Michael's Fáilte

Welcome to these writing warmups, blatherings, rantings, meditations, perorations, salutations, latest and those on time, those narrative, declarative, interrogative, gollywogative and other outdated, belated, simulated musings, perusings, shavings and other close calls, with no disrespect intended, that's why no real names included whenever impossible to avoid the guilt that came in the crib for uttering something that would hurt or injure those in authority, being of everlasting servitude to all and sundry, having chosen the road not taken and the frost on the pumpkin long before the kettle turned black or the cat found its own tail fascinating,
Your humble servant, etc.

The island writes in fire and steam each morning on the pages of the sea

The island writes in fire and steam each morning on the pages of the sea
Lava Meets Ocean. Lynx, Starboard Side. Day 2.Early Morning, July 8 2006, Looking for Flashes off Chain of Craters, Big Island

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Imaginary Invalid

Plaza Inn, Ashland, Oregon May 29, 2011

Sound of the creek past midnight.

Moliere's Le Malade Imaginaire singing in my ears—Oded Gross and Tracy Young's adaptation, that is. Once again, fabulous ensemble work—and I mean the entire cast, not just the song and dance ensemble who came in at key points like the girls in Little Shop...

How remarkable now I think of it, the interaction with the audience, specifically a 25 year old from Grants Pass named Joy Cunningham who works as a teller, facts gleaned in a laid back ho hum Fool's errand into the auditorium sliding along the apron as our main man slept in his wheel chair. Audience members audibly groaned with disapproval as the Fool walked away saying Well, no one could be expected to write a song of beauty with such information, that name, that age, etc.

So how extraordinarily effective and explosive when much later he emerges "cured" by the Scottish doctor (the maid disguised) with a song filly luxuriously with Ms Cunningham's details...extraordinary for its effect but also for its clear connection to the core of the play, in that we are married to our personal perceptions of ourselves (and through that feat of psychic engineering, everyone around us) in sickness and in health—nay, therefore choosing sickness or health as our stance...

A remarkable demonstration. Do you know there is little work of note on the subject of audience?

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