Gary ~ May 15

 

I Coulda Been A Director

 

I'm no Marlon Brando, but I'm a pretty good actor, even if I am, perhaps, merely one of the 6 or 7 people in the world who might happen to think that.

 

But my real goal in life, the thing that is #1 on my Bucket List, is to be a director. And since Death, a topic that I promised myself I'd get to before the May Mazurka grinds to its inevitable end, is fast closing in on me, and whose faint footsteps I can hear softly, yet relentlessly, approaching from not too far away, I figure if I don't get on the schtick and realize my true purpose in life, fulfill my soul's true mission, and get in line with God's plan for me SOON, I'm gonna really feel bad, later on, when I am floating around in some Bardo somewhere, without a body, but with a mind that is steeped in regret, and I'll be bitching and moaning like some petty Hamlet about how I shoulda done this, or coulda done that, or would done both if only the stars, the fates, and the gods didn't happen to have it in for me, and who all got together just to thwart my secret ambition and prevent it from being brought to life in the wonderful 3-D world of Lights!  Camera! and Action!

 

It turns out,though, by a somewhat happy twist of events, that I will get the chance to make my directorial debut this Sunday evening at 7pm at the Missions House Lodge at the historical Colorado Chautauqua in Boulder CO, where I will be not only starring in, but also directing, my adaptation of Act 1 Scene III of Wm. Shakespeare's Twelfth Night and I hope somebody will be taking pictures and recording the event for posterity and for YouTube as well.

 

Which reminds me, I have to keep my eye on the clock and be all ready to go at 5:45am, because that's when George from Woodstock Car Service is picking me up and taking me to Albany International Airport where I will catch a Delta Airlines flight, first to Detroit, and then on to Denver International Airport where I will pick up my rental SUV at the Enterprise Car Rental joint and then meet Irene and possibly Alex, who are both arriving at DEN around the same time, and drive her, or both of them, out to the conference center.

 

I packed my costume, that I hope to wear this summer at the Comeau property in Woodstock when we put on the entire play, but since, unfortunately I am not the director of that production I have no control as to whether my costume will be deemed appropriate by David who's directing the play, or by Ellie, David's wife, who seems to have the last word on everything even remotely connected to the production of this play.

 

If they reject my costume as being inappropriate, it won't throw me. At least not in the way I was thrown more than slightly off kilter when, after spending $500 on a costume for my portrayal of Ilya Ilyich Telegin in Anton Chekhov's Uncle Vanya a few years back, my costume did not pass muster in the director's eyes, not even for a brief instant.  She was clearly going to "go in a different direction," as they say.

 

Yeah, no shit, I ordered my impoverished Russian landowner costume from a clothing company in Moscow that specialized in that sort of thing, but when I walked into rehearsal one day wearing my big Russian felt boots that almost came up to my knees and my hand embroidered Russian Cossock shirt that was tied around with my hand woven homespun traditional belt,  the director, whose name I think was Elly, and whom I never managed to take a liking to, flashed me a look that said, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" and I knew right away that the $500 I had spent on my authentic impoverished Russian landowner costume had been in vain.

 

I only spent about $300 for my Sir Andrew Aguecheek costume (I didn't have to order it from Moscow, so I guess I saved some money there), including the medieval dagger that I dare not risk trying to bring on the plane because if I am arrested for being a suspected terrorist the #1 thing on my Bucket List might never get crossed off.