Scattered thoughts

First, random philosophizing:

How art has destroyed science, example 1:

Newton's apple fell unavoidably. Gravity was born.

Magritte's apple shall never fall. Gravity was defeated.

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Second, theatregoing extravaganza:

As everyone spitter-spats about how and how in depth and with what tone we discuss other artist's work, I've decided to only mention revelations I see onstage or have as a result of what I see onstage. First revelation: I need to read me some more Durrenmatt. Play Strindberg is a devastating script.

I am going to keep online tabs on my upcoming show intake, though, partially as another form of day planner for my needs and partially because I'm one of those people who almost regularly ends up going to shows alone. So hey, if anyone's going to happen to be (or would like to be) at anything when I happen to be there, feel free to let me know -- I like theatre buddies, too! So, in my neverending rage against the neverending storm of shows to see, I'm squeezing in four this week: Dog and Pony's As Told by the Vivian Girls on Wednesday, Hell in a Handbag's Die! Mommie, Die! on Thursday, Infamous Commonwealth's Lewis and Clark Reach the Euphrates on Friday, and Vitalist's A Passage to India on Saturday. And if you think that's eclectic, just wait until next week...

I may also, depending largely on when I get out of and how I feel after Lewis and Clark, join some friends at Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind. It is in shame that I say (much like being a cinephile who hadn't see any of the Godfather trilogy until post-college) that in my going on three years in the Windy City, three years spent championing underground, indie-style, what can we do that people still haven't seen type theatre, I have yet to step foot in the Neofuturarium. I hang my head in shame. We'll see if I can fix that this weekend.

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Third, the big news! (*confetti and noisemakers drop from the ceiling*):

I (under the shady auspices of Bries Vannon) have been graciously offered and have humbly accepted a spot as an Artistic Associate with Signal Ensemble Theatre. This weekend I was talking to a friend who recently began work on a jaw-droppingly amazing show opportunity, and she mentioned that it feels weird to even talk about it, as if it might disappear if it becomes too tangible. I know exactly what she's talking about. I almost didn't even share the news on here, opting to wait until everything's properly integrated and the new news is actually old hat. It's like I'm holding a secret and I can't be sure it actually exists because if I share it, it won't be a secret anymore. So if I am no longer an Artistic Associate tomorrow, blog-friends, you will be holding all of the blame.

Honestly, I truly truly truly couldn't be more excited. Between Faster, Per Diem, and now Signal, this is shaping up to be a touchstone year in the life. As much as I love you, blog peeps, and as much as I love mah Per Diem boys, and as much as I love other things like puppy dogs and pound cake, the guys and gals at Signal are my true Chicago family, and I never realized this more until the night they asked me to be a part of them. Two and a half years ago they took a chance on casting some random gangly blond kid who was brand new to the city and the city hasn't quite been the same since.

But enough mushy stuff. Let's make some fukkin' art!

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UPDATE:

Rest in peace, Robert. The world will reflect a little less without you.

P.Rekk
2008