April-May 2004--

After an incredible run of casting problems with two other scripts, I went to Plan C, and dug out the show that Jody and I had talked about 3 years ago, and I had actually begun writing. "MR. BRUCE, DO YOU SWEAR?" is a fantasy interview between Lenny Bruce and Nat Hentoff, during which Lenny performs some of his classic routines, vents on current affairs by comparing them to those of his own time, and goes through the grind of the legal battles that ruined him. Jody's personification of Lenny is mesmerizing--he looks and sounds like Bruce, to a subtly disturbing degree.

The reviews were fantastic--no show of mine has ever been this critically successful. The biggest blockbuster came during the third week of the run. I play Nat Hentoff in the show, and surprisingly, many of the critics who wrote about us, didn't know Hentoff was a real person! They would refer to him as a "fantasy" character--an everyman. Maybe that reflects on my performance, but at any rate, few of them got it. On a Sunday, at mid-run, I got a phone call from the man himself--THE Nat Hentoff. My jaw hit the floor like an anvil. He called me Rob--I called him Nat--we gabbed for almost ten minutes. "Rob, I understand that you are playing ME in a show about Lenny Bruce?" He also told me a few Lenny anecdotes, and I promised him a copy of the script to read--which I have already sent as of this blogging. There is a video being edited of the show--he'll get a copy of that too.

The show has potential to move forward--San Jose, even San Francisco if our cards are played right. Santa Cruz may be the next step. It's an economical show to transport and set-up. Eventually, possibly through Nat, I will make contact with those who control Lenny's estate--probably his daughter Kitty, who lives in Pennsylvania--about the copyright situation. We are performing some of Lenny's routines, even though the basic structure of the show, and a lot of its content, is mine. If the show strides forth, we want the right people from Lenny's life on our side.

Throughout the run, a small number of people attended who had actually met the real Lenny Bruce or knew him--every one of them wanted to meet Jody after the show. He moved people. The show is powerful and Jody's attachment to the material is so deep that an incredible impact level is reached. We knew by the second week that we had a hit on our hands. The show opened on Good Friday, and we even drew audience on Mother's Day! What was remarkable about the attendance was that the number of non-reservation walk-ins was phenomenal. And the average age was younger than usual.

Also gratifying was that a lot of the theatre crowd came out. Members from all the area theatre orgs showed up, and it was gratifying that our little show turned some big heads.

2004 So far--

It's time to fess up for not keeping the site updated. A lot has been going on. Most of the preceding entries will eventually be drained off into the ARCHIVES link on the main page. Okay, with that outta the way...

2004 has been a climb--but climbing implies upwardness, thankfully. No, the mansion, limo and olympic size pool aren't in place yet. Progress has been slow, but it's been progress nonetheless.

A SEED BENEATH THE SNOW was actually a great idea, that just never saw its full potential. It was a Christmas program of readings by famous authors of the past and present, with even a few secular selections thrown in--and no Dickens. It was for people who had seen their fill of the obvious holiday offerings, namely The Nutcracker* and Scrooge. Unfortunately we learned just how much people cling to the familiar; our average house was less than 10 paid customers. With a cast of 6, and usually little more than that number in the audience, it became more of a nightly fireside courtesy meeting than a theatrical presentation. The main piece I read was "A BUM'S CHRISTMAS" by H. L. Mencken, a chore which I came to cherish. Mencken is an almost anti-spiritual author, but this story is the kind that melts your heart via the brain. I plan on keeping it in my personal repertoire. About the best thing to happen was the discovery of a jacket I actually look semi-dashing in. A midnite blue corduroy that sadly ain't mine. And equally unfortunate--by coincidence I've worn it in the 2 following shows since, and it's beginning to look more "worn" than "debonaire." Take a look at the homepage--that's the jacket.

*Speaking of the Nutcracker... the problem is two-fold. 1. Every year, 4 to 7 different dance troupes stage this fucker simaltaneously and well... it just gets to be too much. 2. To make it worse, usually at least one of the productions is put on by a group of underwhelming hacks, who by either daring incompetence or innocent lack of even a mediocre degree of skill, manage to stink the place out. Last December I witnessed what I believe was the 2003 designated Nutcracker Fart Bomb. I saw the show against my will because I had been hired to play Santa Claus for the band of over-indulged rich kids for whom the whole event was assembled. I must've had 20 little holiday dressed snots rattle off to me the entire line of American Girl Dolls and their accessories. These aren't Barbies... the damn things are hundreds of dollars apiece, and huge--big enough that the child can actually have it made to order, to look like themselves. So the kid gets for Christmas a life-size mannequin in their own image. Nothing like instilling an over-inflated ego into your toddler for the holidays. Whollee shit.

So anyway, everything grinds to a halt so that this rabble of "dancers" can leap out of the darkness and perform a version of Nutcracker that even the smallest kids begin to realize, it blows the monkeyhouse. Huffing Glade would be more entertaining. The only impressive part of the show was when the Nutcracker swordfights the Rat King and quite graphically stabs the rodent dead. I hope it was a trick sword, 'cause damn, it looked real. Knowing the quality of the rest of the show, the kid playing the Rat King was probably glad to be done, and carried back out into the dark. The parents gasped at this. "I'm not sure that was appropriate," I heard one of the moms say. Gee, lady, kids have been watching the Nutcracker for over a hundred years--I don't think the sword fight was just added last minute. Didn't you ever see Nutcracker when you were a girl? Probably not. I bet you're sorry you bought little Courtney that stainless steel rapier now. Don't fall asleep tonight.

UP TO & THRU CHRISTMAS, 2003--

First, MERRY CHRISTMAS!! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

Did you get what you wanted? I am alive... that is a wonderful gift. I have a roof over my head, and though a tad wrumpled and travel-weary, clothes on my back. I have friends, and a bit of family left. I find myself longing silently for the wonderful Christmases of my childhood. A tree, and gifts, and a warm living room, Christmas cards taped to the door, the annual shows on TV (yeah, I'm one of the original "It's A Wonderful Life" nuts, and Bing Crosby and Red Skelton and Bob Hope are sorely missed), and Christmas dinner, and hot chocolate/cider/tea/coffee, and my grandmother's black-eyed beans & greens recipe that has never been equaled... and yes I could go on and on. All of it is gone. New traditions must be initiated, and not by default--it's a level of proactivity that I have yet to master. I find it difficult to get "in the spirit" and so just let the Holidays happen to me. Hurry up, New Year--bring on the champagne!!

NOVEMBER 1... BIRTHDAY, 2003--

I am reposting this because some folks have asked to re-read it. Enjoy!

Technically I have become the person I was told never to trust; the big 4-1 was reached today. It doesn't feel too different than 4-0, but of course it may be too early to tell anything. I was to have had a house, a family, a career, and to have had at least three vacations out-of-county, and be on at least my second family pet... by now. I was to have had a star on the walk of fame... most guys my age are at least enduring a half decent divorce by this time. Nope. Not me, on all counts. Someone at work asked how I was doing financially. I basically answered something to the effect of, "oh, hanging on by my fingernails, at the moment." That brought the response... "how OLD are you, Rob?" When I told them, I got simply a monotoned "Okay..."

Since I came into this world on the morning after Halloween, I have always felt connected to it in some unspoken way. Last night I attended what I imagine is the normal Halloween blow-out for the current younger generation--whom every year I really do feel further and further removed from. (Not that I mind that much--I don't get most of it anymore--I don't think today's kids really have an identity--not one that hasn't been prefabricated for them, anyway, by our dantesque consumer culture. But hush we should dive into a societal fillabuster--there's no room or patience for it.) Let me just offer this: A list of caricatures I encountered as an old-foagie bystander.

8 DRAG QUEENS
15 S&M RELATED COSTUMES
Over 25 SEXUAL THEMED COSTUMES... Plug & Socket, Fake Exposed Parts, and a copious assortment of Prostitute costumes from various historical contexts
10+ "LOLITA" costumes; revealing 'little girl' outfits. (Why do the bad girls dress up like innocents, and the good girls impersonate sluts on Halloween--interesting term paper or doctorate thesis waiting to happen there.)
UNCOUNTABLE: Costumes of doctors, nurses, cowboys, policemen... and even
1 JESUS...
Also an assortment of people I thought were wearing a costume, only to realize... no, that's what they look like EVERY DAY...

All using these "personnas" as an excuse to get drunk and dry-hump with total strangers on a dance floor... when NOT TALKING ON THEIR G.D. CELL PHONES!!! (How can you attend a Halloween party with a thousand people all in costumes and spend half the night still doing the CELL PHONE?????) The hot pretend-lesbian action was really in high gear. I can only hope it was pretend, otherwise, Monterey's entire female population consists of closet lesbians.

And for the record, I witnessed no, I repeat... NO children out trick-or-treating last night. Should I repeat that? I saw NO, NOT ONE... NO (!!!!!) trick-or-treaters. When did Halloween switch from an innocent children's night of fun, dress-up and candy, to yet just another night for childish adults to play out their brain-dead, loosey-goosey, boozey, skanky fantasies? Am I that old? I guess I finally got that old. By tomorrow, I will be ready for my bib, adult diaper and wheelchair, and you can roll me off to the Home where I will never bother anyone again. I'm forty-fucking-one... I can say these things now. I was so disgusted I spilled my beer and missed my chance to ask out the guy in the little see-thru "I Dream Of Jeannie" outfit.

OCTOBER 2003--

Computer woes... overdue bills... in-between paychecks... car worries... it's high time for them all to do a turn-around! I am firmly convinced that computer phone support and computer "repair" personnel are--well, they aren't on any Christmas list that I'm making. It's a minor miracle (I have no explanation other than providence) that I am even able to update the sight at the moment. Lately if my computer works, my internet provider konks, and vice-versa. We are jerry-rigged up the patootie here--but actually documenting a bit of progress at last. It can only get better. The sight has undergone a bit of a rework--new pages and a different configuration, better to serve my ongoing quest to appease my acting career--which is beginning to pick up again. Funny how it all ground to a halt when I was in L.A., and kicked back into gear when I left. How does THAT work?

MAY 2003--

The "Spirit Of California" (a 2000 Oldsmobile) will be leaving the runway of Washington, the first week of June, and ("Gawd willin' and the crik don't rise"--Hank Williams) be landing days later back in the Golden State.

It's been an interesting interlude here. New friends to say so-long to, and an old one to THANK here publicly for putting up with me. Kurt--yoo da man.

Seattle and Bellevue, for the record; great bergs. Vancouver B.C. and White Rock were great too. The coffeehouses were cool, the brewpubs were cooler (Jill and Nichole share the 2003 Brewpub Waitress Award) and Dennys was, well, Dennys. The wait staff at the 148th Ave. location, however, now know me on a first-name basis and they will always be the Pattie Melts of my heart. Alan, the old Brit poet/philosopher/king of the Seattle Times Crossword wars added to what was already a beckoning ambiance within which to enjoy a French Slam, or the aroma of the vinegar poured on a plate of "Chiss & Fips."

The Top Food bakery crew; a bunch of loafers! But they really made the dough!