Uncle Dave

I honestly don't want to dwell on such things, but yet they've become so much a part of this ongoing story of mine, so I feel like they need to progress towards their natural conclusion. So here goes:

Uncle Dave passed away Saturday morning, surrounded by his immediate family. My cousin Andy called me an hour or so later and let me know. Andy's about my age, and we spent a lot of time together in our youth, despite the fact that we're not all that similar.

Well, that's not true. When I was younger, and didn't know who the hell I was, I used to dwell on the differences between my cousins and I, but as I spent time with them over the past few days, I started noticing and loving the similarities. The common history, the shared jokes, the same faces, and the similar inability to have a flat stomach.

Saturday night I went over to the house and we had a great time. Ate bad food and drank beer and Mike and I tried to one-up each other on our Johnny Carson impressions. Tried our best to make up for too many missed years.

This is all part of the Grand Tale, the part of my life that got all fucked up and led me in directions I didn't expect, and wish I could redo, but of course you can't do that. So you just put it back together as best as you can, and you move forward.

For those interested, here's Uncle Dave's obituary. When you drink Old Style beer, or eat Que Bueno nacho cheese, or ride a snowmobile in northern Wisconsin, or laugh at a really dirty joke, think of him. There are uncles in my life that have played a much larger part in my life, and they mean the world to me, but it's important to honor Uncle Dave at this time.

There is still business to be done, and some tears to be shed, and some very difficult moments still lie ahead. But I've got my sister by my side, and I think I know how the tale has to end.

Duff Beer for Me

Because I'm sure everyone else has done one...

I present myself, Simpsonized:

This Charming Man

My day started with a sigh and a groan. I had spent the previous evening drinking it up with The Fathers on a Four-Hour Pass. All my friends with kids and the rare moment away from the house, drinking Blue Moon and catching up on each other's shit.

I get to sleep in during the summer, but this morning I was awake at six am, out of bed at seven, at work at eight. Gathered together some of my new team, went in to the new school to volunteer and unload the new inventory and begin the setup of the new school. Sweated and strained and pushed wagons full of new books to the new rooms with the new carpet and the quiet possibility of the blank slate.

Got a call mid-morning, about my uncle. The uncle with the cancer, and it was the call. The Call. Called others, called my sister, left the new school.

Then I played out the moment I imagined in my head for eight years. That moment when I see my dad for the first time in eight years. Would I panic, would I cry, would I throw things at him?

While I hugged my cousins and said goodbye to Uncle Dave and laughed at the old jokes we remembered, I just ignored him. A sad little man stuck in the corner. In the end, I just ignored him. I just ignored him.

Made the best out of an impossible moment, and then made my way out to the family compound in the quiet country. Hugged my nieces to pieces (heh) and laughed at my nephew's newfound sense of humor. Hunkered down at the table and ate takeout pizza and drank red wine and commiserated with my sister and my mom. Love everywhere.

Left the house, but couldn't go home. Always drawn to those late-night moments at the local pub, and my pal Jeremy was there. Drank Bud Light and had a few smokes and tried to figure out how a redneck bar suddenly caught the Goth. Tried to convince the black-clad kids that the song they were playing on the jukebox was just a ripoff of an old Smiths song, and modern technology proved it for me.

Astral Weeks played me home. Late at night now, and it's been a long, long day. But I'm going back the the hospital tomorrow, and I'll be there as much as I can, and I'll watch all these people come through and visit and try and say goodbye to a good man, a better man than many.

Darjeeling Trailer

The Darjeeling Limited: trailer now online

Awesome. Awesome. Awesome.

When the wolves come out of the walls...it's all over.

So I was planning this (sort-of) cheap trip to Ireland, and then I was watching one of the Harry Potter movies tonight (Azkaban, the best one), and thinking about Scotland, and that gorgeous landscape, and how I'd like to go there again. But it's Britain, and the pound is really a bitch right now when it comes to the exchange rate.

I know a blogger over there, in Glasgow, works for the NTS. Extended the invite to me a few times. Just found out that The Wolves in the Walls is being performed again.

Very tempting. It's Gaiman, of course. And he's been on the mind for a while now, so it would be fitting and proper to go to Scotland right now.


I have two plans for the trip. Okay, three. And maybe more, but three is where I'm at right now.

1. Visit. See friends in Dublin. I like these people, and I like visiting them. That's the number one reason for going. They always take me to the best pubs, and the conversation is second-to-none. Only this time I'm not getting the Large pizza, Linus.

2. Write. I want to spend several hours sitting in a pub, or a coffee shop on a cool Sligo morning, or late at night in a hotel room when I can't sleep, and I want to start putting some ideas together for a new play. And I want to sit on a train and listen to music and read books and be by myself for a while.

3. Learn. Lots of excellent writers came out of Ireland, especially playwrights, especially lately. Hope to catch some shows while I'm there. Figure out how they tell their stories, take a few notes. I'm obviously attracted to Irish storytelling, so I figure I'd better start soaking some of it up while I'm there.

There is a 4th, which relates to Scotland, and that's due to the fact that my ancestry is Scottish, and I would love to spend a few days there again, get up into the Highlands, that sort of thing. I love Ireland, but the landscape of the UK always seems to pull me more than Ireland's does. Not sure why that is.

I could blame the Irish rail system, which seems ill-equipped to get people to the remoter places. I've been to Ireland 4 times in 5 years, and have barely seen proper countryside or landscape. This needs to change, and I suppose the answer involves renting a car, something I've successfully avoided since 2001.

But my point is this: I seem to go to Ireland for the people, and the conversation, and the atmosphere. But Britain for the land, for the hiking, for the outdoors. So maybe Scotland needs to fit in somewhere.

So it's 3 Am now, and I really should get to bed. I'm training my body to stay up late so I can dig in to The Deathly Hallows tomorrow night, but I'm starting to fade.

Cheers, everyone.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation (Part One)

The first week of June was spent saying goodbye to students. It was very sad, very emotional, and a lot harder than I imagined.

June 7th was the last day of school. Finished packing up one office sometime around noon.

First rehearsal was that night.

From June 7th until July 16th I didn't have a day off. I worked 12-15 hours every day, for the most part. (Sometimes I was lucky and only had to work 5-7 hours.)

Directed one play, produced another, shepherded a third (from my original from 5 years ago), and more or less watched the fourth. (Although I did get to finally be a filmmaker and direct some film sequences for Singin' in the Rain. I'll post some video later.)

Ate a lot of Caesar salads (not for the irony--there's an excellent Italian restaurant just up the road from the stage), shed some teacher weight, avoided graduate school responsibilities once again, said no to friends over and over (regrettably), and finally made vacation plans (Ireland, of course.)

And I started working on a new play. Heroes and Villains. It's about college.

This is, of course, the short version. I felt a post was needed, though, since I have been horribly neglectful towards this blog for some time now. Thank you, readers, for being patient with me as I direct my creative energies elsewhere for a while. It was very necessary that I get this blog out of my head for a while, so as to focus my attention elsewhere.

More to come soon. The hour is late, and I need some sleep.

The Tragedy of Julius Caesar

Regular writing should resume shortly. For now, a few more pictures from the performance:


Lots more pictures here.

Such a kick-ass show. Charmed from the start. Great cast, great ideas, great assistance from everyone. I shall speak more of it later. We still have two more different shows to get through before we're done.

And Ireland awaits!