The Quiet Storm

On Sunday I had a terrible headache and felt down.  I don't even know why really.  I hadn't been calling home like I did in Boston.  Part of it was the time difference, part of it was that everyone was busier than before, so I called home for Mother's Day and took some acetaminophen.

 

The next day my mood had not improved, I forgot my lunch, I still had a headache, and I was still feeling inexplicably down--so I took a break at work.  I don't know what I meant to accomplish, but I saw that the water cooler needed a change of water, so I proceeded to do so.  I'm an experienced water cooler, but that didn't help this time.  I broke the giant bottle and made a mess.  It was not a good day so far.

 

I was going to check out the benefit show by, for, and about improviser EJ Scott.  It was to raise money for a cross-country bike ride and documentary about an eye disease called Choroideremia.

 

But first I needed to grab something to eat.

 

Since I forgot my lunch I had to buy lunch at work.  It was much more filling than my usual peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but it was quite pricey.  I didn't expect to pay more than eight dollars for a burger, soda, and fries.  "Next time I forget lunch," I resolved to myself, "I'm going to walk into Westwood."

 

What I usually do at home is cook a bit pot of spaghetti or teriyaki marinated chicken fried rice and eat leftovers for most of the week.  I had some spaghetti sitting in the fridge, but felt like some restaurant spaghetti since I was out waiting for the show to begin anyway.

 

I went to the place where I went with MB after going to Griffith Observatory the first time (we went again in March where we peeked through their telescope and saw Saturn).  It was a place on Hollywood done up like a pizza place in New York, or for that matter Boston, with the requisite DeNiro and Pacino headshots on the walls with a plasma TV showing the game.  Their pasta wasn't as dry as mine can be.

 

I went to the show, which was an improv show between three characters in one scene at a bar at a table.

 

They were played by EJ Scott, Craig Cackowski, and Shelly Berman.  I like LA sometimes.  Their hilarious dialogue went quite away towards cheering me up.

 

Interestingly it was Shelly Berman who seemed to make an improv error.

 

At one point Craig Cackowski mentioned that he googled Berman's character and found out he had five wives, to which Berman replied that he only had one, for a very long time.  One that still annoys him.  It was a denial of the world they'd created, but Cackowski had a brilliant save by replying that "someone on the Internet with that name has five wives."

 

The next day I rushed back to my apartment.  My laptop was due and I was uncertain as to whether or not my building manager would sign for it and keep it their apartment or if I'd get a tag on my door and possibly have to tell them I'd pick it up.  I did not want to do that as I didn't know if I'd be able to make it from UCLA to FedEx in downtown LA before they closed, or if I'd have to fit th errand in on Saturday.

 

A week earlier a packaged was delivered to me and they signed for it, but they tucked it in front of my door.  It wasn't there when I got back.  I got back late since I was using the Internet at the library.

 

They signed for it and I got my computer back.

 

On Wednesday I went to class after a quick stop for supper.  The week before I went to Arby's because I hadn't been since I was a kid.  I bought the five items for $5.95 special and found it quite filling.  But I had an Arby's melt which masked the roast beef flavor with cheese.  So this week I just got a medium roast beef sandwich.  It tasted like I remembered, but it didn't sit well in my stomach.

 

My current teacher is a stickler for punctuality, so I had to rush back for two reasons: the toilet and class.  I waited for the bus before deciding it wasn't going to be here soon enough, so I ran into a Rite Aid (they almost always have bathrooms).  I looked but couldn't find it.  I asked where it was and was told it was through door with the handicapped sign.  Usually Rite Aid's bathrooms are passable, but that door lead to their storage space and a hallway with two single-toilet unisex bathrooms, both of which were in slight disarray.  They'd have to do.

 

I checked my watch as I left and grew nervous.  I speed-walked, as I normally do, and managed to make it with time to spare.

 

Our class usually begins with a series of very quick scenes, and commentary where needed.  This time, instead of that exercise serving as our warm-up, it took half the class.  I feel like, so far, my progress seems to be somewhere in between the excellent work in Level 2 and my struggles in Level 1.  I'm genuinely unsure where I am in the class.  I feel like I'm still doing good work, but I seem to get pointers after most of my scenes.

 

What I've been trying to do is just take direction well.  The week before I had a hard time with space work, so in this class I decided to make a strong physical choice each time.  It seemed to work for the most part.  I figure if I just try hard to work on problems addressed the previous week, I should do pretty well, and hopefully pass to Level 4.

 

There's a ratio that's tossed around: 7:10.  It's a number that suggests the success rate among even the best improvisers.  That said, I feel like I was somewhere around 4 or 5.

 

We shall see.

 

We seemed to be citing a lot of examples from outside performances.  So when our teacher brought up the concept of assuming a past history, I mentioned the show I saw after the benefit, which was an Armando. 

 

It's similar in some ways to Upright Citizen Brigade's Asssscat shows, in that there's a monologue that inspires the improv.  So, an outside guest, a name if they can get one, comes in and starts each of three acts with monologues based on a suggestion, and the improvisers freestyle around that.

 

In one scene Dave Hill was playing a child going shopping with his mom.  When a sales clerk approached them he rolled his eyes and said "Uh-oh!" and proceeded to dial 9-1-1.  In this scene Hill assumed a past history in which his character's mother would fly off the handle at sales clerks.  It was a good example of the concept.  I kind of wished a "cop" would join them on stage, but sometimes in improv too many cooks can spoil the broth.

 

On Friday there was a case of only one cook.  I arrived at the Andy Dick Theater and found out that the first show's team had canceled, except for one player.  He decided to play anyway and I was a bit skeptical.  Over the years I've thought that I've developed a sense of who was funny.  I think that I've deluded myself.

 

In his performance he usually played three characters per scene.  He usually made strong choices and gave each character a pretty solid point of view.  Part of my skepticism came from the fact that in improv part of the magic is that you don't know what the other player, or players, are going to say.  It didn't seem to matter all that much here though.

 

The rest of the night was fine, there were plenty of strong shows for the little theatre that could and that trend continued the next night.

 

On Saturday I filled in for another intern at the theatre so I was running the room more or less.  That's how it goes on Saturdays, there is no night-long host, but usually hosts per hour, if at all.  Most of the shows are Harolds and those that aren't are usually kids playing on stage to their friends while I'm sort of the guy at the carnival that tightens their seatbelts and asks if they want to go faster.

 

I spoke to one such improviser before the night began.  He brought his dad and we were chatting and getting to know each other a bit.  As the conversation continued, we found all these connections.  In Truth in Comedy, the authors mention that life is one long Harold in which connections are made constantly.  Here I told them that I went to college in Boston because I was from Western Mass.  "Where in Western Mass?"

 

"It's a suburb of Springfield, East Longmeadow," I said.

 

"No way, we're from Longmeadow!"

 

"You're the guys that beat us in the Thanksgiving football game this year!"  I cheerfully replied.

 

I later found out the dad sells real estate near my dad's office in East Longmeadow and that they know someone who works in the theatre department at Emerson.

 

Yesterday I started to write my blog to get back on a weekly schedule.  I had my computer back and little excuse.  But I was stuck.  I didn't have an angle, so I called home to tell them I was going to watch the Sox game on TBS but there was a rain delay (if you say Sox to improvisers they assume you mean White not Red).

 

If I couldn't get on a weekly schedule with the blog again, I could at least call home more.  I told my dad about real estate guy from Longmeadow and he told me he thinks it's the guy who did the siding at what is now my parent's house.

 

Today I went to work and it was cool and cloudy here.  Oh, to feel like home!  When I left work I ran to the bus stop, but the bus was early, so I went to Ralph's Super Market and bought some lasagna and waited for the next 305.  That bus was fifteen minutes late of course.

 

But it was no longer rush hour so I made it home pretty quickly.  And I didn't think about it too much, I just started to write in my quiet storm.

 

Thank you, I'm Eric Cheung.  I'm on MySpace and Live Journal.