FLOP TIME

On Broadway

Hello Sunday people. I’m still in NYC working on a musical. I am finally having a day off after a long, intense few weeks (attached to several other intense months). I’m flopped on the bed in my hotel room like a chalky, flappy  inner tube waiting to be patched. It feels empty and somehow right. I’m at a reflective, non-PPSI state of being. I am, of course, thinking of Palestine. Thinking of home. Thinking about you. Thinking about making an effort to remember the good in a time of horrors. Let’s think.

This week was crammed together, but its layers were like an almond croissant; buttery and sugary inbetween. I want to remember these layers. There was a great deal of teamwork and camaraderie. New faces and old, laughter and tight scrutinizing faces. The bad metaphor is that we are a team of Dr. Frankensteins trying to bring our shared monster to life. Our monster is not completely kind… which is why I chose re-animation over birth as a bad metaphor, which they both are, haha! The Dr. Frankenstiens agree about 60% of the time and in the other 40 there is sometimes crabbiness, loud arguments and disagreement, but never disharmony. It is a safe castle laboratory to work in. I can’t say it’s perfect, as yesterday I had to hijack my day from a little temporary negativity which I managed to do. I strongly recommend this! Think of yourself as an invisible pirate (another bad metaphor) coming in to forcefully, but kindly, regain the steering of your vessel. 

What does that look like? Take yourself (or make yourself) lunch BY YOURSELF. Decompress. Write down what’s bugging you. Leave it there on the page. Seal it by having your favorite beverage. Then, write down the great stuff you did, or that happened and where you want your ship to go. (Don’t be afraid of bad metaphors! Haha! They are effective!) Take that with you for the rest of your day. This doesn’t always work, but why not chance it!? Luckily for me, it did work yesterday.

Pushing an idea, or guiding that idea through a problem is mostly uncomfortable. It takes draining hyperfocus and the willingness to shut off the world for short periods of time. It’s really hard. Sometimes it glides like a duck through the water and sometimes it belly flops. You have to be ok with being nude and embarrassing in front of your team. You have to find your own nudity genuinely hilarious and love yourself at the same time. There will be stress-eating. You have to be willing to ask near strangers for very difficult, possibly insulting things. Pride has a place here, but it has to do a very mincing, yet sincere dance. This is where we, as a group, have to be willing to laugh at our dreams. They are not the most important thing on Earth… at least not as shining, singular trophies. No dream is worth a shit unless it’s helping the other dreams along too. We know this, and that liminal “dream fish ladder overlap” is what we aim for together. 

This last week I have seen the performers try their hardest, wanting to get every note on the page pitch perfect. Not because they want to be hot rods, but because they realize they are part of a living fabric. They care about the story. I admire them with an adolescent zeal. I have to be cool around them. This is not because they are unapproachable, they are anything but, they just care so much. When I realize that some of the performance they care about was written by me I have to go in the bathroom and cry a little. Sometimes they catch me off guard and I cry right in front of them, hahaha! It’s crushing to have people of such astounding ability elevate something you make. I will never take this feeling for granted. I am hyper-present, trying to stitch this feeling into my DNA. For survival.

What is your joy right now? What is a feeling you won’t take for granted?

Looking at where I am standing to appreciate where I am standing and why. (Also, pants are never long enough for me!)