#To project some kind of intention or meaning to something strange and unknowable

[rofax]

Read "Annihilation" by Jeff VanderMeer and now it's like sorry hold up do I actually love cosmic horror?? Why did I think it wasn't my cup of tea this whole time???? Literally cannot stop thinking about the damn book.

[dreamties]

Slashers x S/O W/ Red Angel Wings

A/n- Y’know, when I first got this request I thought it was awfully specific, but after watching Carrie it’s making a lot more sense lol 

Decided to add a few other characters just for the heck of it! :)

Let’s just ignore the fact that wings probably don’t work like this,, at all. 

Characters: Carrie White, Billy/Stu, Norman Bates, Michael Myers, and The Lost Boys.

T/W: None that I know of- just let me know if you’d like me to add any! :)

Carrie White

You know Carrie from around school. About her overtly Christian mother, and how shy and secluded she was. And how strange and weird other people saw her. You never bought into that schoolwide belief- you just thought no one took the time to get to know her. 

(part of you related to that- though most people would have thought you were cool to start out with...and then have less than kind reactions when they saw what you were hiding)

You’d interacted with Carrie only a handful of times throughout your high school career- mostly in group projects, or letting her know she had dropped something, or simply trying to spark conversation. She had always been very nervous around you though- almost more so than others. (You’d later come to find out it was because she liked you)

It’s the first time you see each other alone- outside of class. It’s after class and Carrie’s been held behind- by one of her teachers asking her about this and that. While you’re hanging out at the back of the school, there’s no sports that day, so you don’t have to worry about any onlookers. Except Carrie, who decides to head out the back way. Thinking there would be less people she’d run into- less of a hassle.

And she doesn’t know what to do. 

The way you're framed in the light, you look like you're glowing. You look unreal, and so holy and beautiful. You’re so beautiful. but then she spots your wings. They're fitted tightly on your back, flitting open, and spreading out so beautifully- you're standing centered as they flare out. And she's shocked and unsure.

 Oh, she'd be mighty frightened.

 She's shaking and crying, and she's got her mama's voice running through her head. This is what happens when you don't follow the rules exactly. When you come into this world so impure.

And oh, your wings! She let's out a gasp, eyes widening. They're colored crimson- the Devil's color. And she's sure you've come down from the Heavens or- or come from down below...come to mock her. To punish her

She knows you know what she's done. What unknowing sins she's committed. [ my poor girl hasn’t actually done anything though :( ]

 And you look at her, confused. Then your eyes soften, and your wings slowly close behind you. You gently smile, “I’m not here to harm you, Carrie.”  

She begins to calm at the soft sound of your voice, and your pleasant aura. She’s still shaky all over, and part her says to run and hide- but you have your arms out wide, offering her to join you. And she gulps down nervously- maybe this was her accepting her fate. She slowly walks over to you, allowing you to wrap her into a hug. It’s feels so good to have your arms wrapped around her- she feels overwhelmed by the amount of positive emotions sprouting from your actions. You let her stay there, crying in your arms. “It’s okay, Carrie.”

After she gets passed the initial meeting, and the two of you start dating- which takes a lot of time for her to get used to you. Not because she doesn’t think you seem like a good person, but she’s skeptical, given how people have treated her in the past- plus she’s still dealing with the after effects from all the religious abuse with her mother :( 

She starts associating you (and your wings) as almost...protection!

Her favorite thing is to have your wings wrapped around her as she sleeps. She feels safe in them.

Billy Loomis + Stu Macher

Y’all meet at a Halloween party.

It’s Billy & Stu’s favorite holiday, and they always go all out for it! With the costumes, the decorations, etc- maybe even a bit of hidden bloody fun for just the two of them.

You’ve always kept your wings well hidden- folded against your back, underneath big coats. But tonight? Ohh, tonight! You’re able to have them out, allowing them a good stretch. When people ask, you can pass it off as just crazy good mechanisms.

And well, the boys see your “costume”, and they get wicked excited about it! They’ve never seen someone with a costume like this before- it’s so realistic! And the fact you chose blood red, over the standard angelic white? Very impressed by your talent and ideas.

They start asking all these questions about it, cause it’s like, legitimately one of the coolest costume they’ve ever seen. How can you not think giant wings- that move- aren’t cool?? 

But then like Stu excitedly asks if it would be okay to touch it- and you get oddly quiet after that one. “Well, they’re fragile, y’know?”

Stu pouts, “I can be careful.”

You give him a skeptical look, “I mean- just be careful, like you said.”

“Woah, they feel so real!” Oh, if he only knew. “Billy, ya gotta check this out!” He says, nearly shouting, as he nudges his shorter friend.

Billy rolls his eyes, but gives you a look to see if it’s alright. You simply nod, smiling at him- feeling more at ease. As Billy’s admiring them, and finally leans in to touch them- another guest at the party harshly bumps into you. The force of it accidentally knocking their drink out of their hands, drenching your shirt. 

“Aw shit,” you mumble to yourself. “I’m sorry, I’ll have to leave for the night.”

Stu frowns, not liking the idea of you leaving quite yet. He’d been enjoying your company quite a lot, and he’s certain that Billy did too (even if it didn’t seem like it). “You can borrow one of my shirts,” he all but blurts out.

You can’t help but laugh at his offer, “Are you sure?” Stu eagerly nods.

 You’re in Stu’s bedroom changing, and you’re about to slip on his sweater, when the door is knocked open (not on purpose, of course). “Dude!”

They quickly apologize, but then take notice of your wings- exposed as what they truly were. They stare in awe and bewilderment. You’re still freaked out, and yet still try joking your way out of the situation. “Just, really good prosthetics?” 

It takes a bit of explanation on your part, but the boys accept you for what you are pretty quickly. As strange as this all might be. Stu will have a lot of questions for you, and Billy’s somewhat unsure of it for a while. 

Established Relationship Fun:

Okay, okay!! Soft idea!! When cuddling, sometimes you’ll wrap your giant wings around the three of you. so warm and cuddly.

when watching horror movies together, Billy’s always intensely focused on the screen(almost scarily so- but then again this is one of the faces behind Ghostface we’re talking about so...not too surprising), to the blood and carnage. But he always finds his hand idly playing with your feathers, even if you have them closed behind you. He’d never admit it, but he finds them comforting and extremely calming. He can just forget about all his little problems, and just stroke your feathers (plus, you enjoy it when he does that!! And he likes that it makes you feel good!!)

Norman Bates 

You’d be really nervous at first to tell him, because early on in your friendship/relationship, he introduced you to his hobby- taxidermy. And it kind of scared you seeing your feathered friends in such a state. But...Norman would never harm you. 

(Now...his mother on the other hand? Would be more than willing to discard this freak of nature)

(Norman won’t let that happen to you though- he promises) 

Norman is such an absolute darling. He couldn’t judge a single soul for who or what they are- and yes, that does go for your winged-body, too.

He’d be extremely surprised and intrigued though- he’d be all blushy and happy though that you felt safe enough to tell him!

He finds your wings just absolutely gorgeous though.

He’ll often get sorta shy about handling your wings at all. But he’s very careful with them.

And if you get hurt, he’ll be more than glad to help you patch up (while also being upset you got hurt :( ) - since you can’t really,, go to hospitals at all. Who knows what the general public would do if they found out something like you existed.

On that note- Norman will always be there to help cheer you up when you feel bad about having them. Like, it’s gotta be strange being the only being with wings surrounded by humans- and only humans. Norman’s very good at cheering you up though! He’s very soft and sweet about it. One of the few times he’ll touch your wings. He treats them delicately, as if they’ll break upon his touch if he’s not careful enough. Presses gentle kisses to them, and reminding you how much he loves you.

Michael Myers

You meet Michael during one of his hunts.

You never bring out your wings, unless you absolutely have to.

He’s surprised and a bit confused when he sees you, standing in the streets, giant red wings splayed out. The street lights reflecting your wings into pools of red on the ground. He watches intently, as you push yourself into the air with a loud whoosh. He nearly startles.

But besides this initial reaction, he’s fairly indifferent.

Michael knows no human should have wings like that, or even wings at all. And part of him is curious to know more, so the next time he sees you, he doesn’t try to attack you.

The Fun Stuff??

Michael would definitely be a little rougher with your wings than some of the other slashers. 

Mostly because a part of him recognizes you’re not entirely human, so he equates that to you’ll be able to handle more.

He’s still pretty careful though- because he would never want to hurt his S/O.

Michael enjoys killing alone, and he sure doesn’t need protection- but sometimes, when you convince Michael to bring you along, he finds he doesn’t actually mind your presence there. He kind of enjoys it. And, again, he doesn’t need your protection- but you can’t help to be worried about him, okay? You’ll use your wings as a shield when his victims try fighting back. If you get hurt a bit? Then I guess Michael will just have to help you patch up afterwards.

The Lost Boys

Aww, they are so hyped about it!

Most of the other creatures they interact with are human, so it’s so cool to them when they find out you’re a fellow supernatural being! They’re not,,, entirely sure what you are (neither are you, tbh), but that’s okay.

They get to fly around with you, which they wouldn’t be able to do with you if their S/O was a human or some flightless supernatural being.

Paul would love playing with your wings!

I mean, they all do to some extent. But Paul will play with them whenever. Even if you’re out in public. Like,, if anyone sees your wings they have ways of dealing with that, y’know?

Y’all sleep in the same bed together- kind of just like,, a constant cuddle pile lol. And you don’t always do this, but when the boys are feeling especially in the mood for it (like,, maybe they’ve had a long night, or they just really need to be as close to you as they can)  and you’ll just outstretch your wings, covering the four of them. The soft, familiarity of your feathers calming even the rowdiest of the bunch

They accidentally stay out too late, and you’ll use your wings to help shade them from the sun, as you make your way back to the cave.

[amphibious-entity]

TMBS Book 1 Brain Dump

~An Embarrassingly Long Post~

I don’t know why I’m writing this or why I’m so determined to do it. Maybe to finally assume my true form and become a mega dork on main, or maybe just for fun!

This is basically a compilation of all the main points running through my head after reading The Mysterious Benedict Society (2007) for the first time. Rather than posting a ton and spamming the tag, everything’s here in one neat package! (hopefully this gets it all out of my system rip)

Contents:

The Book Itself

The Book Itself, for real this time

The Characters

A Funny Parallel

The S.Q. Section

Lines & Scenes I Liked

Spoilers abound!

The Book Itself

Upon acquiring the first three books (don’t judge me pls), I was surprised at just how long they are. Like, they’re still pretty light being paperbacks and all, but these books are hefty lads.

The first book has this Disney+ Original Series circle thing printed on it, which is kind of unfortunate. Regardless, I love the cover illustration and yellow is actually my favorite color :D It made me weirdly quite happy whenever I saw the book lying around in my room

Also, it’s really cute how there’s a letter from Mr. Benedict at the end! (It only reveals that you can find out his first name if you “know the code”, meaning the bit of Morse printed below the summary on the back.) Shock and horror, though, as I realized I’m starting to recognize some of the letters

The Book Itself, for real this time

It’s wonderful how the tone of the book really shone through to the show adaptation. Something about the deliberateness of the aesthetic, from the set designs to the fashion to scene compositions, that really sells that particular style— like it’s very clear that this story is being told to us, rather than one we’re seeing unfold, if that makes sense.

Where that narration style stood out to me the most was the first chapter. We are told (rather than shown) how Reynie gets himself to the point of the second test, and there’s this whole twisty time maneuver for that whole sequence of events that’s really interesting

A super secret fun fact about me is that I wanted to be a writer when I was younger! So this particular balance of show vs. tell is really neat, since it runs counter to my own tendencies. The sheer amount of commas in every sentence is also kind of comforting, since Ahah, I Do That in those few serious-ish attempts at writing lol

Overall this book’s style reminds me a lot of Roald Dahl’s books, which are very nostalgic for me :D The whole “kids are more competent than adults” angle helps a lot too haha

The Characters

Oh boy here’s where I get a little bit critical! Overall I did really like this book!! it’s just that that expresses itself in all this weird “”analysis”” lol

Reynie - much better in the books than in the show

It’s sort of a lukewarm take but I feel like show!Reynie is kind of boring? He doesn’t have a lot going on flaw-wise, and obviously since he’s the protagonist he can’t have too many weird traits or else the kids watching can’t project themselves onto him as easily

(I call it the difference between an aspirational protagonist and a vessel protagonist. Going off of the Roald Dahl vibes, think Matilda vs Charlie. show!Reynie is more of a Charlie)

Thus when we get to see him really struggle with the Whisperer and doubt himself it gives him a lot more dimension, at least in my opinion

It is a federal crime that the white knight scenes were not adapted into the show

Sticky - my son

I’ve long held to no one besides myself and my long suffering sister that Sticky is The Best Member of the Society

He happened to hit a lot of the Bingo squares of Stuff I Like In Characters: glasses, anxious, nice :), kind of a coward but ultimately is there for his friends, etc

For some reason I don’t talk about him nearly as much as you-know-who, but I love him just as dearly

Kate & Constance - I don’t have much to say

Kate is really interesting in this book! I like how we get to see more of her depths, in particular that one passage about her belief that she is invincible being the only thing that keeps her from falling apart? :c

Also her constant fidgeting is relatable lol

Constance is somehow a lot more tolerable in the book. I think I’m just one of those people with no patience for small children, unfortunately lol

(Some of) The Adults

It’s interesting that they had such an offscreen presence for most of the book. Giving them more time was probably one of the stronger changes of the show

However if that decision was made at the expense of the white knight scenes I think the choice should have been clear

I like the way Rhonda and Number Two are written

Milligan always on sad boy hours 😔✊

The “mill again” passage is touching but kind of messes up the pacing of the getaway, at least for me. Maybe I should read it again to make sure I didn’t miss something

Miss Perumal is much better in the show. We see so little of her in the book she doesn’t function well as an emotional anchor for Reynie, imo

The Institute Gang

Jackson and Jillson serve their purpose well, and Martina was surprising to say the least. I like the direction they took her in the show! I can’t imagine how funny it must have been to watch the tetherball subplot come out of nowhere lolol

These sections were written out of sequence, so random tidbit I couldn’t fit in The S.Q. Section: I like how he stumbles over his words. relatable

Mr. Curtain

While I think I know why they decided to not give Curtain the wheelchair in the show, we were totally robbed of Actor Tony Hale’s performance for the reveal during the final confrontation

Speaking of the wheelchair, it’s such a powerful symbol of his need for control or rather, his fear of losing it

The Contrast between him and Mr. Benedict. This point is expanded on in A Funny Parallel

Mr. Benedict

Oh boy, Mr. Benedict… How do I say this

I find it hard to trust Mr. Benedict, unfortunately

I mean to say, I do in the sense that I know he would never hurt the kids, thanks to knowing that a) this is a children’s book series and b) the meta (tumblr) states that he is really nice and lovable and stuff, but seriously. Why do the kids trust him at first?? I probably missed something somewhere

I like to think I’m an optimistic person, but unfortunately I’m also super paranoid. The premise of “a bunch of vulnerable orphans team up with a strange old man” is just so odd to me I don’t know how to explain it

I don’t know!!! I really want to trust Mr. Benedict

One of the strengths of the show is that we get to see him more often, and thus he gets to acknowledge more often that the plan is weird and that he feels really badly for putting the kids in danger and that he’s trustworthy and genuine

But his lack of presence for most of the book just makes him into something of a specter, invisible and unknowable, speaking only in riddles from across the bay

Which is why the white knight scene is so important!! I loved that scene ;-;

Because here’s an actual emotional connection! We can actually see it happening, rather than only being told that it exists

Reynie asking for advice and receiving encouragement, in words that demonstrate that Mr. Benedict actually cares about him and worries about him and agghh

It is a federal crime that the white knight scenes were not adapted into the show

But overall this whole issue didn’t ruin my enjoyment of the book at all! It’s just ->

A Funny Parallel

Okay, ready for my biggest brain, hottest take ever??

Mr. Benedict and Mr. Curtain…. are… the same

I mean obviously not entirely, given that one is benevolent and kind and the other is… Mr. Curtain

But seriously. Genius old man seeks out children (mainly orphans) to enact a plan. Said children often end up incredibly devoted to his cause and deeply admire him this is a little flimsy

Undoubtedly that’s intentional and is supposed to show the difference between them, like some kind of cautionary tale? “Let yourself be vulnerable and let others help you, lest you turn eeeeviiillll”

I guess that’s where the aforementioned epic contrast comes in. You get Mr. Curtain, strapped into his wheelchair and hiding behind those mirrored sunglasses, terrified (but unwilling to admit it) of ever showing the tiniest hint of vulnerability, vs. Mr. Benedict, who can let himself fall knowing that someone will catch him :’)

Anyhow I have nothing against the parallels, I just think it’s funny

The S.Q. Section

The S.Q. Quarantine Thread so it doesn’t leak out everywhere else <3

I’d like to meet the emo angstlord genius who read this book and decided to make SQ into Dr. Curtain’s son. What in the world

Okay I should probably preface this by saying that I absolutely adore both book!S.Q. and show!SQ with all my heart. Somehow, despite being a completely different character in both mediums, he has managed to be one of the best characters in either and certainly one of my favorites (besides Sticky of course) in the entire franchise, despite the fact that I’ve only read the first book/watched the show so far. I am confident in this statement.

But seriously! How?? Why?? I could probably write a whole other essay about why show!SQ is such an interesting character, and the change works so incredibly well. I’m just. Baffled

Okay, focus. book!S.Q. is such a sweetheart, oh my goodness. Like, 100% one of the most endearing characters in the book. Poor guy. I don’t even know where to start!!

He just seems to be a genuinely good guy at heart, despite being technically one of the bad guys. He’s genuinely happy for Reynie and Sticky when they became Messengers and helped Kate when she “fell” and was concerned about Constance when she looked sick and how he was in that meeting with Mr. Curtain and Martina?!!? aaahhhhghgh ;-; he just wants people to be happy TT-TT

Comparing him against literally every character at the Institute is probably what makes him so endearing tbh. When everyone else is so awful to the kids, it really makes him stand out. Like a cheerful little nightlight in the worst, most humid and rank bathroom you’ve ever been in

It’s kind of pointless to theorize about a book series that’s already concluded (I think?) but. Is the implication of S.Q.’s forgetfulness supposed to be that Mr. Curtain used him in brainsweeping experiments somehow? The timeline probably definitely absolutely doesn’t line up but like. How did he get to being a Messenger being the way he is now, given how cutthroat the process is? And then of course Mr. Curtain keeps him around as an Executive because he’s fun to mess with and presumably his loyalty. I’m very curious as to how their relationship develops in the other books, if at all. Those are probably where the seeds of the “let’s make them family” logic were planted

But wouldn’t it be hilarious if the reason we don’t know what “S.Q.” stands for in the books is that he just. Forgot

Another thing that occurred to me. Given that he and the other Executives were Messengers at some point, what were their worst fears? What is S.Q.’s worst fear?? Inquiring minds need to know

One last horrible little anecdote: I was thinking about book!S.Q. while eating breakfast, as one does, and suddenly it hit me.

I want to believe The Author Trenton Lee Stewart had the name for a character, S.Q. Pedalian, and was like, “Hm! What sort of quirky trait should this young fellow have?” Because, of course, in this style of fiction every character has to have at least one cartoonish or otherwise distinguishing trait to stand out in the minds of children. (For instance, Kate has her bucket, Sticky has his glasses, Constance is angry, and Reynie is Emmett from the Lego Movie)

Anyhow, he looks around the room, searching for inspiration. Suddenly he comes across a jumbo box of plastic wrap. Completely innocuous in design, save for one line of text. 300 SQ FT.

“…large… S.Q. …feet? THAT’S IT!” i’m sorry

Lines & Scenes I Liked

In no particular order!

Sticky quotes Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Evil combination aerobics/square dancing in the gym with the Executives

Everyone being happy at the end :’)

Everyone partying after Sticky reunites with his parents, and later finding Mr. Benedict asleep at his desk from the moment they shook hands :’’)

Literally any scene with Sticky in it

Any time Kate says “you boys” or “gosh”

[“Um, sir?” S.Q. said timidly, raising his hand. “A thought just occurred to me.” / Mr. Curtain raised his eyebrows. “That’s remarkable, S.Q. What is it?”] clown prince of my heart </3

S.Q.’s determined monologue about searching for clues after he bungled up the first time

Literally any scene with S.Q. in it (please refer to The S.Q. Section)

Reynie trying to resist the Whisperer.

[Let us begin. / First let me polish my spectacles, Reynie thought. / Let us begin. / Not without my bucket, Reynie insisted. He heard Mr. Curtain muttering behind him. / Let us begin, let us begin, let us begin. / Rules and schools are tools for fools, Reynie thought.]

NO MORE HURTIN’ WITH CURTAIN

Milligan showing up on the island!!

Remember the white knight hhhhhh

“controle”

A Super Secret Bonus Section

I would be extremely surprised if anyone read through all the way down here lol. Regardless, here’s a little acknowledgements section :D not tagging anyone since I don’t want to bother all of these people

Special shoutout to tumblr blog stonetowns for unknowingly yet singlehandedly demolishing my reluctance to read the books by posting a ton of cute quotes. Thank you for your service o7

Thanks to the two OGs that liked the post I made right before this one, for being my unwitting enablers and for sticking around despite being a) technically an internet stranger (hello!) and b) someone I haven’t spoken to irl in literal years (hey!!)

Last but not least thankz 2 my sister for putting up with me ranting about the book when I first got it and for asking about “CQ” sometimes lol. (i desperately hope you’re not reading this orz)

[theatredirectors]

Sammy Zeisel

Hometown?

Bethesda, MD.

Where are you now?

Chicago, IL.

What's your current project?

I just opened and closed The Late Wedding by Christopher Chen (one of my favorite contemporary playwrights) with a company called The Neighborhood. It was a strange, beautiful, and difficult play about Italo Calvino, heartbreak, and the transmigration of souls performed in the "Rummage Room" of a church. We sourced all of our props from the boxes of shit that were left in the space after the church rummage sale and got some great use out of the organ that happened to be there, too. The whole thing was kind of magical.

I also am in post production on a short film about a girl getting her period for the first time at her friend's birthday party titled The Care and Keeping of You.

Why and how did you get into theatre?

Well, my mom is the Associate Artistic Director of Imagination Stage, a children's theatre in Washington DC. I grew up in rehearsal rooms. As I'd imagine is the case for most of us, I started out acting at summer camps and in school plays. While I was playing Renfield in my high school production of Dracula, it occurred me that I might actually I want to do this for the rest of my life.

What is your directing dream project?

I always find this question difficult because I see myself as highly responsive to the people and places at my disposal. A piece of theatre does not make sense to me out of context.

THAT SAID I love me some Chekhov. Specifically, I've been on a bit of a Cherry Orchard kick recently. There are secrets contained in that play about the potential for (or futility of) human change that speak directly to this moment. The political and the personal are so beautifully intertwined. Plus, it’s goofy as hell.  Chekhov plays embrace the entire contradictory mess of being a human. How to not, as a director, deny those contradictions by providing easy answers? I see that as an ultimate directing challenge.

What kind of theatre excites you?

I like theatre that takes on the responsibility of its liveness. This can happen in so many different ways: virtuosic physicality (a tap dance?), engagement with the audience's imagination (a person becomes a bird?), direct engagement with the audience (playful meta-theatricality?), or--maybe my favorite--some sort of more subtle, silent communion (Annie Baker). A piece of theatre is not just a story, it is an event; a director is not just a storyteller, she is a coordinator of moments in real-time.

I like to see truthful characters interacting within strange theatrical forms. I think that is what we are: deeply human creatures inside of forms that we do not understand. I like theatre that embraces uncertainty and, in that way, coaxes us to into a more comfortable relationship with our own uncertainty. Violence (outward and inward) stems from a need for control within life, and so, theatre that makes us to sit in an uncomfortable state of unknowing has the capacity to make us gentler.

Finally, I seek out any art that contains a little hint of the inarticulable. A piece of art should contain secrets.

Also probably all theatre should be funny.

What do you want to change about theatre today?

We have a lot of conversations about the need for riskier choices when it comes to content. And we do need that. We should be constantly pushing the boundaries of content and honoring stories that have been neglected. But those stories should also be paired with riskier forms. From what I can tell, theatre companies are more frightened by experiments in theatrical form than almost anything else--probably because a challenging form has perhaps the highest potential of turning an audience off (audience members didn't walk out of The Flick because it is about three people who work at a movie theatre). In the age of Netflix, however, if we do not find forms that are inherently theatrical we will become obsolete. But if we find inherently theatrical forms that contain the electricity of live communion, we will be providing something that the world is desperately hungry for.

And obviously we have to figure out some way to make theatre more accessible. Theatre is basically a hobby for rich people. It's just true, and we all know it and are deeply embarrassed by it. But what can we do to combat this? I certainly don't know. But it might have something to do with returning to bare essentials. We need to be paying artists and we need to be lowering ticket prices, so what gives? What if we made our productions with fewer resources? What if we placed the storytelling weight firmly on the back of the actors and the imagination of the audience? After all--engagement, intimacy, communion--this is REALLY what we offer. Within greater constraints, we might cut costs and revive our medium in the meantime.

What is your opinion on getting a directing MFA?

Not sure. Probably right for some and not for others. I am personally intrigued. I would love some time to discover myself outside of the crucible of the "real world."

Who are your theatrical heroes?

Oof ok here are a couple that come to mind right now:

Anne Bogart (her discipline, her articulation, her curiosity),

Will Eno (his verbal playfulness, his sadness, the intimate communion of his plays),

Andre Gregory (his spiritual/minimalistic approach, Vanya on 42nd St.),

Mary Zimmerman (her theatrical imagination, her physicalization, her childlike wonder)

Annie Baker (her lessons in patience, restraint, yearning character),

Edward Albee (his social critique, his plea for honesty, his courage in the face of the void)

Sarah Ruhl (magic, poetry)

Charlie Kaufman (film director, a storytelling North Star)

My mom

Any advice for directors just starting out?

I am a director who is just starting out, so anything I say is also advice to myself. So here are a couple of things I have to tell myself over and over:

You are you. The more directors you watch, the more you see that no two directors do ANYTHING the same way. In fact, equally incredible directors do things in precisely opposite ways. What does that mean? What makes those directors good? They are good because they know themselves. They are working from a place of personal authenticity that no one could have possibly taught them. And so you cannot emulate them. Emulating a good director will make you a bad director. You can only work at getting closer and closer to the director that you were meant to be from the beginning.

Direct stuff. You can only discover who you are as a director by directing. Find cheap-as-shit spaces. Hold rehearsals in your apartment. Produce your own ten-minute play festivals. Do stuff that leads nowhere because it all leads somewhere.

Direct the kind of stuff you say you want to direct. I've had a tough time with this one. It can be scary to actually DO the work that you say you love. Because it's super vulnerable, I guess. But until you present the work that actually feels like your jam, no one will have any idea what your jam is. You probably won't even know. Be brave enough to do the work that turns you on.

Craft is generosity. It's not all about discovering who you are. Directing is a craft. And by that I mean, there are concrete skills involved: how do you create varied stage pictures? How do you make sure an audience hears important information? How do you stage compelling transitions? Maybe think of getting better at these things as acts of generosity. When you put work into these elements, you show an audience that you care about every second of their experience.

You will disappoint yourself. Making stuff comes at a price. You will feel inadequate, and you will make work that doesn't feel like you. Lean in. Hold on to faint glimmers of hope. Do better every time. Inch closer and closer.

Interrogate your privilege. If you are doing this, you are probably the beneficiary of a certain amount of privilege. I am the beneficiary of a massive amount. If this is true for you, acknowledge it. Interrogate the narratives you are drawn to. Think twice before putting yourself on stage. Doubt yourself and listen to the wisdom of the less privileged. Use the love and care you've enjoyed in your life to create loving, caring spaces for others.

Be kind. Be critical of the work you see, but be curious about where your criticism comes from. How would you like your own work to be seen? How can you approach other artist’s work with that same generosity? Separate intention from execution and acknowledge how terrifying it is just to be out here trying. Strive to be an enthusiast: you will learn more, people will want to work with you, and the inside of your own head will be a nicer place to live. (You will also be a better director if you are not driven by ego, insecurity, and a need to prove.)

Don't listen that hard to people's advice. Most people who are giving you advice are telling you what they need to hear, not what you need to hear. Nobody knows what they're doing, and no-one moves forward in the same way.

Read more books, listen to more music, watch more movies, think about things a lot

Plugs!

Rumple: Last year, I developed a children's musical adaptation of Rumpelstiltskin with Chicago folk band, Friends of the Bog. It's a feminist re-telling of the strange old tale, filled with stellar folk jams and tap dancing puppets. It's weird, theatrical, and full of heart (think Pig Pen Theatre Co. meets Spongebob). And we are looking for a home for it. Hit me up if this tickles you and you have a lead.

Beth Hyland: One of the best young playwrights in Chicago or probably the country. She's also my pal. If you don't know her, you should get on that.

Chicago: The reputation that Chicago has for community and authenticity is grounded firmly in reality. Artists are struggling in Chicago as much as they are anywhere else but they are surrounded by their friends. There is vital, community-building theatre happening out here in church rummage rooms and abandoned storefronts. Just saying.

My website. My email: sammyzeisel@gmail.com

[theteej]

6. Four Year Flight

On January 16, 2013, my plane touched down in Chicago, ending another winter visit home to California. As I picked up my bag in baggage claim, my heart thudded in my chest. I was about to be picked up by Ben Bascom, and I was anxious, excited, overwhelmed.  Ben had decided to make the nearly 300 mile (482 km) round trip between Champaign-Urbana and Chicago to pick me up, have dinner in the city, and then ride down together.  It was our first date.

I’d met Ben at a grad student party a little over a month before, just after Thanksgiving 2012. I’d spent ten months in South Africa and had just returned from a month in the UK, doing research for the dissertation. I’d newly started the anxiety-ridden adventure of actually writing a book-length project; the day I met him I had just started work on my second chapter and desperately welcomed the distraction.  We’d hit it off relatively quickly; he was simultaneously quiet and energetic, somewhat shy but also deeply interested in people and ideas.  More than that, he was kind, and he made me want to know more about what was happening behind that smile of his.  We chatted over the next few weeks, and stayed in touch daily while we were both home for the December holidays.  When he offered to pick me up and arrange a date, I eagerly—if anxiously—said yes.  Neither of us had really dated someone of the same sex before; we were both new to a lot.

I’d known that I was queer for a long time, but my self-identification was a long and complex process.  By my mid-teens I’d come to realize that I was attracted physically to both men and women, and as an evangelical kid this terrified me.  I decided I shouldn’t date anyone at the moment, but I found myself only romantically interested in women.  For years I found myself physically attracted to men and women, but emotionally drawn only to women.  I wasn’t sure how one should ‘identify’ in such a fashion, and I decided to just go with straight(ish) for the time being.  Or at least not queer.  My adventures in dating post-college weren’t extraordinarily great, either.  I’d had a long on-again, off-again with a college friend, but the distance (she was in San Francisco, I in San Diego), and my own myriad insecurities made sure that never really became something solid or reliable.  I dated a law student while a high school teacher, but that was marred by our busy schedules, intensive travel, and too much pressure.  After the spectacular implosion of that relationship just before I started graduate school in 2008, I vowed to remain single for as long as possible. Relationships were scary and unknowable and caused nothing but pain.  I buried myself in work, in research, and in graduate school in Illinois, finding close friendships and intensive research to be preferable to any more painful entanglements.

Yet, by 2012, after nearly a year abroad in South Africa and the UK, I’d returned with new eyes.  I was openly acknowledging my queerness, as it were, and had finally decided to live openly in multiple senses: I was not only open about not being straight, but I was open to the idea of meeting and loving someone of the same gender as me.  Ben was one of the first people I met in this new time in my life, and I found myself surprised by how hard I fell for him.  He was kind.  He was thoughtful. He was witty—brilliantly and caustically and wonderfully so, a side of him that I felt not nearly enough people who knew him saw.  When his car pulled up in front of the airport in Chicago, I beamed with excitement and hope and a good measure of fear.  

We both had a lot to learn: about ourselves, about relationships, about how to let someone into your life when you weren’t used to such a thing.  Ben was soft-spoken and secretive in all the ways that I was profoundly loud and up-front.  We clashed, we misunderstood each other, we fundamentally misread each other’s intentions. But we also cared, we built something, we learned to be open with people in a way we hadn’t been before.  For eighteen months I got to know a beautiful, complex, wonderful human in the cornfields of central Illinois, and learned more about who I was and the kind of person that I wanted to be.

Without a doubt, Ben and I are very different people, despite our shared penchants for irony, spectacles, and the folly of pursuing a doctorate in the humanities.  One of the many incredible things that Benjamin taught me was about the fundamental need for kindness and good faith.  I tend to take a relatively hard line with actions and interpretations.  If things feel wrong or unjust or dishonest, they shouldn’t be accommodated.  They should be called out.  They should be named.  This is how transformation happens.  And truly, it’s worked for me in a lot of ways.  It can be abrupt and blunt, but it is also really powerful. For someone who grew up as a person of color and tasted firsthand feelings of powerlessness and despair in the face of structural fuckery, this sort of outlook felt safe and right.  Ben didn’t live like that.  Ben loved people in a unique and individual way; he sought to know them, to care for them, and to know who they were inside.  In the midst of my angry dismissals of people, he’d say, “but you have to remember why they’re doing this” or “yes, but they’re also acting this way because of this.”  And I’d angrily have to concede the point.  This didn’t mean that someone’s actions were any less wrong, but did mean that I was forced to acknowledge a shared humanity with someone that I was often not willing to do.  Ben taught me in a lot of ways to see good in people, and to care for them. He never blunted my intuition or told me to stop caring about justice, but he also asked e to be softer, to be kinder, to love people in a far more holistic way.  It’s one of the things I remain the most grateful for in knowing him, that he cared for people in a meaningful, individual way, and really tried to know them.  Every now and then I find myself echoing his questions about people’s motivations or concerns when I’ve jumped to a fully self-righteous conclusion, and I know that I was lucky to have such a kind teacher.

A year and a half into our relationship, I moved to Virginia to take my current job.  I was terrified that this would cause us to breakup.  Ben travelled with me for the move and stayed the first week and a half in my transition to the heart of Confederatelandia. He reassured a scared new professor that this was possible.  He loved me, and I loved him.  We encountered so many strange and unfamiliar parts of life in the Shenandoah together in those first few days, and when he left on a plane back to Illinois, my eyes filled with tears as someone I loved flew away.  Before the flight, Ben looked me in the eyes and smiled, “Don’t worry,” he said. “This is an adventure. Think of how we’ll get to know each other in new ways over this distance—it’s a new journey!”

“I’m scared,” I admitted. “I’m scared that this will all end.”

“I don’t think that’ll happen.  But we’re in this weird, wonderful thing together,” he answered.

And it was a great first year together over distance, spending time learning about each other in new ways, communicating over great distances, and catching each other up on different parts of our lives in ways we hadn’t expected.  That second year, however, was far harder.  Work on Ben’s dissertation was stressful; being a new tenure-track professor was as well.  We had less time.  We heard each other less. We misunderstood each other more. Our times felt heavy with a new tension, or importance—we had to make things count, or we’d miss our few times together. We’d fight and then be mad that we’d wasted precious time. It was hard. It wasn’t anywhere near the adventure of the previous year.  Ben briefly moved out to Virginia and then came back to Illinois to finish the dissertation.  We kept going on.  We were each other’s people.  I didn’t know how I could really be in Virginia without Ben’s reassurance, or Ben’s kindness, or Ben’s love.  I couldn’t imagine a different reality without him here.  But things were changing.  We were changing.

On June 1, 2016, we talked on the phone, a regular nightly tradition.  But he sounded different. It didn’t take long to get to the heart of it. He didn’t want to try any more. And it took time, but in the middle of the conversation I had to realize that one person’s interest could not sustain a relationship.  That we weren’t going to be able to continue as us.  It was hard to say goodbye.  Fuck, it was devastating.  

The first few days after were by far the hardest.  I’d learned how to be a grown-up academic in some ways because of the constant love and support of a brilliant and beautiful person.  I didn’t know how to be T.J. without that person every day.  I also wanted to immediately, intuitively retreat to who I’d been in the years before knowing Ben; someone that sealed his emotional core, someone that didn’t think he could date people, someone who thought emotional entanglements were too much.  But if there’s anything I’ve learned in the last seven months, it’s that you can live through a hell of a lot of change in your life.  You can learn to be different and to see people differently. Relationships that end aren’t failures; rather, they’re the end of a formative time in your lives and they can be the beginning of something new.  I don’t’ have to jettison all of the change and all of the learning because of a relationship’s end.  Instead, I have to continue to learn how to love people, to see their contexts, to not only privilege my intuition or reading of a situation and to see the humanity in others.  I’m a far, far way from being together or whole or not broken by this experience, by this end.  But I’ve learned so much from it, and I’m really fucking grateful to have been loved by someone and able to love them back.  And so, four years later, I think back on that first airport date with sadness and gratitude.  And I continue to be open to the idea of new growth, and new learning, and remembering that I have and will survive so many changes.  I’m going to keep these memories tinged with joy, heartache, and hope.

------

This is the eleventh of sixteen short essays about things that have changed for me this year. Stay tuned for the (finally) remaining few as time goes on. #Teej16

-

[rodypowderedmilk]

RIP WIP: if you see this post, respond with a snippet of a fic you (sadly) won’t be completing.

Waking up the same as every day has begun to become tiresome. Liam can’t complain, though. He’s got a roof over his head (albiet a bit leaky), food on the table (albiet a bit cheap), a great job (albiet a bit cheap as well), and a great life in general (albiet a bit shitty).

He slides his foot out of bed, warm skin exposed to the harsh cold outside of his covers. His eyes grant a nervous glance to the clock, despite the fact that his alarm hasn’t even gone off yet. Waking up at the same time every morning has warped Liam’s body into an early person alien and he can never tell whether he feels that’s a good thing or not.

He reaches to the end of his bed for the clothes that he set out last night in the dark. He doesn’t care much for the light in the morning and slides his leg back inside the covers. It’s much warmer this way anyway.

Mornings have become monotonous, and waking up so early practically zaps any and all emotion out of him at such an hour. He carefully tucks his button up work shirt into his pants, and pointedly ignores the faint stains all over it. Gisepie’s Mechanic’s, it reads in cursive thread over Liam’s heart.

His mum always tell him she can’t even see the stains, but he eyes them all the way to work, worried that someone will pick him out from the rest of the crowd, scrutinize him, accuse him of being unworthy of a job what with a stained shirt like that.

Walking to work with his tin lunch pail has always made him feel like a kid on their way to primary, especially because his mum insists he stop by the house on his way and give her a kiss before he leaves. He loves her though, and never misses a day, even if he is running a bit late. (He never runs a bit late, he only thinks he does)

His mum smiles at him differently today, like she knows a secret, and straightens out his collar.

“Morning, Mum,” he smiles at her, and listens as his dad grumbles in the background, probably having dropped something in the kitchen as he often does.

“Morning, darling,” she returns distractedly and smooths her hands down his shirt. Liam gives her a strange look, bewildered. She usually leaves his clothes alone seeing as he immaculately dresses himself most mornings (every morning).

“What’s up?” he says and then hears his father grumble louder from somewhere else in the house. Typical.

“Oh, nothing,” she tells him breezily, patting his chest and finally looking up into his eyes, “Just fixing you up for work,” she grants him a smile. Liam nods once, eyes squinted at her and goes to turn on his heel.

“Well, then,” he salutes, “I’m off,” and spins around in typical Liam fashion.

“Love you!” his mum calls out.

The town is ordinary enough, Zayn thinks as he steps out of his car. He’s looking at the signs and up at the cloudy sky as he does and therefore does not notice the double takes he’s getting until he shuts his door and begins to stride along the side walk. He glances back at his car, as if to check that no one’s stolen it yet, or maybe just check out what everyone’s staring at. The shiny red paint glints in the faint sun of Wolverhampton, and Zayn looks away again seemingly unaffected by the beauty of his car. A man so beautiful himself can only ever seem unaffected by other beautiful things.

Walking into work is the same as always, wave at the boys in the garage having their morning coffee, say hello to the lovely receptionist at the front desk, and check in with his boss.

“Morning, boss,” he chirps, to the ornery old man leaning over his beloved radio. “What have you got for me today?” he asks, giving his best polite grin. He despises that even after three years of working here, talking to his boss inspires the fear of God into his heart.

“Usual,” his boss grunts, fiddling with the radio nobs. They do nothing. The radio has been stuck on one channel for six months. Liam’s smile begins to falter, “Great!” he forces out and begins to walk to his garage.

Four hours later he’s fully unbuttoned his uniform, grease stained undershirt on display beneath the now rumpled button up, and takes a break at about eleven after the four hours of dirtying himself with various car fluids. As he walks out his boss calls to him, “Hey, Payne!”

Liam turns his head, and tries to calm himself down. He’s constantly worrying that he’s going to get fired. He’s not going to get fired. He hopes.

“Yeah, boss?”

A very loud bang sounds out across the garage and he runs over to help when he hears growing shouting. After about twenty minutes of cleaning lube off the floor, Liam is starving and ready for lunch. He grabs his lunch pail and heads out, forgetting his previous worry of being fired.

Heading back to his beautiful car after stepping out for a minute to hit up the ATM is when it begins. Zayn hops into his car and immediately notices something is wrong.

Searching on his phone for the nearest mechanic shop, he’s alreading beginning to hate this trip.

Liam walks over to the small Italian bakery next door, Amalfitano’s, and sits in his usual spot in the corner where he can smile at the old ladies but not necessarily have to talk to them. A group of gossiping older women, maybe in their sixties, on their ways to being the old ladies who pinch Liam’s cheeks still, but not quite, sit at the table next to him as he pulls out his Batman lunch box. The family who owns the bakery is nice enough to not get upset that he brings his own lunch from home into their bakery, and he always makes sure to buy something from them, albiet the cheapest thing they’re selling.

As he bites into his sandwich he hears the women beginning to get excited about their gossip.

“He’s just gorgeous,” he hears Tammy drawl.

“Have you seen him?” Babette asks, eagerly, getting over excited and nearly knocking her drink over in typical Babette fashion.

“Oh, of course!” Tammy replies, ever dramatic, ever elegant. “He’s an absolute doll,” she tells the ladies at the table, spreading her hands out and giving them all a sweeping look.

“Very ethnic James Dean, I’d say”

“Oh, he’s ethnic?”

“Either that or he’s tan,”

“What kind of ethnic?”

“Well, on first thought I figured Mexican, but he looked more Indian to me on second glance, but he also could have been biracial, you know. But I’m nearly certain he’s Mexican,”

The girls all look off into a contemplative glance, racist in their innocent unknowing ways.

Eliza gasps, “What if he’s the artist!”

The rest of the girls are reduced to excited gasping messes as they contemplate the ever so exciting notion that this God like ethnic man of unknown nationality might be the artist. What artist? Liam thinks, in typical Liam fashion because Liam hardly ever knows anything about anything. Sitting next to these women once every Thursday helps with that though. They’re the main gossips of the town and nothing can happen without them knowing. It’s one of the reasons he keeps mostly to himself and never does anything. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.

They continue on buzzing, and Liam really does try to stay out of their business whenever they come here for lunch, he does, but today he’s very confused and admittedly, intrigued.

“Pardon me, ladies,” he says, and promptly blushes upon opening his mouth because god forbid he speak with confidence a day in his life, “I don’t mean to impede- impose- I don’t mean to listen in on your conversation or anything, I’m just- you know, I was just. Wondering. What artist- I mean you said something about an artist. What are you- can you tell me- I was just wondering what artist you were talking about?” he finally spits out, and pointedly ignores the very obvious blush all over his cheeks. When he gets embarassed his armpits itch and he determinedly does not go to itch them. The ladies all smile at him though, endeared and just wait for him to get his words out. He hardly ever talks to them, aside from a hello and a goodbye on occasion. He’s not rude.

They all begin talking at once.

“The festival-”

“Wolverhampton-”

“700 years…”

“The greatest palooza since ‘93!”

“Proper money maker-”

Liam just smiles encouragingly and waits for them all to calm down. Tammy signals for them to settle and then looks turns to Liam to explain.

“Liam, you know the 700th year anniversary of Wolverhampton is coming up, don’t you?” she asks him, with no mal intent behind her words, and doesn’t wait for him to answer because the question definitely was not a question. “They’re having a festival to celebrate, you know, a whole big shebang and everything to bring in tourists and all sorts of things, you know, all that,” and flippantly waves her hand, taking a large breath and looking up at the cieling. If they weren’t in a bakery she’d have taken a pull from her cigarette by now.

“They’ve brought in an artist as well, you know, to do some sort of installment, you know, like an art project of sorts and apparently he specializes in motorized vehicles and rustic things and all that and that” she puts a very large emphasis on ‘that’ as if she’s proving her point in a court of law, “is because wolverhampton’s growth in population was due to the manufacturing of cars,” she finishes and shrugs, going back to the very large pie in front of her. Interesting, Liam thinks. He specializes in motorized vehicles and rustic things as well.

Going to Wolverhampton is a great idea, she said, it’ll be fun, she said, you need the good PR, she said. Janine lied. He’s been here less than two hours, and his beautiful baby is already out of comission, people won’t stop staring at him, and he’s had to piss for four hours. Things are not going well.