent by D1 are spectacular.  http://www.snowjumpstump.com/cinderella/  Looking at them I nearly forgot it was our show, and not some Broadway tour.  Judging from the pictures, I am, alas, not much in our show.  Which is surprising, based on the amount of perspiration I generate while the show is going on.  The truth is I am very excited about the stage time I do have, the lack of photographic evidence notwithstanding.  Now the big challenge is focus.  I might be trying to avoid stepping on Stage Wife1's dress (and for some reason also Dancing Girl2 and Dancing Girl3 and Step Sister1 and Fairy Godmother1 and Queen1's dresses), but that does not excuse me from hearing my pseudo Tango music in the first scene or executing a couple of well-timed head snaps upon hearing that the Prince is Giving a Ball. 

If only I could remember the words to that song...wait a minute.  "The Prince is Giving a Ball" are the ONLY words.  Golden.

 http://www.snowjumpstump.com/cinderella/

Costume Rant

Costumes.  Like actors, you can't live with them and without them there's no show.

Always be sure to put your body microphone on first, otherwise it is impossible to conceal the battery pack and wire beneath your costume.

Early in the proceedings yesterday, Director1 said just because you have costumes does not mean you can forget everything else.  I actually did pretty well.  Except for two missed entrances and a missed scene change I was in the zone.  It wasn't so much the costumes, as it was the addition of a dressing room.  That additional space gives me yet another venue in which to fail to be onstage at my appointed time.  You would think after years of doing shows that I would learn to be lurking backstage in case a scene in which I am supposed to participate should come up.
But no.

One of the top ten worst things in theater is to hear the shouted message - CHRIS!  You're needed onstage.  As the King's Valet.  Again.  And then Choreographer1 kindly asked if it were a costuming problem.  No, Choreographer1, costume's fine.  It was more of an idiocy problem.  A user error, if you will.  Once again, this time in the scene in which the prince is giving a Ball.  Hey look, I'm not supposed to be over here.  I'm supposed to be on that side of the stage over there.  Costume?  Well, I couldn't get out of my armor from the previous scene quickly enough.
Sounds like a personal problem.  Fail.

And did things seem like they fit better at the costume shop on Howard Street?  Did the trip to Dundalk cause shrinkage?  Seems to me I wore a T-shirt at the fitting, which may be why the armpit chafing problem was not as much of an issue until now.  And another thing about Howard Street.  Costumer George treated me with great patience and kindness, but he kept telling me Take your time!  Do you always get dressed this quickly?  What's your rush?  Answer:  This is a theatrical costume operation, yes?  More frequently than not there is a limited time window for changing from one costume to another.  I suggested to Cindy1 that singing the extended dance mix version of her first song would allow me addtional time to change, but I'm not holding my breath for that.
It must be said the costumes look fabulous, but did they really dress that way back then?  How did they have time for anything else besides dressing?

And there is one thing I do not wish to hear repeated after getting the last thing laced, buttoned, snapped, Velcroed and tied - Chris, is this your microphone over here?

Step back from that ledge!

For some reason I stowed away under the stage to observe the mice/horse transformation, and boy was it essay-worthy.  Four puppet actors, four dancing horse women and a tech all in a space smaller than my Yugo. (Note: I don't really own a Yugo, this is just a comedic device.  Do you even know what a Yugo is?)

Fairy Godmother casts a spell on the mice, which causes the puppet actors to have to exit to the floor below from the tiny ledge on which they are perched (wedged might be a better word).   Their options for egress are a small step ladder and a rickety table.  Simultaneously, a staircase to the stage has to be placed on the ledge by tech man, and the four dancing horse women have to ascend to the ledge, climb up the stairs and get on stage.  Their options for ascent are a small stepladder and a rickety table.  The same ones!  Which are still being used by the departing puppet actors.  The process took about 30 minutes when I observed it, but director's note on the matter seemed to indicate he was looking for something more in the neighborhood of 5 seconds.

Not to worry.  The Department of Stage Innovation has researched the matter and has developed the following recommendations for improving the efficiency of this process.

1. Trampoline.  This will enable the puppet actors the quickest possible exit - jumping off the ledge.  Once the puppet actors are comfortable jumping off the ledge, a couple bounces on a trampoline is just the thing to soothe that performance stress.  Cannonball!
2. Fireman's pole.  You don't see firemen answering the call going down pokey, slow stairs, or clambering over rickety tables.  Folks in a hurry go for the pole (you keep your salacious thoughts to yourself).
3. Sliding board.  They evacuate planes this way, inspired by small children evacuating high points in playgrounds.  Efficient and fun.
4. Another stepladder.  To replace the rickety table.  Perhaps one-way traffic on each stepladder would create the dramatic sought-after traffic flow improvement.  Look what it did for Charles Street and St. Paul Street in Baltimore.
5. Water soluble personal lubricant.  It seems like one component of the problem is friction.  And I read in a major mainstream publication that this product reduces friction.  I've also heard from mainstream advertising on legitimate broadcast, on-line, and print media that it is available at major retailers.

Further research is warranted.  Watch for The Department of Stage Innovation's volunteer recruiting campaign to determine which option is optimal, and sign up today.  It's all in the name of Science.  You wouldn't stand in the way of Science, would you?

Zen and the Art of...

Thursday's rehearsal with the orchestra was boring.  I mean this in the best possible way.  It is the first time I can say this, and being a part of this production has been very good for me in many ways, but there it is.  I found my mind wandering to other places.  Here's one.

I'm a biker.  My bike is a 1974 Honda CB360.  It gets the job done OK, although one female friend advised me that if I expected to attract chicks with a motorcycle I would have to upgrade.  I thanked her for her input.

I got the bike started last week, but only one of the two cylinders was firing.  This is a fairly frequent occurrence.  Once I was riding on Rt 152 and suddenly I seemed to have only half a bike under me, but I made it home on the one cylinder.  Barely.

Usually the culprit is clogged carb jets.  What you have to do is remove the float bowl on the offending carb.  You need to use a stubby Philips head screwdriver to remove the four screws, and you have to be a contortionist to get to the inner two screws, but it can be done.  Then the two jets have to be unscrewed from the bottom of the carb with a stubby flat blade screwdriver, and the tiny little holes have to be cleared with some combination of mouth air and very delicate wire.  The Rt 152 crisis was my first experience with this process, and I found the jet lying in the bottom of the float bowl - not attached to the carb at all!  This led me to believe that it was not properly tightened in the shop, and that in some situations I am superior to the shop.  You reassemble everything and Shazam, happy bike.

Only not this time.  Still not firing.  Looked at the spark plugs, seemed ok.  Looked at the spark plug wires.  Aha!  The spark plug wire end fits rather loosely onto the wire itself.  Maybe too loosely in this case.  Some finagling and Oh Mighty Isis, happy bike.  Golden!

Until I tried to start it the next day.  Firing on only one cylinder.  But this time it's THE OTHER ONE.  So the assignment will be to repeat the whole process on the now non-firing side.  And don't get me wrong, I enjoy farting around for an afternoon with motorcycle repair.  Dirt under my nails, soaked in gas and oil.  But who has the time?

Maybe I should just upgrade.