reading/books

There was a reading of my play He Asked For It at the Celebration Theatre tonight which was really productive. An awesome group of actors, and a talkback afterwards that was great. I often find talkbacks rambly and unhelpful because you have to wade through a lot of contradictory opinions, but tonight's discussion was really good--there are a few scenes in the play that need some work and I know what I want to do to them now.

I don't usually write about writing stuff on the blog because that's not what the blog's about. But honestly, I don't really know what this blog's supposed to be "about" right now. For its first year, it was all about "new things." Then it was all about Uma's brain. And now...I guess it can just be about whatever I damned want it to be about--but still, I feel like it needs some sort of definition, some sort of mission statement. And I don't know what that is. It'll evolve, it'll find itself. I'm just mentioning the blog's identity crisis as an explanation for my lack of blogging the past month. (Yesterday's long rambly post notwithstanding.)

BUT back to my play reading, the reason I started writing this post in the first place, which I bring up because during the talkback one of the audience members mentioned that he's part of the AIDS Dissident Movement (the play follows several characters who have HIV) and he was wondering why I didn't include that viewpoint in my play. Now, I've heard of AIDS Dissidents, but honestly I didn't know much about them, and I didn't really know what to say to this guy, other than the truth: the Dissident movement has nothing to do with the story I'm telling in this play. But then I came home and did some googling and read more about this so-called movement (the Dissidents basically believe that HIV doesn't cause AIDS) and it totally freaks me out. They're like the Holocaust deniers, except AIDS isn't something that happened sixty years ago. It's happening now, people are still getting infected at alarming rates, it's bigger than we want to admit. We're already too damned complacent about it as it is--we don't need people going around denying the problem. It's scary and dangerous and upsetting.

*

After the reading, before the googling, I spent a few hours organizing books in my new apartment, and I cannot begin to express how satisfying I find the simple act of alphabetizing my books.

They've been in storage for two years and every time I open up a new box and pour through its contents I get these waves of excitment, like I'm being reunited with all of these old friends.

(Is that the geekiest thing ever, or what?)

The time Will Ferrell and I were mistaken for each other, and other finds

I know I said that this blog is on a break (and IT IS on a break), but my step-dad wants me to make some space in his garage and get rid of a few boxes, so I've been looking through boxes, right? And these boxes are, like, old. And I'm finding the most amazing things. And I can't fucking throw anything away because this shit is just TOO GOOD.

I don't have the patience to use my scanner right now (sorry) (but this isn't a real blog post anyway) (so i figure you'll forgive me) (and besides, I just came back into the house to write this quick post--that's how exciting these finds are--and I'd have to go back into the garage and climb back up the ladder and re-open the boxes I already closed back up in order to scan these amazing finds, and honestly I'm just too lazy this morning) (it's because i spent saturday moving all of my books up into my new apartment) (after carrying 40 boxes of books--yes, 40--no exxageration--my whole body is like "fuck you and whoever taught you how to read) (i don't think i spelled exxageration right, but i'm too lazy to spellcheck) (THAT'S how lazy i'm feeling today) (wow) (oh my god i love my new apartment and i totally forget what i was writing about) (ummmm, reading back...) (oh, right, okay, so I'm too lazy to use my scanner, etc., etc., blah, blah, okay) but I still want to report back to you, my blog readers, about some of these amazing relics I just unearthed in the garage:

--a note from my step-mom, written seven years before she was to become my step-mom, congratulating my mom and my dad on their new baby, along with a note she wrote to me telling me that she was visualizing me being strong (I was born eight weeks early and not in very good shape at the time)

--a scrapbook filled with newspaper clippings of all of the reviews of the plays I acted in as a child, including one that mistook me for Will Ferrell. Or Will Ferrell for me, rather. When I was a kid, I took acting classes at SCR and acted in several of their Young Conservatory productions, which would get reviewed by the local papers. Okay, so, one of the first YCP shows I did (I think I was fourteen) was a production of Pinocchio, which starred a bunch of kids like me, and Will Ferrell. This was several years before he joined Saturday Night Live--several years before he joined The Groundlings, even--but Will Ferrell was still Will Ferrell to all of the kids in this play. He was the only "adult" in the cast (he must have been in his early twenties) and I remember thinking he was the funniest person I'd ever met. (And one of the nicest people, too--we all loved Will.) My point is: Will was super funny, so our director decided to use him as pre-show entertainment: while all of the kids and their parents were coming into the theater to find their seats, they'd find Will already on-stage, sweeping. He'd tell the kids that he was the stagehand and he was getting things ready for the show and once he'd engaged a few kids in conversation, he'd riff with them. And all of us kids who were IN the show would all be huddled around the monitor backstage listening to Will because he was freaking funny. (When I heard he'd been cast on SNL, I was like: "duh.")

Anyway, so I found this box of reviews in the garage, and of course I stood up there on the ladder for thirty minutes reading all of the reviews, and one of the reviews is a total pan, they have absolutely nothing nice to say about the production EXCEPT that they mention that the stagehand "played by Erik Patterson" is hilarious, and a stand-out, and the only reason to see the play. The review doesn't mention Will Ferrell at all. THEN, on the next page of my scrapbook, there's a retraction that basically says "in last week's review of SCR's Pinocchio, we mis-identified the actor who played the stagehand as Eric Patterson. Actually, the role was brilliantly played by the brilliant Will Ferrell, while Eric Patterson, who we don't really remember, and whose name we aren't even going to spell correctly in this retraction, actually played a role credited as 'Townsperson' and did we mention that Will Ferrell was brilliant?" Of course, I'm paraphrasing, but that was essentially what the retraction said. I realize I'm about sixteen years too late, but I kind of want to send them a letter asking for an apology for misspelling my name. ("In the 1991 review of SCR's Pinocchio, we misspelled...")

--the novel I wrote in eighth grade! THIS IS THE MOST EXCITING FIND. I thought I'd lost this. It's terrible, of course, but I'm really impressed that I had the persistence in eighth grade to write EIGHTY PAGES. I wrote this during my Stephen King phase, so the book is a total wannabe Stephen King novel. I need to get back to the garage, but I'll leave you with the first chapter of my first (and so far, only) novel (which, by the way, is completely insane) (and remember that I wrote this during my Stephen King phase) (and also remember that I was fourteen and weird) (and also note that this novel written fifteen years ago proves that I've been a fan of parenthetical statements for a long time) (okay, enough ado):

Untitled novel

by a fourteen-year-old Erik Patterson

William Shepard never knew terror before. He still doesn't -- not yet, at least. Terror will come soon. Very soon. [I'm going to write in some commentary because I can't hold my tongue, and also as an ode to Sheila's Diary Fridays.] [I love how melodramatic this opening beat is. "Terror will come soon. Very soon." Ha. Nice, Erik.]

"William get up! You're late!" His mother can be annoying at times. "Get up and go to work! You are late!!" At least she's persistent. [Okay, so...William has a job, so he's probably an adult, yet he still lives with his mom? Oddly prescient. Maybe I was trying to prepare my own mother for that fact that I would move back home myself when I was twenty-seven.]

"Okay mom. I'll get up." He gets out of bed sluggishly. His body feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.

William's mother, Melanie, has four children. Besides Will, the oldest at nine-teen, there are Daniel, Stacy, and Alexis. Daniel is an oddball eight year old who collects bugs, studies them, dissects them, and sometimes

(but only when they're squirming breathing they're [sic] last breaths of air crying for help help help)

eats them. If you said he wasn't obsessed, you'd be wrong. He is. Bugs are his life. [Do you like how the narrator suddenly becomes schyzto??? Just wait, there's so much more schytzo to come]

Stacy and Alexis are the twins. Besides the obvious fact that they are both fifteen and in the 9th grade [which is so obvious, Erik--why'd you even feel the need to mention it?], they are exact opposites. Stacy is the popular one. She only cares about her hair, looks, make-up, clothes, high heels, and last, but definitely not least, boys. Boys, boys, boys. Johnny this and Chris that. She has boys growing out of her ears. Stacy is up to her neck in boys. [Pick a mixed-up metaphor and stick with it, Erik!] It would be an amazement if she only went out with ONE for a week.

Alexis isn't so lucky,

(oh but she will she will she will be soon as lucky as stacy wild thing)

if you can call Stacy lucky. [I'm so creeped out by this weird second narrator in the parentheses. And even though I was still years away from even admitting to myself that I was gay, I totally think that Stacy and Alexis were, like, manifestations of my inner gay debate team. Like, I secretly WAS boy crazy like Stacy, and wished I could express that. But in reality, I was just not-so-lucky Alexis.] [Who, by the way, I'm certain was named after Alex P. Keaton, because this was written at the height of my Michael J. Fox obsession.] When Webster thought of the word "tomboy," he was thinking of Alexis. Alexis is more likely to be referred to as Alex because she's just "one of the guys." Also, her entire wardrobe is black. Black shirts and black sweatshirts and black pants and black shorts and black socks and black shoes and black hats and black underwear. [Okay, Erik, I think we get the point: the girl likes to wear black.] Black and black and black. [Seriously, we get it already.] It's all black. [Dude, you're not Dickens, getting paid by the word. Ix-nay on the ack-blay othes-clay.] It's as if she's mourning life. [I just want to point out that I didn't read any Chekov until college, so this wasn't actually an ode to The Seagull's Masha, it was just me being really brilliant and Chekovian.]

Before Will can finish his breakfast, a half a piece of toast, his mother nags him to go to work. [Again with the mother nagging him to go to work!] [And how long can it really take to eat "a half a piece of toast"???] He leaves the crust on the plate and throws it into the sink. The plate rattles like a two-headed coin, unsure of which side to land on. [Young Erik, you were a weird young dude. You decided to personify the plate???? Why is this moment so important??? Just send your protagonist to work already.]

"Go now. Get us some money so your brother and sisters can eat. Can you do that for me? Just once, can you make me happy?" [Wow, mom's kind of a harpy.]

"Mom, I want to talk to you about something. I want--"

(to move out have sex with my girlfriend in my own bed instead of at the drive-in the car on the seat popcorn spilling king kong roaring) [I remember thinking this book was so brilliant, I was totally going to be the next Stephen King. But I can't help but be really weirded out by myself as a fourteen-year-old. "sex with my girlfriend" and "king kong roaring" in the same strange character thought parenthetical? I have no comment, but: gross.]

"Not now. You're going to be late." She shoves him out the door and slams it shut behind him before he can respond.

"Good morning to you too, Ma," [Ma????? When did he become a hillbilly???] he says under his breath as he starts to walk down the wet streets. It rained last night. Will heard the rain parade against the roof. Thunder rattled the windows and woke something up inside Will. He had an eeiree [sic] feeling that sent shivers down his spine. The trees glisten in the sun as they sprinkle raindrops into newly made puddles.

Plip plop. Drip drop. [I am not making this up. I have eighty pages of this.]

William works at the Fistita Movie Theater. [The FISTITA???] It's only a short walk away from their house (so is everything else in New Amitee). Will's the person

(along with carla motor mouth johnson oh she gives will a headache) [So let me get this straight, Erik: some of these parenthetical statements are first person thoughts, and some of them are third person? Okay...]

who cleans the building before it's opened to the public, and between each movie. You may call him a janitor, but he prefers custodial engineer. It's a shitty job either way you look at it, Will thinks, but with each day, and each paycheck, Will comes closer to a place of his own. Will has had to take care of the family ever since his father ran away with another woman and his mother started to lose it. They'd been faving an affair for six years. Six years! That's seventy-two months, two-hundred and eighty-eaight weeks, or two-thousand and sixteen days. [Thanks for the math lesson, Erik. Hey, what's Alexis' favorite color to wear? Was it black?] It's enough to make Will sick.

(but you threw up remember all over the videos lost your job remember had to take this shitty job remember) [Okay, wait, so are these parenthetical's supposed to be, like, the devil talking to Will? I'm getting a random vague memory that maybe they're supposed to be the devil. I guess I'll just have to keep reading to see.]

Will wonders when they saw each other. Could all of those business trips have been fake? Was he really with Samantha on all of those trips?

He finally decided to make her dreams come true and shatter his wife's in the process. They moved to Paris. [In the margin, I've written a note to "change this, make more realistic."] When he was married to Melanie, she always complained that they didn't go anywhere. They hardly ever even left New Amitee. "That lowlife, rotten, son-of-a-fucking-bitch" is how he is referred to at home. [I remember being excited that "writing a novel" meant I had the freedom to swear as much as I fucking wanted to, because that's what novelists did.] Well, that's what their mother calls him. The kids don't refer to their dad at all. Will thinks about him as he scrapes gum off of the bottom of the movie seats. [Dad, don't read anything into this!]

An uneventful day [oh, but terror will come soon--VERY SOON], besides finding two quarters, a nickel, and one of those annoying pins that plays a little tune every time you touch it [huh?], under a seat at the Fistita, brings on the night. [Fourteen-year-old Erik, that was a terribly confusing sentence, even before twenty-nine-year-old Erik went in and added his thoughts.] The night brings only dreams and darkness. [Of course it does.] Lately, darkness and dreams have been especiialy common to Will. [Hmmm, what kind of darkness and dreams? Maybe you want to be more specific.] Black darkness and terrible dreams. [That's better.] Terrifying dreams. [You don't say? Maybe because TERROR IS COMING SOON.] The kind of dreams that leave a taste in your mouth and won't

(ever ever ever)

go away. Tonight is no exception. His dreams always start out wonderful, but they end............

[I hate reading about dreams, even in novels. Except for in Crime and Punishment, those are some pretty groovy dream sequences. Anyway, I'm annoyed at my fourteen-year-old self for making me have to type in this boring dream sequence. Feel free to skip ahead if you're still reading this and you don't want to read about some fictional nineteen-year-old's dark and terrifying dream.]

He is sitting on his bed flying through the sky. A dove lands at his feet. It sprawls in the sheets and looks at Will with bright, blue eyes. Then it soars off into the night. Clouds rush through his face and give him a natural high. Bright and shiny stars are within grasp. They give off a glowing radiance too wonderful to describe in words. The world goes on forever. The sky is endless. The ground is miles away. A flaming comet rushes above his head and warms Will's heart. Sparks bounce onto the bed, only to whither away and die. The feeling of the air engulfing his body leaves a chill up his spine. Will has reached Nirvana. He could sit here forever. It seems like he does. [Seriously.]

The bed begins to decline in speed and lose altitude. It's falling into a pit of fire. Hot, raging, monstrous fire. It's alive. The same dove he saw before flies above the fire and is eaten by

(daniel)

the hot fit of flames. Blood bursts into the air

(on his face his hands his mouth his)

as the bird explosed. Will closes his eyes

(wipes off the blood spits it out of his mouth)

and refuses to open them ever again. [I don't remember who Daniel is supposed to be, maybe he's a devil character. Gosh that dream really set us up for a lot of terror in the pages ahead, didn't it?] [I find Will a rather to be melodramatic character. Um, closing your eyes and refusing to ever open them again? Grow up and go to work, Will.] [Oh, wait, I just remembered Daniel is the oddball eight year old who collects bugs, studies them, dissects them, and sometimes (but only when they're squirming breathing they're [sic] last breaths of air crying for help help help) eats them. So wait, the kid eats doves too? Dude is seriously anti-peace.] But he does open his eyes. He opens them when the bed halts to a stop ten feet above the massive flames and starts to spin. [Wait, so he opens his eyes and HE'S STILL DREAMING???? Make the dream sequence stop!] Slowly, at first, and then it picks up speed. The scenery is changing faster than his sister, Stacy, ever could. [Poor Stacy. She's such a slut. Why can't she be more like Alexis and wear black for a change.] Things go by too quickly for Will to figure out what they are. Then everything stops. The world. The sky. The bed. [Hello, melodrama.] William knows where he is. [I think it's funny that sometimes he's "Will" and sometimes he's "William" and it's completely arbitrary. But back to the dream...Will knows where he is, eh? I'm gonna guess he's in hell.] He knows it well. [Okay, maybe not hell.] Will is in Jellison Park. [But...Jellison Park??? What the fuck is Jellison Park??? It sounds too much like Jellystone, too, and now all I can think about is Yogi Bear.] He used to come here when he was a child. Behind that old oak tree he had his first real kiss. It was with Christina

(oh chris i love you chris i love)

Ramsey. [Notice how I gave the girl love interest character a name that could be shortened into a boy's name? I was so gay.] This is where he broke his leg when he was just ten. Another child shoved him off of the monkey bars. He landed on his leg, in the sand. [That must have been hard sand to break his leg.] He heard a snap and was rushed off to the hospital. [This novel is filled with non-sequitors. My favorite one is coming up, about some kid named Johnny Peterson.] That day, he vowed revenge on Johnny Peterson, the kid who broke his leg. He got his revenge years later, for this was where he had his first fight. The fight was with Johnny, but Will can't remember what it was about. It was about something stupid--not about the leg--at least Johnny didn't know that it was about the leg. Some present problem started the fight, but the past fueled it. [Geeeez, Will really held a grudge against that kid who broke his leg. It was probably an accident. I feel sorry for Johnny Peterson.] What was Will doing here now? [Are we seriously still in the dream sequence. Holy crap, this dream is going on for an eternity. I totally need to get back to sorting through boxes in the garage, but instead this dream is like "yadda yadda yadda."]

Just then, he noticed a man leaning against the very oak tree that he had stood by when he received that kiss from Christina. Mr. Samson, the high school principle [sic] lay limp, blood dripping from his mouth. Mr. Samson was

(dead oh my god he's dead you wished he was dead and now oh my god he's dead)

and Will felt no regret for the man who put him through all those hours of detention. [But narrator dude, this is just a dream, remember? Or did you forget that Will hasn't woken up yet?]

"But it's not my fault, is it? I mean this is only a dream, right?" [See, I told you it was just a dream.]

(your dream your wish and now it's come true you wished he was dead and now oh my god he's dead) [Oh, so maybe it ISN'T a dream??? Whatever happened to Stacy and her boycrazy ways? I want Will to fucking wake up already and go check out boys with Stacy at the mall. Maybe they could even buy Alexis a new outfit, something with some color.]

"Oh my God! All the blood! Did--"

(dan ate him but he eats bugs not people he eats bugs bugs not oh my god he's)

"Only a dream, only a dream!"

With a rush, William wakes up from his dream. [Finally.] No, nightmare. [Thank you for the clarification.] Sweat is streaming down his face. The clock says one A.M. [William goes to bed really early for a nineteen-year-old. Back when I was nineteen I rarely got to bed before two. But then again, I guess William has to get up early for his job and all. Still, if he's going to bed early, you'd think his mom wouldn't always nag him so much about waking up, which can be really annoying.] Will is too frightened to go back to sleep. Instead, he sits and stares at the cottage cheese ceiling trying to make pictures out of it. But Will can't stop seeing blood. [Is this the terror? Did the terror finally come?]

"Will, wake up. Mom's got breakfast ready," yells Daniel from the hallway, snapping Will out of his daze. [I think Will should take a little bit of money from his next paycheck and buy an alarm clock.]

"I'll be out in a minute--just get away from me!" Will's body shivers.

(mr samson you ate mr samson and now oh my god he's)

Will doesn't want to get up and face his family. [After all, his mom nags too much, one of his sister's is boy crazy, one of his sister's wears too much black, and his brother eats bugs and apparently people--who would want to get out of bed and face that? I mean, really.] He feels like all of the worlds' problems

(death death death)

are weighing him down. [Will really just needs to take, like, a chill pill. Or eat some ice cream. Or, seriously, go to the mall with your sister Stacy and check out guys. Just lighten up! Enough with the "death death death" and woe is me, terror is coming, crap.]

Will showers, dresses, and joins his family in the kitchen.

"Well well. If it isn't my number one son. What took you so long?" [As if she's not used to having to nag him for twenty minutes before he gets out of bed.]

"Hmph," Will grunts. "Where's the paper?"

"Here. It's so awful. They found your old principle [sic] dead last night. It's right here in the newspaper. Check it out. Eaten by the looks of it. They say he was missing an arm." [Have some compassion, lady!]

(eaten by the looks of it eaten eaten by daniel)

"He can't be dead. This can't be true."

"Sure is. Right there in black and white. The paper doesn't lie."

(not when someone is dead eaten by dan) [That made me laugh out loud. I love how obsessed he is with this weird notion that his eight-year-old brother ate his principle (sic).]

William walks into his room, locks the door, slumps down, and cries. Until he falls asleep again. [Wait, you're not going to work today??? And you're not afraid to go back to sleep??? What if you have another dream about your brother eating someone else???? Don't go back to sleep!!! More terror will come!!!]

*

That's the end of Chapter One. The first line of Chapter Two is: "Once asleep, the dreams begin again," and I can't bear to read any more.

break

I've been reading...
I've been writing...
I've been moving...
...but I have not been blogging.

I'll get back into the game one of these days, but for now I guess lets say My Year of New Things is taking a summer break.

To my Los Angeles readers...

Is there anyone out there who has a really comfortable sofa that you're just dying to get rid of???

If so, I'd be very happy to take if off your hands.

Thanks.

my new apartment

I'm moving back to Los Angeles! Specifically, I'm moving to Highland Park. I looooove my new apartment. I'm obsessed with it. I can't wait to have a housewarming party, to have my first guests. I'll have one soon.

This is not really a blog post, I just wanted an excuse to post some video footage of my new home (with a cameo by Uma):

a phone call

I just talked to Uma on the phone for eleven and a half minutes! She's doing really good. Fuck, that was an exciting phone call. I'm just jazzed about it. We talked about how absurd life is, and about the future, and about some family stuff. And we didn't really have to play the "guessing game" at all--she was finding so many more words than even the last time we saw each other, which was on Saturday.

That felt so good. I had to share.

5-2-95

I know the blog's been practically silent for weeks. Mostly because (1) I've been busy with life, and (2) and I just haven't been feeling the blogging vibe. I feel like I'll get the vibe back, I just need a breather.

Anyway, the vibe ain't really completely back yet, but I've been sorting through boxes in the garage and I found something that I have to share. (Why am I sorting through boxes, you ask?) (Because I'm moving on July 1st!) (To the fucking awesomest apartment.) (It's in Highland Park, which is basically Eagle Rock, but supposedly less trendy.)

I've been looking through boxes that haven't been touched in DECADES and I just found this small spiral notebook. Only one of the pages has been used. It's dated 5-2-95, which means I wrote this at the end of my junior year of high school (so cut me some slack):

*

5-2-95

--TV Pilot Idea
--ONE hour drama
--setting, foundation: The journalism staff putting togethor (sic) a newspaper for a college.
--Cast: group of twenty-somethings, plus two adult advisers
--Follows all of their personal and professional lives (at school and trying to put their lives together) as they begin to find out who they are. But also there is a common throughline -- they have to put together a newspaper.

*

I love it because it's so utterly vague and earnest and boring. I can just imagine the pitch meeting: "So where does the show go after the first episode?" "Oh, you know, there's a common throughline -- they have to put together a newspaper." And then: crickets. (Actually, substitute "newspaper" with "late night comedy show" and you basically have Studio 60.)

Thank god I've learned how to express my ideas in the last twelve years, 'cuz this one sure wasn't gonna get me anywhere.

*

A few other things random things found in boxes tonight:

1. two rulers that proclaim: "my orthodontist keeps me straight" (mine certainly didn't)

2. the Howard the Duck soundtrack on audio cassette (yes, that's how much of a dork I am--not only did I see Howard the Duck FOUR TIMES in the movie theater, but I also owned the audio cassette tape of the freaking soundtrack)

3.

4. a jar of nickels (just nickels)

5. a set of Twin Peaks collectible cards (one of them signed by Wendy Robie, a.k.a. Nadine, a.k.a. the inventor of the world's first completely silent drape runner)

6. "Diane...The Twin Peaks Set of Audio Tapes," yes, on audio cassette. This was a collection of all of Kyle MacLachlan's "Diane..." monologues from the show, including some that he recorded just for the tape. (I am in Twin Peaks Geek Heaven right now.)

7. all of my high school I.D.s, including the fake I.D. I bought from Mujibar and Sirajul when I was fifteen. (I was on a high school drama trip to New York and I decided I wanted to get drunk for the first time, which I did, successfully, at Don't Tell Mama's.) (They didn't card me, and if I remember correctly I drank: 1 gin and tonic, 1 rum and coke, 1 rum and hot chocolate, and 2 pina coladas.) (I got unbelievably drunk.) (Here's the funny part: they didn't card me until...I paid for my drinks with travellors checks that said my real name on them, and then they asked to look at I.D. to verify the travellors checks and I gave them my fake I.D. that had a fake name on it. At that point, I'd already drunk their drinks and they just wanted my money.) (By the way, my fake I.D. was the worst fake I.D. in the world.)

raising money to pay for Uma's speech/physical therapy -- help with your VOTE, not with money

Please go to:

THE ROBIN HOOD FUND

and register with the site, so you can vote. It's super quick and easy. Once you've registered, please vote for Uma at the following link:

VOTE FOR UMA HERE

The voting is based on a star system. Please give Uma 5 stars! The winner gets 500 bucks. If Uma wins, the money will go towards her therapy bills.

Thank you kindly.

*

In other news...

FURTHER PROOF THAT I AM A SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD GIRL:

My current two favorite songs are

(1) U + UR HAND by Pink

and

(2) GIRLFRIEND by Avril Lavigne

True story.

8 things

I got tagged by Rob to list 8 random facts about myself. I haven't been blogging enough lately, so I figure a meme is as good a way to get back into the game as any. Here goes. (And, by the way, these facts are so completely random I don't know where they just came from.)

1. I hate cheese. Most days this doesn't really come up. But this one time, I was in France (this was just after graduating from high school, I lived in the south of France for the summer) and on the first day I was there, the family I was staying with offered me the proverbial French Cheese Tray. I'm polite, so I tried to eat a piece of cheese, but French cheese is, like, out of control, and I couldn't even swallow it, and I gagged it into my napkin, and it was totally embarrassing. The family I was staying with, however, continued offering me the French Cheese Tray at every single meal for the rest of the summer. I hate cheese.

2. In 2000, I worked for a day as an extra on ER. I was dressed as a paramedic and the 2nd A.D. told me to just stand at the end of the hall, while Dr. Greene ran past me. But just standing at the end of the hall didn't seem like something a real paramedic would do, and I noticed that I was near a wall-phone, so I picked it up and pretended to be on a call. I kept waiting for someone to be like, "what's that paramedic doing, we never told him he could use the phone," but no one stopped me. About a month later, coincidentally, I temped as an assistant for one of ER's EP's and I noticed a box of dailies on their way to be recycled. I surrepticiously rifled through the box and found the dailies from my day on the set, and, well...let's just say I got to be all: "look! There I am talking on the phone! And look--there I am talking on the phone again!"

3. I owned every single Garbage Pail Kid ever made (about 2000 unique cards) until they decided to start producing NEW cards in 2003--part of me really wants to start collecting again, so that my set will truly be complete, and another part of me is like: "you're a dork."

4. If I was given a choice between having the power of flight or the power of invisibility, I would choose the power of invisibility. For snooping purposes.

5. The first play I ever acted in was A Christmas Carol at SCR in 1988. I had one line of dialogue: "But it's Christmas Eve, Mr. Scrooge!"

6. I have really bad gaydar. I was at a party recently and I met this guy and this girl, and the guy was really cute, and I was totally flirting with him, and then the girl mentioned that they were about to move in together, except, for some reason, when she said it, I thought she meant that they were just going to be roommates. Honestly, I don't know how I could mistake "we're moving in together" for anything other than "bitch, we're a couple, stop flirting with my man," but I totally didn't get it, and I continued to flirt with him, until about an hour later when I asked the girl if the guy was single and she was like, "um, what part of 'we're moving in together' don't you understand?"

7. I once drove away from a gas station with the gas pump still in my car. I heard a loud clanging sound as I pulled out of the gas station, but I still didn't realize what had happened. Then, in my rearview mirror, I noticed the gas station attendant running after me, so I pulled over, and that's when I saw that my poor little shit-brown Mercury Topaz (RIP) had a motherfreaking gas pump for a tail. Whoops.

8. One day I want to have a home with a wrap-around porch.

Okay, one of the requirements of this meme, apparently, is that you're supposed to tag 8 other people. If you've already done this meme before, hit us with 8 new things. (And I'm tagging people I don't really know that well, a few people whom I've only met on the blogosphere, but I really enjoy reading your blogs, so I hope you'll play along.)

Tagged: Kyle, Chad, Sheila, Sheila, Willam, Michael, Annie, and Anderson Cooper. (Come on, Anderson--make my day.)

My Year of New Things goes digital

I just got my first digital camera and I am OBSESSED with it. I’m really into the photos that don’t really come out, the kind of blurry ones, where light seems to smear across the photo. Or where peoples faces get kind of mashed together. Like these:

look out for: "10 for everything" by Rachel Kann

One of my favorite writers in the whole world (and, okay, full disclosure: one of my favorite people in the whole world too) (but this post is about her writing, so let's stick with that for now), Rachel Kann, has a book of short stories coming out on June 15th, which is so fucking exciting and I recommend that you do yourself a favor and buy a copy of the book. (To be completely honest, I haven't even read the book yet, but Rachel's cd "word to the whys" has been in heavy rotation on my ipod lately and she's just so damned good. I can't wait to read her fiction. I'm getting an advanced copy, and I'll report back on it soon.)

More info about her book (as well as how to purchase a copy) can be found on her MySpace page. You can pre-order your copy today, and your book will be shipped to you on June 15th.

If you saw either of my last two plays (Yellow Flesh/Alabaster Rose, or Red Light Green Light), you'll remember Rachel as Rose, the pregnant goth teen (the Los Angeles Times called her "radiant"), and you might also know Rachel as a kick-ass poet and emcee (she used to host Co:Lab at Temple Bar in Santa Monica, and Chromosome X at The Knitting Factory), but if you don't know her at all, you should get acquainted. I have a feeling you'll be seriously glad you did.

But don't just take my word for it. Here's what people who've actually read the book are saying:

Rachel Kann has crafted an addictive parallel universe, where funky little worlds shift and shudder, and characters are deftly etched and blessed with her gleefully skewed perspective. The sharp lyricism of these stories, which practically beg to be read aloud, unmask Ms. Kann for the poet she is, and that unpredictability of language is nothing less than a revelation.

--Patricia Smith, Teahouse of the Almighty (National Poetry Series Winner,) Four Time National Poetry Slam Champion

Anyone lucky enough to hear Rachel Kann perform knows that this woman has a Voice. What a thrill to see this voice translated into fiction, into a wide range of other voices, voices that burn right through the page with their yearning for, and fear of, connection. She's crafted stories that are fresh and surprising, with a true human heartbeat.

--Gayle Brandeis, The Book of Dead Birds (Bellwether Prize for Fiction Winner)

I'm looking for a story in a voice I care about-and a distinctive voice that isn't like anyone else's. I'm looking for something new and interesting and worthy of my time as a reader. And Rachel Kann's fine work is all of those things and more.

--Rob Roberge, author of Drive and More Than They Could Chew

When Rachel handed me her first pages, told me to be gentle, because it was her first time, I knew Rachel probably didn't want any kind of gentle first time. First times should be messy and angry and strange...and, oh, Rachel did not disappoint. And here we are again, another first time, but this time it's a book, and it's messy and angry and strange and beautiful and passionate and hopeful, sometimes all in the same sentence.

--Tod Goldberg, author of Simplify, Living Dead Girl & Fake Liar Cheat

Also, while I'm on the subject of Rachel and her awesomeness...

Rachel is participating in this online spoken word competition, and she needs people to vote for her video. If you have a few short moments, click on the links below and check it out. It's one of my favorite poems of hers, and she totally deserves so many more votes than she has right now.

Here are all of the pertinent details about the competition (cut-and-pasted from an email Rachel just sent out):

i am in this fame cast spoken word competition online thing right now.
and, i am just saying...
the prize is 10,000 bux.
and you can vote for me.

its a video comp, and so my animated piece, pretty talk, (the amazing lewis klahr did the animation,) is in the running.

its really easy to vote.
yes, its one of those things where you have to register...
BUT...these fame cast people are very cool, and you won't get spammed in your email inbox, i promise.
they're cool like that.

so, you go register here: CLICK ME

and then you go vote here: CLICK ME

so it would really really mean a lot to me if you voted, i am really proud of the piece, lewis klahr is brilliant, and its like the only animated piece in the whole competition that i am aware of. so do it for collage art, people!

feel free to spread the word about the competition and the book by forwarding this email to anyone you think would be interested.

i hope you are well.

i am really grateful to you for reading this,
rachel

http://myspace.com/rachelkann

John's latest Uma update (6/3/07)

FROM JOHN:

Hl everyone,

Just on the off chance that anyone out there was
wondering whether Uma had lost any of her personality
or her passion for life and for the objective truth of
life, or her love for me or her friends and family, or
her desire to act and express her love and art, or her
respect for others and the world and all its
blessings....don't wonder....I don't.

She continues to work and improve on everything and
continues to be more frustrated at times because her
improvement illuminates more of the path ahead for her
and she can see more clearly everyday where she's been
and where she wants to go. To risk the broken record
instance, it's going to be a long road. But she is
less bling to it as each day passes. This reveals to
her the tragedy she escaped and the love she's been
given and produces. Yesterday on our walk she said -
and this is a direct quote, "I just want to do what I
need to do today, tomorrow, and the next." And we
were talking in the context of her recovery.

I'm at a starbucks in orange county about to go play a
job and Erik and Lauren Campadelli are with her by
turns today. When Erik came over this morning he
remarked that she is more verbal than she was even
since last Monday. And today in physical therapy at
home she was working on her right arm extensively. I
have a video now of her extending her right arm away
from her belly (while lying down thereby making it
easier to isolate the shoulder muscles from helping.)
I think it was called 'external rotation'. This is
good. As soon as our home PT saw that Uma could move
her arm at all she just 'floored it'. Uma has
actually done nothing but get better since January
31st, despite everything including hydrocephalus.

There have been two times now that I've left her at
home alone for a couple of hours. She's getting better
at calling me on the cell phone. One time she actaully
dialed my number rather than just utilizing the
'return' feature after I had called her. I really
wrestled with this - when do I let her stay at home
alone? One of the answeres to that question revealed
itself when I realized that there have been many times
where I've been working in the studio for a couple of
hours without checking on her. She could have had a
problem during that time and I might not necessarily
have known about it. The difference being that when
I'm not actually at home I would need to have someone
close by to check on her if needed and I believe I
have that option among about a dozen friends all of
whose numbers are in my cell phone and written in my
phone book. Uma was so excitied the first time I left
her at home alone. Her autonomy is thrilling to her.
In this she hasn't changed at all.

Last weekiend we had a nice visit with her aunt, uncle
and cousins in Malibu. Her aunt cooked spicy sri
lankan style food and it was actually a bit much for
Uma. This was the first really hot food since 1/31.
She made it though.

She now sees one of two physical therapists six times
a week and a speech therapist three times a week. We
can carry on this way for many months and we will do
that.

I can't wait 'till she and I can carry on a nice, long
conversation. That's something we used to do almost
daily and sometimes, when I have time to think about
it, I really miss it. I think it will probabaly happen
this year.

Thanks again for all the help, prayers, visits and
love.

Bye for now,
John

spelling

I'm watching the National Spelling Bee Championship on my Tivo right now. These kids are amazing. Tia Thomas just got knocked off after misspelling the word "zacate." I'm only 15 minutes into the 2 hour show and Tia was totally the speller I was rooting for. Now who am I gonna root for? ALL OF THESE KIDS SHOULD WIN. Oh my god, it's so tense, I can't stand it. Every time someone says the wrong letter, my stomach knots up. God, I can't bear it.

Last weekend, Uma and Marie and I had dinner at Brian and Aubree's house (they made the most amazing dinner) (gnoche) (so freaking good) (seriously) (I really like gnoche and this was definitely the best gnoche I've ever had) (though I'm not sure if I'm spelling the word "gnoche" right) (which would be ironic and sad, seeing as I'm watching a kid trying to spell the word "bouleuterion" right now) (ooooo, he forgot the first "o") (I don't know if I can watch this, it's too hardcore) and at dinner (or after dinner, rather) Brian mentioned that I haven't blogged about my bowel movements lately, and so I just wanted to say that I had a really satisfying poop tonight. You know, the kind that wipes totally clean, on the first wipe. So refreshing.

Okay, one of the ousted spellers just made me cry. I need to focus and hope this kid Joseph Henares spells "punaise" correctly.

UPDATE: Okay, now I'm rooting for Matthew Evans to win. He's the youngest person left in the competition and the only competitor to be a veteran of four challenges. It should be his year. Genizah!

UPDATE: Dammit, Evan O'Dorney just spelled "schuhplattler" correctly, and now I want HIM to win, because he come on: schuplattler? Dude so deserves to win.

UPDATE: Okay, Matthew Evans is gone now, foiled by a silent "u" and a silent "d." Now I'm fully on Team O'Dorney. Come on, schuhplattler.

UPDATE: Sorry, scratch that: now I want Isabel Jacobson to win. Epaulement!

UPDATE: Okay...Isabel's out...now we're down to the final two. O'Dorney and the canadian kid...and...THE SPELLING BEE RAN LONG AND MY FREAKING TIVO DIDN'T TAPE THE END. Wow, I'm gonna have to google to find out who won. That's a letdown.

UPDATE: O'Dorney won! Woo-hoo! Winning word: serrefine!

and now a word from our sponsor

I realize that I'm a bad blogger lately. And I feel like everytime i DO post, all I do is apologize for not having blogged much lately. Let's just say that I've been taking some time off, but I promise I'll get back into a regular groove soon.

In the meantime, I just posted a bunch of new photos on my flickr account.

Awesome Possum

John just sent me this video. The quality isn't great (it's pretty dark), but what you CAN see in this video is what's important: Uma lifting her right arm (which, for the last few months, has been almost completely immobile)

Before seeing the movement in this video, I'd only seen her move her right arm with the tiniest of movements--this arm lift is HUGE.



She gets stronger and stronger every day!

Uma update from John, with a couple of questions

FROM JOHN:

Uma 5.23.07

Hi again everyone,

Thank you for the replys to my email. It’s nice to
hear from people.

Yesterday in physical therapy (according to Marie who
took Uma there) Uma turned her right wrist over a few
times and moved her right upper arm away from her
body. And last night she simultaneously squeezed my
hand and flexed her bicep.

We walked well over a mile yesterday. This is good for
her because it builds up her endurance and muscle
tone. I question a little bit whether it’s good for
her walking form though and will ask the PT on Friday
about. The reason being that, like practicing a
musical instrument, what good is practicing for hours
if you’re not exercising proper form or technique? or,
in this case, does the form and technique evolve as
her brain heals and circumvents the damaged and dead
areas? I’ll try and find out. It may just be one of
the many “unknowns” of this whole challenge.

I have some questions for anyone out there who might
know. They are:

what is the benefit/risk, if any, of accupuncture or
accupressure for paralysis/brain damage?

What is the benfit/risk, if any, of hyperbaric oxygen
treatment for stroke/brain damage?

Are there any health insurance programs for small
businesses (two people)? Do they require information
about previous health conditions?

Uma’s condition improves a little every day. One of
the side effects of this is that she becomes more
frustrated and angry. More awareness = more awareness
you know what I mean?

But yesterday on our walk her awareness showed itself
in that she didn’t just plow through and keep going in
her sort of wobbly struggle. She slowed down and even
stopped a couple of times to think about the placement
and shape of her right leg. She pointed to it and
asked, loudly, “Why?!” I answered every question I
could think of with the fewest words possible followed
by several tons of encouragement and a review of the
history of her recovery since we got home.

She’s great. I’m lucky.

I really do believe that every thought and prayer and
expression of love counts for her. Thank you.

john

latest Uma update from John

uma may 20

Hi Everyone,

I’ve come to the realization that I can’t update on
Uma every week......I think it will be better if I
send a small-ish note every day. (well....at least
that’s what I’ll try to do.)

I’ve said recently that my relationship to Uma’s
recovery is like watching a snail cross the street and
I’m on my hands and knees with my face right down
there near the pavement - just concentrating on the
snail and hoping that the doctors have really told us
to cross the right street and that a car doesn’t come
by and squash us both. Other people come by every so
often and remark about how amazing it is that the
snail has moved to far to the other side of the
street. I look up from the pavement and see just how
far and am amazed. But it takes other people’s
perspective to help me see what has happened.

Today, like most days, Uma and I walked about a mile
in our neighborhood. As of yesterday I began working
with her on straightening her right leg at just the
right moment in her stride. (Have you ever thought, in
minute detail, about what you do when you walk?) It’s
easier to access the leg-straightening detail when she
walks up our stairs. She plants her right foot on the
step, leans forward and pushes up. Before she plants
her left foot she must straighten her right leg -
essentially standing on one leg for a moment. We did
this yesterday after the walk. Today we did it before
the walk and so on the walk I would slow us down and
bend over while we walked and gently push her right
leg back at the right moment - straightening it and
causing the foot to roll more naturally. I do this
about 20 times. She gets it while I’m helping but not
after I stop helping. But the way this recovery goes
is just like that.....she gets it with help and she
needs ever-so-slightly less help each day. It is
enough for gratitude that she gets it with help.

...and then I begin to chant along with her stride,
“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday.....” etc. And
she chants, in time, with me. She does well in
sequence and so I mix it up by telling her to
alternate with me. I say, “Monday”, she says,
“Tuesday” etc. It cycles around to where we each say
each day every other time. (7 days - 2 people). She
almost always gets stuck on Wednesday - she jumps from
Tuesday to Thursday all the time. So then we just say,
“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday” over and over and then
start all over again. She gets better at it every
day.

....same thing in practicing her writing the alphabet.
Singing the alphabet song helps her find the
pronunciation for a difficult letter. The first time
we did it she would have to begin at the start of the
song each time. Now we just back up a few letters
before.

Today was the first time she took a shower by herself.
I helped her with strategy but she did all the work.
She absolutely loved it. She seemed to feel so much
better standing up and moving around instead of
sitting on the shower chair and having me move the
nozzle around and wash her hair etc. for her. She kept
saying, “wow!” and smiling. Then there were more
strategies for drying.....her back and feet present
the most problems but she did it. .....but how to get
lotion on her left hand and arm? it’s the only arm
that works......I had her put some lotion on her left
leg and then rub the back of her left hand and arm on
her leg. Big smile. ......so....things like that
happen each day.

Tonight Uma helped me cook dinner - stirring the
chicken/onion/garlic/pepper whatchmacallit and putting
produce back in the frig. We ate. She did the dishes.

Yesterday I did a gig and had two friends by turns
come by and watch her. They, in effect, are her
emergency phone call, if necessary, but the visits end
up being so much more than that. In the morning I
prepared meals for her that could be microwaved and
before I left for the job we walked and did speech and
upper body therapy. The days can be so full in this
way. My focus is her. Her focus is her.

Two nights ago she went out to dinner with Erik while
I went to play a show at a theatre we’ve both
performed at several times. I had to go early to set
up and sound check and she and Erik came by at show
time. The place was packed and a lot of her friends
were there. This kind of event is so mixed for her. It
is truly wonderful for her to see all of those
beatiful friends and have them so openly and warmly
express their love for her. But because she can’t
converse with them except to nod or laugh or say, “I’m
fine.” is really frustrating for her and she ends up
being emotionally overwhelmed. So....as soon as the
show is over we sneak out and go home. She’s happy and
sad. We’ll take the happy and accept the sad and
accept every expression of love offered. For all the
people who were at that show and spoke to Uma, thank
you so much and please understand where she “is” right
now. Take no offense that we left early or that she
didn’t say much. She loves you.

As of now she walks better than before. Her right arm
and hand are still, for all intents, non-functioning
but she says that it feels different. The exercises we
are doing each day that our home-based physical
therapist (a professor at USC) taught us cause Uma’s
right tricep and shoulder to stabilize and engage. Uma
really feels it in her arm. When she first did this
with the PT I saw the therapist’s face light up and a
very big smile appeared on her face. .....Uma has
trouble with speech, reading, writing, etc. but I have
hope. Each day she repeatedly copies the alphabet it
gets better. The progress seems glacial when I’ve
forgotten that her brain was so severly insulted. When
I reflect on her condition the first month after the
aneurysm I’m very content with her progress.

Yesterday we were walking home and she stopped and
uttered an, “Ah!” while gesturing at the sky, the
trees, the sun. We did some charades and guessing and
I discovered that she was feeling good about her life
despite the injuries. I remarked at how great it is
that we don’t live in a part of the country where it
snows or is otherwise cold - imagine having to bundle
up and wear boots etc. just to talk a walk - along
with a brace and arm sling etc. Sometimes we feel
very lucky.

She is on the computer each day looking at emails and
her myspace page. She really enjoys this so please
send her a note if you can.

nithipal@hotmail.com or myspace.com/umanithipalan.

If you want to see a really nice picture of her go to

myspace.com/johnballinger

This is a new life of patience and love. Please think
of her mind, her arm, her hand and feel love. Think of
yourself and feel love, too, and accept my love and
thanks for doing this and for all the previous
prayers.

I am so grateful.

John

apartment hunt

My step-grandpa (i.e. my step-mom's dad) is moving into a smaller house (he can't really do stairs anymore, so he's moving into a place without stairs) and his move just happens to coincide with an impending move for me (i'm looking for a one bedroom apartment in either los feliz, silverlake, beachwood canyon, echo park, hollywood, or eagle rock) (so if you know of an amazing apartment, please give me a heads up) (thanks), so I spent the entire day helping my step-grandpa move out of his place, and looting his house for furniture (I scored a queen-sized bed, a dining room table, a Lazy Boy chair, a TV, and an entire kitchen's worth of pots and pans) (very exciting) and now I'm beat. I might have an apartment lined up in Beachwood Canyon (cross your fingers, it's an awesome apartment, and I'd be Laural Meade's neighbor, which would freaking rock), but that place might not work out, so, seriously: if you know of an amazing one-bedroom apartment, hit me up with the deets. Thank you.

a quick post about various random things and Taye Diggs' ass

I'm sitting here with Uma at her place right now. John had a music gig today, so Uma and I have been hanging. We had a long (good) day, out and about in the world (we went to the Glendale Galleria, and then we tried to go to see Disturbia, but we both thought the movie was super boring and we ended up walking out midway through) (but even though we didn't finish the movie, it was still Uma's first trip to a movie theater since her damned brain aneurysm, and that was pretty cool), and now we're both sitting at our respective lap tops, checking email--which is pretty damned cool, too.

*

Okay, I started writing the above blog post, but then Uma and I got sidetracked by a little game that we like to call 100 Questions. (Marie coined the name of the game.) Uma read an email from my step-dad and she wanted to reply to the email, but she's still kind of flumoxxed by keyboards, so she had me type out the email for her. She had something very specific she wanted to say in her reply email, but she couldn't express what it was...which is when the 100 Questions game kicked into gear. Anyway, Uma was incredibly frustrated, but after an hour (YES, AN HOUR), I finally figured out that she wanted to thank Joe for the column he wrote about her. She was very relieved when we finally figured out what she wanted to say. (And Urp, I'm sorry it took so long, but at least we figured it out!)

If you've sent Uma an email and you haven't gotten a response, this anecdote should help explain WHY it's taking so long for you to get a response--most likely, Uma hasn't even read your email yet, because writing reply emails are sometimes such time consuming things! Anyway, we finally figured it out and Uma and I were both incredibly relieved and now I'm too tired to write a more complete blog entry. I'm just gonna go ahead and post this though because I have been neglecting the blog and I feel guilty about that.

*

Oh, on a completely unrelated note (and when did I ever care aboout segues on the blog anyway?), I have such a crush on Boo from the latest edition of Survivor. Like, a HUGE, massive crush. I wanna have his babies. I wish he had won the million dollars. He totally should have because he managed to get hotter every single episode and that MUST count for something, right???

*

I've received 4 theater rejection letters in the past seven days. I actually LIKE getting rejection letters because (1) a lot of the time you submit your work somewhere and you don't ever even hear ANYTHING, so at least a rejection letter lets you shut the book on that particular submission, and (2) you've gotta go through a lot of rejection in this business, so every time I get a rejection letter I figure that means I'm one step closer to another production, another YES. (As a sort of bonus, the four rejection letters I've received this week have been some of the most positive rejection letters I've ever received, so they managed to crush my soul and feel happy about it at the same time.) (Just kidding about the "crush my soul" part, I'm made of stronger stuff than that.)

*

Taye Diggs is naked on TV right now and Angela Bassett is totally rubbing his butt.

Christy and the NoNos this Friday night

I have been such a bad blogger lately. Sorry about that.

I've been listening to Christy and the NoNos since I woke up this morning (which was only, like, thirty minutes ago) (but they only have four songs on their myspace page, so I've had time to listen to each song at least twice) and I wanted to give them a shout out because they are so damned good. If you live in LA, they're having a cd release party on Friday the 18th, and they give good show. Go.

CHRISTY AND THE NONOS
Singers: Chris Wells, Laural Meade, Polly Segal, Patrice Quinn
Musicians: Fred Cassidy, John Ballinger, Darren Embry