'The Ghosts Show Up To Clear The Storm, en masse'

Here's the scene yesterday. At five o'clock in the afternoon, (three hours from the show) Boulder saw the biggest thunderstorm of the summer, with a giant sized hail storm in Lower Boulder. Dan and I went up to the theatre, still refusing to cancel the show. As the lightning and rain fell outside, (all of our equipment under tarps) we went inside Anselm's house and ran through the show, verbally speaking all the cues. It didn't look good for us. People started calling Anselm's house, to see if the show had been cancelled. We said, "NO". After this storm blew by, we went out to look at the horizon. More thunderstorms looming to the west, folks, it didn't look good. I went into my, 'what if we do have to cancel mode', but didn't stay there long. Anselm was very optimistic, and so we proceeded as if we were going to do the show, even if Mother Nature wasn't cooperating, (we'll show her!). At seven o'clock, there was still a giant thunderhead looming, but we proceeded to set up for the show, putting up our set, complete sound system, lighting, the works, folks. At seven thirty, people started to show up. Cheryl had a shuttle system set up, so the people that had no four wheel drive could get there. At seven-forty five, the skies begin to miraculously clear to the west, and the sun came out! People started arriving now quickly, and the seats rapidly filled up. Although we didn't start the show until 8:15p, it finally got underway. 

I can only tell you that the audience was so strong, and the setting was so powerful, (high up on the mesa surrounded by pinon pines) that the show seemed to come from some otherworldly place. I had the audience that I had longed for after the long struggle to find them in Los Angeles. Seventy five people spent the hour and a half with me, (it was a little chilly) and for that hour and a half, there was NO wind, NO rain, only the beauty of the sun dropping in the west amongst a few clouds. It was magical. It was 'dangerous' theatre, with a very adventuresome and 'dangerous' audience. Dan, (my brother) ran the tech flawlessly, and I was able to remember all of the new material, (spoken for the first time here). WE DID IT! The show went on! 

It wasn't until this morning that I realized how many ghosts and spirits were participating in this event. It was though a great leap of faith had to be covered before they would clear up the sky and let the performance happen. I'm not a warm and fuzzy angel, spirit, ghost, kind of guy, although I believe in them, I don't expect them to always help in a temporal world, but I can speak as a testament, that they were all there, my dad, (whose story I tell), Aunt LaRae, (always around to help) my Grandpa King, (who I evoke as a character), Jesus, (who I arm wrestle with) and even Hamlet showed up, (I take a road trip with him), and although we think of him as a fictional Shakespearean character, he is based on a real historical character, and oh my God did he come to life on this night! My Uncle Pole showed up to play some music with my father, as did all the dancing ghosts of yesteryear, to dance in the church gym for one more time. I would have to say that this performance of this particular show, changed me forever. Now, faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things unseen. Okay, I finally get what that means. 

This week, the process starts over again as we prepare for another show at Hills and Hollows, a country store here in Boulder. It will be a little easier to get people to, but no one is promising an easy passage, it could get interesting again, (there isn't a stage.... yet) Oh boy, here we go again!   

'Cowboy Jesus and the Jackson Pollock set'

I've been wanting to blog for several days now, but when the wind blows, the wifi comes in and out. I have a strong signal this morning, so we'll give it a whirl. Yesterday was an exciting day in 'Bohemian Cowboy's' history. My brother Dan breezed into town, and we finished the 'touring' set. We created two huge ledges, one fourteen feet high and the other twelve. I wanted the audience to feel the grandeur of these sand rock ledges, and I think we accomplished that. We did our best Jackson Pollock treatment,  in sand, coral, and reddish brown. They look pretty damn good for a couple of boys  going at it with some rags, a couple of paint brushes and an old sponge. Once we assembled them, (in the wind and rain) Robert Owen came and helped build the supports for the backs, (the show is outside so they had to be free standing.) 

Okay, now we had to get them up to Anselm's which is a 'four wheel drive' road. My neighbor, mentor, and damn good physical therapist, Tom Jerome came down and helped us load the set, the sound equipment, lighting equipment, and tools, to take them up on the beautiful rock mesa that is Anselm's home and theatre. Only once did I think, "What in hell am I doing?" The show, however, is almost sold out with pre-sale tickets. How are those people gonna get up there? Will there be enough seating? Is it gonna rain? Will the meatballs be done in time? Will I remember my lines? Will the set hold up in a wind storm? Of course, I'm really not to stressed about all of this, I'm learning that there are things that I can't control. Boulder is a great place to be taught that, especially where nature is concerned. 

Last night, after we got back home, I did the whole show on the lawn outside of the abode, and went through the 'sound' with my brother. It was the first time I've run the show with all the changes to the text, but it went pretty well. At least I know the structure of the show, if I drop a line here and there, it will still hold. 

Today, we will head up the mesa for load in, tech rehearsal, and run through, although I still see there are thunder clouds drifting through, and my google weather report predicts 'some' rain on Saturday, it could get interesting. The beauty of doing this show, (and the practical aspect) was to put together a package that I can tour with. I'm still envisioning my show in Austin, TX in the fall, but much has to happen before then. I have to raise money or find an investor. I need a newer truck, a ten foot enclosed trailer, two computers, and a shower. (hot water heater went out). But I am bolstered by the power of this show, and so I have to keep 'plugging away', believing that there is someone who can help me take it to the next level. I need to do about twelve weeks in Austin, so that I can build a good word of mouth. 'Bohemian Cowboy' is an Austin kind of show, I know it! While I'm doing the show there, I'll build the links to other cities and towns. The show will eventually 'make money' but I have to take it to another place. I need a venture capitalist, or I need to find a big gold nugget out in the yard. Both are long shots, but hell, I've been betting 'all in' chips for quite a spell, don't look like much is gonna change in this life time. 

Its been great having my brother here, not only to provide the show with some real technical savvy, but to tell stories and analyze the world, the state of the union, and of course, the family. My brother has a 'killer wit', and an easy going manner. He's a joy to be around. Of course, he's had to get used to the new addition to the family, 'Baby', (the little pup who will bite anything that moves or not...). They have become friends, I think. Its been great fun, taking him around and introducing him to the great people here that I've come to know. 

Friday night, we are setting up sound for The Redhouse Farm open house. The Redhouse Farm is a place here in Boulder that used to belong to my Aunt Nethella, my Grandfather's sister. According to the history of the place, it was her and my Great Grandfather, John King, who built the house. The newest owners, Scott and Brinn Brodie, are amazing people. They are turning the place into a first class farm, with crops, and chickens, and the like, you can feel the energy of the place as you drive through Boulder. Friday night, I'm expecting all the musicians from the area to show up and play, 'down on the farm' music, and kick up their heals. We'll see who shows up, but you never know. Anymore, I half way expect Bob Dylan to show up for a couple of songs, this place is electric and magical. 

I feel a little out of touch with messages and people that have encouraged me, but I'm sure I'll have time to answer letters and the such as soon as I feel I have the events of the summer in hand. THERE IS A LOT GOING ON! Be patient, and I'll get there... I have been following and reading blogs, that is until my online connection arbitrarily goes off. I'll let you know how the show goes, its gonna be exciting! Talk soon. 

"The story you want to hear is usually the one that doesn't make any sense..." 

Quote from 'Bohemian Cowboy', said by the cowboy jesus who shows up in the desert.

'The Law of Poker'

Alas, today is a new day. I made two flats and that felt good. Its really been kind of extraordinary, the turn of events, but in my mind, it only means one thing, create. Fortunately or unfortunately, I've always been a 'chips are down, get rolling kind of a guy'. Maybe its a work ethic left over from my Grandfather, maybe its that vital place, (but dangerous place) where there is really nothing to lose. The next two weeks I'll prepare for the show on the mountaintop, and let the chips fall where they will. Its both terrifying and wonderful to be a 'theatre guy' in a small town, where life is hard enough just surviving, let alone being in a profession that has to be in the bottom twenty of 'ways to make a living'.  I can, however, make a hell of a flat, luan wood, drywall screws, wood glue, one by threes, skill saw, speed square, two drills, tape measure, chisel, razor knife, chalk line, and a six pack of diet coke, and you too can build a flat. I remember the first time I went to Universal Studios as a child, realizing that 'Leave It To Beaver's' house wasn't a house at all, but a series of flats put together to make you think it was a house. I was devastated for a moment, and then the wonder kicked in, it was all a ruse. It was the use of the imagination. There is something gratifying about building a set from the ground up. As I was  building them today, I kept looking at the edges of the great cliffs that are apart of this landscape, so that the ledges I built will 'fit right in' to the environment. I've build quaking aspen trees for the forest in 'A Midsummer Night's Dream', I've built a London Flat for the punk version of 'Macbeth'. I've built that gas station/store/tavern that you see in the deteriorating desert around Yuma, Arizona, for 'The Pig Hunter of Blue River'. I once built giant blue ghost trees for 'Spoon River Anthology'. I've built the desert landscape from chicken wire, joint compound, and donated sheets for 'Under The Desert'. I've made scrims, furniture, screen doors that swayed in the wind. Restaurants, benches, coffee shops, and cityscapes. I've made more props with aluminum than I care to remember, trapdoors, and things that fell from the sky. Now they have all disappeared, except in my memory. 

I left Kurt a message tonight, (he's directed many of my plays including this one), and said, "Well, I'm at that place again, where the only thing left to do is put up a play..." He also knows this precarious game, and knows the score. Its all I needed to say. While we were in Californian this last time, on the day of the opening, we were completely out of money. I've been told that I don't understand 'the law of attraction' or 'the secret', as Opra calls it, but I venture to say that I do, but it is in another context. Art is power, art is necessary, art is the only way some of us can survive. Survival is a relative term in the 'land that is STILL plenty'. We have learned to live with 'too much'.  There really isn't anything one can do to really 'be secure' in this life. Money can buy some good days, but if you live for it, it will kill your soul.  I refuse to live my life for the sake of health insurance and a big house,  I refuse to 'give up' and follow the convention, the 'law of attraction' doesn't know the value of playing a guitar for hours until the fingers are bruised to get a song that will give someone a memory or a tear. The 'law of attraction' does not know what Proust said, "happiness feels good on the body, but suffering sharpens the mind..." The 'law of attraction' knows nothing of eating a good meal that may cost only pennies. The 'law of attraction' is not a principle that MOST artists can even begin to employ, I'll take my chances at the poker table, and if it all comes crashing down, so be it. I am at a place in my life where all the cards are still in the hand,  and dammit, I'm still sitting at the table, and the cards I have look pretty good. I'll take the 'law of poker'. Put my chips on the table. ALL IN. 

God, that felt good to say. I mean no offense to the choice others make with life, I only want it to be understood that for me,  life is not the motive for the mammon, life is the motive for the journey, and the journey should be that which is good for the soul. To my friends with large houses and health insurance, don't worry, I get it. I love to go to your houses and feel the security there, I am only saying I am not built for this, and the 'law of attraction' would never take me there no matter how much money I had. Its in my DNA. I'll be fine, tonight I know that. I'll do a play, as crazy as it sounds, it will feed me what I need. 

I loved DB's comment to me where he explains the journey taken to a small theatre that no one has heard of to see the 'best of the best'. Can I achieve something extraordinary on the top of a mountain where one must have a four wheel drive to get there? The first time I went to New York City, DB, I had the same experience. I walked into a small theatre as big as a closet and watched 'The Tooth of Crime' by Sam Shepard and still can see the images, twenty five years later. The set was a dentist chair, and I swear it was one of the best shows I've ever seen. If I had not been searching for that experience, I would have never found it. One must never stop searching. Mer. 

I need to stop and go to bed. Tomorrow is another building day, a planning day, a day to savor, a day to be grateful for what I do have. I have no lover, but I have a beautiful puppy. I have no insurance, but I have a strong body. I have lost my truck, but not my imagination. My fishing pole is twenty years old and nicked and scratched, but the fish still rise. My hair is graying and leaving, but my hand can still swing a hammer, my life is good. 

The Law of the Universe or The Deer Are Committing Suicide.

I was in a good mood on Thursday, no question. I dressed up as I always do when I go to Richfield, the big city, three hours away. I was heading to the Home Depot to get the rest of my set material, paint, drywall screws, etc. for the show, two weeks from today. I had on my 'cowboy' dress blues, with the old cowboy hat, not the new one. The day was spectacular. My first stop was 'Loa Builders', in Loa, to ask the owner there if he wanted to write a check for the Boulder Heritage Festival, for the saddle show we put on each year. He wasn't there, so I talked to someone else, which all seemed positive. I had all the supplies for the trip, shovel, (you never travel here without one), big bumper jack, dog, (Baby), gloves, and of course, some snacks and a small cooler. I leave Loa and cruise down Highway 24, empty and lonely, nary a car on the road. Oh, its about three o'clock in the afternoon.  As I past Koosherem Reservoir, at about sixty-five miles an hour, I'm on a straight part of the highway. The only thing a little strange is the deeper bar-pits on the sides of the road. For just an instant from my field of vision, I see something strange come out of the bar-pit on the left side of the road. Like a flash of lighting, the deer crashes into the front of my truck. I swerve slightly to the left as it has hit the right front of my vehicle. I quickly look in my right side mirror, and see the deer hit the other side of the road, up the hill of the other bar-pit and stop. My truck continues on down the highway as I'm stunned. I can't believe it happened so fast! About a mile down the road, I pull the truck over to examine the damage. I can't believe it! The right part of the hood is caved in towards the cab, the headlight and grill are smashed in, and the right panel on the right side has smashed up into the door. I don't know why I shut the truck off, but I did. You know the next part of the story, I can't re-start the truck and I'm starting to get that sinking feeling, like this is the end of my truck. It is. It was. It was a great truck, and paid for. Once a vehicle is paid for, the temptation is to reduce your insurance bill. I did. I only had liability, so my truck is dead. I'll spare you the details of the rest of this journey, but it was the next day that I finally made my way home. There was the tow-truck. There was the highway patrol. There was the insurance company. There was despair. There was the violence of remembering the deer, and the way it looked in death in that flash. I had just killed a living thing, it was a nauseous feeling. 

The bright spot was Julie Droubay, who lives in a little town called Glenwood. After several tries, (not much cell phone power) I reached her and she came and rescued me. She let me spend the night at her house until my cousin Cheryl happened to be in Richfield for the day and night. Luckily, and ironically, I have my Father's little Ford Ranger to hoist me around. I'll have to figure out other arrangements to travel my show. I'm a little discouraged. After months of work getting the show on its feet and having great faith in it, I'm beginning to rethink my efforts. Not so much doubt, just so much struggle. Why is this so hard? Why is it so hard to find my way? Is the Universe conspiring to keep me from becoming what I was truly meant to be?Did that deer commit suicide? It certainly seemed like it. I can't get that image out of my head. I've always thought that an animal's inability to commit suicide separated them from humans. It really looked as though it was intentional.  I'm not sure if any of this will work out. I'm discouraged, yet I'm calm and collect in a crisis situation. What's that all about. I'm having a crisis of faith today, but my crisis management skills are not working.  I have always asked for so little and yet want so much to have my little corner of the sky. Bob Dylan sings the cliche, "They say the darkest hour, is right before the dawn..." I do remember last year at this time, and what an awful struggle my life had become. So, I wrote a play, I create. That's what I've always done when the 'chips are not on the table'. The Universe came through for me. Will it come through again? Why is it so hard to trust it right now? It seems as thought my 'means' has dwindled down to nothing. Now, I have no vehicle. What does this mean. My cousin Camille lectured me on the 'law of attraction', and that I had to change my thinking to 'deserve'. I reminded her of 'Job' in the Old Testament, and we had a laugh. I guess that's it. I'll find some laughter and put my show up on the hill no matter what it will cost me. Forward. One day at a time. One step at a time. Jesus, life is tough sometimes. 

Today, I got a face-book message from a friend who send me 'another friend's' message. I will paraphrase, but it said, "I hit a deer at seventy miles an hour on my way to my mother's funeral. The car was totaled, I only made it to the burial..." I guess all things are relative, but I need a break soon, or its back to the working class salt mines... 

'Fly Fishing Towards Another Performance'

Its finally June 1st, and the deadline clock is ticking. I have lots of work to do for the next incarnation of the show. If you can imagine, I'm doing the show on the top of a huge sand rock mesa, and the only road up there is four wheel drive or front wheel drive. It is, however, a beautiful little amphitheater with a flagstone stage. I remember years ago, (probably  1988) as I went into business with a little 100 seat theatre on the outskirts of Phoenix, I remember coming to work and seeing a coyote crossing into the desert from the theatre. I thought, "This is a long way from New York City..." The enthusiasm of your late twenties and early thirties will take you quite a ways. If the passion is there, you could probably really sell 'ice water in hell'. Doing theatre 'way out there' was as close to selling ice water in hell as one could get, but oh how sweet the taste on the pallet. The devil be damned! Now, if I can just get the flats up that dirt road. 

Today is also the start of two theatre acting workshops I'm doing here, and from the sound of things, they are full. So, this afternoon is a couple of hours of preparation, and then on to spread the 'gospel of theatre'. Its been a year since I quit my teaching job, and I do miss the teaching, it will be a nice part of my week. For a small town, Boulder actually offers lots of things to do, especially in the summer. 

Yesterday, the last day in May, I found Tod Campbell and we drove the twelve miles or so to King's Pasture, and then walked the two miles up the hill to Grass Lake to fly fish. It was absolutely amazing up there, as the Spring arrived at 9,000 feet, nothing like it. Grass Lake is a little bit difficult to navigate, so there is rarely anyone there, which was the case yesterday. Fly fishing, (and I do wet fly, not the dry fly) is always a 'zen' experience. There is just enough to do that you have to pay attention, and then there is the anticipation of the fish hitting the fly. The fish in Grass Lake are fat and beautiful, native brook trout, but are extremely hard to catch there. So, when you do catch, its a marvel. Although Spring had arrived on the mountain, the bugs have not, so the fish are down deep, feeding on shrimp and bottom bugs, still, it was thrilling to get the first cast onto the water, and wonder if one fish would rise. During the whole stay, huge thunder clouds loomed towards the ridge of the mountain,  spitting out lightning and roaring thunder, but alas, we remained dry, except for the black mud that caked my hiking shoes, from traversing out to the edge of the lake. An excellent end to May. Goodbye, May, you have been kind. 

As for the new addition to the family, 'Baby', she is doing great. She is a joy to have around, although its true I have to watch her every second, or something else will have teeth marks on it. I can see her little personality begin to develop, and she is going to be the smartest dog on the planet, probably be the first 'dog president'. Okay, well, I'm partial. 

Thunder clouds are moving in as I'm writing this, so I will have to stop for now, so, onward June, bring us bugs and more rain. Bring us charity and danger. Bring us hope...