Incubator of Creativity:
Reviving Lanford Wilson’s Balm in Gilead at NY’s T. Schreiber Studio
by Erica Lauren McLaughlin
When I first accepted the role of Bonnie in Balm in Gilead, I thought “this will be a breeze”. I should have known then I would be in big, big trouble. As an actress who had taken classes previously with our director Peter Jensen, I knew first hand that a role is never as simple as it seems on the page, and that there would surely be work to be done. Even with that knowledge, I had no idea just how challenging it’d be performing Balm in Gilead: Lanford Wilson’s intricate blues symphony about New York’s lower depths.
Balm in Gilead is a 29 character play, (down from the original draft by the playwright which featured over 50) featuring overlapping scenes and dialogue, and a famous monologue which lasts for the majority of the second act. Most of the characters are on stage all the time: living, conversing, doing drugs, rambling on to themselves, singing, prostituting, you name it–even when they don’t have written dialogue. This results in an underscoring cacophony of sound not unlike what you hear when walking down any street in Manhattan, and as the playwright notes in the play, “when it gets quiet… you almost think something is gonna happen”. As an actor, this requires you put some of your best acting training to use: relaxation, imagination, improvisation, character development, among other skills; and the play highlights one particularly important skill—listening.
Which is undoubtedly what Lanford Wilson did when writing the play, he listened. In a 2001 interview he says, “I found that the quality of my work improved immensely in New York because I was in this incubator of creativity.” Balm in Gilead seems to be a direct reflection of this, a young ambitious playwright; all at once consuming the sea of voices that surrounding him rather than to be consumed by them. It is not unlike how I often feel as an actress in the city, or more specifically as an actress studying at T. Schreiber Studio, performing in Balm in Gilead. I am constantly surrounded by a diverse group of multi-talented people, and in a nurturing artistic environment, rather than be intimidated, I am able to become inspired by and ride the wave of their creativity. Lanford Wilson listened to the rhythms of the city and responded with his pen. On stage in Balm, we listen to the melody of the script and respond through his exacting dialogue.
Speaking of exacting, the production is in the capable hands of Peter Jensen, whose last year production of Wilson’s Fifth of July gained critical acclaim and the seal of approval of the playwright himself, who visited with the cast at T. Schreiber Studio. Peter’s character exercises, place specificity, research, and commitment to attempt (at least once) the script exactly the way it was intended makes him a perfect companion to Balm in Gilead. Much of the work on the play is like figuring out a Rubix cube: rearranging the various interlocking colors until they all fit together in harmony. As an actor, this means doing your best research: Who exactly am I talking to? Where am I coming from? What do I really want in this moment? In Balm, the lines simply serve as clues. We are lucky to have Peter who guides this work and ensures it is done meticulously for every role.
The result of all of this is that the entire Gloria Maddox Theater at T. Schreiber Studio is transformed into a buzzing, bustling, café like the ones our playwright encountered upon arriving to New York City. The production becomes homage to the then avant-garde productions of Lanford Wilson at the beginning of the Off-Off Broadway movement. To me, after seeing most of last season’s plays on Broadway, this play, 45 years later, still feels revolutionary. The attempt at a new naturalism in his writing is far more experimental than that of say, David Mamet, who has been produced on Broadway constantly in the last few seasons. Which is not to say the two writers should even be compared similarly. With a Broadway revival of Talley’s Folly scheduled for next season, Lanford Wilson will return to the commercial world of Broadway. But in the right hands (hopefully ours are capable enough to fit the bill), his work seems to thrive best in that incubator of creativity that is Off-Off Broadway. I feel privileged to be a part of it, and can’t wait to share it with our audience.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Monday, January 04, 2010
Celebrating at the Center of the Universe:
My New Year's Eve Experience at Havana Central Times Square
It's midnight. The band is playing and the whole room is on its feet, in tune with the bongos which wash away the roar from the crowd outside. You are surrounded by smiling faces and beautiful palm trees with soft, yellow lights strung up on them. You are so full you pray for forgiveness from your gluttony. Glass of sangria in hand, you feel the warmth from the red wine nestling inside your tummy. And, you are not even on vacation. This is how I rang in my New Year, Cuban style, at Havana Central's Times Square location.
When I was chosen as one of Havana's New Year's Eve Social Media Reporters, I originally told the coordinator Cecilia, that I would participate at any of the locations at which she needed help. When she offered me the Times Square location, my stomach jumped a bit. Not that I hadn't always wanted to see what it was like down there, but as someone whose job normally requires dealing with the Times Square tourist, I had previously avoided it completely based on the horror stories. I imagined being jostled around trying to get through a billion people with adult diapers and ten layers of pants on all waiting to make out at midnight. However, curiosity overwhelmed me, and as I do like shiny things, I wanted to be near that madness once again. So I put on my party dress, grabbed my video camera, invited a handsome friend, and headed down to Midtown.
Havana Central provided passes for access to 46th street, and to my pleasant surprise I was able to breeze through security and walk right down to the restaurant. My friend was already impressed with my VIP status, and when we arrived, the celebrity treatment continued with warm welcome and interaction with Eli, the manager on duty. We were early for our reservation, but he showed us to the bar where the wonderful Brooke served us two glasses of the Premium Sangria, made with Red Wine, Hennessey, and Grand Marnier. I chatted with a few of the bar guests who were all in good spirits, leaving the previous event as the restaurant transitioned to its Prix Fixe service.
We were among the first tables sat, and our server, Armando, greeted us with noise makers, beads, and plastic Fedoras with "Happy New Year" around the brim. A few seconds later, the Malanga Chips arrived, with a delicious avocado and mango salsita accompaniment. We left no chip behind. Next up, for appetizers I chose a trio of octopus, olive, and shrimp ceviche and my friend had chicharrones, chicken “lollipops” glazed with Havana's signature guava bqq sauce. All were delicious, but the octopus ceviche was our favorite, which Mondaire called "exquisite". For entree I chose the huge Cowboy ribeye and coconut rice and Mondaire went for the Mariscadade Langosta with Maduros, featuring a lobster tail and other seafood sunken in a tomato, garlic and wine broth. My steak was cooked to a perfect Medium Rare, and Mondaire didn’t speak through his whole entrée, just a few head shakes in his bliss. There was a lot of reaching across to the other’s entrée with a fork. We chilled out for a while and drank a few of Havana’s signature Mojitos as we tried to digest.
On my break, I met two girls from Australia in the bathroom who were enjoying their Cuban/American experience immensely and posed for the camera. I also chatted—the best I could with my limited Spanish—to the lively group in the corner who had been dancing since we received our welcome appetizers. While floating around the restaurant with increasing nostalgia induced by my oncoming food coma, I remembered all of the good times my friends and I have had over the year at Havana Central. I considered how it was truly a meeting point of varied cultures: from international tourist that meet here at the intersection of the world in Times Square, the many Latinos that filled the booths this New Year’s Eve seeking authenticity in their food and entertainment, to those of us who are not Cuban, like founder Jeremy Merrin, who are passionate for the rich flavors of Cuban cuisine. All over, you could feel the embracing of this diversity as the crowds outside continued to build down 46th street.
Returning to dinner, my friend and I had two espressos, hoping to fight off giving into that food coma and still be awake when the ball dropped. We then chose our desserts, Chocolate Rum Cake and my personal favorite, Tres Leches. We gave them our best effort as we waited for the ball to drop. As the tables around us finished their meals, all seemed to migrate immediately to the dance floor. The band increased their energy exponentially, aided by the beautiful Flamenco dancers who occasionally grabbed a guest out of their seat and onto the dance floor. As the final moments of 2009 approached, my friend and I danced all around in whirl of laughter, clapping, cowbell, and flapping ruffles of a Flamenco dress nearby. While I expected a flood out into the street to see the ball drop at midnight, most embraced a friend and shouted along with the monitor watching the confetti fall just outside the door. Hugging, horn blowing, kissing, smiling, laughing and dancing swelled for the next ten minutes as no one said anything: we just sipped our champagne and non-verbally showed our love for those around us, for another year, and for the magical night we had all shared at Havana Central.
Then, back to the dance floor.
MORE:
Check out Kim Parris' photos and videos from the event at Union Square location: http://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=234700717228&id=90800353649#/pages/K-Parris-Catering-Personal-Chef-Service/90800353649?ref=nf
Follow the twitter conversation here:
http://twitter.com/#search?q=%23HCNYE10
My New Year's Eve Experience at Havana Central Times Square
It's midnight. The band is playing and the whole room is on its feet, in tune with the bongos which wash away the roar from the crowd outside. You are surrounded by smiling faces and beautiful palm trees with soft, yellow lights strung up on them. You are so full you pray for forgiveness from your gluttony. Glass of sangria in hand, you feel the warmth from the red wine nestling inside your tummy. And, you are not even on vacation. This is how I rang in my New Year, Cuban style, at Havana Central's Times Square location.
When I was chosen as one of Havana's New Year's Eve Social Media Reporters, I originally told the coordinator Cecilia, that I would participate at any of the locations at which she needed help. When she offered me the Times Square location, my stomach jumped a bit. Not that I hadn't always wanted to see what it was like down there, but as someone whose job normally requires dealing with the Times Square tourist, I had previously avoided it completely based on the horror stories. I imagined being jostled around trying to get through a billion people with adult diapers and ten layers of pants on all waiting to make out at midnight. However, curiosity overwhelmed me, and as I do like shiny things, I wanted to be near that madness once again. So I put on my party dress, grabbed my video camera, invited a handsome friend, and headed down to Midtown.
Havana Central provided passes for access to 46th street, and to my pleasant surprise I was able to breeze through security and walk right down to the restaurant. My friend was already impressed with my VIP status, and when we arrived, the celebrity treatment continued with warm welcome and interaction with Eli, the manager on duty. We were early for our reservation, but he showed us to the bar where the wonderful Brooke served us two glasses of the Premium Sangria, made with Red Wine, Hennessey, and Grand Marnier. I chatted with a few of the bar guests who were all in good spirits, leaving the previous event as the restaurant transitioned to its Prix Fixe service.
We were among the first tables sat, and our server, Armando, greeted us with noise makers, beads, and plastic Fedoras with "Happy New Year" around the brim. A few seconds later, the Malanga Chips arrived, with a delicious avocado and mango salsita accompaniment. We left no chip behind. Next up, for appetizers I chose a trio of octopus, olive, and shrimp ceviche and my friend had chicharrones, chicken “lollipops” glazed with Havana's signature guava bqq sauce. All were delicious, but the octopus ceviche was our favorite, which Mondaire called "exquisite". For entree I chose the huge Cowboy ribeye and coconut rice and Mondaire went for the Mariscadade Langosta with Maduros, featuring a lobster tail and other seafood sunken in a tomato, garlic and wine broth. My steak was cooked to a perfect Medium Rare, and Mondaire didn’t speak through his whole entrée, just a few head shakes in his bliss. There was a lot of reaching across to the other’s entrée with a fork. We chilled out for a while and drank a few of Havana’s signature Mojitos as we tried to digest.
On my break, I met two girls from Australia in the bathroom who were enjoying their Cuban/American experience immensely and posed for the camera. I also chatted—the best I could with my limited Spanish—to the lively group in the corner who had been dancing since we received our welcome appetizers. While floating around the restaurant with increasing nostalgia induced by my oncoming food coma, I remembered all of the good times my friends and I have had over the year at Havana Central. I considered how it was truly a meeting point of varied cultures: from international tourist that meet here at the intersection of the world in Times Square, the many Latinos that filled the booths this New Year’s Eve seeking authenticity in their food and entertainment, to those of us who are not Cuban, like founder Jeremy Merrin, who are passionate for the rich flavors of Cuban cuisine. All over, you could feel the embracing of this diversity as the crowds outside continued to build down 46th street.
Returning to dinner, my friend and I had two espressos, hoping to fight off giving into that food coma and still be awake when the ball dropped. We then chose our desserts, Chocolate Rum Cake and my personal favorite, Tres Leches. We gave them our best effort as we waited for the ball to drop. As the tables around us finished their meals, all seemed to migrate immediately to the dance floor. The band increased their energy exponentially, aided by the beautiful Flamenco dancers who occasionally grabbed a guest out of their seat and onto the dance floor. As the final moments of 2009 approached, my friend and I danced all around in whirl of laughter, clapping, cowbell, and flapping ruffles of a Flamenco dress nearby. While I expected a flood out into the street to see the ball drop at midnight, most embraced a friend and shouted along with the monitor watching the confetti fall just outside the door. Hugging, horn blowing, kissing, smiling, laughing and dancing swelled for the next ten minutes as no one said anything: we just sipped our champagne and non-verbally showed our love for those around us, for another year, and for the magical night we had all shared at Havana Central.
Then, back to the dance floor.
MORE:
Check out Kim Parris' photos and videos from the event at Union Square location: http://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=234700717228&id=90800353649#/pages/K-Parris-Catering-Personal-Chef-Service/90800353649?ref=nf
Follow the twitter conversation here:
http://twitter.com/#search?q=%23HCNYE10
Monday, August 31, 2009
Here is some more sleep deprived rambling if you would like to read it... this time on the topic of theater.
I think of it as a challenge for theater to become more inclusive in order to have as broad of an appeal as it did in Shakespeare's time, particularly in its representation of African Americans and other people of color.
Remember mama always said: where there’s a will there’s a way
Well I know that I’m no Shakespeare-So where’s the Will of today?
If the bougies had their way, do you know what you pay-
To sit and watch a performance from the Orchestra in Aisle K?
But what’s confusing’
Is theatre’s supposed to represent the issues our time right?
But the real people like the ones on stage are still in the back of the line right
While somebody getting rich by putting street issues in the limelight?
Violated the hood’s copyright but they don’t ever get the lines quite. Right?
To tell the truth it’s really not much better on TV
Tyler P sold 300 mil of his DVDs but not a single one to me
I just don’t see me
Where do I fit in? Where’s my character in those scenes?
Why don’t they tell the truth and bring some character to those scenes
Every since black performers came upon this scene
We been keen not to be too harsh when we criticize one another, know what I mean?
But to be thankful that at least one another exist
Cause without that stuff I don’t like I wouldn’t even be writing this
I just feel there’s a need for us to see what we look like for real
And theatre can be that vehicle not like an automobile
But like a method for our madness
Show us our sadness and our gladness
We can see when what we look like when we are at our very wackest
And then maybe the theatre is just a dying profession
But they proclaimed hip hop to be dead and you can see its resurrection
Same thing with that pesky N-word that we claimed to be dead and gone
Like one of the Bebes kids it’s like it multiplies in every song
But I coulda told you all along- there are some things people’ve learned to love like their own
It aint right, but how long do you continue to bitch and to moan?
Don’t want to leave it alone, just want to keep it moving
When’s the last time you met anyone who said they were part of a “movement”?
With such strong identities these days
We are afraid to indentify
And associate with associations that we would have to justify
To our top friends on MySpace and Facebook
We stop in our place to imagine how their face would look
When we tell them we are making real changes
You cannot find this in a book
Not even the kind you find in a presidential campaign brochure
Trying to move people who don’t move from computers all day can drive you insane for sure
So what part of it precisely do we have to reinvent
For those too obsessed with nice sneaks for their feet to pound the pavement?
To the strategists and producers and those with money everywhere
I dare you to show them the truth and you will reach them anywhere
Undress the mess that has made the craft passé
Lower ticket prices and open the gates to the Great White Way
Laugh with us and not at us and maybe we can find a way
To reinvigorate the theater: each performance, each play.
I think of it as a challenge for theater to become more inclusive in order to have as broad of an appeal as it did in Shakespeare's time, particularly in its representation of African Americans and other people of color.
Remember mama always said: where there’s a will there’s a way
Well I know that I’m no Shakespeare-So where’s the Will of today?
If the bougies had their way, do you know what you pay-
To sit and watch a performance from the Orchestra in Aisle K?
But what’s confusing’
Is theatre’s supposed to represent the issues our time right?
But the real people like the ones on stage are still in the back of the line right
While somebody getting rich by putting street issues in the limelight?
Violated the hood’s copyright but they don’t ever get the lines quite. Right?
To tell the truth it’s really not much better on TV
Tyler P sold 300 mil of his DVDs but not a single one to me
I just don’t see me
Where do I fit in? Where’s my character in those scenes?
Why don’t they tell the truth and bring some character to those scenes
Every since black performers came upon this scene
We been keen not to be too harsh when we criticize one another, know what I mean?
But to be thankful that at least one another exist
Cause without that stuff I don’t like I wouldn’t even be writing this
I just feel there’s a need for us to see what we look like for real
And theatre can be that vehicle not like an automobile
But like a method for our madness
Show us our sadness and our gladness
We can see when what we look like when we are at our very wackest
And then maybe the theatre is just a dying profession
But they proclaimed hip hop to be dead and you can see its resurrection
Same thing with that pesky N-word that we claimed to be dead and gone
Like one of the Bebes kids it’s like it multiplies in every song
But I coulda told you all along- there are some things people’ve learned to love like their own
It aint right, but how long do you continue to bitch and to moan?
Don’t want to leave it alone, just want to keep it moving
When’s the last time you met anyone who said they were part of a “movement”?
With such strong identities these days
We are afraid to indentify
And associate with associations that we would have to justify
To our top friends on MySpace and Facebook
We stop in our place to imagine how their face would look
When we tell them we are making real changes
You cannot find this in a book
Not even the kind you find in a presidential campaign brochure
Trying to move people who don’t move from computers all day can drive you insane for sure
So what part of it precisely do we have to reinvent
For those too obsessed with nice sneaks for their feet to pound the pavement?
To the strategists and producers and those with money everywhere
I dare you to show them the truth and you will reach them anywhere
Undress the mess that has made the craft passé
Lower ticket prices and open the gates to the Great White Way
Laugh with us and not at us and maybe we can find a way
To reinvigorate the theater: each performance, each play.
And suddenly it was the last day of the month, and she wondered where it went.
Been in the Apple for two years now, it was mostly time well spent
I’m well spent but still its 4 am and I’m awake
Nervous like on edge preparing for an earthquake
And tomorrow begins the month, but does it start a new day?
Wanting to see the finish line keeps her in the race, for today
But if we eliminate the race it’s just the running itself
We feel worthier with a cause than just doing it for the health
But she doesn’t feel too healthy without healthy insurance
Doesn’t feel too blessed without blessed assurance
When is the last time you prayed?
What about the last time you played?
What was the last thing you created and were proud that you made?
Would you like to journey with me to where the sidewalk ends?
Do something unconventional? Be more than just friends?
I should stop here
Not because I’m shy or that I fear
That everything just crumbles when I try to bring it near
Uh huh-
Off of me and you
And back to the world
Do it for the joy it brings
Cause I’m a joyful girl
And we try to keep it general
But then our feelings creep on in
In general the door is open for you to creep on in
And because its 4 am tomorrow I’ll be sleeping in
Well if I can cause the sunlight keeps peeking in
To my window like that Goodie Mob song
Some people know all along right where they belong
But for me I also like a little bit of trial and error
Take a leap of faith forward and maybe you’ll see it clearer
And it’s the end of one road, yet she wonders where she went
And taking the time to figure it out would be time misspent
Sure it feels like forever
But if you blink you’ll surely miss it
Try to live here in the moment before you knock it and you diss it
Go outside and just BE
Turn off your TV
Stop waiting for the revolution to come out on DVD
Love cannot be downloaded like an MP3
Can not be photo shopped like a JPG
It cannot be simply located with a few Google searches
It cannot be simply bought like an Amazon purchase
I should stop here
Not because I couldn’t go on forever with technology
Not because I’m thinking of what you and I could “prolly” be
Uh huh-
Change the topic of love
And get back to that girl
So these days everything is really changing in her world
Got the first black pres
But did you know Barack's daughters aint the First black girls?
Simply saying I was black before Obama was the POTUS
Its important that I support him
but yo you gotta know this
Is the first chapter in the history of our victory
So many causes out there
Just don't be forgetting me
Says my people who are still struggling in US
And beyond
Its beyond comprehension
How they can forget to mention
Genocide, AIDS Crisis, homicides with no convictions
Whole neighborhoods needing aid
But they got no conviction
Sick and tired of sick and tired
It’s like a different kind of itis
Not the kind that come from eating
But the kind that come from sleeping
On their issues
Extra extra just peep my latest issue
I’m concerned about citizens just being concerned citizens
and nothing else
If nothing else everyday just go learn something else
It’s not that I'm just saying grab a bootstrap and pull
Yea they’ll eat you alive
But everybody out there, they just trying to feel full
Not saying a lot of folk are not just full of themselves
But you just work hard as hell
If you do it do it well
If you come up against a wall
Give it hell until its fell
Dispel the mythical BS that will try to surround you
And if you need to come back down to earth
Come to me and I will ground you
So much talent is undiscovered
I just thank God that I found you
And like many I really don’t thank God enough and act tough
But no bluffing-I hope he thinks enough of me to hear my prayer
So now I bow my head, put down the pen, and send my thoughts up there
Been in the Apple for two years now, it was mostly time well spent
I’m well spent but still its 4 am and I’m awake
Nervous like on edge preparing for an earthquake
And tomorrow begins the month, but does it start a new day?
Wanting to see the finish line keeps her in the race, for today
But if we eliminate the race it’s just the running itself
We feel worthier with a cause than just doing it for the health
But she doesn’t feel too healthy without healthy insurance
Doesn’t feel too blessed without blessed assurance
When is the last time you prayed?
What about the last time you played?
What was the last thing you created and were proud that you made?
Would you like to journey with me to where the sidewalk ends?
Do something unconventional? Be more than just friends?
I should stop here
Not because I’m shy or that I fear
That everything just crumbles when I try to bring it near
Uh huh-
Off of me and you
And back to the world
Do it for the joy it brings
Cause I’m a joyful girl
And we try to keep it general
But then our feelings creep on in
In general the door is open for you to creep on in
And because its 4 am tomorrow I’ll be sleeping in
Well if I can cause the sunlight keeps peeking in
To my window like that Goodie Mob song
Some people know all along right where they belong
But for me I also like a little bit of trial and error
Take a leap of faith forward and maybe you’ll see it clearer
And it’s the end of one road, yet she wonders where she went
And taking the time to figure it out would be time misspent
Sure it feels like forever
But if you blink you’ll surely miss it
Try to live here in the moment before you knock it and you diss it
Go outside and just BE
Turn off your TV
Stop waiting for the revolution to come out on DVD
Love cannot be downloaded like an MP3
Can not be photo shopped like a JPG
It cannot be simply located with a few Google searches
It cannot be simply bought like an Amazon purchase
I should stop here
Not because I couldn’t go on forever with technology
Not because I’m thinking of what you and I could “prolly” be
Uh huh-
Change the topic of love
And get back to that girl
So these days everything is really changing in her world
Got the first black pres
But did you know Barack's daughters aint the First black girls?
Simply saying I was black before Obama was the POTUS
Its important that I support him
but yo you gotta know this
Is the first chapter in the history of our victory
So many causes out there
Just don't be forgetting me
Says my people who are still struggling in US
And beyond
Its beyond comprehension
How they can forget to mention
Genocide, AIDS Crisis, homicides with no convictions
Whole neighborhoods needing aid
But they got no conviction
Sick and tired of sick and tired
It’s like a different kind of itis
Not the kind that come from eating
But the kind that come from sleeping
On their issues
Extra extra just peep my latest issue
I’m concerned about citizens just being concerned citizens
and nothing else
If nothing else everyday just go learn something else
It’s not that I'm just saying grab a bootstrap and pull
Yea they’ll eat you alive
But everybody out there, they just trying to feel full
Not saying a lot of folk are not just full of themselves
But you just work hard as hell
If you do it do it well
If you come up against a wall
Give it hell until its fell
Dispel the mythical BS that will try to surround you
And if you need to come back down to earth
Come to me and I will ground you
So much talent is undiscovered
I just thank God that I found you
And like many I really don’t thank God enough and act tough
But no bluffing-I hope he thinks enough of me to hear my prayer
So now I bow my head, put down the pen, and send my thoughts up there
Thursday, April 02, 2009
It turns out, when I am hungover and depressed, I'm a pretty good writer. A song I cranked out this morning:
And such
by Erica Lauren McLaughlin
4/2/09
Not sure when I started the lies
And not looking people straight in the eyes
Not sure why I let you get in my heart
Not sure how to fix this mess
Don’t know how to pray but I want to blessed
Anything, I’ll try to keep from falling apart
Please don’t get that close to me
Please don’t say those words to me
Not seeing that whole truth, I’m perfectly fine
They say that ignorance is bliss
If I didn’t know you then
I wouldn’t be missing
Hardly anything, most of the time
They say to know you is to love you
Well, I know you very much
I shoulda ran that day ya touched me
Then I wouldn’t be missing your touch
They say to know you is to want you
And hell, I want you very much
But we’re not gonna get a fairytale ending
La, la, la, ever after, and such
La, la, la, ever after, and such
Not too sure when I first ran away
Since I been running since that day
Get out of my way, ‘fore you start slowing me down
Not too sure I wanna be free
Kinda sure I want you holding me
You can anchor me, but please don’t pull me down
Please don’t shoot that look at me
Please don’t throw the book at me
I don’t need a lecture on how to walk the line
They say that ignorance is bliss
If I didn’t know you then
I wouldn’t be missing
Hardly anything, most of the time
They say to know you is to love you
Well, I know you very much
I shoulda ran that day ya touched me
Then I wouldn’t be missing your touch
They say to know you is to want you
And hell I want you very very much
But we won’t get a fairytale ending
La, la, la, ever after, and such
La, la, la, la, ever after, and such
And such
by Erica Lauren McLaughlin
4/2/09
Not sure when I started the lies
And not looking people straight in the eyes
Not sure why I let you get in my heart
Not sure how to fix this mess
Don’t know how to pray but I want to blessed
Anything, I’ll try to keep from falling apart
Please don’t get that close to me
Please don’t say those words to me
Not seeing that whole truth, I’m perfectly fine
They say that ignorance is bliss
If I didn’t know you then
I wouldn’t be missing
Hardly anything, most of the time
They say to know you is to love you
Well, I know you very much
I shoulda ran that day ya touched me
Then I wouldn’t be missing your touch
They say to know you is to want you
And hell, I want you very much
But we’re not gonna get a fairytale ending
La, la, la, ever after, and such
La, la, la, ever after, and such
Not too sure when I first ran away
Since I been running since that day
Get out of my way, ‘fore you start slowing me down
Not too sure I wanna be free
Kinda sure I want you holding me
You can anchor me, but please don’t pull me down
Please don’t shoot that look at me
Please don’t throw the book at me
I don’t need a lecture on how to walk the line
They say that ignorance is bliss
If I didn’t know you then
I wouldn’t be missing
Hardly anything, most of the time
They say to know you is to love you
Well, I know you very much
I shoulda ran that day ya touched me
Then I wouldn’t be missing your touch
They say to know you is to want you
And hell I want you very very much
But we won’t get a fairytale ending
La, la, la, ever after, and such
La, la, la, la, ever after, and such
Sunday, November 09, 2008
Pocket Change You Can Believe In
For months now, I have been disillusioned by politics and so called activism. A former die hard civil rights crudsader, I found myself disgusted by all these "causes", all of the propaganda, and all those who finally came out of hiding this campaign season, to simply wave the bumper stickers of their favorite partisan candidates for a few minutes a day, only to then return from the bandwagon to shuffling papers from desk drawer to desk drawer, not actually activating any of this newfound passion into their daily, mundane lives. I watched the debates with such cynicism, I brushed off political pamplets being handed out on subways, I avoided calls from friends who knew my political leanings and looked to me for inspiration. I was almost an anarchist! Had they found me with a subway pamplet, who knows.
I watched the campaign of Barack Obama closely although distancing myself from it. It was almost like seeing someone you loved so long and so much finally in front of you, and being afraid to touch them, afraid to embrace them- almost as if to do so would ruin or tarnish them in some way. Or like painting the background of a picture, and wanting to add additional layers but not being able to because of the wet paint. I guess looking back, I was in fact terrified of an Obama success. I suppose I was indeed having a bit of fear about the power of such a campaign and how defeating a failure would really be.
But peering out of the sides of curiously slanted eyes, I watched as ordinary people not usually involved with the political process dug in their designer knockoff jeans and gave 5 bucks, 100 bucks at a time to the Obama campaign. I sat in a sports bar in the middle of baseball season and watched young New York hipsters cheering louder for Obama accepting the democratic nomination as they would have if the Yanks could have managed to make the post season. I walked to drop off my prescription at Rite Aid only to be instantly interrogated about who I was going to vote for and given the latest poll information by an avid yet homeless and ragged Obama supporter who planned to vote for the very first time, all of her belongings dangling there off her personal shopping cart.
I didn't expect to care. Not be cynical, but I believe change is much greater than one person winning the world's biggest popularity contest. So it was the morning after the election when I barely had the money to pay my rent, and gathered all of my coins together to cash in when I realized how significant this change was. I watched all my brown pennies and silver nickels sift through the coin counting machine and I was amazed at how each little individual one added up to so very much. (And I was able to my rent.) Now that's change you can believe in.
Obama has re-inspired the individual. His message, though the fulfillment of its promises are yet to come, has taught those of us who are average that we count, that when we add up what little we think we have to add, that we are then powerful beyond measure. And on a more personal level, he has proved to this country that black men are capable of being articulate, powerful and not intimidating, gracious, in love, and have family values. God, I was thinking, when is the last time I have seen a black man and woman in love on tv, not on some sitcom? He has even re-awakened me, and I once again believe, like I used to for so long, that everything is possible.
For months now, I have been disillusioned by politics and so called activism. A former die hard civil rights crudsader, I found myself disgusted by all these "causes", all of the propaganda, and all those who finally came out of hiding this campaign season, to simply wave the bumper stickers of their favorite partisan candidates for a few minutes a day, only to then return from the bandwagon to shuffling papers from desk drawer to desk drawer, not actually activating any of this newfound passion into their daily, mundane lives. I watched the debates with such cynicism, I brushed off political pamplets being handed out on subways, I avoided calls from friends who knew my political leanings and looked to me for inspiration. I was almost an anarchist! Had they found me with a subway pamplet, who knows.
I watched the campaign of Barack Obama closely although distancing myself from it. It was almost like seeing someone you loved so long and so much finally in front of you, and being afraid to touch them, afraid to embrace them- almost as if to do so would ruin or tarnish them in some way. Or like painting the background of a picture, and wanting to add additional layers but not being able to because of the wet paint. I guess looking back, I was in fact terrified of an Obama success. I suppose I was indeed having a bit of fear about the power of such a campaign and how defeating a failure would really be.
But peering out of the sides of curiously slanted eyes, I watched as ordinary people not usually involved with the political process dug in their designer knockoff jeans and gave 5 bucks, 100 bucks at a time to the Obama campaign. I sat in a sports bar in the middle of baseball season and watched young New York hipsters cheering louder for Obama accepting the democratic nomination as they would have if the Yanks could have managed to make the post season. I walked to drop off my prescription at Rite Aid only to be instantly interrogated about who I was going to vote for and given the latest poll information by an avid yet homeless and ragged Obama supporter who planned to vote for the very first time, all of her belongings dangling there off her personal shopping cart.
I didn't expect to care. Not be cynical, but I believe change is much greater than one person winning the world's biggest popularity contest. So it was the morning after the election when I barely had the money to pay my rent, and gathered all of my coins together to cash in when I realized how significant this change was. I watched all my brown pennies and silver nickels sift through the coin counting machine and I was amazed at how each little individual one added up to so very much. (And I was able to my rent.) Now that's change you can believe in.
Obama has re-inspired the individual. His message, though the fulfillment of its promises are yet to come, has taught those of us who are average that we count, that when we add up what little we think we have to add, that we are then powerful beyond measure. And on a more personal level, he has proved to this country that black men are capable of being articulate, powerful and not intimidating, gracious, in love, and have family values. God, I was thinking, when is the last time I have seen a black man and woman in love on tv, not on some sitcom? He has even re-awakened me, and I once again believe, like I used to for so long, that everything is possible.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
I saw a butterfly today. It suprised me, I haven't seen one in a long time. It was nice to see something blossoming and fluttering along in brooklyn.
I also saw the cat I have been fighting with who lives/meows loudly/ shits on my balcony. As soon as I saw it approach, I went to the sliding gass door to shoo it away. It backed off, but stayed hovering close, as we were in the midst of a virtual showdown. It peered at me with half opened eyes that were constantly changing color in the sun, and I admired its black coat with a small patch of fur missing and... We just couldn't take our eyes off each other.
I think that sometimes god provides us metaphors up close so we can see the things we cannot see. I also am a free wheeling butterfly in brooklyn, a brave cat with quite a few scars looking for someone to care for me. We three, roam free. I wonder what will happen next.
I also saw the cat I have been fighting with who lives/meows loudly/ shits on my balcony. As soon as I saw it approach, I went to the sliding gass door to shoo it away. It backed off, but stayed hovering close, as we were in the midst of a virtual showdown. It peered at me with half opened eyes that were constantly changing color in the sun, and I admired its black coat with a small patch of fur missing and... We just couldn't take our eyes off each other.
I think that sometimes god provides us metaphors up close so we can see the things we cannot see. I also am a free wheeling butterfly in brooklyn, a brave cat with quite a few scars looking for someone to care for me. We three, roam free. I wonder what will happen next.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
I do realize it's the morning of July 1st, but I finally feel as though the summer has begun. Waking up to the soothing, melodic sounds of the digging Brooklyn cranes, wearing a ex-boyfriend's t-shirt and no pants—yes, in that outfit and still sleeping alone—I breathed in the humid NYC air and thanked God to be alive. Between rehearsals in
I've never regretted my decision to leave all, penniless and love-less and head to
After my adventures yesterday, I realized NY is like that. It's like you are trying desperately not to blink, but if your eyes are open too wide, it will still all pass by in a haze. I was in need of a more relaxed stance. So from a little Italian lunch at an adorable outdoor patio with a new best friend, to standing on the rocks at the Williamsburg shore of the east river, to leaning over the edge of the top deck of the South Street Seaport peering at the Brooklyn Bridge and its new waterfall (in a dress that the wind so sweetly embraces), to finally becoming crown princess of karaoke while making new friends at the local gay bar... Somewhere along the way I confirmed, "Yes. This is the life for me."
Yes. It's going to be so awesome in the summer when we can, finally.
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