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Disclaimer: I'm not associated with Trademark Properties, Richard Davis, A&E, TLC, or anything else connected with anything else. I'm just a girl watching a show. And that's that.
This episode is called Stepping Up. Or perhaps it should’ve been called “Stepping in it.”
As I tried to tell the teacher that "this IS my scene," one of the actors decided to tie me to a chair. I don't remember if tying me to the chair was part of the real scene... Maybe it was, but when the scene was stopped by my teacher, all bets were officially off anyway.
Once he figured out what kind of theater we were doing, he felt really badly for stopping the scene. I think he might've even felt slightly humiliated for not being in on it. I probably would've told him, in hindsight, if I felt there was a danger of him doing that.
It would be hard to maintain that kind of surprise. Maybe changing the kind of interuption each week.
Ironically, the guy who went before me in class that day had the same concept - staging a fake scene. Everyone, unfortunately, was able to tell it was fake. That scene traded on anger. Mine was more of a pathetic/humorous/crying variety. The audience was more entertained I think.
Sometimes it pays to be self-deprecating.
And you thought theater had problems... Since I straddle between books and theater on this blog, I think it's only right to acknowledge the similarities.
I, too, am a member of the National Book Critic Circle. When I got the email, I was ready to jump on board. I'm still supportive, but what oh what are we going to do about this internet thing?
But I still think that the Atlanta Journal-Constitution should keep their book section the same. Don't cut it, don't slash it, just print it. As a major newspaper in the region, they have a responsibility to the Southeast.
But that's just my opinion...
Horribly sad. What a loss for the rest of us.
As I've mentioned before, I've used his book The Fifties as a resource guide for my book collection. I took issue with his view of The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit, but that didn't stop me from respecting the sheer brilliance of his work.
His genius was his ability to take an enormous amount of material and siphon it down to understandable essentials.
I used The Best and the Brightest as a secondary source before writing War. It was an astonishing book, perfect as a primer for my research at the LBJ.
His contributions will be missed. But books, like children, live on...
I've been reading about the incident with Mike Daisey with curious fascination. Hopefully, at this point, there's some type of closure. I've experienced something of a direct confrontation with an audience, and it isn't pleasant. Nothing as bad as pouring water on my work, but I will say that it does take some doing to "get over," even if the confrontation for me was small in hindsight.
I have seen Mike perform onstage. Back in my NYC days, the Playmeister took me to see his show 21 Dog Years. It was terrific, and I had a great time.
That said, I've kept quiet over the whole thing because I kept waiting things to sort themselves out. It's been my experience that when something flares up on the net, it's sometimes best to wait for more information. I also think that because our society values reaction without contemplation, now may be the best time to consider not only what happened but what it says about theater.
So here's a few things I'm thinking about today:
Juxtapose reactions to what happened and our discussions on why nobody cares about theater. Any conclusions?
Substitute any other religion for Christianity and fill in various sentences on blogs. What would it mean? How does it feel?
Also, if you work in theater and believe in a deity, do you feel alienated by the discussion? Does it make you feel like you don't belong?
I'm curious because there's a number of notable people who aren't taking part in the discussion. You can leave a comment or email me.
None of these questions are to imply that what happened to Mike was justified in any way. I didn't see the video because I've got slow dial-up, but I can only imagine the ugliness. I'm mostly interested in reaction to the discussion after the fact and what we all might learn about theater.
Thanks, and have a great day. Heh.
Television isn't even a category on Gasp, but that isn't going to stop me from blogging a show called The Real Deal", on TLC.
The show features Trademark Properties, a real estate company from South Carolina. These are the folks who were originally on A&E “Flip This House.” They were featured for only one season, but they left such an impression that they developed a fan following, which includes me.
Every week, I will dedicate myself to watching the show and writing about it here. Call it my weekend fun blogging activity. I'd like to spend more time talking about things I like, rather than railing against the things I don't.
Disclaimer: I'm not associated with Trademark Properties, Richard Davis, A&E, TLC, or anything else connected with anything else. I'm just a girl watching a show. And that's that.
“Everyday I wake up is a good day to buy real estate,” according to Richard Davis., founder of the company. If you're familiar with A&E's Flip This House, you'll recognize him, along with the cast from Trademark Properties. But A&E's old show is amateurish compared to Trademark's new program.
This version is pumped up and direct, with quality graphics and a no-fuss attitude. The object of the game is to buy ugly places, fix them up and sell them quickly. It requires lots of people, strong coordination, and adrenalin.
I suppose if that was the whole program, it would be on another do-it-yourself network. And of course, I wouldn't watch it. I don't have lots of money, I'm not involved in real estate, and I've spent most of my life renting apartments in major cities. So what's the attraction?
It's all about helping people. While Trademark's philosophy is teamwork, the founder believes its his mission to help people.
In this episode, “The House That Wouldn't Sell,” Richard buys a house from a woman who is in foreclosure. It's been on the market for 9 months. Upon hearing about the predicament, Richard makes a decision to buy it. Thus, saving the woman from bankruptcy.
In the next scene, Richard and Ginger, the investment coordinator, create a plan for renovation. It appears one thing after another is wrong with the place. There's a Bradford Pear Tree covering the front of the house, the pool is disgusting, the kitchen is cramped, and wooden planks on the floor curve. According to their schedule, they've got five days to fix everything.
At this point, you can figure where the suspense comes in. But what I found interesting are the sideline comments. This episode was very anti-Do-It-Yourself. Evidently, a nimrod put the pool pump under the house, creating a mold problem in the floor boards. Richard attempts to deal with the pool himself and over-chemicalizes it.
Since TLC reruns this show, I'm not going to tell you how it all turns out. You'll have to watch for yourself.
What I learned: This episode was all about the Cs – Confidence and commitment. Once you make a decision, see it through.
The other thing I learned: Assets are like Bradford Pear Trees. They can easily turn into liabilities if not properly honed.
Questionable Moment: What's going on with the fuzzing? In one of the first scenes, they fuzzed out Trademark's phone number on one of the signs. They're a business and they're on the net. What's up with that?
Worst commercial during the premiere: Sweet mother of pearl, I hate that Visa commercial. Followed by a close Nutri-system second.
Worst excuse by a sub/contractor: They couldn't get a hold of the landscaper because his cell phone died... for days.
Most Disgusting Moment: Not the maggots, not the pool, not even the guy who had to suck water out of the pool pump. It was that poor man who had to inspect underneath the house. That has to be the worst job in the world. I wonder what kind of spiders he runs into on a daily basis. Sheesh.
Best Quote: “Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner.”
Final Verdict: Great show - much better than their old one. Good to be introduced to other Trademark people as well. Looking forward to next week's episode.
For more on The Real Deal, click here.
Whenever a theater person gets into serious trouble, Jethro is always quick to tell me about it. Usually his email will give me the straight up news, followed by something like, "What's going on with theater people????"
He did it with the Alabama church fires, and it did it again today.
Still, I didn't want to be the first to this bring this up. Isaac did. Dan Trujillo wrote about it as well. So now I feel like I can mention it.
As a writer, I regularly explore areas in my psyche that I would never actually want to manifest. I may write about a killer, for instance. That doesn't mean I want to murder. For those who believe art is cathartic, writing about such things could be a sign of health.
On the other hand, there is a relationship between the writer and what's being written. I wrote some heavy-handed suicidal poems when I was younger; it was far more realistic than I'd care to admit. Undoubtedly, if I did something ugly back then, people would've pointed a finger at my work.
But there's a difference between exploring the shadow and planning out violent fantasies via theater.
I've had long periods of writing about rage, pain and hurt and I'd like to think I'm a healthier person for doing it.
However, as a playwright I'm mapping out an experience for the actors to share with an audience. Therefore, I have to think about other people. Will they want to take the ride with me? What are they going to get out of it? Is it going to leave them feeling disgusted with themselves? With humanity? With life in general?
I'm not saying there are right answers to these questions. I'm only saying that they're worthy of consideration, especially when dealing with shadow material.
Regarding the killer's work, I'll say this: I have no plans on reading it. Writing is not only about words; it has everything to do with energy. Even as I write this entry, I'm conveying meaning on a variety of different levels. The best writers are conscious of these levels and can work within them. The rest still work with it, but they usually end up exposing or sabotaging themselves. Sort of like a subliminal message of sorts.
A well-known serial killer could write a happy song, and I'd still be creeped out. I suspect that you'd be weirded out as well. You may not know why, but you'd feel it anyway.
So while his work might've been disturbing, I'm willing to bet that people picked up on the subliminal stuff. A happy kid could've written a violent story, and no one would've thought a whole lot about it, other than "Gee, I wonder where that came from."
It's not the topic, it's about energy and intention. Unfortunately, we don't work within a subtle culture. Everything is literal. It makes me wonder how many other writers will now be castigated for choosing unpleasant topics. Quite a few, I bet.
Congrats to Brett Blackledge at The Birmingham News for winning a Pulitzer.
"... Actually, I believe that we were all put here for a purpose. I think, sometimes, when I am depressed, that I was put here to write, act and think and to help others.
But now I look at it like the whole world being composed of salt and pepper. With this in mind, I can safely admit that I am here because I am part of the human race. My higher power can use me any way he'd like but my general purpose to be here is because I am here. I used to toy with the idea that because people only use 10% of their total capacity of thinking that they must only think, see, feel, smell, taste 10% of the earth."
--- a writing journal from February 24, 1987
I wrote that passage when I was 16 years old. My high school teacher made us keep writing journals. The first 5-10 minutes of class was spent writing whatever we wanted to write. Then, we'd move on to our normal assignments.
For years, I kept the writing journals in a plastic envelope, stuffed with old high school poetry and stories. As an attempt to get my papers into some kind of order, I leafed through the envelope. I was surprised what I saw.
These poems were the ones that got me into college. It certainly wasn't my C average or my SAT scores. Yet, I've kept everything hidden in a closet. It wasn't meant to be taken seriously since I was young and silly.
Last night, I developed an appreciation for the poems. It changed the way I viewed my history.
There was a fearlessness back then, along with an authenticity. And yes, innocence. I've long associated innocence with stupidity. Experience was the only anecdote.
But along with experience came cynicism and pretention, which can only hinder good writing. And good living.
While an online dictionary defines innocence as a lack of knowledge or understanding, it also means simplicity. It could also be an openness of sorts.
Innocence is required of all creative endeavors, yet it's not exactly a celebrated quality. Is it?
To write, act and think and to help others... The most influential people in my life have taught me to help others. My first writing mentor told me that, in the end, that's all life is really about. He was right.
The way you live your life can help or hinder your creativity. Remind me about it every now and then.
"Author Kurt Vonnegut died. He wrote such novels as "Slaughter-house Five" and "Cat's Cradle," none of which I have read."
--- The news, as read on an Alabama radio station yesterday morning.
