Catching up...

So, it looks like I haven’t posted in awhile. Hmm…maybe because I’ve been out there actually doing the stuff I write about rather than writing about it. Hmm? Ever think of that? Maybe you can just back off. Well, not too far…someone has to check in on this every once in awhile.

And since it has been a long time, and since I’m in the midst of the crazy—not the cusp, but right there up to my elbows in it—and since I tend to freak out and stress about nothing and everything, there’s the chance this could descend into that most corrupted and degenerate of blog posts: the cathartic rant. Let’s not go there.

Well, let’s go all the way back to one week ago. I actually stopped in on rehearsal that afternoon, with the intention of installing the clip pedals I received from Pete. Yes, the bike and its curse once more reared its ugly head. Ryan and I broke out the pedals and tried them out with his shoe cleats. No go. So for the remainder of rehearsal, as Ryan spun on normal pedals, I frantically toiled with the mechanics of these small, well-worn, grimy pedals. And allow me to reiterate: I have no clue I’m doing. For all I know, I was making things worse. And so I stopped by the bike shop on the way home. Immediately, the guy clipped in the shoe (yes, I carried around Ryan’s shoes). So, they worked the whole time? Or, maybe I did fix them. And when he tried the other, several pieces just kind of fell out. The dude scooped them up, and took them to the back. He returned a minute with his diagnosis: something bent, and that side wouldn’t ever work again. So I had ¾ working pedals. Okay. And that night, I put the broken half together in my vain attempt to fix it. And I realized that a piece was missing altogether. On the bike shop floor, in Ryan’s apartment, or missing the entire time—who knows? So, I taped it up, and we’ll use it as is. Oh, don’t worry, the pedals will be back to haunt me.

And then came the weekend. Sunday, yes, Sunday I uh…ran around the area gathering voices for the play. First, I went out to Queens to get a German accent for the part of Eddy, the team manager. And thanks to Brad, a friend of Ryan, I now have a steely Teutonic voice offering little help to his hapless rider. Ah, the sympathies of the Germans. And as it turns out, I was able to get our dear friend/neighbor Walter to lend his dulcet tones in imitation of Bob Roll, as the character Bobke. (Note: this role is an homage to Mr. Roll, and is not intended to be a parody. But, do feel free to laugh.) Oh, and I think I made up a draft of the show’s program (pogrom?) that night. Yeah, that happened I think.

Monday was Manhattan Rep’s theatre viewing night. As it turns out, I was the only one who could be there. Well, Ryan was there for the first five minutes—long enough, however, to be slightly shocked by the ridiculously small space we’d inherit a week from then. “Intimate” is one way of describing it, but “performing in a living room with 30 people” might be more accurate. As I tossed back pinot and cookies, the artistic director gave us a tour (really, you just kind of stand in the middle and look around—no walking necessary), demonstrated the lights and sound, and gave us a run-down of their rules and procedures (his standard spiel rife with anecdotes). Nothing really new or unexpected. The sound system is nice, and I confirmed that the light plot will be sufficient for what we’re doing. Oh, good news: the bike will live at the theatre for the entire week of the show. Huzzah!

I’m sure I worked on something else that night. Well, whatever it was, it’s lost in the vapors of my mind.