Seducing the Audience

noreply@blogger.com (Scott Munson) — Tue, 10 Sep 2019 18:57:00 +0000

OMG! This blog is still working! Has it really been over six years since I've posted here? Something about tempus fugit as I recall from Latin 1 class! Or was it Latin 2?

noreply@blogger.com (Scott Munson) — Mon, 21 Jan 2013 20:24:00 +0000

I know it's been forever since I've posted. But with the upcoming Super Bowl match-up, I thought I'd share this strange vision that came to me in a dream last night after the two conference championship games were done:

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of Fantasy Football Lore,,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some fellow Niner Fan,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven from the Chesapeake River Shore.
Not the least obeisance made he; in his old Ray Lewis jersey;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon my E-bay bust of the running back Frank Gore -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, tell me ghastly grim and ancient raven
How the outcome will unravel when the two teams meet in battle
In that ancient mausoleum near the wide Mississippi shore

Quoth the raven, “By two scores.”

Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By the Halls of Holy Canton - by that game we both adore -
Even though the answer kills us, by the sainted name of “Patrick Willis,”
Tell me whether the result will thrill us, here on the broad Pacific’s shore,
Will the trophy of Lombardi go to my lads so hale and hearty in the Red and Gold I adore?
Quoth the raven, `By two scores.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the foul depths of sooty Baltimore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `By two scores.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid Ebay bust of the running back Frank Gore;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Quoth the Raven, “By two scores”

Holiday Gift Ideas

noreply@blogger.com (Scott Munson) — Thu, 15 Dec 2011 20:12:00 +0000

As many of my blog posts tend to be somewhat… ahem… esoteric in their subject matter, I thought I’d do something a little more helpful for the Holiday Season. So, with a mere 10 days to go until the big day, here are some (not quite) last minute suggestions for gift-giving for all those naughty or nice folks on your shopping lists!

For the Existentialist Who Has Everything

Everybody knows that George Jones has the greatest voice ever given to a male country singer. But who knew he was also a disciple of Jean Paul Sartre? His song, “Choices”, just about says it all in the personal responsibility department. You can hear it here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U5EUKP-l80M

You can also buy the album featuring this tune for that hard-drinking-SUV-crashing- Gospel –shouting-come-to-Jesus-special-someone in your life here:

http://www.amazon.com/Cold-Hard-Truth-George-Jones/dp/B00000JC6B/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1323114507&sr=8-2

It also includes the wonderful title track, "Cold Hard Truth," as an extra bonus!

If the lucky recipient of your Holiday generosity wants their angst straight from the Parisian source, however, you can give them a DVD of Godard’s wonderful “Vivre Sa Vie” (“My Life to Life”). It stars the matchless, magnetic Anna Karina as your typical chain smoking French intellectual hot chick who spends her days vacillating between turning tricks, dancing in pool halls, having machine gun battles with pinball playing thugs, and hanging out with saggy old philosophers talking some heavy, heavy Existential doo-doo!

For a flavor of the film, you can check out her wonderful “Je suis responsable” speech. Sad to say for you non-French speakers, I couldn’t find an English subtitled version. But I did find this one in Spanish which pretty clearly gets the point across:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KY5An_X7o4o

If that hooked you, you can buy the DVD here:

http://www.amazon.com/My-Life-Live-Alfred-Adam/dp/6301883047/ref=sr_1_2?s=movies-tv&ie=UTF8&qid=1323114558&sr=1-2

Viva Montenegro

A long, long, long time ago, in a century far away, my grandparents came to the United States from the tiny Balkan country of Montenegro (population 600,000 which makes it two-thirds the size of San Jose). At the time they left, it was still part of the Austro-Hungarian empire, which is why my Granddad had “Austrian” as his nationality on his immigration papers. Usually, there isn’t that much about Montenegro in the daily news or percolating around in world culture. In fact, all I can remember is:

1. The fictional detective Nero Wolfe came from there.

2. We almost qualified for the Euro 2012 soccer tournament only losing out to Czechoslovakia in the final match of qualifying. (But we did tie England in a match at Wembley Stadium which is quite an accomplishment for such a tiny land.)

Now we have something else to truly proud of! It’s the emergence of the stunning new classical guitarist, Milos Karadaglic. He combines incredible technique and talent with some serious “bad boy” good looks. That can be a dangerous combination, integrity-wise, but hopefully he’ll keep playing good music and won’t go all PBS-fund-raising-drive-Andre-Rieu-Yanni on us.

You can learn more about Milos in this article:

http://www.salon.com/2011/12/03/quick_hits_milos_karadaglic_plays_live/singleton/

If that grabs your attention, you can buy his album here:

http://www.amazon.com/Mediterraneo-Milos-Karadaglic/dp/B004PKOKU2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1323113675&sr=8-1

A Horse of A Different Color – A Play in One (Very Short) Act

Scene 1: San Jose, the present day

Scott: Honey, what are you reading?

Beatrice (reading): Seabiscuit: An American Legend.

Scott: You mean… like about the race horse?

Beatrice (reading): Hmmm…..

Scott: That’s funny. I never knew you were interested in horse racing.

Beatrice (reading): Hmmm…..

Scene 2: Same setting, several hours later

Scott: You want to go for a walk?

Beatrice (reading): No, I’m reading.

Scott: But it’s a beautiful day.

Beatrice (reading): Hmmm….

Scott: How about a movie?

Beatrice (reading): Hmmm….

Scene 3: Same setting, several hours later

Scott: But you don’t even like sports books!

Beatrice (reading): Hmmm….

Scott: What’s so special about this one?

Beatrice (reading): Hmmm….

Scott: If it’s so great, how can I get a copy?

Beatrice: Easy! Http://www.amazon.com/Seabiscuit-American-Legend-Laura-Hillenbrand/dp/0449005615/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1323121715&sr=8-1

Curtain. End of Play.

Just Something Beautiful

Erich Wolfgang Korngold was an Austrian composer born early in the 20^th century. No less a light than Gustav Mahler himself pronounced Korngold a “wunderkind” and predicted a glorious future for him. After some initial success, however, Korngold’s lushly romantic writing fell out of favor with the Viennese classical music crowd who were eagerly flinging themselves down the rat hole known as atonal music. So Korngold emigrated to Hollywood where he ended up writing sound tracks for movies like “The Adventures of Robin Hood,” “Captain Blood,” and “The Sea Hawk.” This may have won him several Academy Awards but did nothing for his… ahem…. critical street cred amongst the long-haired crowd. And thus he sank into oblivion reserved for most “movie music” composers.

Recently, however, EWK has been enjoying something of a Renaissance. It’s been mostly thanks to the efforts of several enlightened performers who love to do his music and totally leave it all on the concert floor when they perform it. As an example, check out Anne Sofie von Otter doing “Marietta’s Song” (“Gluck, das mir Vierlieb”) from “Die Todt Stadt” (The Dead City). BTW, EWK wrote this little ditty at the ripe old age of 23. I hate people like that (even though I love their music!):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WN_vsAUEE8s

If you like what you heard here, Anne Sofie has released a two-CD set of Korngold’s “serious” music. You can find it at:

http://www.amazon.com/Anne-Sofie-von-Otter-Rendezvous/dp/B00000HY3U/ref=sr_1_1?s=music&ie=UTF8&qid=1323115754&sr=1-1

One thing that haunts me is that Korngold died in North Hollywood just as I was wandering around there as a tyke. It makes me wonder if I ever ran into him at the “Dales’ Jr” (our “7-11” back in the day). Maybe I stood next to him in the checkout line while he was picking up the latest copy of “The Hollywood Reporter” while I was out buying kilos of root beer popsicles for my poor drug-addicted stepmom.

For Classical Free Market Economists Who Think They’ve Just About Got It All Figured Out

I recently stumbled on a book at the San Jose library called, “Debt: The First 5000 Years.” And, no, it isn’t about how long it takes to pay off your Visa bill making minimum payments. It’s by David Graeber who, according to his Amazon page, is an American anthropologist and anarchist who currently holds the position of Reader in Social Anthropology at Goldsmiths, University of London.

The book examines how the concept of debt has evolved and changed as human needs and relations have themselves evolved and changed. In particular, it applies actual anthropological data to several “facts” that classical economists routinely posit about human nature without a shred of evidence to support them (Are you listening, Adam Smith?) For example, did money and debt evolve from a barter economy in primitive humans or was it the other way around? Is “enlightened self-interest” really the driving force behind how we behave? And how much do economic ideas about debt and collateral and payment obligations feature into our religious views (which allegedly pre-date our notions of economics.) You may not “buy” it all, but it’s a fascinating book and sure to spark some interesting conversations over the egg nog and gingerbread (especially if you bought them on credit.)

http://www.amazon.com/Debt-First-5-000-Years/dp/1933633867/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1323119918&sr=1-1

For All Those Blogging Playwright/Clarinetists on Your List

Well, we wouldn’t want to forget these folks would we? The poor darlings! All they do is give and give and give! So here’s an ideal stocking stuffer for them. It’s the new revolutionary clarinet created by the good folks at Backun Music. It’s designed to solve scads of technical problems that plague the old style instrument and make even the… err… amateur clarinetist sound sooooo much better.

You can check it out here:

http://www.backunmusical.com/clarinets.html

At a mere $8,000, the Backun B-flat with gold-plated keys is practically a steal! And it's the perfect size for slipping into someone’s stocking by the old Yule tree!

Well, that brings us to the end of this blog post. I hope I haven’t been too materialistic here! After all, it isn’t just about collecting loot, is it? It’s really about the experience, right? Of course it is! And in that spirit, I’ll leave you with the following clip which just about says it all when it comes to gift-giving and presents and all that Yuletide jazz:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AHi9bCjbu20

Ho, ho, ho, everybody! And merry, merry, merry!

Mozart and Self-Deception

noreply@blogger.com (Scott Munson) — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 18:07:00 +0000

Since my last posting on Tolstoy and "War and Peace," I’ve been thinking a lot about why I’ve always preferred Mozart to Beethoven. This is especially poignant for me as today (December 5th) is the 220th anniversary of Wolfgang's death at the age of 35. It reminds me of the old Tom Lehrer joke, "It's sobering to remember that when Mozart was my age he'd already been dead two years!"

Sigh...

Anyway, I’m just old enough to remember how Mozart was once dismissed as a pretty but superficial “precursor” to Beethoven’s greatness. Even as a young ‘un, puffing away on my clarinet in Mr. Tucker’s “senior woodwinds” class in high school, that kind of thinking just totally hacked me off!

As in:

“In his symphonies, Mozart suggests the themes Beethoven would bring to a more profound culmination in the Eroica.”

“Although charming, Mozart’s wind quintet must yield the palm to the greater depths of Beethoven’s Opus blah-blah-blah.”

“In his string quartets, Mozart begins an exploration of the genre that will only reach its apotheosis in Beethoven’s late works.”

Yuck! Gag me with a Sacher Torte!

From the first time I heard Mozart’s music in “Music Appreciation” class in the 7th grade I was just… well… hooked. I immediately felt a sense of connection that I had never experienced before. I think that’s why I chose to play the clarinet in the first place. Some music teachers came into class one day and said, “Who wants to learn to play something besides the radio?” (Today I imagine they would day the IPod.) Remembering all the wonderful music that Mozart had written for the clarinet (the trio, the quintet, the concerto), I shot up my little hand and said, “The licorice stick for me, please!” And how I wanted to play all of those wonderful solos he created for the instrument in his operas! It seems that every time Mozart wants to speak about human longing and desire he gives the music to the clarinet.

As in:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XCOZbjePXkI

For those of you who followed the link, there are certainly more elaborate polished versions of this music on YouTube. But I just had to include this one for the magical moment that occurs about 25 seconds in. At least it’s magical for any clarinet player!

Despite the poverty, ugliness and horror that I might be feeling at any particular moment, Mozart’s music was always for me beauty, happiness, and the longing for a kind of harmony and sweetness that transfigures and ennobles our lives. And, tootling away on the half-busted B-flat clarinet that I got for $5 at the local hock shop, I felt I got at least a few half steps closer to experiencing that loveliness.

Fortunately, those bad old days of Mozart bashing are gone! Today Wolfgang is celebrated as the titanic world-changing genius that he was. And the whole idea that he was just “leading up” to Ludwig van B has gone into the proverbial wastebasket of musicology. And if you doubt this just think about how many "Mostly Mozart" festivals there are compared to those that are "Basically Beethoven". Yay!

But do I really understand why I’ve always preferred Mozart? Or for that matter why I also prefer Virginia Woolf to D.H. Lawrence or Scott Fitzgerald to Hemingway? So I decided to take a shower and brood on it – as most of my ideas tend to come in the shower. Something about great clouds of steam unlocking the otherwise fettered consciousness!

And it hit me! Perhaps the unifying idea here is the theme of self-deception. This is something that has always haunted me. The idea that you think you are one thing, or are coming off as one thing, and in reality you are being perceived by everyone else in a totally different way.

For example:

You think you are like this… … but everyone sees you as…

A brilliant raconteur                    A blowhard
Generous and giving                   Manipulative
A good listener                          Someone who never shuts up
Progressive in your views           A slave to your class interests
Speaking truth to power             Someone with tenure
Totally hot and “all that”             A candidate for an Oprah makeover

This kind of self-deception is at the heart of all of Mozart’s operas. In Beethoven, “people” are who they say they are (tortured, heroic, Promethean, etc.) In Mozart, however, there is a constant sense that everyone is ensnared by their own misconceptions. So the Count who thinks he is a great seducer is really a buffoon. The servant who thinks he is the cleverest guy in the room is really being led around by the nose. The “puppet master” who thinks he is pulling all the strings is really a sterile and lost old man. And so it goes. Of course, Mozart, being a supremely enlightened person, invites us to forgive them all through the beauty of his music. And so we do.

As in:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t2yrDWEoCpc

BTW, check out the comments after the video. They’re kind of wonderful!

With these thoughts in mind, I’ve been brooding on the degree of self-deception that marks my own life as a “seducer” of audiences.

As in:

I think I am like this… … but everyone sees me as…

A powerful playwright                     Meh - and who's up for
with provocative views                    Chinese food after the show?
who really stands out
from the crowd!

I like to think of myself as creating something of value. But doesn’t every creative person believe that? When I contrast that with the “90% of everything is crap” rule, I can see a problem. We can’t all be right, can we? So there has to be a lot of self-deception going on here! But who is zooming whom?

Of course, this kind of thinking can lead down a very Hamlet-like hall of mirrors where you can’t pick up a pen without wondering about your actual motives. And I’m left with a feeling of envy for the “Beethovens” of this world – the people who truly feel that what they are doing is important and meaningful and must be shared with the world. Does it matter if this is self-deception after all? I mean… gosh…. We don’t even know how many universes we live in or how many dimensions there are. One two, eleven, a hundred, an infinite number? So if we can’t even understand where we are how can we know who or what we are either?

As Yul Brynner used to say in “The King and I,” ‘Tis a puzzlement!'

On (Almost) Finishing War and Peace

noreply@blogger.com (Scott Munson) — Wed, 16 Nov 2011 20:40:00 +0000

This post is dedicated to my friends Theresa and Danielle – for encouraging me to keep writing these little puppies!

My apologies for the long delay since my last blog post! Was it really last April? In the interim, I’ve been to France a couple of times to help out with my French family. I’ve also hiked in the Spanish Pyrenees and discovered that I adore that part of the world. I’ve also tried to keep things going on the theater, instructional design, and house fixer-upper fronts. So I’ve been a busy bee!

In fact, I was just outside admiring our work in getting the first coat of paint down on the beams that adorn the front of our beloved Eichler home. It’s a very light and pleasant green to offset the rich, dark “coffee” brown of the house. We’re debating whether we need a second coat. After having Béatrice fall off the ladder and really hurting her shoulder, and after wrenching my knee and hobbling around like Captain Ahab without his peg leg, I am pretty much in the “It looks good enough to me” camp… but we’ll see….

BTW, we bought ourselves some peace of mind by investing in the most expensive paint we could find. It’s from Sherwin Williams. It’s called “Duration” because it has a lifetime guarantee. Whose life is that anyway? I wonder! Does that mean the paint will be here long after I’ve slipped off this mortal coil? Ugh! Nothing like staring into a can of paint to remind you of your own mortality!

Anyway, another reason why I’ve been grossly arrears in posting is that I have been spending a good deal of my free time reading “War and Peace". I just hit page 1400! Only 44 more to go! Yowza! Technically, I’ve just started Part Two of the Epilogue. So the “finish line” is very much in sight.

Well, it’s such a cliché to say “I’ve read War and Peace.” Like big whoop for me, right? So I’ve been entertaining the thought of stopping right where I am. It’s a little like Tom Courtney at the end of “The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner” I don’t know if you remember that old British black and white flick. A very young Tom plays a kid in a kind of Juvenile Detention center who discovers he has a tremendous talent for running. The creepy warden puts him in a race against the swells at the local academy for rich kids with the promised that if Tom wins he’ll get all sorts of cushy privileges and liberties. Anyway, the race starts and….

Oh, no! Spoiler Alert! Skip the next paragraph (all in italic type) if you want to watch the film…

So young Tom just obliterates the opposition. He gets right to the finish line and there isn’t a competitor in sight. Instead of crossing the line though and claiming his prize, he just stops and stands there. In a kind of, “Screw you and the horse you rode in on” gesture, he stays two feet in front of the Finish Line and waves to the kids who eventually catch up and “win” the race.

If you’re interested, you can get a flavor of the flick here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MQJsE4dJmG0

So I’m thinking of doing the same thing with W and P. Why make a fetish about “finishing” something? Can’t I just stand here a few paces from the end and just wave as Tolstoy makes his way to the conclusion? Is it possible? Can anyone “almost” finish War and Peace? Maybe it would be fun to “almost” read a lot of gy-normous classic books. Don Quixote? Middlemarch! Tristram Shandy? Remembrance of Things Past? The Great Gatsby? Oh, wait. That’s a shortie. But, in general, I wonder…

In the meantime, though, here are my thoughts as I stand (near) the Finish Line of Tolstoy’s magnum opus….

First off, what’s the quote from Samuel Johnson about Paradise Lost? “A very great work certainly - but no one has ever wished it any longer.” That’s kind of true here too I’m afraid. There are long stretches where you feel like saying,

“Umm… I believe I’ve read that already… “
“Ehh… I think I got the point here. Can we move on now?”
“Ahh… haven’t we covered that ground before?”
“Urrr… I guess everybody does need an editor after all….”

This is especially true in the last quarter of the novel where Tolstoy seems to forget that he’s writing a piece of fiction at all. Instead, he turns historian and decides to share (and share and share and share) his thoughts on the great struggle between Napoleon’s Grand Army and the Russian people. So why did the French lose the campaign of 1812? Was the battle of Borodino really a Russian victory? Was Napoleon a bit of a poser, wanker, and fraud? Well, old Leo has all the answers for you!

As with many an armchair general, Tolstoy makes his share of good points. He totally debunks the “great man” theory of history (especially when the “great man” in question is French.) He also sees the end results of historical events as the accumulation of many small decisions and actions rather than as the result of one “maestro” of genius waving his baton. In doing so, Tolstoy certainly anticipated many of the trends of modern historical writing. You have to give him his props for that. On the other hand, he seems to believe that, just as the heavens and planets obey the universal laws of physics, gravity, and so forth, so too do historical events correspond to some as yet undefined “laws of history”. Given our current understanding of modern physics, this seems a naïve view born of a mid 19th century feeling that Newton and Darwin had pretty much “explained it all” for us in their domains.

At least, I think that's what Tolstoy is up to. I'm really too tired to know for sure! All in all the last part of the book gives you the feeling that there is an equivalence between reading this novel and being in the French army yourself slogging your way back to Poland from Moscow – freezing your tookus off and wishing desperately for the whole thing to come to an end. Either that or to fall down face first in the snow and just not get up again until some Cossack comes along and turns you into a human shish-ka-bob. And the fact that Tolstoy is totally, absolutely, utterly lacking in any sense of humor whatsoever makes it even more of a "long march" here.

All that being said, there’s still a tremendous power in the book. That’s especially so when Tolstoy focuses on the lives of the individual characters (as opposed to what Napoleon was having for breakfast the morning of the battle of Austerlitz and whether the Russian General staff really knew what they were doing in evacuating Moscow without a fight). That’s the great theme of the novel for me – how we still have to live our individual lives even though we understand we’re in the grip of these tremendous impersonal historical movements which basically treat us like bugs. That’s certainly a theme that resonates with us all now too, isn’t it? We still have to live and endure even though everything around us (our fortunes, our freedom, our retirement savings) looks like they could/will be taken away in an instant.

So I go back and forth between being really gripped by the novel and often being really, really bored and even angry. That’s when continuing with the book really becomes a chore. I have to say that I just can’t learn to love Tolstoy. Deep down, for me, he’s one of those “world embracing enormous geniuses that we must all admire and who totally eclipses everyone else so there.” I sometimes feel that he is a bit of a bully. At times, reading Tolstoy feels like you’re trapped in a cab with a driver who is a brilliant, cranky autodidact. Realizing that you have something to do with being a writer yourself, he decides to bombard you with everything he knows about the role of the Freemasons and the Vatican in controlling the world money supply. And as he continues his tirade, you hear on the radio that the Freeway to your hotel is blocked for miles ahead because of an overturned big rig with chickens running on the road. So there is absolutely no escape.

Help!

Which also makes me think that in the arts there often seems to be s a funny kind of pairing/balance between the “Tolstoys” and the “anti-Tolstoys”; e.g., the “blowhards/bullies” on one side of the equation and the “whisperers/seducers” on the other. For example, consider the following list of matched pairs. If you had to choose, which would you prefer?

Tolstoy vs. Chekhov
Beethoven vs. Mozart
Michelangelo vs. Donatello
Picasso vs. Matisse
Rembrandt vs. Vermeer
Hemingway vs. Fitzgerald
Whitman vs. Dickinson
Milton vs. Donne
D.H. Lawrence vs. Virginia Woolf

As I look this list over, I feel like, “Oh, heck! I respect the people on the left hand side of the equation but I love the people on the right.” What accounts for this difference? Is it because one type kind of grabs you around the throat and says: “I have something terribly important to tell you! Something that will change you utterly! Something that will make you better understand the meaning of life itself”? Meanwhile the second type seems so much more modest, seductive, and insinuating. Like they’re just saying, “I’m working on this little story. It’s kind of interesting. What do you think?”

But I better stop here! This posting is starting to feel as long as W and P itself! Yikes! Oh, well! Maybe everybody does need an editor after all!

New Year's Blog Resolutions

noreply@blogger.com (Scott Munson) — Mon, 18 Apr 2011 17:01:00 +0000

Happy New Year, everyone! Wait, I know it’s really Tax Day but this is my first posting of 2011. So I’m feeling a little bit of that “the giant, glittering ball is falling in Times Square” vibe. Where’s my party hat and who has the bottle of bubbly? Actually, it’s been so long since my last blog-o-rama that I was beginning to think I’d never post again. Couple of reasons for that:

1. Between 1/1/11 and March 7th, Béatrice was still in France with her folks and I was feeling pretty overwhelmed with bidness work, trying to keep the house nice, feeding the hungry koi fish, and fighting off feelings of personal sadness. So I didn’t feel much energy about blogging (or anything else creative really). There was also a general depression about the shape of our dear old Republic and deep, deep disappointment with the leadership coming out of Washington.

2. Since March 7th, Béatrice has been home! Yay! I’ve been very, very happy. So many things to catch up on and do and share! So, once again, blogging faded into the distance. I have to say the feeling of disappointment with the Democrats is still there too. But when you’re personally feeling happy it does recede into the background a bit. (Except when you have to listen to debates about the critical nature of cutting the deficit in a time when masses of people are still unemployed and desperate).

But it’s a beautiful morning here in San Jose as I write this. I can hear the birds singing outside. (“Les oiseaux sont joyeux” as we used to say back in French 1. And, yes, Mlle. Isner, I still have a crush on you!) I was just taking a shower and thinking about how happy I am now that Béatrice is home. In the middle of all that the idea of writing a blog post popped into my head out of the proverbial nowhere. So there you have it! The blog lamp is lit and I’m going for it! So, in the spirit of renewal and re-birth, I’ve decided to write up some “New Years’ blog Resolutions”!

I resolve to…

Write shorter posts. (I think that’s the equivalent of “losing weight”).

Blog more frequently. (I think that’s like “going to the gym.”)

Be more open and honest and not hide so much behind humor, jokes, and YouTube clips. (I think that’s the equivalent of “not waste so much time on Facebook.”)

Figure out how to make the blog more visually interesting. (I think that’s the equivalent of “learn a foreign language.”)

That’s all that I’ve got for now! Whew! I’m tired! Like someone who has gone to their first personal training session and realized, “I am sooooo out of shape! I really have to cut back on the Doritos!” By way of preview, in my next post I plan to write about a recent performance of one of my one acts down here in San Jose at Arclight Repertory. I think it posed several questions about my ongoing struggle with “seducing the audience”. So stay tuned!

Slowing Down

noreply@blogger.com (Scott Munson) — Fri, 31 Dec 2010 18:48:00 +0000

I was at a Chanukah party recently wolfing down the potato latkes and watching the world’s most adorable 4 year old finger painting on her iPad. Taking all this in, I drifted off into a reverie of the future: “When she’s my age she’ll reminisce with her friends about how cute and antique it was that once upon a time you actually had to touch the screen with your finger to do something rather than just think about it via the microchip implanted in your cerebral cortex.”

Anyway, as I was dreaming away, a friend who I hadn’t seen for a while came up and said two things:

1. “Good to see you again!"
2. "Hey, your blog posts are slowing down!”

In response I immediately had two reactions:

1. That sense of surprise I always have when I realize there actually are people out there who might be reading what I’m writing.

2. The realization that he was right. My blog posts are slowing down… which may, ahem, also mean I’m slowing down. Yikes!

So, being a good little analytical Virgo type, I started thinking about why this might be the case. Several theories immediately sprung to mind:

• “Bidness” has been better lately, and thus much more time consuming – for which I am profoundly grateful (as are my creditors!)

• We re-financed on our house (which was only slightly less irksome and all absorbing than asking Comrade Stalin for the required papers to leave Mother Russia at the height of the Great Purge.)

• Beatrice has been in France for the last three months helping her folks – so there’s just been more on my plate in terms of the day-to-day stuff involved in administering our… ahem… “estate”… (I was going to say “dacha” – not that we have one – but just because I kind of like the term…. Very Chekhovian.)

• Our koi pond sprung a leak! And if there’s ever a multi-dimensional challenge, involving digging ditches, employing inductive/deductive and reductive reasoning, as well as engaging in intense sessions of prayer and contemplation, it’s trying to troubleshoot and fix a leaky koi pond!

Before moving on though I’d just like to say how much help I received from our neighbor, Brice Hansen, on fixing the koi pond. He was so incredibly generous with his time and physical labor and troubleshooting smarts. What a guy!

After considerable brooding, I’m now leaning to the conclusion that the real reason for my “slow down” is that I’m simply feeling overwhelmed by things… • There’s also seems to be a “wintry feeling” in my heart which may have something to do with the season, a sense of waiting for Spring perhaps, and an overall malaise about the direction that life and the world is taking.

… which brings me back to my last blog post on John Maynard Keynes…

So perhaps I’ll wind up 2010 with a few last thoughts on why Keynes is such an attractive figure to me now. Largely I think it’s because he realized:

1. That the ultimate purpose of studying economics was to provide as many people as possible with what he called “the good life”; e.g., to live “wisely, agreeably, and well.”

2. How uncertain and crazy the future is and that “markets” are not driven by people who possess perfect information and behave rationally but who are often driven by terror and folly.

3. That a horrible gap exists when “self-correcting markets” are lurching towards some kind of pre-ordained “equilibrium” between supply, demand, and full employment and that during those gaps some rather unpleasant things such as… Well… err… fascism… can occur.

4. That everyone should have a basic understanding of economics just as they should know about all other areas of human discourse (religion, science, the arts, philosophy, morals, etc.)

5. That, as a result, economics should be written as clearly and simply as possible and not hide its insights beneath impenetrable “professional” jargon and a blizzard of mathematics.

6. That we are all victims of the “paradox of thrift”; e.g., we start to cut back on spending and want to hoard our gold in times of economic crisis. Of course this is precisely the behavior that will result in the crisis deepening as the demand for goods and services (and thus for employed workers) goes over a cliff. And thus we have the need for the government to step in as the actor of last resort and do a little of that good old stimulating “deficit spending” when everyone else is hiding their money under the bed.

7. That money isn’t simply a convenient means of exchange for getting good and services but rather is a measure of our feelings about the world we live in; e.g., “our desire to hold money as a store of wealth is a barometer of the degree of our distrust of our own calculations and conventions concerning the future. It operates…. at a deeper level of our motivation. It takes charge at the moments when the higher, more precarious conventions have weakened. The possession of actual money lulls our disquietude; and the premium which we require to make us part with money is the measure of the degree of our disquietude.”

“Disquietude” being another way, as I reckon, to say “lending freeze” or “credit crunch” – no matter how much money we may throw at the Financial Services Industry.

Well, that’s just my take. If you’re interested, there is a wonderful short book about Keynes and his relevance to the modern economic crisis. It’s written by Robert Skidelsy, who also wrote a massive three volume biography of JMK for those who really want to take the “deep dive.” Anyway, the shorter book is called:

Keynes: The Return of the Master: Why, Sixty Years After His Death, John Maynard Keynes Is the Most important Economic Thinker for America

You can find it here:

http://www.amazon.com/Keynes-Return-Master-Robert-Skidelsky/dp/158648897X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1293743276&sr=1-1

Meanwhile all best wishes for a wonderful 2011 to everyone out there still reading! Hopefully, we'll all pick up speed as we head into a lovely and bountiful 2011!

Thinking about Keynes

noreply@blogger.com (Scott Munson) — Mon, 29 Nov 2010 19:36:00 +0000

As some of you may know, Béatrice has been in France over the last couple of months. She’s been helping her Dad and Mom who are 93 and 85 years old respectively. Her Dad has been waging a battle with congestive heart failure and Béatrice is doing her best to help him keep his fighting spirit intact. So if you have a moment to send some thoughts, prayers, good vibes, and positive wishes wending their way to the southwest of France, we’d greatly appreciate it!

In any case, being in “bachelor mode” has left me with some time on my hands. And, hey, there’s only so much Sports Center one can watch in a given day! So I’ve been thinking about Keynesian economics to keep myself out of trouble. It’s funny, isn’t it, how one returns to childhood themes and thoughts? My Dad taught economics and was, I believe, a bit of a “Keynesian” himself. I think Dad liked the fact that Keynes was a bit of an outsider in economic circles and not so much a professional academic as someone who had a foot in multiple camps, including, ethics, politics, philosophy, and the arts. Hey, anyone who hung out with Virginia Woolf and Bertrand Russell and made them both feel like “dim bulbs” in comparison must have had something going for him!

For what it’s worth, it was kind of fun being the only kid in my circle who knew who Keynes was – not that that got me any dates or anything. I also think the name “John Maynard Keynes” had and still has a kind of atavistic power for me. As such, he shares that distinction with Eugene O’Neill. When I was a kid, both of their names gave me something of a frisson or existential shiver. Maybe it was because Dad was studying Keynes at USC while my step-mom was simultaneously studying O’Neill at “Valley State” (since dubbed Cal State Northridge). I also think this combination of an interest in economics and theater is what compelled me to write not one, but two plays where the hero was an economist (WWJD? and Safeway Encounter). That probably also has something to do too with the total indifference with which the wider theater world (not to mention the Econ crowd!) has greeted these humble efforts. But there you go….

Of course, Dad was an actor before he became an economist. So that link was there as well.

If you’d like to see my Dad on film, just go to the link below. He comes up at the 3.55 mark. He’s the hard-nosed upper upperclassman who gives Burt Lancaster a hard time about his mighty sloppy bed…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g-hmsxznWMw&feature=related

For many reasons, I wish my Dad was still here. But one of them is that we could talk about Keynes. When I was younger, I was too far impatient/bored/full of myself to want to go into any of the macro-micro-miso elements of economics. But now I wish I could ask Dad what he thought of Keynes’ place in our very fractured and heartsick modern world. Above all, I also wonder what Dad would think of the fact that Keynes has been enjoying something of a “comeback” lately.

Everything is kind of a stock market, isn’t it – including the bauble/bubble of reputation? For many years after World War II, Keynes’ name and policies were “golden”. They were linked for most Americans to the deficit spending programs of the New Deal that kept the Great Depression from devouring us all. As such, Keynes was lumped together (on this side of the pond at least) with FDR. It’s funny how both men excite the same passions in folks on the Left and Right. To the arch conservatives, they’re both “closet Commies” who introduced the virus of invidious, insidious “socialism” into the Body Politic. Therefore, they are both devils - which you would think would make them figures of honor for most Progressives. However, for many people on the Left, they are highly ambiguous figures who are often condemned for “saving” a capitalistic power structure that might better have teetered and tottered on down into the Abyss of History. And the fact, that Keynes was kind of withering in his estimation of Marx’s technical “chops” as an economist didn’t endear him greatly to many Lefties either. But, for me, that’s one of those arguments – like, “Did Ornette Coleman really know how to play the saxophone?” - which is far above my pay grade to adjudicate!

In any case, Keynes’ “stock” plummeted during the Reagan/Thatcher/kinda-sorta-Bill-Clinton/Bush1-Bush2 years. Meanwhile, Milton Friedman’s theories about the dynamism of free markets held greater and greater sway. Get rid of those cumbersome regulations! Tear down the wall between commercial and investment banks! Get government out of managing the economy (except for a very limited role in setting interest rates to ensure price stability). Cut those deficits! Lower those taxes! Balance that budget! Lift that barge! Tote that bale! And get out of the way! Government is slow, cumbersome, unwieldy, and always fighting the last war. Markets are dynamic, self-correcting, armed with better information, and always moving in a rational way towards an ideal equilibrium where (except for the, ahem, occasional “shock”) there is happiness and full employment for all (if, ahem, at slightly lower wages than some might wish). In this paradise on earth, the occasional “bubble” (if such a thing even exists) is quickly pricked by super-rational investors armed with perfect information and neat computer models that precisely calculate risk and quantify investing like some glorified kind of life insurance where one can predict “actuarial” variables down to the last percentile of finger-lickin’ good accuracy.

Most of all, you will never see the “black swan” of a full-fledged market collapse (except at very, very long intervals and certainly never twice in the same century). Make it more like once every… every… Well, how old is the universe again? Well, longer than that!

I think we all know how that worked out….

So what about Keynes in all this? Does he have something to offer us still? I know buckets/gallons/tsunamis of ink have been spilled on this but I have been thinking about it more than a wee bit myself lately. In particular, the moral, ethical and philosophic implications of some of his thinking have been rattling around inside my little kuh-noggin. But I see that I have come up to the end of my self-imposed blog limit. Can’t be too long and windy in these blog posts! This is an era of short-attention spans! Beginning with my own! And besides a “very special episode” of “Buffy” is about to come on the SciFy channel! So I’ll hold those thoughts until next time. Tee, hee! That will also give me a little more time to brood and ponder on what to say next!

Is that a manipulative cliff-hanger or what? Shameless!

Speaking of shameless, here’s another piece of video for you on a (somewhat) related (and quite mean-spirited) topic. But it does speak to how well many of us learned about "the dismal science" back at school:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ouXB-tvUF4w

Post Election Blues

noreply@blogger.com (Scott Munson) — Mon, 08 Nov 2010 17:29:00 +0000

Musing on the “Republican wave” of last Tuesday, I got to thinking about a question that has haunted me for my entire adult life. Why doesn’t the white working class seem to feel any attachment/attraction to the progressive message of fairness, social justice, and truly equal opportunity? This haunts/troubles me deeply because I feel that if the folks who are often labeled as the “guns, gays, and God” crowd ever did get behind the progressive message this country would be utterly transformed in the blink of an eye. I like to tell myself too that it hasn’t always been this way. Texas once had a thriving progressive Democratic party and FDR was seen as virtually a saint in many parts of the deep, deep, South. So why is it now that “red state” and “red neck” seem virtual synonyms? Searching for answers, as always, I thought I’d turn to country and western music and see what I might learn. So here we go….

Merle Haggard: Big City

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ou5tnqSLNlM

You have to start with Merle because he is the high priest of a certain libertarian/progressive mixture that characterizes what I think is a profound confusion/discord between embracing the idea of fairness on the one hand and engaging in a kind of cranky “I’m going to bite my nose off to spite my own face” distrust and hatred of any kind of organized, formal response to social injustice. This song illustrates it perfectly. So we have “some lyric” (as Merle might put it) that completely expresses working class frustration:

“Been working every day since I was twenty/And not a thing to show for everything I’ve done./There’s folks who never work and they got plenty./Think it’s time that guys like me…”

Well, you think for a second that Merle might finish this line with “go out and get a gun…” But instead he says, “should have some fun,” which is a different thing altogether. Sigh… Then, with the chorus, Merle goes entirely off into libertarian la-la-land:

“Turn me loose and set me free/Somewhere in the middle of Montana./Give me all that I’ve got coming to me./And keep your retirement and your so-called Social Security./Big city, turn me loose and set me free.”

Can anyone tell me what those lines mean and who they are addressed to? Social security is somehow the problem? Boy, I just don’t get it. When you hear Merle Haggard classics like “Hungry Eyes”, you can’t for a moment doubt that this man knows what it’s like to feel hunger and class snobbery and deprivation in his bones. But who is responsible for it? If you listen to a song like “Fightin side of me…” you get the answer that it is those “squirrely guys who don’t believe in fightin…” Hearing that my heart sinks into my shoes.

Gretchen Wilson: Politically Uncorrect

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XZu0nExoN9s

Merle Haggard actually makes an appearance in this one so it’s kind of a hand-off to the “new generation” of country music as represented by Gretchen “Redneck Woman” Wilson. Again, there is this sense of total identification with the people who work and toil and suffer every form of exploitation. But what is the remedy? The Bible? The Flag? The Forefathers’ plan? Oh, that’ll do it, alrighty! That’s just the ticket! And again there is the sickening feeling that the people who are not giving any “respect” to the “workin’ man” or the “single Mom raisin’ her kids” are the people who make up the progressive movement itself. So there’s always this feeling that the responsible parties are the very ones who might be seen as allies in another dimension/space-time continuum.

Josh Thompson: Way Out Here

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D0sYnro_3Rc

Josh Thompson is part of the C&W rear guard that is fighting a (mostly losing) battle to preserve the “outlaw” roots of the music; e.g., Willie, Waylon, and the boys. So he is very much struggling against the boy bands and Brittany-style-cutie-pie-clones that make up most of the horrible country schlock on the radio. A couple of his lyrics in this song really stand out for me:

“Our houses are protected by the Good Lord and a gun/And you might meet ‘em both if you show up here not welcome son…”

It’s a shocking and defiant line and one likely to raise the hackles of a lot of people. However, when I heard it, I remembered being in Bullard, Texas, with my Aunt Fay. We were driving out in the country and she was looking for the house that my grandfather had built back in the 30s and where my grandmother, Aunt Fay, and my mother grew up during the Depression after his early death from “tuberculosis of the bone”. We finally found it – a tiny place really – way out in the middle of nowhere - when two rather large men emerged from inside who looked like your prototypical denizens of the “backwoods.” With a look of real suspicion, they asked who we were and what did we want. “Oh, boy, “ I thought, “I’m going to get to be in my own real life Flannery O’Connor story. Lucky me!” However, my Aunt quickly explained that I had come out all the way from California to learn about my Texas roots and to see the house where my Momma was raised. Well, within 10 seconds, we were inside getting a tour of the house and ended up sitting out on the porch with those “good old boys” and their family and eating homemade peach ice cream. So I guess the flip side of this line is that if you are welcome, Son, you’ll see a level of hospitality and genuineness that is often lacking in our soulless “big cities.” So go figure…

“We’ve got a fightin’ streak that’s a mile wide but we pray for peace/Cause it’s mostly us who end up servin’ overseas.”

If you ever watch the News Hour on PBS, you’ll know how they sometimes run memorials to the war dead in Afghanistan and Iraq. Just heartbreaking stuff where they show all these (now dead) 22-year-old kids with their beautiful, young, fresh faces. Next time you watch it just count how many of them are from the South. Usually, it’s about 50%. When you realize what a small proportion of the country Southerners really are, that figure brings home the truth of Thompson’s words. At the same time, who is the “son” who is being advised to not show up “not welcome?” Hard, hard not to believe it’s us… the liberal/progressive community. And, once again, the remedy is only a kind of nostalgia that the country should be run “the way it used to be/the way it oughta be…” But what does that mean? And when was that anyway? Anybody got a clue?

So there you have it. What seems to be a profound contradiction between valuing the poor and hating the very people who claim to want to work on their behalf. Any solutions to this dilemma? Any ideas? Let me know. Meanwhile I’m going to go soak my head in some Tennessee sipping whiskey and listen to some Jimmy Rodgers…

"But my pocket book is empty./And my heart is filled with pain./A thousand miles away from home/Waiting for a train…"

The Splendors and Miseries of Girl Singers

noreply@blogger.com (Scott Munson) — Tue, 12 Oct 2010 18:27:00 +0000

After I posted my “country and western job aid,” a friend asked if I could write about the great women of C&W. That got me thinking about “girl singers” in general. This is a topic near/dear to me as my stepmother was a “torch singer” who specialized in the Julie London repertoire of “100 proof misery”; e.g., “I’ve got it bad and that ain’t good because of the man who got away during all that stormy weather.” She used to bring her band, “The Pat Brady Trio,” to rehearse at our house when I was a wee tyke. Let me tell you, there are worse things for an impressionable youth to do than hang out with a bunch of smoking, drinking, God-unfearing musicians! Yowza! So, in that spirit, here are 5 “girl singers “ for your consideration (with the requisite YouTube references).

Violetta Parra: Gracias a la vida

To me, Violetta is one of the titans of the last century, transcending all genres and classifications. She was a Chilean poet who wrote and performed her songs with the utmost simplicity and clarity. In a better world, we’d all embrace her songs with our hearts and souls and life would be utterly transformed. Unfortunately, the footage of her is pretty scarce on YouTube. I’ve put in a link below to her singing her most famous song. There are more celebrated versions by Mercedes Sosa and Joan Baez, but Parra’s rendition is/was/always will be my favorite. She never “gets in the way” of the song. It just comes rattling down Track Number 9 and knocks you on your butt forever.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XiRbLejE4gs&feature=fvw

Charlotte Gainsbourg: 5:55

Charlotte is primarily known as actress. Her “debut” film, L'effrontée, is one of the best films about adolescence emerging into adulthood/sexuality ever. But she has also been a singer starting with her work with her famous dad, Serge, back in the ‘80s. They did a little tune called “Lemon Incest” which… ahem.. was about an… ahem… somewhat… close father/daughter relationship. (Okay, I can feel my eyeballs squirming inside my head so let’s change the subject!) Charlotte has the tiniest, smallest, most intimate, whisperiest voice ever. I can’t imagine her performing “live” somewhere unless it’s in a closet. Still there’s something so free and unforced about her singing. Here she is performing at her breathless best.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IcjVcck3nZE

Nina Hagen : Spirit in the Sky and Jhonny

How can you describe Nina Hagen? She’s just your basic a-pop-a-lyptic chanteuse with the range of an opera singer and the sensibility of an anarchist. I’ve included a couple of her videos here to give an idea of her range. I remember seeing her at a concert in Berkeley in the ‘80s. It was one of the rare times I actually went out and paid money for the pleasure of having my ear drums reduced to blood pudding while the drunk guy behind me kept yelling, “Fuckin-A” during every song. But it was worth it! Nina, ich liebe dich!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yJ2UROhv-PI

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CSriPDRkRpo&feature=related

Patty Loveless: You’ll Never Leave Harlan Alive

Has there ever been a country singer with a better name? For me, Patty has always fallen into that dreaded category, “Talented people that an industry town (be it Nashville or Hollywood) never quite knew what to do with it.” As a result, many of her albums are the kind of “country pop” that is such a letdown from the “three chords and the truth” we all crave. But here’s Patty at her mournful, Appalachian, “I just crawled my way out of the coal mines with my bloody fingernails” best.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=obzFmkzgt2E

Misia: Lagrima

Did anyone ever to see a Misia concert and say afterwards, “Well, she just mailed it in tonight”? Talk about leaving it all on the court! If you look up “commitment” (in either your English or Portuguese dictionaries) you’ll see Misia’s picture there. If you’re not familiar with a style of singing called “Fado,” Misia makes a wonderful tour guide. It’s not to everyone’s taste and not for the faint of heart. In fact, you might say it’s the polar opposite from Violetta Parra’s work style-wise. But what they hey? Isn’t a “foolish consistency the hobgoblin of… of… of….” Oh, it’s the hobgoblin of something! But I can never remember what!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rcqHWfA1BuI&feature=related

That’s all for now! Please let me know if there are any “girl singers” out there that you treasure. Would love to hear from you!

Back in the Saddle

noreply@blogger.com (Scott Munson) — Tue, 28 Sep 2010 17:52:00 +0000

Sorry for the delay since my last “transmission.” It’s been a hectic September with lots of house bidness, instructional design work and koi-pond related chores. So blogging was definitely on the back burner. Anyway, here’s what’s been going on in the proverbial nutshell:

First, we put up a new fence in the back yard – even though the old one had kind of that “ivy in Wrigley Field” charm to it. By that I mean, the ivy was basically holding up the fence and not the other way around. For all its nostalgia value, though, it had to go – especially as our adjacent neighbor decided to sell his property. I can just see the realtor now, “And one of the quaint features of this home is the fence falling down into the neighbor’s property. But they’re really nice people and I understand the husband writes a most amusing blog….”

We also had the tree trimmers come out and do a little whacking away at our avocado and magnolia trees which were both getting pretty out of hand too – although I have to say that raking up all the leaves did put me into something of a Zen-like state of transcendental calm. As in: “Carry water. Cut wood. Rake leaves.”

On the business front, I went over to Stanford to monitor a 3-day course called “Executing Complex Programs.” Although the title did conjure up some macabre visions, it was a fascinating experience to share a lecture hall filled with 70-80 extremely smart program managers from all around the country/world. It was a very cosmopolitan vibe and I found it very stimulating to talk with folks from organizations ranging from the Brazilian Navy to Walmart. It also brought home how fortunate I am to be living/working in this intersection between the theater world and the “corporate” environment. I guess my dream is that somehow the two worlds could be integrated in some way and learn from each other. But quien sabe anyhow?

Next, we did a “partial clean” on our koi pond. In the course of doing so, we discovered that our tree trimmer was also into fish and had a pretty empty pond of his own out near the wilds of Morgan Hill/Gilroy. So we transferred over to him something like 15-20 of our fish. Go with god, my finny friends!

We also had Mike, the “fridge guy,” come over a number of times to try and get our old Maytag working again. Basically, the freezer would be frigid and fine but the bottom part was as warm and muggy as DC in August. Turns out that this is a fairly common complaint with old refrigerators. Poor Mike had to make three trips but we think we have it licked now. But keep your fingers crossed. Every time I open the door I pat the milk carton apprehensively just to make sure it’s still cool and not curdled. But so far, so good!

We also did a flurry of last minute errands and packing and housecleaning to get Beatrice ready for an extended visit with her Mom and Dad. Her Daddy-o is 93 and has been going through a little bit of bad patch lately. So please send all sorts of prayers, good wishes, positive vibes, and personal checks to Saint-Paul-les-Dax care of la famille Brodberger.

Okay, okay! I’m kidding about that personal checks part… kinda/sorta….

Finally, and most painfully, our beloved “tuxedo” cat, Figaro Dakota, passed away from kitty cancer. It’s very painful to write much about this but I’m sure all of you who have had wonderful animals in your life know what I’m talking about here. The following note from a friend beautifully captures Figgy’s spirit:

He was a real huge presence and soul. I'll never forget the night he came into (your guest) room and snuggled me and then drank my water, the little Dickens! There are cats and then there are those cats who are somehow more than cats. They really seem to be different souls trapped in a cat's physical body. They're too big to be satisfied just to do "cat things". Figgy was one of those.

Figaro also inspired me to write my first play, “Nocturne with Apples,” which was the first time I really discovered something of my own voice as a writer for the theater. So I owe that to him too as well as 15 years of happy comradeship. Figgy also inspired this haiku:

Black cat with a mouse.
How proud the mighty hunter.
Yellow lanterns shine!

Okay, time now for me to have a good cry! I'm sorry but there it is! I promise to be more cheerful next time. According to my master plan for blogosphere domination, my next post will be on the “splendors and miseries of girl singers.” You can think of it as kind of a sequel to my “country and western job aid” that I did for the boys!

The Last Infirmity of Noble Minds

noreply@blogger.com (Scott Munson) — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 16:38:00 +0000

We’ve been having altogether too much fun lately with our forays into “low culture”. So let’s get back on the high road of fine art, shall we? Specifically, I’ve been thinking of that #1 “buzz killer” of English Literature, Mr. John Milton. As you may recall, he wrote that great epic poem, “Paradise Lost”. Perhaps you read it in Freshman Lit – as in, “From Beowulf to Shakespeare to Milton”?

Hey, that sounds like a great infield for the Cubs!

You may remember the poem relates how Satan rebelled from God and plunged into the lake of Hell with his “generational cohort” only to make a comeback as the serpent in the Garden of Eden where things took something of a U-turn for humanity… as in…

“Of man’s first disobedience, and the fruit of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste brought death into the World and all our woe, sing Heavenly Muse!”

Pretty heavy stuff! And quite a spell binder – at least as long as Milton’s talking about those bad, bad Devils! The parts on the joys of Heaven are sadly a bit of a snooze fest as “goodness” is somewhat hard to make very dramatic. But all in all a good read - although Samuel Johnson once remarked, “A great poem surely but no one ever wished it any longer.” At least I think it was Johnson. Maybe it was Oscar Wilde… or Mark Twain… or Benjamin Franklin… or Jon Stewart. But it was one of those guys.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking of how Milton also wrote that “fame is the last infirmity of noble minds…” By that I believe he meant that long after lust, wrath, gluttony and the desire for our own personal fleet of Maserati Quattroportes have fallen away, we’d still like to see our names up in their lights enshrined with the great immortals. This attraction seems especially strong for us so-called “creative types.” Poets, novelists, playwrights, all test off the charts on the Meaning of Life Survey Question #491b, “How important is it to you your work endures after you shuffle off this mortal coil?” There’s also that added sense that many of us… ahem… regional… not to say local… not to say unknown… writers have that posterity will right the wrongs and restore us to a posthumous notoriety denied by… well… reality…

I mean it happened to Beethoven, didn’t it? Well, if not to him, somebody else, right? Van Gogh? Yeah, I’m pretty sure about him. And I’m sure there are several others I could name if I just fired up Wikipedia… or Google… or Skype…

What makes this especially poignant for me is I recently had an interesting dream. Okay, I know, I know... If you look up “boredom” in the dictionary, you’ll find that definition 4a(1)c is “A state of stupefaction induced by listening to other people’s dreams.” But please hang in there! In my dream, I was dead, dead, dead… which rather surprised me as I was still very much aware of what was going on. In addition, I was able to see quite far into the future as my sense of time and space was vastly expanded. And, in my dream, I saw that my future “executor” was going through all our stuff so he could sell our dear little home. And my heart was moved with pity as I saw him wrestle with the question of what to do with all my posthumous “literary words and works.”

Just to give a sense of perspective, when it comes to the writing life, I am the equivalent of one of those poor wretches on “Hoarders.” So I have…. ahem… a lot of manuscripts lying around – all in my utterly indecipherable script. So my poor Executor was trying to decide what to save and what to toss. Finally, the poor sod said, “What the hey! I’m tired. It’s time for lunch. And who can read all this scribbling anyway?” And so my “collected works” went into the “1-800-Got-Junk” pile along with a one-way ticket to oblivion… the great void… non-existence… The End….

Then I woke up.

“Ah, another restful night!” I said to myself as I stretched and yawned and made my morning cup of tea. “Thank goodness that was only a dream…”

And then I realized, with utter certainty, it wasn’t a dream. It was a prophecy… one I knew was an absolutely accurate prediction of the future.

“Well, that’s interesting,” I said to myself as I sat down for my morning writing session, “I wonder what I should do next?”

The “Seduction” of Country Music

noreply@blogger.com (Scott Munson) — Tue, 03 Aug 2010 19:13:00 +0000

With a “shout out” (in the best DJ fashion) to “Claudine in Santa Rosa.” I thought of you in your beautiful garden while I wrote this – and maybe you were listening to a little C&W at the same time?

As we say good bye to the world of music videos, I’ve been thinking about another seduction that’s always been near/dear to my heart: Country and Western music! As a kid, I remember my Dad playing it late at night on the radio when we were driving home and we’d all sing along to help him stay awake:

“Pop a top my friend/Let’s have another round….”

Naturally, I loved the outrageous language and puns and the heightened emotion! So, riffing off my work in instructional design, I’ve done a “job aid” so you can always tell my favorite male singers apart - in case you get confused – which could happen!

They are, in no particular order:

• Roger Miller
• George Jones
• Merle Haggard
• Johnny Cash

1. If you ran into them in prison, what would they be in for?

Roger: Underage drinking (chug a lug, chug a lug!)
George: DUI (and livin’ in a honky-tonk prison).
Merle: Armed robbery (and doin’ life without parole).
Johnny: Murder (probably of some no good, triflin’ woman like that Delia).

2. Based on their music, how do they feel about Jesus?

Roger: Doesn’t come up that much, hard to imagine the “Roger Miller Gospel Album.”
George: Just wants a closer walk with Him, after he (George) dries out a little.
Merle: Kind of a working man? Carpenter? Got screwed by the bosses?
Johnny: Washed in the Blood, drenched in the Blood, just a whole lot of Blood.

3. What are their politics?

Roger: Anarchist
George: Oblivious
Merle: Libertarian
Johnny: Red (with some white and blue mixed in from that Ragged Old Flag)

4. What will they be in their next incarnation?

Roger: A dragonfly, a hummingbird, anything bright and brilliant that moves!
George: A jug of Pappy’s home squeezin’, mighty, mighty pleasin’… ooooooh.... white lightning’!
Merle: A hound dog riding on the old S&P with that lonesome whistle blowin’.
Johnny: The ink on some badass’s neck tattoo when it just has to be scratched.

5. What was their biggest hit?

Roger: King of the Road
George: He Stopped Loving Her Today
Merle: Okie from Muskogee
Johnny: I Walk the Line

6. If you only listen to one song, let it be…

Roger: The Last Word in Lonesome Is Me
George: Choices
Merle: Mama Tried
Johnny: Delia (how can you not love a murder ballad?)

7. Based on their songs, what’s most important to them?

Roger: Creativity and enjoying his own mind (as Dwight Yokam once put it, “Writing with Roger is to know what’s it’s like to be a pickup next to a Lear Jet…”)
George: Drying out and being loved by the right woman.
Merle: Dyin’ beside the highway and rottin’ away like some old high line pole (with the occasional pretty woman to serve him coffee and rub his back).
Johnny: The rebirth of the universe in a Christ-centric loving totality where all God’s children feel happy – except when that little bit of Satan still inside starts itching to come out and you just gotta kill somebody.

8. What will they be best remembered for?

Roger: For being the greatest genius in C&W history.
George: For having the best voice God ever gave a country singer.
Merle: For writing more good country songs than anyone who ever lived – and still not feeling very happy about it.
Johnny: For being the only man who could make a room go crazy by saying, “Hello, I’m…”

For further reference:

For Roger Miller, doing a “medley” of his hits (with chorus!):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H5cDuzselc4&feature=related

For Merle doing his rambling thing, btw, was there ever a better C&W band than The Strangers?:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IIcOSgTyOfE&feature=related

For Johnny Cash, talking about murder, in Manhattan no less:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SNPp2IBO-T0

For George Jones, asking a highly pertinent question to end this post:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_c1PYbuBrUM&feature=related

Special Roger Miller bonus video, one time only!

Poor Roger – so stereotyped as the “goofy guy who wrote novelty songs”. The man could write anything! Blues, ballads, torch songs, “twangers”, Broadway scores, you name it. For proof, check out a very young K.D. Lang doing the great Miller tune, “Lock, Stock and Tear Drops”:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Z7io1W_IEs

Some "silly" seductions

noreply@blogger.com (Scott Munson) — Tue, 06 Jul 2010 16:49:00 +0000

A reader of this blog remarked that it’s taken a relentlessly “high brow” tone so far. Mozart. The Mahabharata. Noh drama. Arthur Miller! Oh my! So I thought I’d get off of my high horse and talk about some “silly” seductions that I love - sometimes also known as “guilty” pleasures”.

1. Wedding pictures on Facebook of people I don’t know.

Have you ever had a Facebook friend “tagged” in a wedding photo and lose all sense of time looking at the album of shots? Well, I have – plenty of times! Even though the bride, groom, families and friends are complete unknowns, I happily peruse every shot and cluck, cluck cluck! “My how pretty she looks!” “Where did he find that tuxedo?” “Are those the most adorable bride's maids ever?” So what makes this so fascinating? Why do I start making up stories about the happy couple and their clans? Why do I speculate on if the wedding will “work?” Beats me! But I find it endlessly “seductive.”

2. Black-and-White TV Westerns

Thanks to Netflix, you can now watch just about any episode of any show from the 1950s. Hard to believe but there was a time when all of the Top 10 TV shows were Westerns. People even wrote serious essays about whether Westerns would destroy television as an “art form”…

Well, I guess we dodged that bullet! Yee, haw!

In any case, I love being seduced by my two boyhood favorites…

• First, there’s “Rawhide”. What a hoot! All those doggies getting along! Such gorgeous photography too! And there’s Clint Eastwood as the “ramrod” Rowdy Yates. Most of the time he’s just a goofy, toothy, silly young thing falling in love with every gal he meets and getting bopped on the head by no-good-niks once a show. Every blue moon, though, he shows a flash… and it’s just a flash… of the cold-blooded “Dirty Harry” to come. It’s kind of thrilling/chilling when it happens! “Go ahead, you rustlers, make my day!” Yikes!

• Next, we “Have Gun Will Travel”. That song! It’s still rumbling through my cerebellum. “A knight without armor in a savage land…” What could be better than that? I remember being so naive as a kid that I thought Paladin’s first name was “Wire.” And if you got that joke, give me a call! We’ll dress up in black and sing “dum-dum-dudda-dudda-dum” each time we hand out our business cards. And we’ll quote Shakespeare and Shelley every time we face down an evil-doer! And was there ever a craggier, grumpier, lumpier leading man than Richard Boone? Got to love him!

3. Music Videos from the 1980s

You know you’re a geezer when you remember people talking about music videos as the next great art form! Anyway, I still love the ones from the 1980s when the idea was new and people were willing to try anything. So cheesy! So low tech! So alive! The “Pop-Up Video” show is a particular silly seduction. I love it when those “thought balloons” emerge during a song with some nugget of useless information. And who knew that all the members of Duran Duran had to be resuscitated during the filming of “Hungry Like the Wolf”?

4. The World Cup

Can anything be sillier than watching grown men chasing something called a Jabulani? (That’s a ball by the way and not an exotic carnivore on the endangered species list.) Still I find myself utterly seduced. And it doesn’t matter who is playing. Paraguay? Japan? Serbia? Bring ‘em on! I’m even starting to like the buzz of those silly horns (insert angry insect simile here). I love fuming and fretting about who will win or why they lost or what will come tomorrow. Although I should know it’s all futile in the end. In the words of the immortal Gary Lineker, “Soccer is a game for 22 people that run around, play the ball, and one referee who makes a slew of mistakes, and in the end Germany always wins….”

So I’m curious…

Do you have any silly seductions to share? Anything “relentlessly” low brow?

Meanwhile, “head ‘em up and move ‘em out!”

Another seductive story

noreply@blogger.com (Scott Munson) — Tue, 22 Jun 2010 14:59:00 +0000

Last time I talked about the seduction of the unknown story. I started thinking about this when I saw Peter Brook’s film of “The Mahabharata”. If you haven’t seen it, it’s a three hour condensation of the nine hour experience he staged at the “Bouffes du Nord” in Paris in the 1980s.

By the way, if you ever get a chance, see a show at that theater! It’s my favorite venue - just alive with energy and ghosts! Check it out at:

http://www.bouffesdunord.com/letheatre.cfm

At first thought, a three hour film from a nine hour play may seem a tad... Well... long. But, if you are familiar with the source material, it’s the merest drop in the tiniest bucket. This ancient Sanskrit epic weighs in at 2 million words - ten times longer than the Iliad and Odyssey combined. Comparatively speaking, it would be like doing a 30-minute sitcom called, “Odysseus in Troy-Land.”

The title can be translated as “the great tale of the Bharata dynasty.” It’s an incredibly complex moral, philosophical, religious exploration via the storyline of two groups of quasi-divine brothers fighting over a shared kingdom. In the middle of the things, just before the great battle to end all battles, Arjuna, one of the main characters, asks the man-God Krishna one of those “What’s It All About, Alfie?” questions. The reply is the Bhagavad-Gita! So the Western analogy would be that just before sacking windy Troy good old Odysseus and Socrates would sit down and talk through “Plato’s Republic”!

As you might imagine, it was “Munson-Heaven” to be exposed to all this. To not know how the Trojan War ends! Oh, my! In fact, one of the first books I remember reading was a “child’s version” of the Iliad. I was in the back seat of the family car while my Dad finished a sales call. As the light failed, I squirmed around in the back seat trying to find a little more visibility to discover who would win – the god-like Achilles or Hector, breaker of horses. So watching the Brook film, I wondered which faction would win the apocalyptic battle. The Kauravas or the Pandavas? Is there anything better than that?

After the film, I watched the “Making of…” feature on the DVD. The screenwriter, Jean Claude Carriere, talked about how one of the attractions of the project (despite its challenges) was it meant encountering a great story that no one had ever heard of…. at least not in the West…

And I got to thinking….

There is this enormous attraction in throwing off one’s cultural “core assumptions” about what a good story is, how long it should take, and how it should be structured. To just shoot that internal “Western story editor” who keeps saying, “Can’t we cut here? How can anybody sit still for that long? And can we lose all the philosophical stuff and stick to the action?” It’s the silencing of that nagging voice that there is a “right way” to tell stories that I find so exhilarating. And that’s also why I love the Noh drama so much, because its way of telling a story is so different (in its focus on heightened emotion) from the “connect the major beats” approach that Aristotle gave us after attending the 5th Century BC Opening of “Oedipus Rex.” So there is a sense of opening to a different way of exploring things, of building an intersection between Western thought and something different, that I find so compelling.

And yet…

No sooner do I think all this than a big bucketful of negative emotions flood my mind about cultural imperialism, “Orientalism,” and cherry-picking other cultures like the World was just one great big LL Bean catalog!

And like Arjuna says to Krishna before the battle, “My mind is filled with illusions. My bow slips from my hand. I will sit here and wait for death.”

So I’m curious…

Have you discovered any great stories from another culture that liberated your thinking?

If so, did you then feel stricken with guilt?

Tell me! I’d like to know!

In the meantime, I’ll be wondering what a modern version of Arjuna’s dilemma might be. If I come up with anything, I’ll share them in the next post!

The seduction of the new story

noreply@blogger.com (Scott Munson) — Fri, 11 Jun 2010 16:41:00 +0000

Since I last blogged, we had a great reading of my play, “Dearest Frank Lights A Cigar,” at Arclight Rep in San Jose. What a gas – just one of those times where you feel incredibly jazzed to be working in the theater!

It also got me thinking about the question of differing perspectives – comparing what the audience is seeing and feeling with what’s going on in my own head as the observer/writer.

When I look at the audience, there’s this wonderful moment when you sense they are truly “seduced” – and how a major element of this seduction is… Well… now how should I put this?…that they’ve never heard the story before! It’s brand new! What will happen next? Who will live? Who will die? All that good stuff!

Unfortunately, as the writer, I can’t put myself back in that “don’t know how it’s going to come out” space. Sigh… Instead, I’m on my own individual roller-coaster ride – beginning with anxiety and fear and then morphing into a sense of surprise and, yes, joy.

In particular, it’s great to contrast whatever expectations I might have coming in to the reading with the reality of the performance. Of course, each time a play is done it brings out fresh results thanks to the actors and the director. New sensibilities bring new life to the characters! In that sense I do get to discover them all over again:

• So I saw a new sly sexy humor in “the KGB man” from Chad Eschman.
• From Mark Gelineau I saw how “Trofim” holds the mirror up to many of us who wish to be honorable and good but just can’t.
• Johanna Hembry was an almost uncanny incarnation of “Greta” while Elizabeth Hess “left it all out there on the field” with her total commitment to “Varvara.”
• Ravi Soundararajan brought his wit, great good humor, and intelligence to “Henry”.
• Finally, David Koppel showed the “impresario” side to “Frank” that I had never seen before. No surprise perhaps - as David is the Artistic Director at Arclight!

And, as I thought about this trade-off between discovering something for the first time and having a more informed perspective, I had a “flash back” – to junior high school – oh, so long ago, when we still had things like, “Music Appreciation.”

Not that we appreciated it very much!

Oh, yes! I remember being led to the “music room” – all of us shuffling along in the “condemned prisoner” mode. Culture! Yuck! Can’t we go outside and play? And, as we were eye-rolling about the torture to come, the teacher put on Mozart’s Jupiter Symphony.

Oh, my God! That great and stirring music came flying out of the speakers! For the first time! I had never heard anything like it. It was like thunderbolts from the hand of Jupiter! It was perfect! It was laughter and inexpressible sadness and every other word you can throw at it!

When the music ended, I had to learn more. So I read a biography of Mozart by the great musicologist Eric Blom. I remember how he concluded his analysis of the opera “Don Giovanni” by saying how much he envied anyone who had never heard the opera before. What a pleasure! To not know how the story ended! To not have heard its exquisite melodies! To be continually surprised and seduced! He said he’d trade all of his profound knowledge of the piece just to recapture that thrill of discovery once more.

And I remember, as I read those poignant lines, thinking that I had never heard the opera before. Wow! I would soon enjoy the experience Eric Blom could never have again. And I remember feeling so young and free and blessed!

Of course, as I write this blog, I am in exactly the same fix as poor old Eric! I too wish I could hear for the first time the great Don lift his champagne glass to the sky and sing, “Viva la liberta!”

So, I’m curious...

Have you discovered anything lately that falls into that “Don Giovanni” kind of experience? One that just washed your windows, blew the doors off, and rolled your socks up and down?

If you could choose to experience something again for the first time, what would it be?

Speed dating for playwrights

noreply@blogger.com (Scott Munson) — Tue, 01 Jun 2010 13:44:00 +0000

When we last left off, I was leaving the “core assumptions” seminar and heading to the playwright/director “speed dating.” Of course, when I initially heard about this, my first thought was, “What should I wear?” I asked friends for fashion advice but the only response I got was, “Show lots of cleavage.” Yikes! Good luck with that!

So I got to the room and it was like high school – 40 people milling around with the boys on one side and the girls on the other – except they were writers and directors. In the middle of the room was a line of chairs – laid out in 20 facing pairs. To fit the small room, the chairs were right next to each other – so you could slide your “buns of steel “from one to the other without ever standing up!

Then the “host” explained the rules.

• It’d be a series of 2 minute rounds.
• Each of us would have a ID code (I was P11) and a scorecard.
• We would "date" another person and decide if they were a “match”.
• If so, we’d write their ID code on our cards.
• Rinse, wash, repeat!

The facilitators would then gather the cards, tally the “matches”, and send out contact info.

Okay, everybody - ready, steady, go!

Immediately I was engulfed in a nosecone of noise as 40 people talked/shouted! I felt I was falling down a deep, dark cavern of sound! I began to float effortlessly without hitting the ground. So peaceful!

Then my first “date” said in a booming voice “I have a question!”

It turned out he had a very specific need for an existing cast. I didn’t have anything that remotely matched. I thought, “It is like high school. I’m striking out again! But I have a car this time! And a job! Please like me!” I was even ready to lie! “Why, yes! I am working on a play about left-handed Lithuanians! Funny you should ask!” But before I could develop this fantasy further, it was time to move on!

And the game was on! Every two minutes, the “host” would blow his whistle and I’d slide down to the next director. I heard myself talking over and over about Noh drama and medieval morality plays and Monty Python and combining high and low cultures and creating a sense of "counterpoint" between the dialogue and the movement of bodies on stage. These are all things I believe in deeply - but if you say the same thing enough times, it begins to sound absurd! Eventually, I even got bored with myself and wanted to invent a different “Scott”:

“Yes, I write murder mystery plays. I’m a Taurus. I’m into single malt Scotch. How about you?”

Fortunately, I knew some of the directors. So each time I reached one of them we would rest and share notes. I got the impression that the “pressure to perform” was definitely on the playwrights. It was a little like a Hollywood “pitch meeting” where the writer has to catch the director’s attention immediately with some snappy patter, as in:

“My play is like Mourning Becomes Electra but on a space ship – with zombies!”

Hearing this relaxed me in an odd way. I didn’t have a “project” to sell. I was looking more for a “relationship” than a one night stand! So I started looking deeply into the eyes of each director, smiling sweetly, batting my eyes, and saying:

• “Would you like to go first?”
• “Shall we talk about you?”
• “What is your work like?”
• “Who has influenced you?”

And, just as I was starting to enjoy myself, the final whistle blew! Game over!

Time to tally up the results! Oh, no! My scorecard was totally scrambled! Was “D2” the nice Romanian woman or the kid with red hair? Was “D7” the PhD in Comp Lit or the circus acrobat? I’d made a hash of things again!

So I’m curious….

Have you ever done speed dating? Was it in a… ahem… theatrical context? Did you… ahem… “hook up” later? Let me know!

Meanwhile, I’ll be sitting here by the phone! Directors! They never call!

Two forms of seduction

noreply@blogger.com (Scott Munson) — Tue, 25 May 2010 16:26:00 +0000

Recently I attended the Theatre Bay Area Annual Meeting in San Francisco. These affairs always have a faint whiff of seduction about them. This is also sometimes known as “networking" or "schmoozing” but the idea is the same! Anyway I’d like to write about two forms of seduction that struck me while I was there:

1. The internal kind – where we seduce ourselves by holding on to our own outmoded (yet lovely!) ideas.
2. The external variety – where we try to get others to love us, our work, our potential.

I thought of Form 1 while attending a seminar on the future of arts education. Form 2 was very much on display during a curious courtship ritual called “Speed Dating” between 20 playwrights and 20 directors.

The seminar on arts education was moderated by Edward P. Clapp who is a doctoral student at Harvard. He is investigating the “core assumptions” that can define and limit our thinking. As I understand it, a “core assumption” is something that seems so obviously true that we don’t even think of questioning it. As conditions change, however, these assumptions lose their connection with a constantly changing external reality. So they end up preventing us from adapting to new conditions as we futilely try to apply our old ways of thinking.

BTW, a core assumption has to be held by a group of people in a discipline. So believing your neighbor is sending invisible rays through your walls to communicate with the Supreme Council on Venus might be a deeply-held personal belief but it isn’t a “core assumption.”

So the world is flat. We’re made in God’s image – these were core assumptions at one time. Then Darwin and Copernicus came along and questioned these beliefs and we adapted and survived. Clapp describes this effort to free ourselves from obsolete thinking in an interesting way. He says it’s like being at a dance party where we are swept up in the music and rhythm and all the swaying bodies. He says we need to “get out on the balcony” and separate ourselves from the dancing in order to observe and think new thoughts.

I’m just scratching the surface of Clapp’s ideas here and how they pertain to arts education. I suggest you check him out at:

http://www.20under40.org/

Being a terrible dancer, and having spent more time “out on the balcony” during parties than I care to mention, this all seemed very congenial to me! It was also discussed how core assumptions are so seductive that they end up holding us rather than the other way around. So if we question them they immediately whisper and coo into our ears how “special” we are and why we’re just completely loco to be doubting them in the first place.

On a personal level, I again found this congenial. Being a bit of a… ahem… contrarian… I’ve always enjoyed challenging core beliefs. Often the response is, “Why are we wasting time on this? We’re not here to question the strategy! We’re here to execute it! Get with the program!” So I’m not a roadblock after all! I’m just going out on the balcony!

But as I was marinating in this self-congratulatory stew, I thought how easy and pleasant it is to challenge the core assumptions of others. The hard part is to question our own, isn’t it? So let me trot one out that is especially flattering. If you’re a playwright, I’m sure you’ve heard it many times. You go to a first rehearsal and the director says to the cast, “We’re here to express the playwright’s vision. That’s our job.” Well… hmm… that’s self-evidently true, isn’t it? No need to challenge that assumption, is there? Not that I can see! No sireee, Bob!

Well, I’m running out of gas… No wisecracks please…. So Seduction Form 2 (the playwright/director speed dating) will have to wait to next time. But I’m curious:

Any core assumptions of your own you’d like to challenge?

Don’t you hate blogs that break off in the middle and promise to get to the “good part” next time? I know I do!

The other side of "seduction"

noreply@blogger.com (Scott Munson) — Tue, 18 May 2010 16:19:00 +0000

I got this interesting reply to my last post from Kyle Smith – a good actor friend:

Another lovely post! Would love to give thoughtful answers to your questions, but am in the middle of Hell Week at Broadway West in Fremont. Much like you were hurled into the depths of Hell, I was hurled into the role of Reverend Parris in 'The Crucible' when the actor who was cast dropped out under unfortunate circumstances. I am at the point where I know my lines quite well in the kitchen and the bedroom and the living room and the car, but on stage in costume under the lights - well, it's a bit harrowing.

Kyle is a lovely actor and I’m sure it will all work out wonderfully. I had the pleasure of working with him when he was the history professor in my “Yellow Stripes” at Voice One Studio Theatre. Just a great job, Kyle!

But what a coincidence! I was planning on blogging about my playing Reverend Parris in high school shortly after my hoodlum-wowing experience in "Everyman."

As you may know, the good Reverend is a weak little guy who has a daughter who dances around bonfires and plays “stick the pin in the dolly” out in the dark New England forest! All good clean Puritan fun! But still something of a career killer for dear old Dad!

In an attempt to make me look “middle-aged”, they sprayed a pound of gray paint in my hair. I remember taking a shower afterwards and seeing my legs and feet turn this weird pinkish gray color from all the paint. And the makeup lady liked to furrow these wrinkles and ridges all over my face to give me that “gaunt and wracked with guilt” look. I was told the effect was like “The Wolf Man goes to Salem.” Yikes!

Anyway this is where I learned the dark side of seducing an audience… the side of….

Stage fright!

I’m talking here about that every-pore-in-your-body-is-opening-and-you-are-totally-soaked-in-sweat-terror! Where you are paralyzed from the top of prematurely gray hair down to the tips of your silver-buckled shoes!

It’s a tough opening for the good Reverend to begin with. You have to be weeping and wailing while praying fervently as the curtain rises. Thanks a lot, Arthur Miller! As my… ahem…. “emoting” was causing derisive snickers in the audience, Miss Francis (our long-suffering drama teacher) directed me to simply “pray fervently in silent contemplation.” Then I had to leap to my feet, race across the stage, and accost our black servant with the lines:

“Out of my sight, Tituba! Out of my sight, I say!”

You can imagine how shouting “Tituba” at someone went over with an audience full of teenage boys! Oh, mother!

And then my moment of existential terror arrived. I was cross-examining my daughter Abigail (played by the wonderful Patricia Mattick) about her nocturnal “habits.” She was seated extremely far down stage, in this wooden chair. I was pacing behind her, listening intently… and… as I was pacing… I became… aware… of this… sound…

Soft, indistinct, fascinating!

I asked myself, “What was it?”

And I realized…..it …was…

Them! The audience! Breathing!

And I forgot everything! My name! My character’s name! My lines! Everything!

So Patty looked at me, expecting me to say my next line… which was something like, “Do you expect me to believe this pack of lies?” And she saw only sheer animal terror! Sheer animal terror and a plea for help! Save me, Patty! Save me!

And, cool as cucumbers, she said, “I can guess what you are thinking, Father. What fool would believe such a pack of lies? But tis true!”

And, thank the 17th Century Calvinist Gods that snapped me out of it!

So that was the first time I realized what a beast the audience was! How it lived and breathed out there in the dark! And how naked actors are up there - with nothing but their Wolf Man makeup between them and the abyss!

So I am curious! Any memories of “going up” on stage? Of realizing you had turned from predator to prey? Let me know!

My first "seduction"

noreply@blogger.com (Scott Munson) — Tue, 11 May 2010 16:08:00 +0000

So I was thinking about my topic matter for this post. My initial thought was to continue the “writer’s conference” theme and talk about when I went to Kenyon – and how it was completely different than Sewanee. “We’re here to write, damn it! Not schmooze with celebrities.” However, as I was brooding, meditating, and fasting, I looked at my calendar for the day and realized I:

• Had a ticket to see the Threshold Project’s matinee of Terroristka.
• Also had a ticket to see my friend Nina play cello with her orchestra.

“Oh, no!” I thought. “I have to choose between music and theater… again!”

Which brings me to my “first seduction”. I was in Junior High and dividing my time between orchestra and acting. For the most part the “band kids” and the “drama geeks” were separate crews, but I never saw a conflict in it. They were both fun and they sure beat “geometry for meatheads” (which was also on my curriculum.) However, December rolled around and it came time for the Christmas Concert/Holiday Play performance. That meant I had to both do a bass clarinet solo in one of those hopelessly over-orchestrated “medleys” of Christmas Carols (think Wagner doing “Jingle Bells”) and playing the role of “Deceit” in the morality play, “Everyman.” It made for a tight costume change as I had to do my solo, extricate myself from the orchestra pit (very quietly!) while the lights dimmed for the opening of the play, hurry backstage, get into my “Deceit” costume (which made me look like an especially malicious kitty kat), and rush on stage just in time to say the first lines I ever uttered to an audience:

“They may think us in mean attire. But that is to our gain. The very lowness of our station profits us.”

Now I was never quite sure what that meant exactly… but it sure sounded sneaky!

And I reveled in it –being bad, playing the villain! Delicious! And I was getting laughs! I was being "hissed". Wonderful! I also remember offering poor Everyman (played by the adorable Roberta Levitow – Roberta! I still love you!) the gift of “false friendship” (which was a rock wrapped in aluminum foil spray-painted gold). She threw it back at me and I “recoiled in dismay” and almost tripped over “Beauty” (played by the gorgeous Sherry Tifft – Sherry! I still love you too!)

Once I was deservedly cast down into the fires of Hell, I had to run backstage, get out of my “cat costume,” wipe off my makeup, put back on my orchestra clothes, slip into the orchestra pit, find my instrument, suck feverishly on my clarinet reed to get it moist, and be ready for the crashing finale: a Holiday salute to Mary Poppins!

Naturally, Mister Ungar, our band leader, grew irritated with all this rushing around. Afterwards, he sat me down and said, “Mister Munson, you have to choose. Theater or music? No one can be good at both. Do you want to play in the orchestra or… (lips curling here)… run around in make-up and wave your arms around while people gawk at you?”

So he had watched my performance! I was flattered! But how could I choose? I loved both playing and I loved acting! What to do? I remember walking around, bewildered and confused …

… until the next day… when…

… Jerry Cannon… the school “hoodlum,” came up, punched me (hard!) in the arm, and jovially said, “Hey Munson! You were good up there!” Really? I was? You liked me? And for the rest of the day, other members of the “bad element” in school came up, hit me, and congratulated me on what a great job I had done messing around with that dorky Everyman! I felt like a celebrity! I was a hit! I had done my first “seduction.” Intoxicating!

So I guess I made my “choice”…

But I’m curious about the following:

• Your “hard choices”: were they real or just forced?
• Your first lines on stage: what was your first seduction? (Of the audience, that is!)
• Rocks wrapped in aluminum: what was the lowest-tech prop you’ve ever used on stage?

And, yes, I still play the clarinet.

So why the title?

noreply@blogger.com (Scott Munson) — Tue, 04 May 2010 17:25:00 +0000

So why the title, “Seducing the Audience?”

To give some context, and to take a little stroll down the lane of memories, it all started when I tried to write my second play, “Willie and Solange.” My first play, “Owl” had been the typical autobiographical effort about being a kid growing up in Hollywood with my Dad struggling as an actor in the movie business and my stepmom singing torch songs in all the watering holes up and down Ventura Blvd in the San Fernando Valley. As in:

“Don’t know why… there’s no sun up in the sky… stormy wea…”

(dropping down an octave…)

“…ther…. Since my man and I ain’t to…

(dropping down an octave…)

“gether. Keeps rainin’ all the time….”

All sung in the lowest possible throaty angst-ridden existential croak!

I even had some success with Owl. It won a (very) small literary prize and two theaters said they wanted to produce it… sometime… somewhere… eventually… in another space-time continuum… after the funding came in… So it was all a bit intoxicating at first.

When I turned to writing my second play, however, I… ahem.. . actually… had to… err…. you know… Well… try to make stuff up. So I soon grew bewildered and confused. Perplexed, despairing, I submitted it to the Sewanee Writers Conference. A few months later I found myself sitting across a table with Horton Foote, Academy Award winner, Pulitzer Prize winner, and all-around great man of the American theater. It was a stifling Tennessee afternoon in the middle of Summer and there was no air conditioning in the building (or at least it felt that way as I sat sweating in my little chair!) We were there for some “one on one” time where he was to give me “notes” on my humble effort.

Running his hand through his snow white, flowing hair, Mr. Foote began by asking me (in a lovely modulated Southern voice) what I thought of the play. Well, of course, I thought it sucked but how was I going to say that to him? So I meandered on about this and that and the other thing until he finally cut me off and said the lines that I’ve quoted above about my caring only for “seducing the audience.”

And then he added….

“This play is nothing but improvisation.”

And then he added….

“There is nothing of integrity here.”

And then he just took the play apart for the next two hours… line by wobbly line… page by incoherent page… scene by faulty scene…

At the end, he said “I don’t mean to distress you, Mr. Munson.” (What? Distress me? Are you kidding? Never laid a glove on me! Oh, and where did I put that noose to hang myself with when I get back to my dorm room?) “I only want to help you as I feel you have a… a… a… “

He searched for a word here and then finally said…

…. “a facility for this… and I sincerely would like to help.”

I remember staggering back to my room and thinking, “At least it’s settled. I have no talent. Good. I can now go back to repairing mufflers with a clear conscience and a light heart.”

It was only later (after I called my wife, Beatrice, and moaned and groaned and cried a little) that I realized he was trying to help me and that I should take his wise words to heart. Of course I was trying to “seduce the audience.” Of course it was nothing but improv. Of course it was a wee bit short on the old integrity meter! Guilty, your Honor! Guilty as charged!

Perhaps I still am!

And what better way to “seduce the audience” than to write a blog? Will I never learn?

So what do you think, oh readers? Seducing the audience? A worthy goal? Or a shameful pandering? Let me know what you think!

Getting Started

noreply@blogger.com (Scott Munson) — Sat, 24 Apr 2010 19:10:00 +0000

This is just to get started. I'm at the Stanford Author Boot Camp and setting up a practice blog.

Seducing the Audience

Holiday Gift Ideas

Mozart and Self-Deception

On (Almost) Finishing War and Peace

New Year's Blog Resolutions

Slowing Down

Thinking about Keynes

Post Election Blues

The Splendors and Miseries of Girl Singers

Back in the Saddle

The Last Infirmity of Noble Minds

The “Seduction” of Country Music

Top Ten Music Videos from the 1980s - Part Two

Top 10 Music Videos from the 1980s – Part One

Some "silly" seductions

Another seductive story

The seduction of the new story

Speed dating for playwrights

Two forms of seduction

The other side of "seduction"

My first "seduction"

So why the title?

Getting Started