If my calculations are correct (and my use of the word “calculations” is perhaps overreaching since I’m talking about basic arithmetic, here; but in the age of newfangled technological devices like “calculators”, I’m fairly impressed with myself when I can count to ten without assistance), there are nine days remaining of 2009. Which means there will never again in my lifetime be double-aughts following the first digit of the year.

(or in anyone else’s lifetime, lessen someone figures out that whole immortality thing in the next 900 years without humanity extinguishing itself first, which I suppose someone very well may; a thousand years isn’t all that long, after all.)

For some reason, my brief encounter with double-aughts after the first digit of the year, and the end of this brief encounter, mean something to me.

It occurred to me a little too late to really consider exactly what it is that the double-aughts means to me, or why I might miss it, but I’ll speculate here, briefly, and then move on to discuss exactly what it is that had me wide awake four hours after drifting off, when I could have actually slept in today and gotten a full night’s sleep (whatever that means), had my body only permitted me to indulge.

So, a brief speculation on the Significance of the Double Aughts.

Hrm, well, from a purely aesthetic standpoint, there is a lovely symmetry in the two zeros between the first and fourth/final digits of the year; not only a symmetry, but a space, a breath, between the chaos of the years…

(okay, I’m enjoying totally overanalyzing this: I live for this shit!)

So, the two zeros in a sense hold the center, provide an anchor of serenity and space in an otherwise tumultuous world of concrete value and cold calculations -

The Double Aughts represent a sort of breathing space, the eye of the storm, an opportunity to write a stabilizing force, a  counterbalancing neutrality, into each day.

Now, we will no longer have that reassuring serenity and breathing space written into the code of each day.

Now, I suppose, we are fucked.

(I don’t really think we’re fucked, not any more than we usually are, at any rate, but it seemed like a nice, snappy way to end my Speculation on the Significance of the Double Aughts.)

And now I believe I had told myself I was going to arrive at the thoughts that had me awake earlier than I intended this morning (nothing particularly exciting or revelatory, so please don’t get your hopes up) -

Well, since I spent so long on an unanticipated bloggery detour (the speculation on the significance of the Double Aughts), I will make this next bit very brief:

I have been thinking of late of two themes, possibly titles, for a series of work — could be two series of work, or they could combine into a single series. And by “series” I mean a series of scenes, or short pieces, or maybe just a single play. I really don’t know, only that I’ve been mulling over it for quite a while now, and found myself thinking about it of late.

The two themes are: 1. catalog of Failure; and, 2. the excavation series.

I use “failure” not in a pessimistic way, but I find instances of failure so much more interesting than instances of success; I find I generally learn more from failing than from succeeding (using the words “failure” and “success” in the fairly traditional, obvious sense; not the “oh I thought this thing was a failure, but in reality it was a success because x,y and z happened as a result”), and failure also makes for some funny shit. Also, Failure tends to make a Human that much more relatable. Not that I’m anti-success: go success, it’s awesome. But I’m talking, here, about ideas for something I’m working on. This is nothing new, I’m just thinking about it – perhaps I’m drawn a bit too much to silver linings, here, I don’t know. We’ll see.

The Excavation Series is something that could be entirely different or could be, as I said, part of the same thing. In any case, these are two ideas I’m tossing around, as the final days of 2009 continue apace.

And I suppose, before the year is out, I will do some end-of-year accounting, & take stock, & express bewilderment, and gratitude, and pissed-offedness, and all sorts of things, to properly review the last year from my own, Totally Self Absorbed Perspective (TSAP).

so a few things that i want to talk about, in typically erratic fashion:

1. back to the graveyard -

this is a new solo show i’ve been working on, the first live-performance draft of which took place in September 2008, but which i’ve performed in various incarnations since at Footloose’s Shotwell Studios (January 2009), Bindlestiff Studio’s Single Shots at Thick House (April 2009), and APICC’s festival at SomArts (May 2009). i’ll be doing graveyard again June 19 – 20th 2009 as part of an Artist In Motion residency at Footloose’s Shotwell Studios. Look here’s a link for info: http://whiskeyandacigarette.org/calendar/index.php?op=view&id=288

i’ve been gratified by the positive and enthusiastic response i’ve received for this show – it’s a completely different solo show than my solo play Lydia’s Funeral Video, and it’s been fun and exciting to work on the new project at various venues & with different audiences. i also had the chance to work with directors Ellen Sebastian Chang & Pamela Wu Kochiyama on the most recent incarnation of the show, and before that i had input from Allan Manalo, the artistic director at Bindlestiff, and others – anyway, it’s an ongoing process, and i’m looking forward to doing the show again in June. which leads me to:

2. Laundry Party -

this is an artist salon series that my friend & musician Sadie Contini and i started in January 2009 – the idea was to gather artists/people-who-do-stuffs in various disciplines (including music, theater, writing, film, photography, website development, microphone-cable-making, cooking…), give us all a mini-deadline to generate material to present, and hang out. (the “laundry” part really has nothing to do with it – it was a good name in search of an event, but its meaning is open to interpretation; basically like the name version of a rorschach test.) so far we’ve had 10 Laundry Parties, and 2 LP publics, and we will be having another LP Public on Saturday, June 20th, at Shotwell Studios. (i already provided the link, but here it is again: http://whiskeyandacigarette.org/calendar/index.php?op=view&id=288)

LP will run from 9pm – 1am, since it will still involve the party part, this one somewhat self-centeredly serving as an LP Public & Celebration for my new bicoastal, grad student lifestyle (that’s number 3, but before we go to that) -

LP has been enormously helpful in terms of generating work – i will be reading three pieces written/developed for/by LP this Friday & Saturday (5/28 & 5/29) as part of Eth-Noh-Tec’s story jam event at SomArts. look, here is a link: http://whiskeyandacigarette.org/calendar/index.php?op=view&id=271

LP will also be expanded to include NY peoples/events/parties. yay.

3. re-positioning myself

i am re-positioning myself, and my way of communicating the way in which i am re-positioning myself. i’ve mentioned in earlier rambles that i am moving my corporeal self to NYC to pursue an MFA in playwriting at columbia. while this remains the case, it is ALSO true that i will remain SF-based in spirit and, sometimes, in action. so i am re-positioning my message of re-positioning to emphasize that i am embarking on a bicoastal lifestyle – i will be in sf & nyc, and will continue to think of myself as an sf-based writer & performer, as well as, now, a nyc-based writer & performer. this understanding is very important to me! i’m madly enamored with the communities and peoples with whom i work & play (sometimes, often, there is little distinction) here in the bay area, and i simply can’t bring myself to truly leave, period. so, i’m merely expanding my sphere of activity.

okay, glad i got that all of my chest. and now onto experiencing the rest of memorial day

I have run out of coffee. In running out of coffee, I realize again that I drink too much of it, probably more than even a typical caffeine-addict, and that I’ve come to think of coffee as a sort of brewed magical elixir that fortifies my spirit. This can’t be true; especially not of the cheap tasteless sludge I’ve been drinking of late – but I still imagine it’s true, and somehow that fiction makes my day better. If that’s the case, then I suppose the lies I’ve been telling myself actually assume a truth of their own, wielding incredible powers in the world of Me. At certain times, these are the only truths that matter.

the conversation i had with a friend was basically:

what prevents me from writing and posting more frequently is not, as Random Blog Intruder would have you believe, that i need to believe there is someone worse than me at it before i’ll do it; what prevents me from writing & posting more frequently is that i hate the idea of contributing to the oceans of cyberwaste spewed out by millions of bloggers with crappy grammar, spelling, and rehashed ideas that hold little or no interest for your average web surfer.

kind of like this blog.

and if there’s something important to post, there’s probably some one of the same opinion and perspective who’s faster on the draw, more articulate, and has a better-analyzed position. and i hate to be redundant. waste of time.

on the other hand, this isn’t a real-time meeting in which people actually take up precious minutage of my life rephrasing what someone else has just said because they feel the need to be heard and speak up, regardless of not actually moving the conversation forward or adding any new insight or bit of information; this is the internet, or something like that, whatever the kids these days are calling it, and no one is actually being forced to sit through this rambles section. so there’s no reason for me to feel like i’m wasting any one’s time. if you’re reading this it’s because you choose to be here. and you could be at any other site, and you can leave whenever you want to. and most likely HAVE already left and will never read the end of this sentence.

ah, liberation. now i am free to spew about whatever i wish, and rant about my hatred of insurance companies and U.S. support of Israel even though countless other internet ‘hos rant about their hatred of insurance companies and U.S. support of Israel, for similar reasons.

i don’t JUST hate insurance companies. it was just lying there, waiting for me to use it as a forinstance.

hrm. i think i need to write a manifesto of some sort. but first i should look up “manifesto” and make sure i know exactly what the fuck i mean when i say “manifesto.” i’d hate to be sloppy.

next: the ongoing progress of band name development, or BND, as The Band calls it.

a friend of sorts tells me they can see me conducting experiments with alcohol, and after feeling somewhat offended by the crappy quality of the photographs on the site, i concede that this kinda remark is justified, given the one-dimensionality i seem to have achieved in certain quarters, with certain people.

a part of me weeps inside, while another makes a mental note to perhaps one day change the domain name of my website.
and in other news, cary tennis, in his salon column, has one of the more succinct & unpretentious writerly identity statements i’ve seen in a while:

Because, of course, like many other writers, I hate myself. I just fucking hate myself. I hate my writing. I hate my writing. I hate my writing. I hate my fucking voice in my head. I hate all the voices in my head. I wish for nothing so much as silence and contentment, but I have to keep talking because I believe if I keep talking I stay alive. If I stop talking, I die. That’s how it is. So I hate my fucking self, but I can’t stop talking and I can’t stop writing and I can’t stop these fucking voices from rehashing funerals from my childhood and visions of Christmas dinners, because I think if it stops I’m a dead man. It’s all in there all the time hashing itself out. It’s a life form. Language is a life form. Language, speech, imagination, it’s a parasitic life form that burrows in and takes over.

And of course when I look at what I’ve written, I hate it. It’s a bunch of fucking garbage! So what’s new? Am I the only fucking writer who hates himself and hates his writing? Hell no. It’s a sport. It’s a national anthem. It’s a way of life.

It’s our way of life.

indeed. anyway, that’s all for now.

my friend seelight reminds me that it is useful to take an accounting and record it somewhere, whether or not anyone but yourself and a select few give a shit.

so, a random accounting of my 2006, and possibly i’ll wait until lunar new year’s to do a more organized one. today’s post shall be short, with a list of moments/activities/happenings of 2006 that were and remain hella defining and shit for me:

LIST O’ THINGS THAT WERE & REMAIN HELLA DEFINING & SHIT FOR ME IN 2006 (PART I)

not in order of definingness, nor in chronological order. can i help it if i think outside the box?

1. performed in my hometown, new york city, for the first time, at laugh factory in times square (12/8 and 12/9). part of a ridiculously exhilarating week back home.
2. performed in lost angeles, for the first time, the first trip somewhat triumphantly and part of a similarly (yet not at all similar, in some respects) ridiculously exhilarating few days (4/21 and 4/22 performance days), and the second trip quite the opposite (5/12ish).

3. five comedy/writing honors that i remember: a) having one of my scripts read at berkeley rep as part of the playground program (3/20); b) being awarded an individual artist commission from the san francisco arts commission, for 10k, to write a solo performance piece; c) winning $200 for a rooftopcomedy.com contest, like best set of the month or something like that, for a set i did 3/31 (so far 2916 views); d) being a semifinalist at the funniest female competition, which isn’t necessarily the highlight of a career, but it was the first comedy competition i took part in (4/22); e) being accepted again into playground writers pool.
4. performed at places i’ve wanted to perform at–punchline in san francisco, san jose improv, cobb’s, purple onion, laugh factory in LA, laugh factory in NY, the improv in brea, ca.

5. still don’t have a great comedy DVD. pisses me off.

6. not accepted into a bunch of things i submitted dvds/applications, whether for comedy or writing or some other thing.

7. missed a bunch of deadlines for stuff i wanted to apply to

8. something for which 8/3/06 is very important, but not for public consumption

9. started this new website, with the genius and generosity of derek chung

10. had a lot of personal drama, but learned much, as one is wont to do when it comes to personal drama, no? thank god for anguish & joy

11. found a drummer who seems to want to stay with the band formerly known as bantercut, still playing with the same bassist/guitarist, found a new lead guitar for The Band. all very good

12. seem to have defined myself one-dimensionally as a cigarette-smoking, whiskey-drankin’ fool–possibly not the best career move, but ah well. it was unintentional (and don’t go giving me shit about the site’s name; whiskeyandacigarette is a state of mind, not a state of physical being, a’ight? christ.

13. moved into a new neighborhood and new apartment, and love it.

14. dramatically improved relationships with my family, to the point where i’m quite giddy about it.

15. started a martial art.

16. didn’t die or succumb to despair or depression.

17. had the honor to be in a play, “walls,” and experience the best cast/crew experience of my life.

18. not for public consumption (but has to do with ten years).

19. not for public consumption (but has to do with the value of an end).

20. not for public consumption (but has to do with the dangers of certain substances).

okay. that’s a good random list for now, i think.

resolutions, i don’t know if i’ll make them, but i think i shall. don’t know if they’ll be for public consumption.

i just marked 278 comments-in-moderation for this rambles as spam.

i was sad to do it, as the spambots’ comments have been quite encouraging. one particularly astute spam observer called my november 3, 2006 post, “dead babies & documents: helllllllsa humorous,” “right on target,” and others sent me a host of encouraging notes: “keep ‘em coming,” “great blog,” and so forth. i’ve been brimming with pride, and gratitude, plus i’ve received great links about the best places to purchase viagra and cialis for all my erectile dysfunctional needs.

anyway, there are no longer any posts in moderation, but i wanted to take this opportunity to thank all the spammers in the world, for keeping me busy, and keeping me humble.

mad props, spambots.

it’s christmas eve; pleasant and solitary for the time being. i’ve spent hours already trying to figure out, so far unsuccessfully, how to create and upload torrent files so i can be a valuable member of a file sharing community (my aspirations of true geekhood are, apparently, still going strong, in spite of my clearly limited talents); i’ve generated a list of people to whom i want to write and send Cards Actual; i’ve dug up old and purchased new thank you cards to use as greeting cards, because i found these particular cards the least aesthetically offensive; i’ve had coffee, some pho, and am currently downloading a battlestar galactica episode and listening to music on shuffle.

none of this, of course, matters much. but i thought i’d record it anyway.

i spoke with a friend who arrived safely in philadelphia earlier this evening. she reminded me that my oceans of ignorance are vast and uncharted, a phrase i’ve found myself repeating fairly often of late. i think it’s mine, but i’m sure others have used it before. for the sake of being petty and proprietary all at once, i’ll stake a claim to it and say i invented it; go ahead and send me hate mail saying otherwise, originality of thought isn’t really the issue here.