Once

In July of 2021, I decided to read Station Eleven, you know, like a moron. It was a wonderful book, but just reminded me of the real world too much. If you haven’t read it or seen the Discovery+ show, one of the main storylines involves a traveling orchestra and acting troupe, visiting towns that were struggling to survive a worldwide pandemic.

It was with that in mind that I journeyed through the farmland of New Jersey and beside the Delaware river along eastern Pennsylvania and through the summer foggy mountains of south western New York to the mythical town of Ithaca. And in Ithaca, I went to a park. A park on a lake. And the park had a theater, the Hangar Theater. But the theater was closed. But they had created a new theater for strange times. And in this outside theater, as the sun set, and a hot air balloon passed, and the frogs sang, I watched Once, the Musical. 

Heath Saunders and Julie Benko delighted as the young musicians who form a fast friendship. Once is a celebration of music, and the way music can celebrate our uniqueness as well as our similarities. It also celebrates immigration, the value it brings to all of us, in music and every part of our lives. And second chances, which only the luckiest of us get.

My luck knew no end that July, as I was able to see one of the few performances not cancelled by the weather, even as our folding chairs sat in puddles from an earlier storm. That was also the July that I met an immigrant who taught me new music, but that’s a different story.

The cast was perfect, I really believed these were young people who wanted nothing more than to share their voices and celebrate just being alive. Of course, Heath Saunders shined as a lovelost Irish songwriter, trying to find his inspiration again. And Julie Benko showed that she will soon be a star, as an immigrant mother who just needed a little help on her way to a better life.

If you ever have the chance to drive three hours to see those two share a stage, I highly recommend it.

Kuhoo Verma, Sounds of Healing

My first return to 54 Below was for Kuhoo Verma, whose last show was the last time I had been to 54 Below. She was calling her show, “Sounds of Healing,” which was something we all needed about then, roughly fifteen months since the theater shutdown.

I’ve been avoiding using the word “shutdown” lately to describe any response to the pandemic. My store closed a few days before the official closure of non-essential businesses and we kept up precautions long after other stores abandoned them. Big box and grocery stores never closed even in the most safety minded areas. In many areas there was basically no precautions made, we really did not do the bare minimum to protect ourselves. But broadway and the theater world really did shutdown. The theater world really took the harm of everyone else’s mistakes, and they were hurting.

I consider myself lucky for being one of few to see Ms Kuhoo perform that night, in a reduced seating 54 Below, with an audience first venturing out into a modicum of normality. 54 Below had been a classic New York cabaret. Appropriately garish faux antique fixtures a red glow couldn’t help but remind me of Masque of the Red Death.

Ms Verma had given one of my favorite performances of the Before Time. In Octet she played a young person who may have been online too much but had not fallen to addiction yet. Her song, sung along to her own fist beating her chest, was a final chance at joy after an evening of seeing the harsh corners of the internet. This evening was all about bringing joy back into the world.

My knowledge of the actual music is lacking, these are personal choices of Ms Verma, but each one was heartfelt and sweet. Towards the end, she led us all in a sing along of I am Light by India Arie. She led by singing the song in the most beautiful melody I have ever heard, allowing us to follow her. I still feel that energy within me, getting through these months. I can’t control the world, I can’t control how the world sees me, I can’t make people I love take care of themselves, I sometimes can’t do the best things for myself, but I am light.

It’s not realistic to see every show I want to, but I will always feel privileged because I got to witness Kuhoo Verma bring light back into the world. 

Alexis Molnar Sings The Fiona Apple Songbook

Fiona Apple’s first album came out when I was fifteen years old. That is a lie, but it feels right. I was eighteen, the summer right before starting college when Tidal was released. But truly, weren’t we all fifteen when we first heard Criminal, or Shadow Boxer. We were all driving a hand-me-down car when we first heard Sleep to Dream.

We were all not prepared when she took multiple years to produce new albums, each one perfect with no filler. While other fandoms would wait and hope that this year’s contractually obligated album would give them one, maybe two, decent songs, Fiona would make you wait until everything was perfect.

When Tidal came out, Fiona Apple was the only Apple in pop culture. By the time When the Pawn… came out, Steve Jobs was back at work. When Extraordinary Machine came out, iPods were gaining traction and the very first podcasts were being made. When The Idler Wheel Is… came out, we were already on iPhone 5 as the sole repository of all music. When Fetch the Bolt Cutters came out, we were all going back to vinyl. In other words, Fionamaniacs are accustomed to our patience being rewarded.

I was pleasantly surprised when I became aware of the large Fiona Apple fandom amongst the current generation, who are still being affected by her poetry of joy, anger, and passion. Just as everyone who listens to her for the first time is fifteen years old, Fiona Apple is always twenty-one, full of energy, and capable of changing  the world. My gut opinion and hope is that this new fandom is different than the fandom of “older” music when I was a child. When I was in middle school all the cool kids listened to The Doors and The Who, two bands that it’s very easy to outgrow, protesting the establishment, but only for selfish and patriarchal reasons. I just don’t feel like people outgrow the emotions Fiona Apple sings about, even if they’re most intense when you’re fifteen.

Seeing a celebration of Fiona Apple’s music at the end of June 2021 was a good way to dip my toes back into live theater, which was a major part of my life just sixteen months earlier when I was seeing some type of show every two weeks. I had actually seen this particular show, Alexis Molnar Sings the Fiona Apple Songbook, in December of 2019, several months before the world ended and Fetch the Bolt Cutters was released. It was the first in a long list of performances I had planned for that fully vaxxed summer.

It wasn’t my first time returning to the city, but it was my first time going into the city for a relaxed leisurely evening. The show was at Don’t Tell Mama, a classic down stairs piano bar with a back room stage, on a street of small trendy restaurants with packed street booths. Two drink minimum, I ordered gin and Diet Coke.

Walking through the narrow front bar, I was slightly unnerved by the maskless drinkers, but had solace in the fact that they all had to show proof of vaccination to get into the club. Spoiler event: to this day I have no evidence that I ever caught Covid.

The back room of Don’t Tell Mama is comfortably cozy, with three rows of small tables, it’s own bar, and a stage big enough to hold a piano and a decent sized band. The decor is modern “we have an extra room in the back” with black tables and chairs. Very few of the people in attendance were old enough to remember public indoor smoking, but even without that memory this venue was built to be smoke filled.

I was seated, and ordered a Diet Coke and guacamole, which was all served before the performance. I was next to Natalie Walker, who recognized me immediately after sixteen months, which is a nice trick that I wished I knew, especially since I was now wearing glasses to show that time had passed.

Alexis Molnar walked out, shrouded in the confidence of her character, Fiona Apple at her most ferocious, potent, innocent, and fragile. Business suit feminine power transcendent. She proceeded to work her way through what she called the Fiona Apple Song Book. Not just her hits, or even what some might call her best, but the songs that will be remembered and cherished and sung for generations. Some were from my youth and easy to identify, Fast as You Can, Sleep to Dream, and Criminal. Others I hadn’t appreciated fully appreciated until seeing them live like Daredevil or Valentine.

The previous time I had seen this performed, Ms Molnar tried to light a match and extinguish it in her mouth, but failed lighting it. I’ve seen video of how cool that look, but alas, the match did not light this time either. No matter, she shrugs and tosses the match, the fire is still there. Her voice and movements are choreographed perfectly. When she kicks in the air, we know why. When she jumps from dizzying heights, there’s a reason. When the jacket comes off, it had to come off not one minute sooner or later. I can only wonder at the amount of time spent on choreography, on interpretation of raw emotions, on band rehearsal and planning, on acting choices, on practicing razor blade and tiny hand tricks, and on the song selection (I’m sure many difficult decisions had to be made).

The ten song set moved along quickly. A highlight was Extraordinary Machine, which gave Ms Molnar’s facial expressions a chance to shine. A quick change, and she radiated in red, filling the room with joy, gratitude, and relief at a job well done.

It was partially here and at her next show that made me realize something about performance that I’ll speak of in that review.

Naked in the City (Doug’s story)

This is part of the story from Doug’s point of view, as well as a continuation.  It is actually partially true to what really happened.  After the slight raunchiness of the first section I wanted to make just a sweet love story that can even be read standalone.

 

Dear Amy,

    I know, I’ve been too busy to keep in touch, starting up in NYC with a new job has been really hectic, but I don’t want you to think I’ve forgotten about my favorite summer camp girl.  How are things in California?  Well, I’m in love.  Amy, I need your advice and encouragement.  I know you’ll ask, so I’ll just tell you the whole story.

    Girl number one is named Melinda.  She had an apartment but needed a roommate just as I was looking for a place.  So, we moved in together.  At first, I thought she was kind of an OCD queen; she wrote a long list of rules for me, like I was from another country and never even saw a girl, but she was cute enough and the apartment was nice enough that I decided to put up with it.

    She turned out to be pretty nice.  She does have the mouth of a sailor, and you know about me and casual cursing, but she was actually able to clean that up a little for me.  Works been tough, I’ve been really just trying to hang in there until I get promoted to management, and it’s been really great to come home every night and relax.  She’s really great at relaxing and makes unbelievable meatballs.

    We managed to avoid most of the usual problems that a guy and girl have living together.  I didn’t have any problem bringing a girl home, and she had a cool boyfriend.  We did end up seeing each other naked, but I got lucky with that too.  She saw me after a hot shower, and she had an ego boosting grin later; I saw her when I was leaning on a counter in the kitchenette and she ran from the bathroom to her room with just a towel around her head, so she doesn’t even know that I saw her.  I can already hear you calling me a perv and then asking how she looked.  Well, I’m not a perv, it was an accident, and she walks around half naked most of the time anyway.  Oh, and she’s a babe.

    I broke up with my old girlfriend, Ginger; you would have hated her if you ever met her.  You know me, I took it harder than I should have, and Melinda was really there for me.  I will not go into details but she definitely knew what I like to hear and see.  I think that was as close as we came to just doing it, but I was drunk and stupid.

    Then, well, I fell in love.

    I had to go to London for two weeks to report on the branch over there.  It was the best two weeks of my life.  On my flight, I met a girl.  If I try to describe her, it’s going to sound hokey.  When I sat down next to her, I had a breathe of her perfume, and it took real effort not to sigh.  She had on an over-sized brown, Irish knit sweater, with her long, slender neck just peeking out, and her delicate hands totally hidden as they cuffed each other.  This was juxtaposed by her frayed denim shorts, exposing the most perfect legs I’ve ever seen.  Early on, she caught me looking.  Laughing, she crossed them, and whispered, “If you feel like looking at my face, you can tell me your name.”  I was avoiding looking at her face, because I didn’t want to stare.

    Her face.  Can you spare a year while I talk about her face?  A tiny nose, with five freckles, just slightly upturned.  Well-manicured eyebrows that she plucks as a meditation.  Her lashes curl and flutter, endlessly flirting with me.  Brown eyes, like sipping on hot cocoa, sweet and warm.  Her ears are so kissable, I might be obsessed; each one has a single diamond stud, and five other pierced holes, abandoned from her youth; plump, succulent lobes.  She has the slightest, little dimple on her left cheek that appears only at her biggest, most genuine smiles.  I’m prepared to spend the rest of my life earning those smiles, emanating between her soft lips, from the mouth whose words and deeds make life worth living.  Her hair is so long and thick that my hand gets lost in it as I caress her golden brown locks.  Her cheeks are like blooming pink roses, she blushes at the slightest embarrassments.

    “Hello, my name is Gabriela, and then you say,” she smiled as I tried to fight my way out of awkwardness.

    “Hi.”

    “And your name is?” I actually thought it was going well, because she was still smiling.

    “Oh, I’m Doug, are you going to London?” I ask the girl sitting next to me on a flight to London.

    Two hours later, I regained my confidence and ease.  We discovered that we were both staying at the same hotel for the same two weeks.  Half way over the Atlantic she had all my free time planned out, knowing all the best bars, clubs, and restaurants in London.  She kept touching my arm as she talked, laughing and blushing as I smiled at her every word.  I longed for every instance of turbulence as she would grab my hand, blush and apologize.  My great act of courage came five hours into the flight, when I took her hand after she pulled away.  She just smiled at me, like someone given a gift; in half a second, she gave me a peck on the lips.

    I said, “Glad I did that.”

    She said, “Silly bear,” which turned out to be my new pet name.

    Amy, I went for it, I just completely fought through any trepidation and went for it.  I’m getting ahead of myself.

    When we were descending, she put her head on my shoulder and hummed, she does it to distract herself.  After we landed, she reached over and we had our first real kiss.  We agreed to meet at the taxi stand, just in case we got separated, and share a cab to the hotel.  In the cab, that’s when I just said exactly what I wanted to happen.  I asked her if she wanted to share a room that night, and just take it by ear the next day.  She had a small smile, tapped her fingers on my shoulder, and tilted her head while she thought.  She said that it sounded like a good idea, but that she would need to rest from the plane, so I couldn’t expect any fun stuff.

    Gabriela was able to convince the front desk that our reservation was messed up, and that we were supposed to just have one room.  We ended up using her per diem, which was not receipt based, on entertainment and going to nicer restaurants while we were there, but I’m jumping again.  I chickened out and crashed on the room’s couch, while she curled up on the bed.

    We awoke at 3am, London time, and just wandered around the hotel’s garden.  We had breakfast together, and then went our separate ways to work.  That night, I couldn’t wait to see her, and, well…it was a lot of fun.  And that’s the way it went for two weeks, two incredible, passionate, sweet weeks.

    I’m not sure when it was exactly that I fell in love, maybe it was the first time I made her laugh or when she agreed to stay with me.  I realized that I was in love with her when I was working.  Normally, on these trips, I just want to get all my work done and hope that I can go home a few days early, but that was exactly what I didn’t want this time.  When I finished all my scheduled work early for a day, I didn’t want to stay and try to get further ahead, I wanted to get back to the hotel and hope that Gabriela was already there.  For the first time in my life, when I woke up next to a girl, I wanted to stay there; I wanted to keep my arms wrapped around her.

    It was two days before we would both be leaving.  We had both said that we loved each other, and she had the most delicate glow as we were walking through a village that she knew had a romantic little tea house that she was never able to go to before.  We were discussing our schedules to figure out when we would be able to see each other again in the coming months.  She lives in Chicago but was willing to make the trip to come to New York for the weekend.  That’s when I said, “Why don’t we just get married.”  She stopped in her tracks, and I immediately tried to convince her, telling her that I really loved her, and that I could get a transfer to Chicago.

    She smiled and I shut up, “Silly bear, mister lawyer man, try to be more romantic.”

    So, I got on one knee and proposed to her properly, and she said yes, and we had tea as fiancés.  My bosses are very understanding of family men, and I knew that they’d let me transfer to our Chicago branch, even if I would still have to come back to New York regularly.  I would have to give up a lot moving half way across the country, but Gabriela was worth it, even if I had to quit my job.

    Saying goodbye was really difficult, she had four more weeks of traveling to go, while I was coming back to the States.  She’s going to come here in two weeks, and we’ll plan out everything.  It’s been real tough, time zones and work have made even phone calls difficult, but nothing is changing, it’s not the kind of love that hurts, it’s the kind that lets me know we’ll be together soon.

    So, now I’m reverting back to my old self with other people, shy and timid.  I’m having real trouble telling Melinda what’s going to happen, that I’ll be moving out.  The past two weeks, I’ve planned it three times, I was going to get her drunk and relaxed, with a good movie, and just tell her, but I chickened out.  The thing is, I’m afraid that she’s going to get pissed at me for leaving after a few months and just throw me out, and I’m still going to need this apartment for a while.  So, I need one of your patented motivational speeches, a little kick to say what needs to be said.  Thanks Amy.

 

Doug

 

PS Save the date of July 14^th

Drowning (an anti-poem)

I feel the world crushing down on me,

And I really mean that,

It feels like a there are a thousand gallons above

And everyone of them is trying to enter me,

Every aquatic demon is pulling at my feet

As I desperately try to fight

The most basic laws of nature,

This is not a complex metaphor

or a simile really about time,

I’m drowning in the ocean,

And could really use a lifeline

Flower poem (that rhymes)

apparently the poem was supposed to rhyme.

 

Flowers have many petals

and a man has many loves

I don’t care about any others

just you, my little dove

flower poem

a poem  about “a flower”

 

I pulled the petals,

one by one,

Until the love of a girl

Was verified, scientifically

And then I thought

How much nicer it would be

To have that flower back

collective nouns (Something I like)

Collective nouns are all those special words that we use for groups of specific things.  These include everything from a murder of crows to a load of laundry.  I like these because they basically make the english language much more complicated, but also more poetic and wondrous.

Some of them are easy to forget as special, a deck of cards, a fleet of ships, and a forest of trees are so common that you can forget about them.   A murder of crows, a pride of lions, and a gaggle of geese are more recognizable.

There’s some controversy whether a murder of crows was really ever used or if it was just invented placed into the language.  Part of the magic of collective nouns in the english language is that there is some leeway on what you can just invent, as long it makes sense in some way.

So, i’m going to invent a few of my own, feel free to add your own.

A disaster of politicians

A lyric of poets

A triumph of awards

That Macy’s commercial is a LIE!!!! and yes Andrew McCarthy is part of it

Many people have opined that the new Macy’s commercial, celebrating their place in pop culture through the last century, was the highlight of a lackluster Emmy’s night.  Others have pointed out that they paid for their appearance in those reality show so they shouldn’t count, which isn’t really fair, since they paid for the parades too, and they most likely paid for most of their mentions.

My problem with the commercial (and I do like the concept) is the use of a clip from Mannequin.  You might have missed this clip, because it is the only clip that does not have it’s own audio.  It is just a second of the late Estelle Getty walking with Andrew McCarthy down an aisle.  Mannequin (a truly bad movie) did not take place at Macy’s (so, obviously there would be no clip of Macy’s being mentioned), it took place at a fictional store, called Prince and Company, and was filmed at the department store Wanamaker’s (where my great grandparents had their first date, btw), in Philadelphia.  The store became a Macy’s in 1995, but it was not at the time of filming.  It has no real, pop cultural connection with that terrible, terrible movie at all.

Outline (Monkey trial)

Okay, here’s my advice for the world of writing: Always make an outline.  It really helps.  I didn’t realize it until late in college, but once you have an outline, you just need to fill out the rest with a few sentences to make paragraphs, and that’s easy.

So here’s my outline for my play (first act so far) on the Scopes Monkey Trial based on the actual facts of the trial:

Four actors and a table.

scene 1: Rappleyea family in dayton waiting for father to get home.  The kids hate Tennessee after moving from New York.  The wife is trying to hold everything together for her family.  The father comes home and they talk about how there isn’t enough money for a carnival to get in some outside people to the town.  He takes out a newspaper and sees the headline for the new Tennessee law, making the teaching of evolution illegal.

scene 2:  Basically just a scene to get the story going: The newly formed ACLU in NYC.  the members are furious as they look at the paper.  they brainstorm a way to fight what they see as an affront to free speech.  They decide to buy a full page add in the Ohio paper, offering to pay for the legal fees and any fines incurred by someone that defied the law.

scene 3: might be the most important scene of the play, setting up the whole premise that the whole thing was orchestrated: the city council is having a meeting, and one of the members is reading the paper with the ACLU ad in it.  They decide that having this high profile trial will bring in the media and much needed money to the town.  Scopes mentions that he’s substituting as biology teacher at the school and says that he thinks the law is stupid and would be happy to try teaching evolution.

Scene 4: quick scene showing William Jennings Bryan entering the prosecution: WJB is reading a newspaper about the arrest of Scopes and decides that this is a good chance to get back in the public spotlight.  He collects his team and heads for Dayton.

Scene 5: The final scene of act 1 introduces Clarence Darrow: Rappleyea goes to NYC to recruit Darrow to lead the defense.  Darrow talks about putting the law on trial in a misdemeanor case.  He first brings about attacking creationism, and the need to bring the media on their side.

End act 1