Austin City Limits

Well, here I am in Austin, Texas. My dog, 'Baby', looks at me everyday with a forlorn look on her face, I think she misses the wide open spaces of Boulder, but she is great company for me, and she gets me out walking. We are staying in a cheap motel until we can find a house or apartment, which I've been searching for from the day I arrived. Like LA, Austin has lots of traffic, but with a great downtown area, filled with western stores and cowboy bars, a perfect place to do 'Bohemian Cowboy'.

The theatre I'm performing in is small, seventy seats, (The Hyde Park Theatre) but, it is a well known theatre thats been around a long time. I went down Friday and met the artistic director, Ken Webster, and we had a great visit and had lots in common. Unlike San Francisco, the theatre personal here are mature and savvy, with a fully equipped theatre, which is ready to go. Although there is another show running simultaneously with mine, the space can be cleared in five minutes to put my show up. Since I left my furniture pieces in San Francisco, (thought I'd be going back down) I have to search for a chair, two tables, and two stools. As always, I scan the streets looking for Thrift Stores and used furniture stores, to get what I need. The only immediate glitch (besides finding a place to live) is getting a new radiator, as my deer smashed front end is finally showing its damage. It started out with a little hole which has grown larger with the long thousand mile trip to get here. So here it is, once again, with a few bucks in my pocket and a show, the 'life' I've pretty much always lived, so I don't feel the desperation, one gets used to getting out of jams.

Marie, (my producer in LA) has let me know there are two producers coming opening night, so the pressure is already on. I've yet to go through the script again, will start that tomorrow, with an opening a week from Tuesday. Although my performance nights are a little strange, (Sunday, Tuesday, and Wednesday), it will leave the weekends open to look for work as a honky tonk singer, although I've heard they don't pay much in Austin. If I can find a gig in a restaurant, however, I can do pretty well with tips. (Thank you Hell's Backbone Grill and Blake!) Its always a little daunting to go out and hustle that kind of work, when in Austin, if you 'throw a brick you hit a musician'. Even though there are about six hundred venues, the competition is fierce. I'll just have to compete. Rustin Reber is coming down in a week, (the technical director for my show) and also one hell of a guitar player, we'll join forces and see what we can come up with. Like so many of my endeavors, its the idealism that gets me here, its the reality that I have to contend with--maybe I live in an alternate universe. Combining the two is the key, I suppose, keeping the hope alive with one foot on the ground, sometimes, however, the ground seems a little rocky and with such a slope!

Friday, I went to see my friends, Lucy and Donnie. They live in the beautiful hill country of West Austin. Lucy has agreed to be my house manager for my shows, and she is a great hostess. They live in high up on a hill, in a beautiful home. If I can't find a place of my own in the next couple of days, they have agreed to let me stay there for a few days. Lucy used to live in Phoenix, and I did lots of theatre with her, from Terry Earp's 'Skimpies', to the 'Man With the Lady Like Hands'. I saw her act in a production of Genet's 'The Maids' in Phoenix for I theatre, which still stands out as one of my favorite Phoenix productions. Lucy came into my acting class in 1998, and until both her and I moved away, she had been in many shows that I either directed or acted in. She did 'Mamah', another one of my favorites, which was the story of Frank Lloyd Wright's second wife who was murdered along with her children by their gardner. It was a grand production, (written by Nick Newberry, a great friend and architect), it taught me a lot about architecture, which I still keep with me to this day.

Well, its time to fill up my radiator and look at some places I found on Craigslist. I'll let you know how it goes, as its time to start the process of blogging my adventures. Once again, the odds seem a little impossible today, but then that seems pretty normal for me. I'm feeling pretty 'bohemian' right now, but the day is full of possibilities and surprises... talk to you soon.

'Anxiety, Art, and Security'

San Francisco is now a memory, I'm back in Utah and getting ready to tackle Austin, Texas at the end of next month. I'm currently in St. George, (Utah), going to see the doctor tomorrow to see if I can get my anxiety under control. Anxiety is never a problem with me if I'm in the midst of chaos and work, its when things are calm and good that it rises. I won't go into particulars of what it does to my behavior, but I'm realizing I have always been this way. As I get older, creating the 'big sweep' of action gets harder to maintain, and therefore more difficult for me to control. I have always worked in a manic state, which begins to wear on the body and spirit as you age. I do know artists that also work under this influence, and even though I believe I have a rational understanding of it, I still have trouble controlling it at times. I believe years of doing theatre is part of the manic structure for me, it takes a delusion of grandeur to believe that you can write a play and then put it on, followed by weeks and weeks of rehearsal, mania, and chaos. Finally, the rise to euphoria, and then that awful drop into despair. Still, I am hopeful that I can at least take this play to a place that has been difficult to take some of my other plays, as there is always a closing day with the others. This play has been an open ended run for me, but with long states of calm in between. I think once I get settled into another long run of this play, I will be alright.

For now, its 'stop the bleeding', and focus on the next part of the journey. Its a very difficult pattern to explain to people, especially if you have not experienced a certain level of anxiety. I think humans are always ladened with some anxiety, and its why most people create a sense of security in their lives, to quell the anxious nature of being human. From my own living experiences, I have come to believe that complete security is not possible, and I think most of us know that, but for me, I can't create a vision unless I have a certain 'edge' to my life. And so people worry about me. And truth be told, sometimes I worry too, but living this kind of life enables me to see certain things that one would not be able to see unless they were doing the same thing, in the same way that I can't see the point of view of working to maintain complete security. I'm not condoning 'risky' behavior that is self-destructive, but I do get that most people are not going to understand what I'm doing and why. Its also important that we work to 'understand each other', and let their be some liberation in 'making the choices' that we each make. Translation for my detractors: This is what I've done for the last twenty-five years, and I try to respect and understand the choices you have made with your life. I think being an artist can sometimes be as offensive to some people as being any kind of zealot. And I am a zealot in my art and craft. I have noticed at times while I'm performing, that its difficult for people to even watch or listen to what I am saying. It is the nature of confessional theatre, its not for everyone, but I believe it is important. I confess to strangers, family, friends, and foes alike, and its what keeps me living. Being on stage is the one place I don't have anxiety attacks, ironic, but necessary for me. Art is necessary for my deep need to understand what happens around me and through me. I can't help, nor will I be ashamed about what I do. Please don't try to urge me to get a 'real job' or come in from what you percieve as 'the cold'. This is as real a job as there can be, and trust me, its really hard work.

However, if my behavior becomes self-destructive, I do understand your critisism, and I'm working every day to arrest any kind of self destruction that effects you or me. It may not appear to you that I am making progress in this regard, but I am, but it may be difficult for you to understand or see. I am never without HOPE. That is part of my character, I am like the little league coach whose team comes in last place, who knows exactly what to do to win next year. The next year the team comes in fourth place, etc... and the years press on.

For my students that read this blog, even though I taught for many years that art was the way, the truth, and the life, make no mistake, you must endure or don't do it. Many years ago, a college teacher and one time mentor taught me a valuable lesson. He was also the same one who told me that he thought I had a talent to be a theatre artist, but I would have to work very hard. The first full length play that I wrote and directed, 'Under the Desert', opened to a small audience in Phoenix, Arizona. I was ecstatic. Two days later, a review came out in The Arizona Republic, (the primary paper in Phoenix) and the headline of the article said, 'Actors Give Play More Than Playwright Did'. Needless to say, I was crushed, devastated, really... The critic called it a 'pretentious' play, at the time, I didn't even know what pretentious even meant, (I looked it up in the dictionary). I went to this mentor and angrily complained, close to crying. He looked at me and said, "If you can't take it, get out now, it won't be the first or the last time this will happen in a very public way..." I felt embarrassed and misunderstood, but I got the message. He was right. It was many years before 'my public criticism' started to get more favorable, but he taught me that I must persevere. That same play, 'Under The Desert' is scheduled to be produced some time within the next year in Los Angeles, (after many rewrites) and I don't have any idea how it will be received, but I know I worked harder on that play than any of the others, because I believed in 'the kernel' of what I had written.

I know and understand that many people don't have any idea what I have endured to arrive in this place I'm in, and I can't say its any easier, (in some ways its more difficult). The reviews I got in LA for this show, (as hard as it is for me to believe) were notices that I worked for years to achieve. I tell people that 'I got lucky' and yes, there was some luck involved, but trust me, I have put in my 10,000 hours, (Outliers). Still, it is the life and the process that are the most important. In the art world, (I suppose like other worlds) process and result may be simbiotic, but I'll always take 'process' over result. For me, result will get me drunk every time, but process keeps me sober. So, I press on to Austin, and continue to work on my anxiety, but really, its always been with me...

'San Francisco is Alive and Doing Well'

Last night, we opened the show, 'Bohemian Cowboy' to an enthusiastic crowd in San Francisco. It was another push of the 'boulder up the mountain', but well worth the journey. Yes, it has been a bit fatiguing, (tech was a little hellish), as  we had to solve some problems when we arrived at the theatre. Unbeknownst to us, the theatre we were in had just been taken over by the company who asked me to come, and so there was a remodel job going on in the theatre right down to the wire. I have been there so many times, putting glow tape on steps an hour before curtain. Still, everything got done, but it caused us to work a little harder, and we were still' teching' the show an hour before curtain. I had run through the show twice already yesterday, and had done two 'cue to cue's as well, all day before the performance. I was tired when I stepped out on stage, but sometimes this can work for you, as it leaves you vulnerable and open. With each show in each environment, I find myself 'discovering' more and more of what's there. Before I left Boulder, Eric Scott did a great recording of the play, so I was able to do lots of my 'prep work' on the road. I could stick in the CD and recite the lines of the play, which is a great way to 're-memorize'. When I had finished the performance last night, a woman immediately said, "How do you remember all of that?" The truth is this: You can never think you won't remember it, and you must never jump ahead of the moment. Although you have to be thinking your way, the trick is trust that it is in there, and that you have done your memory work thoroughly. The other thing that helps is the 'traffic pattern', or the 'blocking', or in more artistic terms, 'the composition' of the play. There is a point of playing any part, when the play leaves your head and begins to inhabit your body. Once this happens, it enables you to find 'variables', (playing with a prop, ad libs, etc.), in other words, finding what will make that particular performance feel unique. 

San Francisco is such a beautiful city, so alive in its 'urban-ess' but with 'an edge'. One can feel the history contributing to the present, definitely full of possibilities. The theatre we are in is in a section of the 'mission district' that is a bit 'bowery', but still, such a great mix of people in the street. Definitely worth coming down for. Yes, we have now done San Francisco. I will, however, be glad after tonight's show, to be able to relax a bit after a grueling week. Sunday, my Aunt Linda will be reading poetry at 'Bird and Beckett', which is bookstore honoring 'jazz and literature', Charlie Parker and Samuel Beckett the name recipients. I am proud of Aunt Linda, who is re-emerging as a poetry force in a city that revers poets. She has been so great, showing us around with enthusiasm. Her apartment is down by Ocean Beach, and she has one of those apartments that one could browse through for hours... books, poetry books, paintings, sculptures, photography, etc. A great place for her, it just 'fits'. We are definitely having a 'San Francisco' experience, right down to the amazing thai food we had last night after the show. 

We've also had a great time staying with my cousin Carissa, her husband Rich, and their two children Clarke and Jed, (great names that so fit them both), they moved into a new house with a huge down stairs area for us to lay our heads. Today, because they haven't rented their old house, we moved our stuff over there, another great place for us to stay. Kurt, (the director and my good friend) flew out from New York for meetings and to help get the play up. My cousin Scott, (who did all the tech in LA) rode here with me from Las Vegas and once again, worked like an octopus in the tech booth, (having to do lights, sound, and photography at the same time), he has been a great help. Monday, we will drive down to LA for a couple of meetings, stay for three days and come back Thursday, finishing up here next Friday and Saturday. The week after that, I'll be playing music at The Escalante Arts Festival. October will be teaching at 'The Cliff Notes' writers conference, and preparing for Austin, Texas, where I will attempt to get this play off the ground in a bigger way, (twelve weeks). So, the plan is unfolding, lets hope my father's inheritance, (his story) will continue to come alive and finally make me a living... (to be continued...) 

'San Francisco and Beyond'

Finally arrived in San Francisco--I had forgotten what a beautiful city it is. Back in the eighties, I came here a couple of summers to The Baby Area Playwrights Conference. They were lovely times, I was full of hope and idealism, believing that theatre had the answers to all my questions. Back home in Phoenix, my wife was filing for divorce because I had decided to leave my career as a gymnastics coach and return to my first love, (the theatre). It was a 'heady' time in my life, but also one filled with strife and turmoil. My career as a coach had taken off, had finally hit that place where my gymnasts were getting into The National Championships. No one at the time understood why I would leave such a promising career and return to theatre. I found the sub-culture of gymnastics to be so sterile. Most of my peers in the coaching field were men and women who were still competing with their egos through the young women and men they coached. I had once thought gymnastics was a more 'artistic' sport, but after hitting three years of nationals, I realized it was to much of a 'jock' mentality for me. I wanted to talk about the 'big' ideas in the world, I wanted to make a difference, I wanted to really live. Thus began an artistic education that was filled with  ignorance, but fueled with enthusiasm. 

The Bay Area Playwright's Conference was so instrumental in my 'transition'. Six weeks of immersion into the theatre world. I stayed in a residency hotel in San Rafael called 'The Panama Hotel'. Every piece of furniture, paintings, and the setting felt like it belonged in a Tennessee Williams play. I was definitely in my element. Every day was filled with new stimulus, 'workshopping' one play after another, listening to 'master playwrights' talk about their craft. When I was finished with the conference, I was a changed person... When I arrived back in Phoenix, I moved out of the house--left my wife of seven years, and begin to live on my brother's couch, giving up everything I had built the subsequent years. As soon as I could, I travelled to NYC for the first time, and had wave after wave of recognition and more stimulus. I came a day or two from 'moving there', but after auditioning for acting roles and doing several plays in a row in Phoenix, I embarked on the road to opening my own theatre company, 'Playwright's Workshop Theatre', which became twelve years of toil and adventure. I lived on very little, took odd jobs to survive and continued to learn the craft of playwriting. 

Flash forward twenty one years, thirty written plays later, here I am, two days away from performing every playwright/actor's white buffalo, the one person play. Still, after all of these years, this morning the butterflies where flying around my stomach, all of the fears across the years still playing havoc on the senses.  Experience is a fortress, but the raw,  'living in the present' unknown is still the master, and so I prepare, hope, and still feel that initial enthusiasm, the same as all those years ago. What will happen? Will I get through the play with out falling down? Will I remember the hour and a half text of monologue and dialogue? Will my audience stay with me? Will the story hold? 

"Its amazing to me how quickly the notion of faith can fall within, how alone and empty I feel, when just a few minutes ago I was arm wrestling with the creator of the universe..." 

Faith, the promise of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen..."  

excerpt from 'Bohemian Cowboy' 

'Lightning in My Pocket, Thunder in My Soul'

I'm sitting under the cottonwood trees in lower Boulder tonight, the wind is blowing hard through the trees, home after driving five hours from Salt Lake City. I spent the day at a Utah Humanities Council workshop, where they are preparing to bring a Smithsonian Exhibit on 'roots music' to our little town, it was an amazing workshop. I sat there, as each of the 'roots music' musicians were named and talked about, realizing that each of these musicians are in my own song list, it felt good to be so connected to these musicians, and to have all of these wonderful ideas to share with this group of people. I have to say, The Utah Humanities Council really have 'it' together, a group of people who are truly committed to 'spreading the gospel' of music and history. It gave me a renewed sense of hope, so often in Arizona I would go to these 'things' and think that these people don't give a sh**t about what they are talking about--another government agency gone asunder, but this group was really alive with ideas and, again, commitment about what they where doing. I was a little amazed that I was there... 

Tomorrow morning at 6am., I have to turn around and drive to Richfield, Utah, to face another government agency about me hitting a deer, (which I reported for my insurance company) to the tune of two tickets for not having the information on my person. Ridiculous highway patrol claptrap, no one in law enforcement believes anything you say anymore... and then, with a day of preparation, I will drive to San Francisco for my two weeks of shows, and, I admit, a little bit of tension. LA is one city to do theatre in, San Francisco is quite another, I'll have to prepare myself with some gusto to pull off these shows, but there is definitely a 'buzz' on the show. The San Francisco Guardian has been asking me questions for a couple of days to do a 'preview' article on the show, which really puts the 'pressure' on. I love 'real' journalists though, the ones that get 'all' the information, even if the article is short. This journalist was very thorough, preparing ten really tough questions for me to answer. It was refreshing, causing me to dig deep about what I was taking to that city. I'm definitely feeling the apprehension of 'the road' and this bohemian lifestyle. I think I mentioned that I was driving around using a cup full of dimes and nickels to pay for things, (my quarters where gone), but those of you who know what that's like will understand. Feast or famine. Luckily, my patron saint came through, (just tonight), with another grant to 'get me on the road'.  Yesterday, I called Kurt in NYC to tell him of my plight, and ironically, he let me hear the sound of the change in his sock, which he was taking to the grocery store for some 'survival' food.  Although he just sold a book with a fifty thousand dollar budget, he was scrambling until the check arrived. I LOVE these stories. Friends, patrons, and family, if you are going to 'stay the course' and be an artist, you must adhere to this lifestyle, and the 'adventure' ensues. I read in the LA Times the story of Samuel Beckett, who edited  the final 'gallies' for 'Finnian's Wake' by James Joyce for a hundred pounds and three used ties so that he could survive. It doesn't change, but you know what? I'm amazed at the cognizant understanding of a community to come through for an artist at the 'final hour'. Stay the course, you with 'marrow in your bones', you with the mandate to create, to fall, only to rise again. And remember, "An artist life is the best weight loss program out there, keep a bag of pinto beans in your cupboard for the lean times..." 

So, here I go, back again to the coast of California, where I spent some time as a young playwright, wandering the redwoods, living in a residency hotel in San Rafael, and once again, living as though I had nothing to lose. Then, of course, I had youth on my side, but now I have the experience of a 'life lived', and really, I know that if I died tonight, I have 'really' lived! I have experienced the pain of each crossroad, watched the lightning as it struck the tree to my left, I have taken the road with the thorns on the ground, and I have lived life with a 'view for today'. I live each day fearless, even when my body is wracked with pain. Today, I watched the moon rise from the mountains, with a lightning storm at its feet, today, I am alive... put that in your book! 

And to DB, whose life is full of so much inspiration, I am listening to you, my friend, and I feel your spirit, your words are wings on my 'one pair of shoes', I so appreciate your comments, so appreciate your struggle, and so appreciate your life. I am continuing to carry the torch of 'the actor', and look forward to your encouraging words. "don't let the bastards get to you," you are a worthy artist, I can feel it with each of your memories". And remember, memories are not just days gone by, to me, they live as though they are happening now, stay the course and be strong. 

To others, (especially my mother, and my aunts), you have taught me the strength of 'a character', and I so appreciate your support and words... I was never that talented in what I do, but in the end, I will say that I made a commitment to this kind of life and I stuck with it, because you said things that 'made a difference'. As you can probably see by now, I am in a zone of acceptance, this is what I am, and I am content, even though there is no change left in the cups... 

"my god, my god, poverty takes so much time, I'd rather be painting..." 

de kooning.

'Jesse James and Shakespeare'

I guess its time to start writing again. In two weeks, I'll be heading to San Francisco for five shows of  'Bohemian Cowboy'. For some reason, its very hard to take out my script and start studying for the next leg of the journey. Maybe its the subject matter, or maybe its because looking at words and memorizing them over and over again is just a damn hard occupation. Looking back at the shows I've done, I'm feeling the strain of all the preparation, the emotional toll this show has on my heart, and the memories I have of both the show and my father. When I conceived the show, I didn't have any idea how hard it would really be to do--idealism verses reality. Still, its something I have to pursue, at least for the next year.  

The other day, I visited Mason and Lillian Lyman, a family I was very close to when I was growing up in Escalante and Boulder. The father, Dale Lyman, had just died and I didn't make it to the funeral. (found out the day of.) Of course, All of the sons, (there are four of them) were the 'bad' boys in town, but still, very good natured, its just those boys  were doomed to be outlaws. Mason just finished 9 months in prison, for parole violation after another long stretch in jail. Stacy, his older brother, (and one of my buddies) is doing hard time in North Carolina. Lillian told me that Stacy is on kidney dialysis three days a week in prison, and will probably not make his six year sentence. As I looked at Mason and Lillian, sitting around the tables, my mind started riffing on all the memories I had with 'these boys'. We drove the highways and back roads as fast as we could, consuming all the beer, whiskey, pot, acid, and speed that we could, believing that we would either die or live forever. Lillian told me the story of the FBI and the SWAT team who came into her house with weapons drawn, firing them in her small, modest, Escalante home. A man named Two Tall Dave was shot in the melee, so hard to believe this happened in a house I had spent so many hours in. I had just been reading the story of Jesse and Frank James in a 'Gunfighter' book, and was struck by the similarity, even though Jesse's mother was hit with a grenade that blew off her arm. Its so sad to see a family so torn asunder by law enforcement, which happens frequently these days. Mason seemed glad to see me, and seemed eager to go fishing with me if I would agree to be seen with him in my truck. I told him I would be glad to be seen with him anywhere. There was a look of hope in his eye. We shared so many memories, so many wild trips and so much laughter. And yes, its true, there were times when we looked at each other and wondered whether we would live through the night. I don't know how either of us survived. I had to find Jesus to stay in this world, and he found, I guess, his genes, the tough Lymans, no way to kill them, constitution like alligator skin. 

Tonight, I taught my acting class, Shakespeare monologues, topping it off with my mother's play, 'Happy Hello, Sad Goodbye'. It was a great combination, the old mixed with the new. I'm always surprised that I know so much about Shakespeare, it has taken most of my life to figure out his plays, and as I finally did, it was a spiritual experience. I now understand why he is considered the genius he is--from witchcraft to forbidden love, he had a vast understanding of just about every theme we like to call 'universal', and still, underlined with such an understanding of the human condition. I remember feeling so stupid going to his plays, struggling to understand them, going again, and again. And then life happens. You go to one of his plays, and the spirit of a dead father appears to Hamlet, and there you are, caught up in all of it, crying at the parts that touch you like only God can. I'll never forget, waking up and hearing the voice of my own father's ghost, and making the connection to Hamlet, after I had seen three productions of it in the year after my father disappeared. How could someone write a play that had this kind of depth? I equated it to Christ, and the genius of christianity, Shakespeare had this same genius, this same capacity to understand human beings. Perhaps Shakespeare is my savior. I recently went over the Cedar City and saw Henry the Fifth. I was amazed by this play, this history, this connection to God. The history of it suggests that God rallied the English to defeat the French while outnumbered 100 to 1. Its pretty remarkable, and when you see the play, and listen to the dialogue between the players, it suggests a miraculous intervention. Even if the history of it was not true, how can one write a play that brings these ideas across in such a powerful way? 

I'm a little depressed today, maybe because I have that creeping sense that I've somehow wasted some of my summer here in Boulder. Enough has happened that I could write a book, but its still somehow not enough. I better get to work on the script, San Francisco may bring me some luck, I'll need it, I'm down to sixty dollars in the bank account. 

''Henry V and Living As Though There is Nothing to Lose'

Dan and I finally took the big ride into the big city of Cedar City, to run some errands, stock up on food supplies, and lastly, see Henry V at The Utah Shakespearean Festival, (courtesy of Aunt Margie). As always, the Utah Shakespeare Festival never ceases to amaze me, and seeing this production was no exception. It struck me this year as the way I used to feel in my twenties reading the russian novelists, only all in one sitting. I remember I had to memorize the names of the russian characters by recording the image of the word in my brain, because I couldn't pronounce them. The striking part of seeing Shakespeare here is the precision, the talent and mastery of the 'whole' production, all done in a recreation of a Shakespearean theatre (indoor/outdoor) and executed in 'period' time. It is miraculous, this Shakespeare writer, if you get yourself to enough of these productions, gradually you begin to see what 'all the fuss' is about. Shakespeare covers so many themes, philosophies, history, and religions, it staggers the mind. Seeing a play this way assaults the senses all at once, and the images and ideas stay with you for the duration of life. Henry V is indeed a very advanced study of war and God, and like most of his plays, the characters are so well drawn, it makes you wonder how he could conceive such well drawn portraits, again, (speaking as a playwright) it seems most impossible. I always encourage whoever I can to see a Shakespearean play whenever you can, and if you feel they are beyond you,  stick with making an attempt to 'take in his plays'  for the duration of a life, and eventually, when they start to make sense, they will enrich your life in ways you did not see possible--they will become little spiritual experiences, which we all need. I really enjoyed going with Dan, Aunt Margie, and Aaron, sometimes watching them to the left and right, all of us trying to grapple with what was going on 'on stage'. Thank you so much, Aunt Margie, for giving us this experience. 

Being here, (albeit staying in a cheap hotel) has also given me a chance to get on my computer without losing a connection to the internet every couple of minutes (like I do in Boulder) and get some of the work done that I have been remiss to do. I'm pretty sure I'll be doing 'Bohemian Cowboy' in San Francisco in September for three shows, its all locked except for the details. Its interesting as I've been trying to put 'this gig' together that I got a message from both my cousin Scott and Aunt Linda about doing the show at 'The Beat Museum' there as well. Perhaps I could do both of them. I'm also looking at trying to get a couple of shows set up in Santa Cruz, as someone there has offered to help with the details there. Summer is sometimes a hard time to connect with folks who have and promote theatre, as many of them go awol it seems, so one has to be very patient. 

In the meantime, I'm still working on the music, writing some more songs and 'keeping up my chops', as I instinctually know that this music vision will eventually payoff. I had a very satisfying experience last Friday, in a concert series at a place called 'The Burr Trail Outpost' which ironically used to be a motel that belonged to my Grandfather. I got to play with three of my favorite musicians, Eric, Rob, and Billy, and I believe we put on quite a show, playing for just over two hours. The audience that showed seemed appreciative and attentive, and as musicians, we had one of those 'experiences' where we all seemed to be of one mind and spirit. I've been playing enough this summer to feel fairly confident with what I'm playing, and felt very satisfied. Once again, the magical aura of Boulder, Utah. 

Well, its almost six o'clock in the morning, and I still should get a couple of hours sleep before the journey back to paradise, so I'll close by telling you that as the machine prepares for the next level of 'Bohemian Cowboy', I'll begin to share the experience of the next part of the journey. I'm excited, a little frightened, and more than willing to continue this theatre lifestyle experiment, and as I've said before, "I'm still living like I have nothing to lose, still shuffling my feet forward towards the prize..."