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One universally consistent complaint about the iPhone is that it is not possible to cut and paste. Since I now tend to compose all my posts on my phone, this, given my feeble powers of memory, poses serious limitations on my inclusion of annotative links. I simply can’t remember extended URLs long enough to add them in.

That being said, Prop. (Well, it wasn’t an incredibly long URL.) Something that supports, the act of supporting, a physical, usually but not always, handheld item used on stage by an actor, and carrying the idea of “support” to its modern vernacular conversion, in the plural, “respect”.


So, the other day, I was called into duty raiding another theatre’s prop rooms. Raiding is, perhaps, the wrong terminology. “Borrowing from” is more correct, however, like long-time neighbors borrowing one another’s tools or garden implements, these “borrowings”, more often than not, are for a term longer than the item’s intended use.

Anyway, we filled a rowboat to the brim with small stools, think milkmaid, and rolled it (yes, it rolls) from one theatre’s warehouse across the street to our theatre. It’s nice that these two spaces are just across and down the street form one another: One, the sheer convenience is a joy, and: Two, the rolling rowboat doesn’t roll all that well.

On our short journey, we passed some local derelicts who offered, albeit in a somewhat slurred and incoherent fashion, stool-toting, boat-rolling tips. None of these were particularly helpful; the tip nor the derelicts.

And here I am, days later, on stage surrounded by our booty. Plus more acquired in the ensuing days.

Props: support; gratitude. Two sides, one coin.

I do love all the folks I’m working with and those who have made my participation in this project possible.

This was written piecemeal over a number of days. It might not make sense to you, but it makes sense to me. And now this has been brewing too long to not post immediately without further delay.


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That’s really all life is: building. Or tearing apart. Two sides of one coin, really. Or, well, life, birth, death; it’s all about building, growing into a state of completion, then the decay, the tearing down.

You would never guess that I’m sitting at a music rehearsal, would you?

Reminds me of a story, totally unrelated to anything. My dear, late friend, Jeffrey Mont Jeffreys, was very proud of his award winning definition of a kiss: “The meeting of the distal ends of two tubes of shit.”

I guess it is related.

I was at the theatre early yesterday (yesterday being Saturday) to help build the Sweeney set. With the stress carried over from earlier in the week ( unemployment) and lifting things in a fashion unfit for my history of back issues, I, of course, threw out my lower back.

Rehearsal then, yesterday after building, was an ordeal. Luckily, there were many kind folks with pain killers handy. Also fortunate, we didn’t have to be at the theater until five today, so I could spend the day in bed not moving. It was nice. The back feels, while not wonderful, through the magic of rest and chemicals, at least much better.

And now home, or at least, for the next four weeks or so, a version of home. I’m referring to my parent’s house. The house where I grew up, and strangely, wonderously, in this ever disposable age, where my parents still live.

So I’m here, back in my old room, in, not my old bed, that was left behind many years ago in one apartment move or another. No, I am in Jamie’s antique bed that he bought years before meeting me. Did it have some negative, or pre-me, association that we didn’t want it in our own bedroom? No, not at all (at least none of which I’ve been informed), no, the problem is one of size.
Did you know that standardization of bed sizes is a relatively modern thing? Until I met this bed, it had never occurred to me to even think about such a thing.

A quick-ish web search shines little light on just when, exactly, the standardization began, other than the vague, ‘with the advent of mass production’. But one assumes it was around the turn of the century.

Oh, that’s no longer a very specific statement, is it? Of course, anyone reading this now would know that I meant the 19th into the 20th; fifty years from now, who knows? Who knows what will be considered quaint, old-fashioned, that is so very “now”, now. Showing his age, he asks: How many cassettes do you still have hanging around? “I’m gonna burn them to CD,” you say. One guesses in 2050 or so, CDs will have become as antiquated as the album is today. Ah, vinyl… Still have so much of that around, too, waiting to be burned. Onto CD that is, not in a bonfire of protest.

Bonfires. Burning. Tearing down. Building. I have no idea where this was going… Except, I know I wanted to say how wonderful these music rehearsals sound; voices blending, rising and falling together. It is truly a spiritual experience. And i’m proud and honored to be a part of this wonderful group of people.

If you are in the Reading, PA area, or just in the mood for a roadtrip, come on down, ya won’t be disappointed.

Follow this link for more info and tix. And if you do stop in to see Sweeney Todd, say “hi”, it’d be nice to meet you.


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It’s really what rehearsals are about.

Clearly, though, there is activity, since, while there’s no way for you to know this, i’ve been working on this post for the last three days. Whenever I think to start writing again, I have to go up and do a scene.

It’s Monday night, 9:13 precisely. Tomorrow I grab the 5AM Bieber back to NYC, getting to work at about 8:30AM. Sheesh.

At least this way I have a night with Jamie before I head to Wisconsin Wednesday morning on a business trip.

Yes, some might argue that a trip to WI is never well timed, but this one certainly isn’t. Don’t get me wrong, though, I’m anxious to meet the bunch of folks who I’ve become very close to via our daily emails and phone calls. I arranged an extra-curricular meeting with some friends from another nearby company, so it should be a fun, busy visit.

Anyway, this post seems to have become moorless. I’ll write from WI of I find the time and let you know how the cheese is! 😉


Oh, almost forgot, check out Jamie’s latest site: www.goo-ku.com. SEM poetry at it’s finest? That’s up to him & you. What’s SEM? Go over and find out.


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Sitting. “God, That’s Good” is being blocked – the 2nd Act opening. I’m waiting to be placed on top of my cube, which at the moment, is a tape mark on the floor.

Been there, done that. Waiting again; the nature of rehearsals. Mrs. Lovett & Toby are doing their thing in the bakehouse at the moment. Grinding meat.

Soon I’ll be going up to off The Beadle. Fascinating, isn’t it? It’s a process.

Saw a wonderful production of 12 Angry Men at Genesius last night. If you are in the Reading, PA area, I urge you to see it. It has one more weekend, 9/19 – 9/21.

I’ve killed The Beadle. Waiting to be blocked into the “searching” scene. Now they are blocking Fogg’s Aslyum and City on Fire.

Damn, this is a huge cast for such a small theatre. But this show will be wonderful. Oops, time to pay attention.

I was wrong. We never got to my scene before dinner break, which we are now back from. Still not doing anything, though. Looks like we are about to start. More later.

9:30PM – Rehearsal is over. We finished with the second act blocking and started running the first from the top of the show. Got to Ms. Lovett telling me about my Lucy’s fate and then we stopped for the night.

I decided I needed a burger, so here I sit at the Wyomissing Diner, one of the few places ’round these parts that’s open at this hour on a Sunday night. Very uncivilized, it’s not like I’m in the middle of Kansas… On the other hand, they do have a tasty burger and excellent fries.

And now home and ready for bed. Need my rest for my Monday 9 hours of telecommuting to my job in NYC. Fun. Well, more fun than actually being there, I suppose.

Hope you’ve enjoyed my day at rehearsal. LOL I know I certainly did.


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Or rather, “The” Bieber, as it is known to us locals and former locals. It’s the only bus line that goes directly between NYC and Reading, PA, where I grew up, Where my parents still live (well, In nearby West Lawn). Where I’m heading now. Quite frequently. Every weekend. I’m doing a show, Sweeney Todd, at the theatre where I grew up. Genesius Theater.

This theatre saved my life – more ’bout that in another post.

So, after an absense of nearly thirty years, I’m back on the old stage that made me into who I am today. Or rather, I will be back, once this 3 hour bus ride is over. Every week now for the last month. Up and down.

What we do for love? We do this.

And now, I’ve taxed my thumbs and iPhone enough for one day.

See you soon.

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