Screening for the first time ever as a special part of the New York Musical Theatre Festival this summer!
Screening Saturday, July 21st
7 PM and 9 PM
Theatre at St. Clements
423 West 46th Street
(Between 9th & 10th Avenues)
New York, NY 10036
Tickets are available here: https://web.ovationtix.com/trs/pr/914175
The New York Musical Theatre Festival has selected
In The Night as a special feature to be screened at the festival this summer in New York City!
We’re coming to the big screen!
The New York Musical Theatre Festival (NYMF) serves as the preeminent launching pad for a stylistically, thematically, and culturally diverse array of new musicals, and provides a way for artists to mount professional productions that reach their peers, industry leaders and musical theatre audiences. It discovers, nurtures, and promotes promising artists at all stages of development, and seeks to inspire diverse audiences through vibrant, accessible, powerful new work.
The NYMF has turned out such hits as Next to Normal, Altar Boyz, [title of show], and The Great American Trailer Park Musical. We are honored and excited to be a special part of this year’s lineup!
Ticket information
COMING SOON!
We signed the contract with the venue today. I’m not quite sure how to feel—elated, yes, but definitely apprehensive. Gary’s been so distracted lately. And when he looks at me sometimes it feels like I must be on another planet, or treading water far, far away.
And yet when he speaks to me it’s only in the most direct, immediate terms. Bossing me around, actually, one might call it. “Have you called Dramatist Services to see what’s taking so long with the paperwork?” “Where’s my latte?” “What’s the story on this meeting with Martin, is it happening?” As if I’m his assistant, not Christine. And Christine, well, you’d think she were my boss or something! The way his assistant takes that snippy tone with me whenever I ask her a question, as if twisting the knife a little further that it’s not me who pays her salary… well this time, guess what Christine, it just about is. And that begs another good question–why does Gary have an assistant and I don’t yet? Hmmmmm.
I guess it’s true what they say, mixing business with pleasure get’s messy. I’m beginning to think that we’re not actually producing a play, but a fingerpainting.
Some musings on the week after my birthday.
When I look back to where I was a year ago and where I am today, well, the first question that popped to mind was really, what’s the difference? Sure, I’m a year older and the names and faces of my problems have changed some, but overwhelmingly the questions at the root of them are still the same. And there’s still Graham. Sometimes I think I really need to either give him the boot or tell him to commit…… but ultimatums never really work, do they? I suppose because, “ultimately”, there’s still you at the center of the issue, never taking a side one way or another, just letting someone else’s stomping tip your scales in the next direction.
And which direction is that? A circle can be deceptive. It seems like you’re going to new angles and directions, but really it’s all just different flavors of one arc. You’re not really going anywhere at all, except perhaps closer and closer to the center of whatever you’re winding yourself around, making it increasingly difficult to extract yourself and chance course. But sometimes, by the time you notice that, you’ve completed a few rotations and are well settled into the cycle.
The circles match the path of the earth, so whose to say when they’re wrong and when they’re right? But what I want to know is, if there is a way to travel in circles, where each circle gets larger than the last? Where you experience more with each rotation instead of less? Where—instead of becoming more firmly pulled down by gravity—if one can reach closer and closer, year after year, to the stars?
I suppose then the danger becomes being flung wildly off-course and shooting off in a single straight line, forever. But then again, it seems that in that case you would finally be flying.
Letting go of control, righteousness, judgement, and imposing my values on someone else. Sometimes you need to let people clean up there own messes, and if they choose not to, you don’t have to sit in there icky, dirty, shit with them. And don’t think I don’t SEE when you try to sweep shit under the rug either!
Now I should probably go clean my room. What else is SPRING for, of not to spring forward?
It’s time to get inspired.
The thing about spring is it just makes me want to dance. What’s wrong with that, you say? Well nothing, unless you’re strapped to a desk typing at a rate of 70 wpm. And why does it always seem that the most beautiful weather comes with the most excruciating deadlines?
Still, there was some good news. I heard from my friend in Greece, and she told me all about this incredible program where you travel the countryside putting on shows. Sounds like a dream job! I’m so impressed with all she has done since graduation. I feel like while I’ve hidden behind a computer screen and shrunk from life, she’s gone out and grabbed adventure and her dreams by the reins and told them where to go! It’s inspiring to see, really. But it does make me feel like a little chicken.
Something she said to me really got me thinking. And it was a pretty simple thing to say, too. When I told her I was so proud of her accomplishments, but could never do them myself, she simply said, “Why not?”
Well. . . why not?
Its that time of year again…ratting around the city looking for new adventure, opportunities, and experiences galore! I found myself the other day stumbling through a warehouse of anything you can name and came across a powder blue nighty that reminded me of my first night with Jerome. Ugh…just when I thought I’ve medicated myself through all those past memories. I’ve been clear-minded on a path of renewing myself daily and seeking higher meaning to my life.
I’m ready to take my life and career to the next level possibly being part of something that is actually meaningful and has power to change the world. I’m tired of the same ol’ stories about love, sex, abuse, gayism, heroism, blah blah blah…what about something that is the only truth to the universe??
I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of instant gratification, satisfaction and perpetual venture to look for the next big. What about something that’ll gratify you forever and ever?? I may have found it. . . but it is still a sliver of a seed yet to grow. I think we may all be looking for that big purpose. And trust me, even relationships will last for a while and satisfy you at the moment, but very few will last a lifetime. I’m done.
To be continued…Sachiko.
Sometimes I think he thinks he can just keep jerking me around. Like I’m a mailbox (or an ATM) he can visit when he’s looking for something. And then other times I see the poetry he creates on the stage and I know it’s all worth it. His insight into the human mind, into the human condition… that’s not something that can be taught.
And there I am, looking in from the outside.
But when the curtain falls and the cocktails are finished and the chorus boys have backed off for the evening, he comes home with me. And that’s the time nobody else can take away.
We didn’t have a very good Valentine’s Day this year, but since then it’s been getting better. We talked about the need to talk, and when I brought up the point that I felt like I spoke more to his assistant Christine than to him he seemed to really melt a little. Like he’d been so stressed out and frozen solid that it just took the tiniest crack to let the warmth flood in.
And then we went away skiing last weekend and that made up for everything. I’m a better skier than he is, and—not gonna lie—it was pretty great to beat him at something, for once! Oh, Gary. So many talents. Downhill is not one of them.
The rehearsal schedule is taking shape—I’ve been pretty proud of myself. Nothing like playing honorary stage manager and chief investor for a little while! Here’s hoping one of his deus ex machina-like investor schemes comes through.
It’s always at this time of year I catch myself switching from secretly looking at pictures of wedding dresses to covertly flipping through pictures of red carpet gowns. Oh sure, I pretend not to care about all that garbage, but let’s face it: I love a good dress.
Growing up, it was so fun to play dress up! Even today, as a culture we’re obsessed with it. But why? Why not?
Adornment. It’s got the word “adore” in it. We all want to be adored, don’t we? It’s tough to admit, and yet I have to admit I do. None of this humility BS—I want to decorate myself in feathers or sequins or pearls and run dancing into the sunset!
But what happens when you get there? I don’t know. I wonder, if Graham and I ever get married—will I still look at pictures of wedding dresses? Will I still watch “Say Yes To The Dress”?
Do the actresses who parade the red carpet the Academy Awards still long for the next time? Once you get there, once you are the muse, what do you long for? I wonder, if I ever got there whether it would be enough. Or if I would be compelled to want something else.
I hope if I ever do get there, that I won’t just want a bigger, flashier, more expensive adornment. I hope that if I ever get there I’ll want the opposite—the gift of silence: nothing but trees, sky, and the crashing of waves upon the shore.
But that’s probably bogus and romantic of me to imagine. Probably I’d want the dress.
So, I got the part. We start rehearsals in two weeks. Great. “Aaron, why so glum?” Glad you asked. I have an issue. And that issue’s name is Jerome. Yup. He got cast too. There must be some kinda second chance program involved here. Get this: he’s understudying me. What the heck?! Am I in some kinda poltergeist or something?! I mean really. Do they think that he can actually handle the work load? The only thing that he can handle are those stupid protein sandwiches he’s always shoveling down his gullet. I’m sorry. I sound bitter. I’m not. I just work so hard for what I have and it bugs me that people can just walk off the street and into this business with a certain look and be half as talented (in his case maybe less) and take the express lane to success. I ran into him on the street and he said that “he had some super sonic ideas” and “it’s gonna be better than Street Bitches Death Match.” What does that even mean? Actually, I DO know what that means: HE’S AN IDIOT. And all I can hear in my head is my dad’s voice — “Don’t judge a book by it’s cover.” Well, Dad, you haven’t met Jerome.
Gary called today. I wonder what he wants. I worked on a show of his a few years back. One of the top five most incredible experiences of my life. I heard that he’s written another show, and I’ve always been booked so I haven’t been able to audition. Man, what I’d give to work with him again.
I think I’ve solved the Debbie Debacle. I’m just gonna write her a note. How’s this: “Dear Debbie, You’re hot. Yours, Aaron.”
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