Intermission » Desks

LitDept Desks

Intermission — Sat, 16 Dec 2006 15:08:23 +0000

Received from LitDept:

At Home – L.A.
December 16, 2006
I’m sending two. That’s because I never really sit anywhere. But when I’m at home, this folding chair does the trick. Usually, I sit, write for about twenty minutes and then I’m up and walking around for another ten.
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WGA – L.A.
December 16, 2006

The other place i write is the WGA West library in LA at 3rd and Fairfax. If I ever get a job, that will end, but until then, well.
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Greener Grass

Intermission — Thu, 16 Nov 2006 14:48:45 +0000

So it always feels whenever I see theatre outside of my beloved home town. Although in this case, the grass literally was green everywhere. With the impending rains, our grass soon will be.

Entering London, the inspector (you know that person at the airport you must speak to and explain why you want to be in their fair country), when discovering we had theatre plans, opined the current production of Tom and Viv was not as good as the original. I pondered the likelihood of someone entering the US and having a similar encounter.

London is my new favorite City, after New York. And, okay, San Francisco, as we still know how to stage things up here, if only on the streets at Halloween. For a history buff, wondering the streets are a joy. Visiting off-season, there were no lines anywhere we went. At Westminister Abby, I was able to take time to enjoy moments, such as seeing Elizabeth I’s tomb, and her likeness carved from her death mask. I did not expect to be awestruck by Stonehenge, yet I was by this place-looking-so-much-like-an-outdoor-stage.

Standing outside Bow Street Magistrates Court, I could see Oscar Wilde entering this building, on his way to be tried for "gross indecencies." This court shut down earlier this year, and rumor has it will become a hotel. It was at Bow Street, on this date in 1928, that the great Radclyffe Hall found her novel, The Well of Loneliness, banned as obscene. Despite selling over nine million copies during her day, the book would not be published in Britain until 1949, several years after her death.

An absolutely thrilling play was Drunk Enough to Say I Love You, by Caryl Churchill, one of my all time favorite playwrights. I also very much enjoyed Tom Stoppard’s Rock ‘n Roll. A few years back, I dragged the Beloved to a revival of Jumpers, which she, sadly, hated. There was much at stake in proving to her Stoppard was enjoyable and understandable. I am glad to say Rock ‘n Roll managed to purge her previous misgivings. And gave me opportunity, later over dinner, to wax on about Václav Havel.

My Beloved loves musicals, and so we saw Mary Poppins, which was not as bad as (why do people think Elton can write musicals?) Lestat, but close enough. Maybe that’s too harsh. Poppins was awful. I figure the rave reviews for Poppins is a cultural thing I do not understand. *ahem* And yes, there is a double standard. I pay dearly for dragging the Beloved to bad plays, yet she does not pay so in return for dragging me to a bad musical. That is the nature of our relationship.

Okay, and confessing we did see Wicked, which makes five times we’ve seen this show. (You have to, uh, understand, we saw this before it ever reached Broadway.) The London production was the best of the lot, complete with a great, one of a kind, theatrical moment, when the curtain came down abruptly near the end of Act 1. Right after, "One Short Day," for those of you in the know. An announcement was made that Idina Menzel was ill and unable to finish the show. The teenager in front of us, burst into tears at this news, and I don’t think recovered enough to watch Idina’s standby, Kerry Ellis, finish Act 1 with the best performance of "Defying Gravity" ever witnessed. (Well,outside of Idina.) By the end of Act 2, said teenager meekly conceded a standing ovation for Ms. Ellis.

Two things I enjoyed in London theatre. The applause, when deserved (well, except for Poppins, I still do not understand, go see the movie instead) was always enthusiastic delivered. What a joy to sit in a theatre with audiences who do not stand up and cheer actors for showing up and breathing. Also, the pacing of shows, while they did not seem slow at all, did seem to be slower than what happens on American stages. And I could hear every word being said. The productions I saw did not seem to be afraid of silence, or of taking a breath now and then.

My body and brain are still trying to determine what time zone I’m in.

An outstanding post today by Jane Espenson on "too much."

I hoped that it would encourage [gay people] in general to declare themselves, to face up to a hostile world in their true colours, and this with dignity and courage.

Radclyffe Hall, on one of the reasons why she wrote The Well of Loneliness.

Comments:Hey, tried to email you but it’s bouncing back. Just wanted to note on your “greener” post that it’s amazing what a difference it can be when audiences are ready to see shows as you’re discovering in the UK. Even if you hate the show, it’s still more interesting because you’re leaning forward into it with a bunch of other strangers trying to figger out what the hell’s going on. Something about shared enthusiasm. Don’t what exactly. But it’s real, even if ephemeral.
Posted By: Malachy 2006/11/20 at 1:58 PM

Where I Write

Intermission — Sun, 16 Apr 2006 00:49:25 +0000

While I can write anywhere, on a plane, at my Beloved’s parents home, in the doctor’s office, on a bus, I love to write in a place that makes me feel good.

Sometimes I write sitting on the living room couch. Sometimes at the public library; a favorite place of mine. Often, I write at a coffee house. I’m fortunate to live in a town that loves coffee houses. A few years ago, a brother writer and I would meet once a week at a different coffee house. The goal was twofold, to write, and to see if we could hit a different coffee house each week. We lasted six months before conflicting commitments kept us from meeting. (Maybe I should pick this up by myself sometime.) As it is, I have a handful of neighborhood coffee houses I regularly rotate writing in. I tend to love routine, which I feel can be stifling to my creativity. What’s that saying, “Put me in a rut and I’ll decorate it.”…? Something to that effect. Nowadays, I love to disrupt that part of myself; to shake myself out of routines, mix things up and find new environments. These environmental changes grease the creative wheel. So I think.

Ultimately, I come back to my writing desk. It’s in the basement of our house. Over the years, I’ve gone from elaborate, heavy desks with lots of drawers and hiding places to a simple, open desk, with only one small drawer, and no place to hide. I love my desk.

Cheers.

Desk of MBH

Intermission — Sat, 15 Apr 2006 22:04:23 +0000

The photo above the powerbook is a team photo of the 1911 Philadelphia Athletics and the junk on the right is a temporary holding area while I cleaned my office after seven years of accumulating junk.