It's "Do You Know How To Play Plinko?": The Journal of a Booth Manager at The Illinois State Fair.
But before we get started...
Happy Birthday Justin!
August 15th was Justin's birthday. Happy Birthday, JK. Justin and I have had some fun excursions recently that I never wrote about. I'm sure Justin did, unless Nelly did something that day. Schadenfreude got offered a gig through some friends of friends to teach Theatre Camp kids a couple hours of sketchwriting. The whole group was unavailable except for unemployed me and vacation-time-overload-boy Justin, so we headed out to INSERT NAME OF CHICAGO SUBURB THAT I'VE NEVER FAMILIARIZED MYSELF WITH IN A DECADE and got twenty twelve-year-olds to put up sketches. That's where we met the REAL Zoe Dunkel, Kate's overzealous show-tune-singing, cause-supporting, high-school character from our radio show. She had 30 buttons all over her twelve-year-old frilled acid-washed jeans jacket, braces, and yes, she was singing showtunes. Someday we will track her down for Zoe's three-line cameo in Alderman, but until then that will be a thrill that only Justin and I can share in.
If you're a fan of Schadenfreude you will love the cameo's in Alderman. The Zoe joke works even if you don't know Zoe, but anyone who heard the radio show or saw a Rent Party will really bust-up when Zoe shows up for just three lines. You'll also be happy to know the Todd Voorhies grabs five priceless minutes of screentime as well. Also Bernie Casey, as himself.
Since Justin has always been vacation-overload-boy, Justin and I have always had afternoon pow-wow's where we take a day off, get together early, drink some beer and get some writing done. Justin came over last week during the fever pitch that was the last week of writing Schadenfreude's first screenplay, Alderman. Justin and I burned through 80 pages (?...something like that, a lot) in the third-from-the-last revision.
But we didn't always have such aim. Back when Schadenfreude was $5 and a free beer at The Heartland Studio Theatre, I'd go over to Justin's and we'd shoot the shit and if something turned into comedy, it turned into comedy, which became the group's technique. Fuck around, but do it in tight formation.
The best Schadenfreude Show nobody ever saw was for the fifth anniversary of The Playground, who helped us get our start by giving us the Midnight slot at Cafe Ashie in the fucking 1500's. Nobody was around, so Justin and I wrote a fifteen-minute show for ourselves. It was a very raw presentational show full of stunts, randomness, and Justin's brother hog-tied. I also think I did a bit where I pissed myself during a fake improv game.
I'll pull the footage in the screening room.
So Happy Birthday J. I look forward to you burning some of your vacation days writing Phudi Mart with you on Pacific Daylight Time.
Oh, and I got you a birthday gift at the fair, unavailable anywhere, but the fair.
THE FAIR!
Did somebody just segway????
I know, it's written "segue", but I'm not here to flaunt my pedigree. If I write a little fucked up though, forgive me, I've been eating at the Walleye Stop for four-days-straight and I'm retaining mercury.
Boy this makes for such a perfect transition between Chicago and L.A. It's like this perfect job came out of nowhere. I was nervous about moving to L.A. because, well, why wouldn't I be??? Ten years in Chicago, time got away from me. This really is an uprooting, life has a certain rhythm to it, I go here I do this, I do that I do that, I go there and do that. Well now I get this brief trial of a completely different life away from Chicago and the normal machinations of my world. But now I get to go back to the safety and security of my apartment, and then leave, then come back, like dipping my toe into the pool and jumping out. Also, I'm so back to my roots, Springfield is just a big Lewisburg and I'm seeing new versions of the Mike Ballard's and Richard Joneses that I spent so much time with throwing darts to win Twisted Sister mirrors. I feel like I'm taking stock of who I am before I plunge hip-deep into a new influence pool.
But who gives a fuck, right? I've got fair peeps to talk about.
Fair Peeps
The toothless guy is here, the redneck...
the rattail...
The guy running the Cobbler Stop with the "No Fear" tattoo.
No Fear? Hey Buddy, could I get the Blackberry Cobbler with ice cream on top ? I know you won't puss out halfway through.
they're all here, but what're you going to do? Country folk catch such shit for not having all their teeth and being poor and dumb and innocent, but go fuck yourself. Jack Abramoff has all his teeth but I wish him nothing but the worst in prison. Ken Lay showers and wears deodorant but I hope the unlicensed facial reconstructive surgery he's receiving in whatever extradition-less country he bought his way to after his transparently faked "death," goes awry.
Salt-of-the-Earth and thousands more who simply work in rural communities. Things are simpler here, they just don't worry about what we worry about. They don't give a fuck about Pirates of The Carribean's opening weekend draw, and I love that. It's relaxing to just be simple, finding the joy in getting your picture taken with a monkey.
0 Yorumlar