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Lookin for a Ring Dang Doo
May. 29th, 2006 08:52 amYou can have your gold and your diamonds too
Alls I want is a ring dang doo . . .
Sorry, what was last up? Oh, yeah, script then rehearsal.
So, rehearsals. How to feed this beast and make the work of the last few days sound interesting? Scriptwriting all day Thursday to try and have a complete draft for Friday -- didn't happen, but got enough done for work. Friday, full cast rehearsal, started at the top of the show, went through what we'd done for about 3/4th of Act I, working in new things, people who hadn't been at other rehearsals. so forth.
Saturday, rehearsed three of the smaller musical numbers in the show with the groups of 2 and 3 doing those -- all of them came together faster than I'd thought they would; thank god they're all under a minute-thirty. They're not really quite what I had in my head, but they're close enough, and I don't quite have the skills/confidence at this point to fully stand there and do full-out choreography for musical numbers as I'd like (actually, the most "dance-y" of the three, "Efficiency," is pretty damned close to what was in my head, still); I like them, and they work, and now I have three musical numbers in the show that are "ready" (with more rehearsals), and are really really funny, just as I want them.
I have the skills but not the confidence.
I got a mojo and some voodoo too
But I ain't never found a ring dang doo . . .
Sunday, full cast again -- last time for a while unfortunately; ah the joys of Off-Off-Broadway scheduling -- and walking through the remainder of the show, then more musical number work. Notes taken, now I know what I have to write for the rest of the script, and exactly what I have to stage from here on out. Berit and I can also start making up a real list of what we're gonna need for the whole thing, too. So, we're where we need to be, at least.
We're also just getting through the point in the rehearsal process where I'm sick of the whole thing and don't want to go on any more and certainly don't want to do this show. This happens every show. Every show. I get tired of it and just want it to stop. Usually, though, the whole thing has been completely written and staged and planned out by this point, so even if I don't want to do it, the whole thing is really on auto-pilot and I couldn't stop it if I wanted to, so I can relax a little bit and step back from the work before becoming engaged with it again. This time, I have to keep working and making the thing, no matter how I feel.
Luckily, I always only feel this way outside of the rehearsal space. I dread going to rehearsals, but then when I'm there, I perk up and feel like I'm doing what I should be doing in this world and everything's going fine, and I like being there with the actors and working. Then I leave and I start dreading the next rehearsal.
Well I was down in New Orleans
Lookin for a ring dang doo
I fell in love with a girl in blue jeans
Lookin for a ring dang doo . . .
It was worse on Saturday than it is usually, too. Something was up in my head. I get depressions, sure, I'm used to that by now, I have to deal with it -- unpleasant, uncontrollable, but familiar. Saturday was something different that's only happened a couple times before, and is very strange and unsettling -- I was having inappropriate and disturbing emotional reactions to things around me. Like the wrong switches were being thrown in my brain, the wrong connections being made. Sudden uncontrollable sadness, fear, and anxiety for no reason, and triggered by anything and everything around me. The charming and funny kids' songs playing on WFMU's "Greasy Kid Stuff" show were triggering fear; Berit's attempts to cheer me up were making me incredibly sad, and going to rehearsal was provoking incredible anxiety, for example -- but it was everything around me.
Then I got there and started working with actors and everything was okay. Seems to be the only way to get through it when, as Berit puts it, "my brain is broken."
From Mexico to the Philippines
Lookin for a ring dang doo
Well I've drunk with peasants and I've dined with kings
Lookin for a ring dang doo . . .
Well, working with actors on the show or singing a lot of loud, old rocknroll. Wish I had a way and place to plug in my Les Paul and play REALLY FUCKING LOUD whenever I needed to. I've just heard two live versions of "Sweet Jane" in the last half-hour and just wanted to grab one of my guitars and play that riff for as long as I could.
Instead, I have Berit's new computer and the joy of iTunes as my downtime, relaxation pastime. I'm loading in vast selections from the CD collection, in alphabetical order -- I'm up to "RE," 5303 songs, 17 GBs thus far. Loading in just things I'd like to have come up in a random shuffle (eliminating many long and dissonant pieces; not all, you need some, but they have to be more "special" the longer or more dissonant they are). Berit and I have been discovering things about our musical tastes listening to all of this on random, mainly that we have and like a lot more folk and blues than we would have expected, as opposed to guitar-based rock. Interesting. Also discovering how many albums I didn't think much of are comprised of songs that sound great coming up randomly. A new way of listening to/thinking about recorded music.
Berit and I seem to be together in no small part because we laugh at the same things and like to listen to most of the same things (though she hasn't appreciated the huge quantities of Elvis Costello I've put in, or most of the post-1968 Captain Beefheart). The mixing of our musical collections/tastes, and listening to all of what comes up randomly that way, has been somehow moving for me.
And Hooker-cat has decided to help by sitting on the open CD cases and nudging the giant stack of CDs to be loaded, or my cup of coffee, off the windowsill, while Moni-cat helps by jumping on and off my lap constantly. Ah, the little dears . . .
Well people call me crazy every single day
Lookin for a ring dang doo
But I don't care what people may say
Lookin for a ring dang doo . . .
Well, one thing I know for sure in this world -- there is not nearly enough Sam the Sham & the Pharaohs available on CD, no way.
Enjoy your holiday. I'm seeing some of my parents. Give some of yours a call or something, if you're so inclined.
I don't know what it looks like
Or what it can do
I gotta find that ring dang doo . . .
Alls I want is a ring dang doo . . .
Sorry, what was last up? Oh, yeah, script then rehearsal.
So, rehearsals. How to feed this beast and make the work of the last few days sound interesting? Scriptwriting all day Thursday to try and have a complete draft for Friday -- didn't happen, but got enough done for work. Friday, full cast rehearsal, started at the top of the show, went through what we'd done for about 3/4th of Act I, working in new things, people who hadn't been at other rehearsals. so forth.
Saturday, rehearsed three of the smaller musical numbers in the show with the groups of 2 and 3 doing those -- all of them came together faster than I'd thought they would; thank god they're all under a minute-thirty. They're not really quite what I had in my head, but they're close enough, and I don't quite have the skills/confidence at this point to fully stand there and do full-out choreography for musical numbers as I'd like (actually, the most "dance-y" of the three, "Efficiency," is pretty damned close to what was in my head, still); I like them, and they work, and now I have three musical numbers in the show that are "ready" (with more rehearsals), and are really really funny, just as I want them.
I have the skills but not the confidence.
I got a mojo and some voodoo too
But I ain't never found a ring dang doo . . .
Sunday, full cast again -- last time for a while unfortunately; ah the joys of Off-Off-Broadway scheduling -- and walking through the remainder of the show, then more musical number work. Notes taken, now I know what I have to write for the rest of the script, and exactly what I have to stage from here on out. Berit and I can also start making up a real list of what we're gonna need for the whole thing, too. So, we're where we need to be, at least.
We're also just getting through the point in the rehearsal process where I'm sick of the whole thing and don't want to go on any more and certainly don't want to do this show. This happens every show. Every show. I get tired of it and just want it to stop. Usually, though, the whole thing has been completely written and staged and planned out by this point, so even if I don't want to do it, the whole thing is really on auto-pilot and I couldn't stop it if I wanted to, so I can relax a little bit and step back from the work before becoming engaged with it again. This time, I have to keep working and making the thing, no matter how I feel.
Luckily, I always only feel this way outside of the rehearsal space. I dread going to rehearsals, but then when I'm there, I perk up and feel like I'm doing what I should be doing in this world and everything's going fine, and I like being there with the actors and working. Then I leave and I start dreading the next rehearsal.
Well I was down in New Orleans
Lookin for a ring dang doo
I fell in love with a girl in blue jeans
Lookin for a ring dang doo . . .
It was worse on Saturday than it is usually, too. Something was up in my head. I get depressions, sure, I'm used to that by now, I have to deal with it -- unpleasant, uncontrollable, but familiar. Saturday was something different that's only happened a couple times before, and is very strange and unsettling -- I was having inappropriate and disturbing emotional reactions to things around me. Like the wrong switches were being thrown in my brain, the wrong connections being made. Sudden uncontrollable sadness, fear, and anxiety for no reason, and triggered by anything and everything around me. The charming and funny kids' songs playing on WFMU's "Greasy Kid Stuff" show were triggering fear; Berit's attempts to cheer me up were making me incredibly sad, and going to rehearsal was provoking incredible anxiety, for example -- but it was everything around me.
Then I got there and started working with actors and everything was okay. Seems to be the only way to get through it when, as Berit puts it, "my brain is broken."
From Mexico to the Philippines
Lookin for a ring dang doo
Well I've drunk with peasants and I've dined with kings
Lookin for a ring dang doo . . .
Well, working with actors on the show or singing a lot of loud, old rocknroll. Wish I had a way and place to plug in my Les Paul and play REALLY FUCKING LOUD whenever I needed to. I've just heard two live versions of "Sweet Jane" in the last half-hour and just wanted to grab one of my guitars and play that riff for as long as I could.
Instead, I have Berit's new computer and the joy of iTunes as my downtime, relaxation pastime. I'm loading in vast selections from the CD collection, in alphabetical order -- I'm up to "RE," 5303 songs, 17 GBs thus far. Loading in just things I'd like to have come up in a random shuffle (eliminating many long and dissonant pieces; not all, you need some, but they have to be more "special" the longer or more dissonant they are). Berit and I have been discovering things about our musical tastes listening to all of this on random, mainly that we have and like a lot more folk and blues than we would have expected, as opposed to guitar-based rock. Interesting. Also discovering how many albums I didn't think much of are comprised of songs that sound great coming up randomly. A new way of listening to/thinking about recorded music.
Berit and I seem to be together in no small part because we laugh at the same things and like to listen to most of the same things (though she hasn't appreciated the huge quantities of Elvis Costello I've put in, or most of the post-1968 Captain Beefheart). The mixing of our musical collections/tastes, and listening to all of what comes up randomly that way, has been somehow moving for me.
And Hooker-cat has decided to help by sitting on the open CD cases and nudging the giant stack of CDs to be loaded, or my cup of coffee, off the windowsill, while Moni-cat helps by jumping on and off my lap constantly. Ah, the little dears . . .
Well people call me crazy every single day
Lookin for a ring dang doo
But I don't care what people may say
Lookin for a ring dang doo . . .
Well, one thing I know for sure in this world -- there is not nearly enough Sam the Sham & the Pharaohs available on CD, no way.
Enjoy your holiday. I'm seeing some of my parents. Give some of yours a call or something, if you're so inclined.
I don't know what it looks like
Or what it can do
I gotta find that ring dang doo . . .
