One of my favorite albums, ever. In this moment of vainly attempting to wash my image from the fuselage, rage music helps; particularly rage music concept albums inspired by Bowie-era Glam Rock.

Thank you and good night.

Please buy this album. This is the shining point in this musician's library.

-retrosweater

Gratitude

How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is

To have a thankless child!

- King Lear

In my thirtieth year, I find myself realizing the fairly indistinct line between the youthful and the older. I see my persona beginning to bleed into the aged, accompanied by all eccentricities that coincide with the aged. I look at some of the young people in my company, and I simply don't understand some of them. Their taste in music seems to be getting less and less provocative to me, their fads less and less comprehensible. I'm starting to become one of the "squares."

There has always been something of a lack in respect between a generation it's immediate predecessor. James Dean proclaimed it in Rebel Without a Cause, DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince declared it by saying "Parents just don't understand." In my personal experience, a current mantra (that I'm happy to see slowly fading away in my immediate surroundings) is "I deserve excellent things to be provided for me. I'm worth it." I've heard that the current generation is something of a "what's in it for me" generation, as all youthful individuals find themselves on an intellectually even playing field, looking down upon generations past. This current generation of youth has the intellect and ability to answer virtually any challenge given to it via the digital world and the immediacy of information. Therefore, these young people can develop something of a haughtiness, as they can actually be selective about the challenges put before them, for they will have a higher rate of success. The antiquated world around this generation strives to assimilate these fresh young minds into their preexisting and failing infrastructure as a way to preserve themselves and move into the future.

What's my point? Gratitude. Each generation lays the tracks of success for the next generation. But, it seems to me that gratitude has become less and less a factor as the generations progress. I have a particular case in mind - a student that has gone on to great initial success, but mainly due to my intervention. I don't mean to cry out for instant gratification; an accusation that has been thrown at me many times in the past. The whole story is not told yet. At a critical moment in this student's life, this student stood upon a precipice. On one side was fantastic success. On the other was starting over. This student waited to prepare for success until the last minute. However, having virtually no history of personal failure, this student therefore did not comprehend even standing ON this precipice. So, this student assumed that everything would turn out all right in the end, and would be able to achieve this great success unaided. I knew better. Acting schools do place a lot of emphasis on academic acheivement and the strength of recommendation letters, to be sure. However, the true test is the audition. Without that being the student's best work, the student should throw in the towel. My assistance gave this student the tools for the fantastic success that has since been achieved. But, since that time, this student seems to have turned against me, and I don't understand why. This student is deliberatley sabotaging by efforts with others, efforts very similar to those that helped this student achieve success. My guidance to others (the same guidance that allowed this student the opportunity for prosperity) indefinitely seems to be discredited and thus refuted. Had it not been for my intervention, this student would literally be somewhere else, somewhere not to this student's particular liking. So, why would this student be jeopardizing my efforts with others? I have my theories. It could be presumptuous lustful jealousy. It could be that this student doesn't realize that all this success would not have been possible without my help. But, more than any of these, I will credit generational smugness. I believe all of these things to be factors, but the latter is the most important. The other two factors simply support and amplify the third.

Of course there are other factors making me ponder on this generational gap right now. I seem to be easily forsaken, which is different from other people of theatrical merit in this community. I see my students absolutely revel in my my colleagues' opinions (even their presence!) But, more than anything, it seems that the students would rather die than upset these people. But not me. Of course, I'm not asking for idolatry. I just hoped that exhibiting leadership and some expertise would be earn respect. I didn't force respect. Perhaps I've shown them something of a more forgiving persona, and therefore can be easily discarded. I'm not sure. All I know is that I don't like the feeling of being easily discarded.

As I scan for quotes from others that may be in similar predicaments, I find Samuel Johnson's words from Life of Johnson : "A man is very apt to complain of the ingratitude of those who have risen far above him." Being a biographer, Johnson must have seen many cases to support this idea. Perhaps there is a small nagging gremlin in me pulling my jealousy strings. But, I do have to say, I don't think it's ethical to forget the ones that put you where you are. At some point in my life, I must have been guilty of this, and maybe unconsciously, I still am.

But, in any case, I will do my best to rise above it, and without hearing any proclamations of gratitude, I will say, "You're welcome."

Now, earn it.

-retrosweater

The Pensieve

Yes, I've been sucked into the mythology that is Harry Potter.

Actually, I'm somewhat impressed at the number of magical apparati that Rowling has created to make her delighted readers go "oooh" and "aahhhh." I have to confess, I've done my share of ooohing and aaahing. My particular focus today is the concept of the Pensieve. Rowling created a spell that would allow a witch or wizard to remove cluttered memories from their heads and bottle them up. The witch or wizard would then pour these memories into a bowl called a Pensieve to review them later like watching a movie of the events that transpired.

I found myself in awe of such an invention. Imagine: the ability to achieve clarity by "weeding out" psychic debris. And, so I hope to achive something of some clarity now by just freely associating some items that are muddying things up:

• Thought journals - THOUGHT JOURNALS!!!!??
• Presentations - PRESENTATIONS!!!!!
• Vaudeville
• Shenani-omygod.
• Out of the Glute becoming regular? Finding a permanent home?
• Pony Show?
• Fall show?
• School? Am I ever going to work in my own classroom.

That didn't work. Now I feel more anxious.

-retrosweater

Act V

Act V is The Perfect Drug by Nine Inch Nails.

About time Trent graced this blog, eh?

So, what is my drug? Only a few will ever know. Many will guess, and probably come close, but I imagine only one could hit the bullseye. Even that might be a stretch.

And, now that I know the theme for my Act V, I feel like I'm being tapped on the shoulder by a muse. I feel like I've been led here by whatever guides this universe for the purpose of awakening the senses of others, if only for a brief moment. This seems like it could be an excellent play or graphic novel. Perhaps the latter. I'm fascinated by that idea. Perhaps the journal I constantly carry in my bag will finally see some sort of use again.

A five-act silent graphic novel. If I pull it off, it will be beautiful. I feel convinced that this fateful soundtrack has led me indescribably here. And at the end of the trail, I have found nothing but beauty. Unfortunately, I feel little confidence that I would be able to capture the beauty I've experienced in my amateurish scratchings, but that is not deterring me in the least.

Brace yourself journal, your bindings will be tested.

"without you, everything falls apart ... without you, it's not as much fun to pick up the pieces"

-retrosweater

Hollowness or implosion? Or exactly the opposite?

I guess it could be said, "It's a Monday."




I'm looking forward to our improv performance on Thursday. Last week at this time, I poured all of my attention into other exteriors, a behavioral pattern that continued throughout the week. This drew attention away from my improvisational efforts. I found myself showing people how to do something, and then when they did it, I couldn't tell them if they did it correctly or not. In turn, I also felt myself overcompensating - just ask any Driver's Ed instructor how well that fares. Overall, this rather stalwarted any personal progress as an improv instructor. I helped people, but not all of us as a whole. I think I'll save my "goods" for the rehearsal and show this week. So, if you see me any other time this week, I may be something of a wet blanket.


An enormous weight was lifted off my chest on Saturday night, as I announced the upcoming season for the Civic Theatre Guild. The shows this year will be Plaza Suite by Neil Simon, The Trial of Ebenezer Scrooge by Mark Brown, an undecided comedy directed by Erin Butler (whom I trust with ANYTHING theatrical), and Proof by Dan Auburn. Brilliant season. I'm pretty sure I spoke with everyone in town that would have been interested in directing a show. I still don't have my pet project, the "Fringe" series even started yet. But, after four months of work, that 5-minute announcement at the end-0f-season party was a catharsis unlike any I'd ever felt. I suppose the MacCallan on the rocks helped.


I have received a little private criticism on this blog, as each post has made some mention of music. But, I would take that to mean that music obviously plays a large part in my life. I've put a lot of love into my own personal soundtrack. But, recently I've noticed something curious about it. I can't tell which of us is guiding the other; whether my soundtrack is - by some extraordinary twist of fate - guiding how I view the world, or whether how I view the world is shaping my artistic interests. Life imitating art, art imitating life? I sound like Warhol.

Case in point: Today, I am listening to four songs, over and over again, which seem to be something of a blueprint of my emotional status on a grander scale. These are the tunes (and they must go in this order):

1. Teardrop by Massive Attack
   
2. The Trick is to Keep Breathing by Garbage
   
3. You Look So Fine (Fun Lovin' Criminals Remix) by Garbage
   
4. Underneath the Stars by The Cure

As mentioned, I'm not sure why I'm attracted to these four songs right now. But, I can't stop listening to them. It kind of feels like they are the first four acts of a play that has been the last two weeks of my life, with the fifth act yet to be written. I'm sure it will come to me. I hope so. A great work of art can't be left unfinished.

-retrosweater

Retro Flashback Dancey Groovy Day

A simple pleasure in life: rediscovering a favorite album and playing it loudly enough that you can't help but be moved by the music. Today's pick: Achtung Baby by U2. This was one of my favorite albums as a kid, and I don't think I've listened to it from beginning to end for years.

This brought to mind a contest I heard on the radio a few years ago which really made me think hard about my music library. The contest asked, "If you were stranded on a desert island, which 3 albums would you take with you?" The lack of stereo, much less power notwithstanding, I knew 2 of my 3 immediately:
1) The Fragile by Nine Inch Nails
2) Version 2.0 by Garbage

#3 eluded me. I considered many - The Soundtrack for "The Crow," U2's "Achtung Baby," Lamb's self-titled album among many others.

What about you? What would you take? I'd be very interested to know.

Getting it out

Hello, interwebs!

It has come to my attention that I bottle a lot of things up. I store them, I don't really allow them to breathe. I tried to keep a journal for a while, and while that was therapeutic, I just couldn't keep sitting down and frequently write by hand. However, one of the most significant concepts I think I've ever heard was from renowned stage designer Desmond Heeley, who said that in an age of rapidly evolving technology, there's still nothing like getting a hand-written letter. That means that someone took the time to commit their words to paper all for one person. One person that the sender felt deserved the time taken to actually physically write everything by hand. Of course, it could be argued that a journal is something of a letter to oneself, so maybe that's saying something about me. Maybe not.

In any case, I found comfort in the concept of a journal as opposed to a blog, whereas a journal is private to the writer and the writer ALONE. A blog is accessible to the entire world. And, while I don't necessarily think that there's anything in my journal that could hurt anyone, I still just can't seem to commit the time needed to write what I need to write. For example, in the time it's taken me to type everything up to this point, I may have handwritten up to "Desmond Heeley." It's easy to see how one could lose interest.

So, the blog of retrosweater is started. Who knows what will come of this ... Overall, I just felt a need to be able to spout off and be heard to get some of the Hammerin' in my head out (Always been a Garbage fan). This will probably give me cause to free associate and rant a lot more often. Thanks for indulging me, interwebs.

-Retrosweater