Shizzah! School keeps me bizzah! I'm up to my knees in plays. Last night I was tested for the first time in improvisation class, led by feared mentor Marc Marno. Proud disciple of Mr. Strasberg himself. I took the stage nervous as hell, and sure enough - I sucked!! Thank Jehova. There is still much to learn. And learn I did. Marno proved to be quite understanding and helpful and devoted two hours of class to me and my scene partner, provoking thoughts that will ultimately better our performances. So, three hero stars and a big gulp to Marno, for making my day.
Improvisation is only one of six classes - and the only one that doesn't follow written plays. I am at this time reading my ass off whenever I find the time. The ones that I'm currently working on are The Rose Tattoo by Tennessee Williams, The Time Of Your Life by William Saroyan, Proof by David Auburn, I Never Sang For My Father by Whatshisface McWho and The Hills Look Like White Elephants by Hemingway. So, sho'nuff daddy's a busy bee.
Certain classes revolve around sensory work. The ability to feel objects and provoke emotion through the help of muscle and sense memory. Sounds nucking futs. And quite frankly it kinda is. It's a looooong (notice the use of multiple o's to emphasize the longevity) process which will take me many months to master (+ for bokstavrim). I'm am no Helen Keller - yet. However I am not giving up on this, as I find it increasingly interesting and helpful in my Road Runner-paced present life.
Another honorable mention is face of stage and screen: Tom Badall, whose class is called Acting on Camera. Whenever he teaches I feel like I'm in the presence of someone who actually knows what the fizzah he's talking about. At the same he is an unconventional man, and I'm again inspired by the fact that a person such as him is part of the schools roster. I'm reading The Rose Tattoo for him on Monday. Better put in some work! I seriously want to get in with his good graces.
In the meantime, if you're still with me in this lamest of lame posts I tell thee: Suck not when sucketh can, and spray your golden grace on the filthy sheets of oppression!
Holla at yo man in Turkmenistan, I'm out!