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SPF: The Butcherhouse Chronicles

BILLY CARDIGAN: Matthew Doyle
KURT HAMMER: Billy Wheelan
DONNA SWEETHEART: Anna Chlumsky
HONEY HARDBODY: Kate Morgan Chadwick
MR. GUEST: Vin Knight
MR. STERN: William Youmans
MOTHER BUTCHER: Carole Monferdini
GEORGIE BUTCHER: Todd Cerveris
THE TWIN: Eric Singer

First rehearsal today. Just two weeks, it promises to be quite a sprint...

... but...

... this is going to be sooo bloody cool...

For those who saw the reading 2+ years ago, expect a very different life here. I hadn't seen/met everyone until today, but it's such a strong, diverse cast. Everybody's bringing unique and startling qualities to the table...

I'm walking a fine line talking about my own work -- I'm trying very hard not to sound full of myself. But the actors are bringing out remarkable colors in the text. Finding heart and humor and sadism where they can easily be lost...

It's only day one, but I'm immediately buoyed by how it's going and where I think it's going to go from here. It may make for a boring love-fest of a blog, but the creative team I've got is absolutely top shelf. Squeezing the max out of our limited time and budget.

I just hope people come see this show. (Not just my friends.) If people do come, they aren't going to know what hit them...

Day One

In a dream, I'm a different me
With a perfect you
We fit perfectly
And for once in my life, I feel complete--
... and I still want to ruin it...

- Nine Inch Nails

Picked Apart Like Chickens

Competitive? I'm more competitive than I'd like to admit in public...

We all wear our masks. Some of us wear more masks than others. (Some of us are nothing BUT masks.)

In case anybody stumbles onto this, know that my play has nothing to do with this thing. I wrote "The Butcherhouse Chronicles" a fucking while ago. (Please ignore any references to a "wedding" in that entry... that was another life. That was that, this is this.)

Welcome to the Creepshow

Who are you and why are you reading this blog?

Do you know me? Do you think you know me? (You have no idea.)

Let me tell you, I am getting so excited, my little heart's about to explode. (I should see a doctor about this.)

Rehearsals begin in a matter of days. Everything in its right place. Like kismet. Like a fucking machine of war. Like the end of the world! We've gotta get out of here! WE'VE GOTTA GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE!!!

Calmer. Fitter. Happier. More productive.

You want to see a show? I'll give you a fucking show, people... (Did you honestly think I wouldn't...?)

I am not cool. I am an inferno. And I am famished...

All Tomorrow's Donnas

It's not necessarily easier for me to write a character that's based on a specific person. People are complex machines, built from genetics and a lifetime of experiences. It's more of a challenge to capture the essence of someone in the broad strokes. So, most (most) of the characters I write are not based on any ONE person. They're usually composites of various people, including myself.

That being understood, in one of my internet trolling sessions at work, I stumbled onto a person who was the partial inspiration for the character of "Donna Sweetheart" in "The Butcherhouse Chronicles". I'd been reading this girl's blog for months without realizing that I'd gone to high school with her. She's one of the rare female cab drivers in this city. It's kind of weird to imagine that "Donna Sweetheart" grows up to become a taxi driver.

Back up. Like I was trying to explain, this girl was NOT "Donna". I remember her being this sorta grungy girl who was really loud. I had a Biology class and an English class with her. I don't have any memory of ever talking to her directly. (I barely spoke to anyone in high school.) But I thought she was gorgeous. Thankfully, I never acted on this crush because I hate to imagine what she would have said to me at the time. I was this ghost of a person in high school and she was this loud-mouthed girl who I just thought was unbelievably fascinating.

I'm not into writing autobiographical work. That's what blogs are for. (And masturbatory performance groups.) In college, I tried writing a straight autobiographical script and it was a steaming pile of dookie. "The Butcherhouse" isn't an autobiographical work. But it comes from a specific place and a time and an experience. In a strange way, it may be one of my most personal and honest works. I find I need to lay down a heavy fiction in order to give myself the freedom to really open up and reveal something. However obscured it may be.

My head is filled with things I'd never want to reveal to anybody...

Daydream Believer

I spent the better part of yesterday daydreaming. Staring at the ceiling and thinking about everything. My 5th grade elementary school teacher (Mrs. Martini) accused me of being a daydreamer and she was right. It's astonishing to me that I can waste a whole day doing nothing but thinking.

But, Malice!!! Isn't there a play you should be writing?!?

Yes, Becky, there is a play I'm in the middle of writing. And it's one of the things I was thinking about yesterday, in addition to all the details of the "Butcherhouse" production...

But, Malice!?! Isn't "daydreaming" just another way of "procrastinating"?!?

Yes, Becky, one could argue that "daydreaming" is a form of procrastination. But it's something I find I need to do sometimes. Get into a peaceful space and meditate on all the things in my life. In high school, I used to go to the library for "study period" and just daydream for 45 minutes. I believe a little daydreaming can defuse a potential "Columbine" situation. (And sure -- it can create one, too! Huzzah!)

But, MALICE?!? A little meditation time is FINE, but A WHOLE DAY!? Don't you think that's a bit indulgent?!? AREN'T THERE ARE A MILLION THINGS YOU COULD HAVE BEEN DOING!?!

Well, Becky, this is what happens you can't sleep. My sleep patterns have gotten more and more erratic. When you can't sleep, your waking life becomes this muted, zombie-like daze. I have a hard time turning off my thoughts and sometimes I just need to think them out, to keep myself from becoming a complete zombie. Zombies are the ultimate daydreamers.

But, MALICE??? Zombies?!? The cannibalistic undead?! Have you lost the plot entirely??

You don't exist, Becky! You're not real! Dr. Kaplan says you don't exist, so just leave me alone!!!

Faster, Pussycat, Kill, Kill

Meow Mix -- the company behind the world's first cat reality show -- happens to be one of the sponsors of SPF this year...!

You know what that means, don't you...?

Not a hell of a lot, really. But I did get a free Meow Mix keychain.

[Look at the time-stamp on this entry -- I'm so excited, I can't even sleep!]

Pop Junk

Feeling a bit more myself. All wine and no food makes Malice a sick boy...

It was good chatting with some of the other playwrights. Strikes me that I don't know many other writers. It's so safe and sound in my vacuum of a life...

Still trying to figure out how to talk about my own work without sounding like a ding dang dong douche-bag. I'm a pop junkie. Some may argue it's a distraction, but it filters into the work. Honest.

I'm watching this DATELINE: PREDATOR! special where they're luring all these online pedophiles to this house that's littered with hidden cameras and SWAT teams.

When they get to the house, the would-be pederasts are greeted by the ever-cocky Chris Hansen, who proceeds to grill them with such obvious questions as "What were you thinking?" Most of them try to explain that they weren't really going to go through with it. Many try to argue that they just wanted to be a "mentor" to the underage boy/girl.

Turns out, there are a LOT of men willing to go to strange houses to mentor young boys and girls in the death of the night. I think that's great news for the nation's youth!

Men are perverts -- I get it already! But is a two hour (!) "news program" depicting a trail of men getting utterly ruined on national television really helping the problem?, or is it just feeding the voyeurs? (aka, Me.)

Casting Complete!

We have a complete, confirmed cast. Very exciting stuff. Cannot wait to see my cast all together and watch this sucker evolve.

Quite hungover this mourn. Sucking back plastic cups of Pinot in strangers' penthouses. Pity me. Still, I feel low this mourn and I've got to get through the work day. Dark Lord, give me strength...

06.06.06

Number of the Beast, suckas. Git some.

I was supposed to be part of a Q&A at an NYU journalism class tonight, but I've been rerouted to a cocktail party on the Upper West Side hosted by one of SPF's sponsors. It looks like they might be giving away free sunblock. I pray there are some hors d'oeuvres, because I am savagely sparse at the moment. It seems I had such a good run of being flush and now I'm back to being a beggar at the feast. Would I come off as low-class if I started to stuff cocktail olives into my pockets? A plastic cup filled with guacamole for the road?

But brother, I would have liked to have gone to that NYU class. I didn't go to NYU for journalism, I didn't take any journalism classes, but it still would have been a trip. (I guess NYU's Dramatic Writing Program doesn't give a shit what I've done with my life...) I'll go anywhere people want to hear me speak. Seeing the disappointment in their eyes is priceless!

First big production meeting last night, with the entire creative team in attendance. It was like Christmas morning. What a fucking gift of a team! We are going to have such a kick-ass time. I am incapable of containing my excitement. I am a hand-grenade that won't stop exploding.

SPF Now

A good June 5th day to all you fringe theatre lovers.

Looks like tickets are officially on sale for the shows.

Opening nights are not available. I hope I'll be able to get in...

Would You Like to Hear My Advice?

I'll be the first to clarify, I'm merely flirting with success. A few email exchanges, a few phone conversations, but no real timeframe set to meet in the flesh. Success and I may not even get to a first date. But it's amazing how many people have advice to offer me...

I'm not talking about advice I've sought out. I've sought out the advice from a lot of friends on various matters. It's the advice I haven't asked for that gets to me...

An old coworker I haven't spoken to since he got laid off two years ago phoned me up this past week. The guy hasn't worked since he got fired, and suddenly he's giving me advice about my writing. In this delicately patronizing manner that made my blood curdle.

I love how it's always in the guise of helping me. You know it's going to be bad when someone prefaces something with, "I'm saying this as a friend..." And then I'm forced to listen to this advice and nod and "uh-huh" just to cater to their egos. You don't listen and you look like a stubborn asshole. You do listen and you just feed the advice-mongering.

"Just remember to have fun -- but brace for disappointment!"

A lot of people want to remind me to have fun while bracing for disappointment. My entire goddamn life has been about bracing for disappointment! And trust me, I've enjoyed my share of disappointment. I'm sick of bracing for it.

I'm not a kid. I didn't just graduate from high school. I don't need to be prepared for all the bitter things that the world may offer me. Don't imagine you need to tell me something that other people are afraid to tell me, because the news is NOBODY'S AFRAID TO TELL ME ANYTHING. On the contrary, some people don't know when to shut the fuck up. An alarming number of people. People who barely know me.

I know, this is part of "it". You put your work out there and you attract a lot of feedback. About the work, about your career, about the way you lead your life. It's human nature to offer feedback, and I've got plenty of it coming my way while I've barely begun. And I've listened, patiently. And I'll continue to listen, patiently. But you can't cater to everyone, and you can't follow everyone's advice. At a certain point, you've got to trust yourself. At a certain point, people have got to trust me.

Hell, what's wrong with having a little fun? After the murder I've been through, I think I deserve it...

AMATEUR

"The last thing I could say is just get ready to hear the most rudest, nastiest, lamest remarks anybody has ever said to you. People are pathetic, and they’ll try and make you feel miserable, so don’t let it get to you. The more people that love you, the more haters you’re going to get. And that can hurt. I’ll hear 30 compliments in one day and then the second I get a rude comment it gets me down. Don’t let that happen, just ignore it. The key is if you can turn your ears off to all the bullshit people spit at you, but keep them open to the constructive criticism, which can really help sometimes. But learning how to do that is probably harder than actually making a movie."

Shane Ryan, writer/director of "Amateur Porn Star Killers"

Casting Call

There was another casting session for my play yesterday, for the two remaining roles. Offers were put out to two actresses. We should find out today whether they accept or not. I may have to wait till I get home late tonight, since I can't check my personal email from work. The waiting is the hardest part.

You've got to suffer through the business end to get to all the creative stuff.

It's June. How is it already June? Tickets go on sale in four days. Everything's going to get really fast and furious. Between production and parties and networking (and, hopefully, meetings), this month should quickly become a storm. I say, let's do it.