All posts by Analyn Revilla

Middlegate Station – “The Last Roadhouse”

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By Analyn Revilla

On my road trip to Idaho on the motorcycles with Bruno, we spent a night at a motel-RV park with a mini-mart, a bar and gas station.  It was during this trip that I was kicking around the idea of ‘the edge’.  What is it about?  At Middlegate Station, a place to stop for weary travelers, I discovered a community that lives on the edge of the loneliest highway in America, Highway 50 in Nevada.  The roadhouse sits on the junction of Highway 50 and Highway 361.

In this age of internet and commercial industry, Middlegate Station is remote.  There were stretches of the road when we didn’t encounter another car for hours, except for transport trucks which were infrequent.  With smaller gas tanks, we took every opportunity to fill up, not knowing where the next gas station will be open or operable.  The map was only second best to word of mouth for reliable information.

We filled up at Gabbs and talked to the attendant who told us that the road is decent and recommended to gas up at Middlegate, because beyond that she didn’t know what’s opened.  Gabbs is a small mining town that experienced a downturn when the magnesium mine closed.  It was close to 3 pm when we rolled into Middlegate.  Inside the bar, there were windows that faced northeast on the L of hwy 50 and hwy 361, and a young man grilled hamburger meat.  At his feet was a toddler and further into the dark room, an older man behind the counter talking with two men who watched the TV with the volume at high.

We decided to refresh with some drinks before filling up the tanks.  I ordered a dark beer and Bruno had white wine.  It tasted good.  We looked at the menu.  “Freedom Fries”.  I told Bruno to keep quiet so as not to give away his French accent.  There were  $1 dollar bills pinned, stapled and taped on every surface of the place, except for the table tops.  The walls and ceiling were stained with tar from tobacco and grease.  The little girl started to cry.  The young man and older man, both with similar features, looked at each other.  They communicated without words.  Father and son spoke gently to the young baby, telling her gently that her mom will be back later.

I finished my beer and told Bruno I could have another one it tasted so good, and I wanted to know more about this place, these people.  There was something special about them.  Go ahead he said.  But I wouldn’t be able to get back on the bike if I had another drink.  I was exhausted after 2 days on the bike, and I wasn’t trained for these long hauls.  Then I thought I knew what the pony express riders felt when they rode from station to station at break neck speeds while trying to avoid getting killed.  My situation wasn’t as dire, but like them I was gloriously happy to come upon this haven.  We decided to stay, ‘if they have room’ I said.  The old man had watched us and listened to our conversation.

I asked if they had a room, and the old man said “Let me check.”  I was surprised by his answer, because the place looked deserted except for the local people, and there were only a handful there.  He checked his book, then said there is one room left.  I wondered if he was kidding me.  We took the room.  He gave us the key and the direction across the courtyards towards the row of trailers that were subdivided into rooms.  We finished our beers and moved the bikes closer to the trailer motel.

The room had a double bed and a single bed, a night table and lamp.  The toilet and tub were clean.  The space was cramped but the important thing was it was proudly clean and complete.  There were towels and grooming paraphernalia.  We unloaded the bike, put the gear on the single bed then headed back to the bar for food and more beverages.  After that we played horseshoes at the pit.  The proprietor, the old man, came to watch and made a friendly passing comment.  Bruno beat my pants, though he’s never played the game before.  Afterwards, we took a long nap and woke up at twilight.

Upon waking Bruno offered to get me something to drink at the bar.  He left me inside the room, and I lounged and listened to the falling twilight.  I heard voices and cars outside.  Bruno walked in with the beer and he had ice for his white wine. His news was there were some new people that checked in.  So they were busy after all.  The old man had expected others, so we were lucky to get a room.  Bruno urged me to get up to see the sunset.  We walked around.  The foothills were shadows upon the setting sun on the wild West.  It was in the middle of nowhere.  They have generators for electricity.  What about water?  Is there a well or do they have to bring that in?

We joined the others in the bar.  Beer and wine flowed, a man played the guitar and sang Western songs.  He did both really well too.  The locals and the new comers had known each other from before.  They had returned to film the 2nd half of the documentary ‘The Last Road House’.

In 2011, Ryan and Lisette Cheresson and their friends from New York were headed off to Burning Man.  The convoy stopped at Middlegate Station for some rest and to refresh their supplies before they got back on the road.  The couple were impressed by the people in this nowhere place which embodied strength and soul.  It was a community that lived off the grid, and in 2013 they found out that the owners Freda and Russ Stevenson were struggling to maintain their livelihood.  Their small community of people living in RVs and trailers relied on energy powered by a diesel generator.  With this documentary their intention is to draw attention to the need of this community to have access to a clean source of energy.  As the price of diesel had risen dramatically high, they want to help the community try to get funding for solar energy.

This was the edge living in the outback without any of the infrastructure that we take for granted.  Yes, there was water for my showers at Middlegate, but at what cost?  There was cold beer and hot food, but at what cost?  I read someone’s critique about the hamburger served at Middlegate, and wondered if the person even considered the energy that brought that food on his plate in the middle of nowhere.

I experienced that edge during that 18 hour period.  It was in the fierce grit of people who were hanging on to the remains of a lifestyle choice.

‘The state of Nevada ranks fourth in the nation for solar energy capacity. There are currently 84 companies in operation in Nevada that provide solar energy, but Fredda said the $750,000 start-up cost is way out of her price range. Fredda has applied for several grants to install a solar array at Middlegate, all of which have been denied. If you’re not on the grid and can’t put energy back into it, you don’t qualify. This puts people like Fredda in an impossible situation. “If you’re not on the grid,” she says, “you’re a second-class citizen.”’

The edge was in the gracious hospitality of the inhabitants to strangers in an inhospitable environment.  The edge was the bond between father and son soothing the baby in her need and cry for her mother.  The edge was the man singing with his one of a kind acoustic Gibson guitar.  The edge was his deep gratitude and joy that Ryan remembered to bring him the proper tool to fix his guitar, because there wasn’t a luthier or Guitar Center nearby in any direction.

A conversation with the 22 year old, Maggie Urban-Weale, a journalism major and volunteer for the crew  was a reminder of believing in something good and not expecting rewards.  Later that evening, as we all walked to our respective rooms, we hung out under the moonlight and finished our drinks.  We invited her in to play guitar, and she sang ‘Closing Time’.   Speaking with the youngest of the crew members, I was reminded of hope and beauty.  The young people of today want a better tomorrow, and they’re striving for it with this project.

“There are an estimated 200,000 people in America living off-grid. Many of these people, who lack access to municipal utilities like power or water, are the ranchers, miners, and truckers who keep America moving. Middlegate keeps those ranchers and truckers moving, and is one of the region’s only social hubs. Places like Middlegate are important not only for their historical value, but because of their significance in rural communities.”

“Artistically, we are interested in the juxtaposition of the old and the new—how new technology (such as solar) can help save historic places (like Middlegate). We’re also interested in the interplay between the rugged individualism that categorizes much of the rural West and their need for governmental assistance. As one academic told us, for the people of Middlegate to reach out and ask for help means that their situation is dire.”  – http://www.lastroadhouse.com/

To book a room at Middlegate Station go to their website. http://middlegatestation.net/Home_Page.html

Middlegate Station
Middlegate Station

“Revival” by Carla Neuss

playwriting

By Analyn Revilla

The First Manifesto of the Cocktail Nation:We, the Citizens of the Cocktail Nation, do hereby declare our independence from the dessicated horde of mummified uniformity – our freedom from an existence of abject swinglessness. We pledge to revolt against the void of dictated sobriety and to cultivate not riches but richness, swankness, suaveness and strangeness, with pleasure and boldness for all.

BE FABULOUS.

— The Millionaire of Combustible Edison

(Glenn, Joshua. “Cocktail Nation; Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Just Be Fabulous.” Utne Reader 65 (September/October 1994)

“Revival” is featuring at the Acting Artist’s Theatre in West Hollywood and it opened last Sunday, January 18th. Carla Neuss and I had a conversation on the weekend before it opened. She arrived from Friday’s rehearsal, and seemed focused and relaxed. It was the first rehearsal without any glitch. She produced and directed the play for its premiere in Los Angeles. The play was featured in Oxford in 2010, and was the winner of the 2010 Oxford New Writing Festival.

The inspiration of the play was the revival of cocktail lounge culture that emerged in the 1990’s. She started writing the play around 2009, at a time when she was looking to work on a lighter piece apart from her thesis. From her experience of working in a bar and dating a bartender in Oxford, she taught the actor who plays Crispin how to properly mix drinks.  There are specific order and techniques in making a cocktail. The magic potion is a combination of three things. Similar to the creation of a new perfume that has its base notes, middle notes and high notes –  a cocktail has the base spirit that is the main flavor of the drink, the modifier/mixer that blends with the base without overpowering it, and a flavoring that rounds out the whole packaging.

A mixologist is a craftsman like an artisan of food, pottery or glassmaking. He considers the environment and its inhabitants when creating the concoction. The play begins with Tyler, a regular patron of the unnamed bar, and he tells a story about being a knight errant. An angel offers him a chalice brimful of potion to regain his strength. He asks Crispin “make me that drink.” There are four rules that patrons of the bar must abide by. Rule #4 is drink requests are not permitted. “Only stories or inclinations should be presented to the bartender for him to utilize or ignore at his discretion.”

One of the challenges of producing this play was finding the right actor to play Crispin. The play is 90 minutes long without any intermission, and Crispin is onstage at all times while patrons arrive and leave. With each entrance and departure they spin a web of their realities, dreams, aspirations and woes. Crispin works to enhance their stories with his custom made drinks. Carla told me that she had to reach out to Ben Moroski with whom she collaborated with on another project last year. When casting the role she sought someone who had a strong presence without the showmanship. The role of Crispin needs an actor who can be the eye of the storm while the other characters whirl in the vortex around him with their pretenses and their stumbling truths.

I asked Carla how she chose to collaborate on projects.  She said she’s only been back in California for a year, having spent the previous 4 years in Oxford. She’s building her network from word of mouth. I heard about the play from James Svatko, the actor who plays Fred in “Revival”. James was the producer and director of “The Last Train” a play written by Natacha Astuto. I told James it was delightful to see him another role wearing a jacket instead of his prison cell overalls (from ‘The Last Train’). After the opening performance last Sunday, James and I had a brief moment to greet each other at Harlowe’s, the bar next door to the theatre.

I asked Carla if there was any particular group that she hoped to attract with this play. The context of the question is that most theater goers I’ve seen at Ahmanson, Geffen and Pasadena Playhouse are in the mature age range. We agreed that theater competes with other genres of entertainment. As an art form a play asks of its audience to invest intellectually, and draw upon their experiences and imagination to understand what it is about. The audience can be moved by a scene, but understanding what the play is all about is challenging. Perhaps the topic of mixology can attract some of the younger crowd, especially the cocktail lounge culture. On opening night, the play’s program can be used to get a ten percent discount on a customized cocktail at Harlowe’s. (I don’t know if this applies throughout the run of the play.)

A mysterious liqueur in the play has its own revival in history. Crispin, in his quest to help the world transcend beyond the ordinary life had found Crème Yvette on e-Bay. The liqueur had not been produced since 1969. The setting of the play does not refer to a specific period, but it probably occurs before the 2009 when the production of the liqueur was revived by the Cooper Spirits Company. The arrival of the box that holds the precious nectar made from raspberries, wild strawberries, blackberries, and cassis from the famed Aquitaine region and blended with dried violet petals is a ceremony. Crispin puts on ethereal music, (Arvo Part’s “Spiegel im Spiegel”) on the turntable, then lays out a lace mantle. He pours the violet-garnet hued Crème Yvette into a crystal glass and takes his first sip.

The cult of the cocktail is a successful religious ceremony transformed into a secular rite. The bartender is the high priest, the drink is the sacramental cup, and the cocktail lounge is akin to a temple or cathedral that uses lights, music, and even ceiling fixtures to reinforce moods of comfort and inspiration.(Lanza, Joseph. “Set ’em Up, Joe: A Cocktail Primer.” Esquire, 127.4 (April 1997): 74 – 75)

Crispin’s bar is this place of transformation. What is a story without the heat between a man and woman? Enter Jo, a beautiful young woman played by Adrienne Whitney. She supports her studies in literature as an escort. She uses the bar as a regular spot for her rendez-vous, but she’s also attracted to Crispin. She becomes a catalyst to change the homeostasis of the bar. Victor Gurevech plays Tyler, the young dreamer who voraciously upholds the rules of the bar. Tyler looks to Crispin for relief from the mundane world. Joseph Martone plays two supporting roles, both as escorts of Jo. He did marvelously in maintaining his composure when his moustache slipped from his upper lip to cover his mouth just as he was to start a story.  Then there is the pastor, Fred, (played by James Svatko).   Fred is simply a man who needs a break from his job description ‘to love all people’.

Crispin listens to their stories and mixes their drinks.  The customers’ wear their lives on their jackets, ties, costumes and breathes it out through their skin. Their realities mix with the sanctity of Crispin’s bar.  The revival is opening the eyes to our humanity while striving for perfection.

 “There’s a feeling you can get sometimes… something triggers it and you suddenly feel all your fingers and toes and you loop up and the people around you are smiling and you are talking about something big and important and beautiful and the world feels like not a such a bad place to live after all – it feels like it was meant to be good…” – Crispin (from “Revival”).

Revival is playing on weekends from  January 18 at 8pm and will continue on Saturdays, January 24, 31, and February 7 at 3pm and 8pm.

Method Writing

playwriting

By Analyn Revilla

I created my first chapbook and shared it among my fellow writers in my method writing class. “Process” is the philosophy and the practice of the class. It was not about the product. The reward of the process was the product, and for the class it was putting together a chapbook that contained a collection of writings we had done during the class. The philosophy was to write from the deep voice and to express this voice using tools.

I looked over the pages I had written over the past 10 weeks of the class. I couldn’t find any real gems that stood out or was good enough to publish into a chapbook. I found my journal entries were scattered themes, and showed my tendency to avoid getting into the story of who I am. But I had to mine what I’d done, or make something new with what I already knew. I felt frustrated and fear that the raw stuff wasn’t good enough. I lashed out my feelings in unusual ways, and learned something about my behavior patterns when I feel at a loss. It felt like school when I would cram the night before an exam and wished that I had gone to class and done the homework.

I stuck with it, and I found some entries I could rework and dig deeper into. I surprised myself at what came forth. It was a slippery slope, though in the end I got enough material to make a decent chapbook. The five pieces I put into the chapbook were made up of: a new poem, three journal entries (that I polished from its raw form) and one from one of my blogs from way way back (“Play It Loud”). I reviewed the blogs before picking one. I felt dismayed and disappointed in the lack of eye and attention I had put into some of them. I saw my attention was more about the product rather than the process. After getting it out of me, I published it without putting in the extra time and elbow grease to clean up mistakes and edit parts that would be make some ideas more palatable and digestible.

What I learned, in keeping myself within the boundaries of the material, was that I still had to edit and polish the rough stuff. This has been my weakness in writing – going over the raw material and shaping it into something that has worth to somebody. In creating the chapbook I also learned to care about the product. Sounds confusing right? Didn’t I just finish a writing class about the process and not the product? It’s like acting, as described by the teacher. The best acting is acting without making it a conscious effort. Writing with process in mind is being aware of the tools without product in mind, and being consistent to a schedule of writing. When I do this then my writing will lead to a product.

The relationship of my chapbook to my blog is I need to pay attention to what I’m bringing to the writing of the blog. What I’m sharing with you are the truth of my stories, how skillful I am to write from a deep voice and some basic grammar tools. I remind myself to take care of the basics and then I’ll have something of worth to share with you.

“I Am A Poet”

playwriting

By Analyn Revilla

A glance into her eyes made me avert mine away. She’s acted crazy before.   She began, “I had a conversation here yesterday with three women. There were four generations, about ten years apart. I think I was the oldest. I’m 84.” I listened. Her charcoal rimmed eyes were droopy and her lips were red matching her manicured feet. I sat naked on my towel and she sat in a full bathing suit across from me in the dry sauna. She was away for two and a half months because she fell. Her body though thin and maybe brittle looked supple and strong for her age. Our flip flops dried on the wooden floor, we dripped chlorine and salt through our pores.

“I’m at an age when I fall a lot. You see, I move like a teenager.” After a pause, she spoke slowly and deliberately. “Well, my family took my car away, and it’s the worst – the worst thing anyone can do to me.” I was transported back to being fourteen, and living in Edmonton. Determined to get my driver’s license, I snuck out the Toyota Celica all over the flat city. It was the only way to get out. I knew how she felt. “It’s like taking your freedom away” I said. “Exactly,” she said. And because I understood her, she was compelled to expose herself to me. “I’m bipolar”. I could’ve told her, “I’m alcoholic”, and let her make up her mind. I didn’t know the medical implications of being bipolar, though I’ve heard people use the word a lot. She takes 5 different pills daily. But sometimes she forgets to take them. I finally understood why she acted crazy in the past.

“It bothers me that doctors can’t figure out what’s wrong with me. I’m not an idiot. I’ve written books that were published”. She looked down at her body between the mental lines as though picking the exact words to convey her truth. Finally she said, “I’m looking for someone to drive me around. I’d pay of course, and generously. I just need someone two days a week so I can do my banking and errands. Do you know anybody who might be interested?” I ride a motorcycle. “I’d offer to drive you but I don’t have a car. I can ask around” I said. “Ok”, she got up to leave. “I’m Analyn. What’s your name?” She stood sideways by the opened door while the heat of the sauna escaped with her, “I am a poet” she declared then walked on.

A Pilgrim On the Edge

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by Analyn Revilla

The seed I planted in my mind before leaving LA was to experience the open road to rediscover my edge.  I felt I had lost it during the past few years in trying to survive living in a big city.  I’m no longer surprised, but happily accept, when events endorse my faith that the universe will give you what you ask for though I may not know when or how it will manifest.

Homeward bound along the I395 we spent our last night of our vacation in Lone Pine, CA.  The magnificent Mount Whitney, at 14,505 feet, is a beautiful backdrop to a “small town with lots of charm”.  This town has grown to become a mecca for travelers, hikers and tourists since the Mt. Whitney trail was completed in 1904.  I discover that I came here as a pilgrim.  There was time when I looked at a mountain and I would imagine the traverse up, studying the contours and ridges to determine a way up to the top.  When we passed through Lone Pine two weeks ago, I described to Bruno my feeling of loss – why wasn’t I surveying a trail to climb up?  What a strange feeling to be aware of the loss, and then accepting the loss.

I haven’t hiked very much since I moved out here.  My excuse was the heat and dryness of the mountain ranges in SoCal which I was not accustomed to, compared to British Columbia, where the forest and meadows are lush and the flowing creeks spray cool mountain waters.  I had allowed this joy for the wilderness wither away as I embedded myself into the living of a desert city, yet a mosaic of cultures.  The tiles of faces, languages and smells from the streets are both an invitation and assault on the senses.  Which one to choose?

Riding, alone with my own thoughts, and only the wind to brush my jacket and pants, and whistling in my ears, I focused on the terrain.  There’s always something to be prepared for:  debris, crossing deer or elk, open cattle, falling rock, weather pattern changes, looking to see if Bruno is still behind me, the curve coming up, state patrol, the unwrapping scenery of mountains, valleys, basins and rock formations.  This is a beautiful country.  Every turn is breathtaking.  As one local in Snohomish Valley described, ‘God couldn’t have painted a better picture’.  Certainly, people are more apt to look at the bikes with its zig-zag of bungee chords to tie down whatever we deemed as ‘necessary’ for the journey.  That too changed on a daily basis.  We made trips to the post offices every few days to send back home the  simple little treasures , souvenirs and dirty clothes we had accumulated.

The daily grind of the road didn’t wear me out, except for a fresh fatigue from the intake of conversations, scenery and preparing for the next day.  I tried to meditate on ‘the edge’.  How did ‘Stella Got Her Groove Back’? (I never saw the movie, but the title was apt for my situation.)  How will I relearn to look at a mountain and have that joyful curiousity to climb it to the peak?  It took miles and miles of riding alone and just letting things happen.  Without expectations we chewed up the miles between LA and Hayden, and back down to LA again, doing a loop that closed again at Lone Pine.  I don’t know how it happened, but it happened – not by design – but simply accepting what was present at the moment, and making choices and adjustments as needed.

The choice between forging ahead into unknown territory or staying one extra day to fix the bike; the choice to decline the offer of a shelter overnight from a stranger because of the rain and lateness of the day; the choice to accept a round of beer at the saloon from a traveler who cared to ask, ‘Where are you guys from?’.  Regardless of the choices made, I see now that there is not a right or wrong.  It’s a matter of accepting the results of the choices made.   I’ve always pondered the quote from Miles Davis:

If you hit a wrong note, it’s the next note that you play that determines if its’s good or bad.

– Miles Davis (1926 – 1991)

We rounded back to Lone Pine because we had determined we didn’t want to take the I5.  I’ve traveled along this path many times before, and I had never seen the Sierra Nevada, so it seemed to be the natural choice to make.  The first night into California we stopped at Susanville.  The motel owner welcomed us with the ‘biker special’ at $50 for a simple and clean room stocked with a fridge and a microwave.  By this time, we had learned to make nutritious and delicious meals using simple ingredients and cooking in the microwave.  I was still masturbating my brain to figure out how to get my groove back, but I was fully absorbed in fullness of traveling and the ripening of the end of a trip.  I had seen a lot of faces of the desert with its terrains and living and non-living habitats, such as the family living in Middlegate, Nevada running on a diesel generator and the beginnings of a solar energy.  Certainly these inhabitants of the desert are pushing to maintain a type of life on the edge.

Black Rock Solar is solarizing one of our country’s historic roadhouses. It’s Middlegate Station, on the loneliest road in America – Highway 50 in Nevada.

If you’ve stopped in whilst bumping around in the desert, you were probably glad for the cold drink or ice cream sandwich to wash the dust from your lips. But cold in the Nevada desert doesn’t come cheap. Off the municipal electric grid and powered 24/7 by a diesel generator, Middlegate’s future is in doubt after years of rising fuel costs.

Middlegate’s owners – Fredda and Russ Stevenson – and Black Rock Solar have secured a State Office of Energy loan and are working to secure more funding for a larger array to keep Middlegate Station viable with the power of the sun.

(http://www.blackrocksolar.org/news/2014/the-last-nevada-roadhouse-needs-your-help/)

The story above is the beginning of yet another blog I’d like to write about, as it is a story in itself.  But it watered the seed of my initial inquiry about getting the edge back.  One of the crew members, a bold and wise young woman, told me that you never really lose the edge because you always have the edge.  It didn’t dawn upon me till today that it’s like the knife that loses its sharpness.  A knife will always have an edge, but how it is used and maintained defines the kind of edge it has.  Using its metal against ceramic or breaking open a coconut shell with the wrong type of knife will chip or dull the edge.

A journey is the process of letting the inner wisdom spring forth, and giving that joyful creation the environment it needs to self-acutalize.  A journey into the desert just as prophets and gurus have practiced emptying oneself to transform was what I had been doing.  I had an intention but I didn’t have the ‘know-how’, and was left without a choice but to accept – accept what I had become, and then re-orient myself to move towards where I want to be.  There will be a re-learning to develop better habits to replace others which I have decided I need to out-grow.  Like a river that meanders around the bends and creating oxbows as it matures, there is a wholeness in both edges of a knife.  I’ve pierced sharply up a terrain and I’ve also shredded down loose scree from the top, and tumbled on my hands and knees; and bounded back up with a richer perspective.

My pilgrimage to Mount Whitney has just begun.  I left Lone Pine yesterday with a map and couple of books about ascending Mt. Whitney, along with tips from a local guide in the adventure store.  I feel the butterflies dancing in my belly and the perspiration on my palms thinking about the possibilities.  I could try to hike in the winter geared in cramp ons and ice picks.  That would be my first time, but it is a possibility that the guide described to me.  Staying on the edge has many possibilities.

 

Possibilities

On the Road Through Oregon

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by Analyn Revilla

The signs of the road is a language in itself.  After 3000 miles of tracking across Nevada, Idaho, Washington, Oregon and California I’ve decided that it’s a language which I had taken for granted.  It was riding through Oregon’s  highway 31 that I took notice of two signs which to me was an oxymoron.  When leaving a small town the speed limit changes from 25 to 45 and upwards, and during this transformation there is a pair of road signs in this order.

1.  ‘DO NOT PASS’

2.  ‘PASS WITH CARE’

There is very little distance between these posts (maybe less than a few hundred yards).  I decided to interpret the law as ‘Do not pass’, but if you’re going to break the law, well you better ‘Pass with care’. i.e.  Make sure you don’t get caught.

I tried to find more information about this and found something in the internet was from Oregon’s Department of Transportation manual that describes the technical details of how to implement this law.

2. 2B-28 DO NOT PASS (R4-1) should be installed approximately 1000 feet in advance of the taper that begins the passing lane.

Minimum Size 36” x 48”

3. 2B-30 KEEP RIGHT EXCEPT TO PASS (R4-16) should be installed where the passing lane attains full width or at the beginning of the first skip stripe.

Minimum Size 36” x 48”

4. 2B-29 PASS WITH CARE (R4-2) may be installed in the two-lane section approximately 1000 feet beyond the end of the taper (if sight distance is adequate to permit passing).

Minimum Size 24” x 30”

source http://www.oregon.gov/ODOT/HWY/TRAFFIC-ROADWAY/docs/pdf/english_chapter_3.pdf

And with that I have my  aha moment.  It is with these technicalities that we can sometimes become non-sensesical in our well-meaning intention.

I dug a little deeper and looked through the driver’s manual, and found multiple scenarios of when a driver should not pass:

No Passing

Do not cross the center line to pass when:

  • You are in a no-passing zone, which is an area that is marked for no passing by a solid yellow line in your lane. A “DO NOT PASS” sign may also be posted. Do not attempt to pass a vehicle if you cannot safely return to your lane before entering a no-passing zone.
  • Your view of oncoming traffic is blocked because you are on a hill or in a curve.
  • You are approaching an intersection, railroad crossing, or other area where your view of oncoming traffic is limited.
  • You are at or in an intersection.
  • You are at or on a railroad crossing.
  •  The vehicle ahead is stopped at a crosswalk to permit a pedestrian to cross

Well that was boring.  I just think it takes common sense.

One of the most interesting signs along the open road was on I97 which I’ve traversed for the first time yesterday.  It was the sign post for the 45th parallel.  When I lived in Salem (and was working on a project of ODOT – ironically) I would take my little Toyota Tercel on the I5 to Portland and cross the 45th parallel frequently during my jaunts to meet with friends at one of the many local breweries.

(I didn’t stop to take a picture of me at the 45th parallel, but pretend that GMC truck is my red Suzuki SV650.)

The 45th Parallel on I97 from Shiniko Junction

One thing I’ve decided on (and I kinda knew this all along, but this trip has reinforced what I’m looking for in life now), is my enjoyment of the open and friendly nature of small town folks compared to bigger towns and cities.  There’s a naïveté that comes from living in a small place where you know people by name, or at least by habit of seeing them, and extending that warm hospitality to strangers when they’re passing through your home.

Yesterday, one of the bikes had an electrical problem.  We had to stop every hour to cool down the engine while traveling along I97 into the city of Bend.  I was in Bend 20 years ago, and it was a smaller community to what it has currently grown into.  I almost wish Bruno had a chance to experience it as it was then because today it feels like another large cosmopolitan city.  The downtown core boasted nice restaurants, boutique shops and microbreweries along the river; and the city had its fair share of Subarus also.  Definitely, Bend has come into its own as a world class destination.  The State Patrol man who pulled me over for riding my bike between cars told me so.  He was nice.  He didn’t give me a ticket, but reminded me that though they practice lane sharing in Europe and California, this is not so in Oregon.  After checking into a motel we found a place to eat with good food and wine.  Despite the basic needs being met, we felt a little let down, because we missed the warmth of small town folks.  We noticed that the restaurant was rather quick to move us along.  In our minds, we thought maybe because we were tourists, and not the usual suspects who were repeat customers.

So, we spent a so-so night in Bend, and the next day decided to steer clear of bigger towns.  We got as far as La Pine (30 plus miles south on the I97) where we filled up the tanks.  I asked the gentleman who pumps the gas if he knew of a motorcycle mechanic between his town and the next big town.  He  recommended a place called Peak Performance.  We rode around a little while and asked for directions from other people, and found the garage a mile down from the main drag.  A large man with a beard was cleaning his fingernails with a knife.  ‘What can I do ya for?’ he asked.  We got off the bikes and Bruno explained that his fan wasn’t turning on and he was loosing coolant.  The big man thought glanced at me then said, ‘It’s all her fault’.  His words broke the ice and gave me relief.  After he suggested some reasons as to the root cause of the problem, he said he’ll be right back.  Within minutes he returned and told us to ride the motorcycles to the back where somebody was waiting to help us.

We talked with the mechanic who tinkered a bit, and feeling like we were in his hair, we asked if we could leave him with the bike for a couple of hours.  Sure, he said.  We told the owner our plan to stay the night in La Pine.  He recommended a a simple and clean motel.  Cool, that’s all we want.  Before going, we asked for his name.  Mark, he said.  Later, we checked into ‘The Highlander’ where we dropped off some gear and got something to eat at the nearby Harvest Hut.  In less than 2 hours we were back to check on the bike.  The mechanic, Alan, said the problem was a loose wire and showed us the spot in case it happened again.  When we asked how much for the repair, he said, ‘Well I didn’t really spend very much time on it.  $20.’  Unbelievably cheap for the quick service and fixing the problem.  We gave him $40, and he smiled such a wide grin.  ‘Where are you folks staying?’ he asked.  We gave him the answer, and he wished us well.

We all leave our impressions in this life in many forms, including sign posts.  Certainly being earth friendly is a good thing all around, but more impacting is being heart friendly.  It’s genuine goodness that does not mean to be a passing trend but a lasting legacy.

P.S.  If you like wine and you’re passing through Lakeview, Oregon towards the California border, there’s a place called ‘Stringer’s Orchard’ in New Pine Creek.  It’s a good stop before crossing into California for some wine tasting and homemade preserves.  The winemaker specializes in wine and spirits from the wild plum, and the taste is very special in a good way.

 

Stonehenge in Maryhill Washington

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by Analyn Revilla

Live from Goldendale, Washington, while listening to Hank Williams on my laptop, and my hubby is packing up the motorcycles with our gear; I’m thinking of what to share with you that will give your day a panache.  Been on the road since last Monday, over one week ago.  We started from LA and drove through California towards Nevada taking the backroads on a pair of two wheels each.  I ride a Suzuki SV650, and Bruno rides a Honda Shadow 1100.  We’re traveling with my electric guitar and a Line 6 XT with headphones, so that I can noodle at the end of the day when we pull over after a day’s ride.  Our destination was Hayden, Idaho.  It’s just a few miles north of Coeur D’Alene.  We left his buddy Jean Pierre and his family just yesterday.

What’s over here near Goldendale?  There’s a life size replica of Stonehenge in Maryhill.

Stonehenge in Washington State

This was a memorial that Sam Hill built to help us remember that war is not the answer.  Sam Hill was Quaker and was a proponent of peace.

Hill constructed two notable monuments. The replica of Stonehenge, at Maryhill, commemorates the dead of World War I, while the Peace Arch, where today’s Interstate 5 highway crosses the U.S.–Canada border, celebrates peaceful relations and the open border between the two nations – Wikepedia

We visited Stonehenge two hours ago; the replica was impressive as it sat on the edge of the Columbia River, and to the west was a view of Mount Hood.  A few yards away from Stonehenge stood a war memorial dedicated to fallen soldiers from the surrounding area.  The period spanned from WWI thru Afghanistan.  Despite the impressive site, we noted the bare flagpole stand.  We found this strange.  The flowers were dried.  The other two cars that drove to look at the monolith site did not bother to visit the war memorial.

This monument that Sam Hill created has not made the lasting impact he meant it to have.  I stood beside Bruno at the memorial to make a silent prayer.  I thought, despite his efforts to help us to remember that ravages of war and how it only tears families apart and distances cultures from one another, we still continue to carry on with our prejudices.

Traveling through backroads of Nevada and Idaho, I was a little apprehensive, because of my racial background.  I was not sure if I would encounter blatant racial prejudice.  When a dog smells the phenomes of a fearful person it makes the dog fearful too.  Don’t be afraid, I told myself.  Face your fear, and I discovered that 99% of my fear is in my head.  I have met wonderful and kind folks through this part of the country that have been labeled as red-neck country.

I ride on and open my heart, open my mind to the open road.  Take it as it comes, and face your fears.

The Last Train – A Thriller to Mine for the Heart

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by Analyn Revilla

James Svatko, the producer of the play, “The Last Train” has taken this French written play and produced its first English and North American performance at the Hollywood Fringe Festival. He found the play in Stage32 and contacted the playwright, Natacha Astuto, who lives and works in Switzerland, and they worked together on the translation. After that, it was James who completed the work with his actors and director to present the truth of this psychological thriller.

In James’ own words, “There is no one truth but a series of truths that one often has to follow to get to the truth” With that, the team has been through a major revision since after the premier of the play at Schkapf Theatre last June 5th. As any living work of art, it will continue to evolve. Starting with the writer’s initial impulse, Natacha was curious about writing a play set in an enclosed environment. Her imagination brought her to two characters, incarcerated for at least 20 years, bunked in the same cell. She layered the secrets that the men keep to themselves which are the subtexts in every word uttered and every gesture displayed. This is neatly packaged by the careful surveillance of a female guard, who controls what passes in and out of the cell. However, this situation is incited by external forces – a storm and a visit from an unknown woman with unknown motives.

When James embarked on the journey, perhaps he had a roadmap at hand, or maybe he had a sketch of where he wanted to go with it. Upon reading the story, it was clear that the play would be demanding for any actor who is chosen for any one of the four characters. Though tempted to wear the hats of the producer, the actor and the director, he chose to give up the role of the director so that he could focus on playing the lead character of Jack.

Natacha was comfortable to allow the artists to interpret the play as they imagined it. She expressed her curiosity as to how her words would be acted upon on stage, and also what an American’s perspective could be. After the first two performances at the Fringe, she and her husband Cedric arrived from Switzerland. They decided to get involved by giving the cast and crew a little push (a la Natacha, “un petit coup de pouce utile”) to help them further along in translating and rendering the performance closer to the essence of the story. A psychological story is as complex as any human being.  This story is a stew of four distinct personalities confined in a jail cell for an unbeknownst period of time, reigned upon by a freak thunderstorm that has knocked out the power and renders the doors of the cells inoperable. (It is in modern time as the cells are opened with a swipe card, and not the traditional keys.)

When I saw the premier of The Last Train on June 5th, James commented that he was just happy and relieved to get the first one out there, because of the anticipation and ‘premier’ jitters (par for the course). His main thrust in producing this play is to make an impact on people, to make them think and wonder to the point that they are drawn in, so that they have a conversation with the actors, at the end of the show, while they are still in character. This is a wonderfully creative way to evolve the story.

I told James that I wish I had not read the play before seeing the premier, because I had set myself up with expectations. I walked out of the theatre feeling, ‘huh…, so that’s how it was interpreted on stage.’ I had hoped for more, and it’s not fair to hope for more, because I had already built the story in my imagination from my first absorption. I suppose it is like the first time you make love. Subsequent experiences after the first time will be different.

So, I was enthusiastic to see the noticeable differences between the first performance and the one that had been tailored with insight and suggestions by Natacha and Cedric. The first was Robert, played by Benjamin Mitchell. In the premier he bolted like a young and unbridled colt dissipating energy; while in the second interpretation he started as smoldering embers building up to a fury. I found this was powerful, because it built up the suspense.  Benjamin commented that he had contemplated on the cue that Robert is a ticking time bomb, so he adjusted his tempo to be a slowly burning fuse.  Jack was also more defined personality in the revised version.  These adjustments help us, the audience, to perceive these psychological phases roll out, like wheels moving forward on pavement. Each revolution is the same, but different in space in time. It is Jack, but it’s not the same Jack in the previous scene.

In the first 3 scenes, the interactions between Robert and Jack, establishes that Jack is the reasonable, mature and mothering type. When the conversation tilts on being out of control, he is quick to diffuse a potential heated situation with ‘Want some tea?’ He appears as the normal one who can gauge situations, have perspective and act with reason. He shows his capacity for compassion when he appears concerned over Robert’s attempted suicide, and possibilities of him trying again with success. He bides his time with the hope of getting out on early parole for good behavior. His character could be described by someone from the parole board as a ‘well-adjusted’ individual.

James clarifies the psychological stages that the character of Jack transmutes from beginning to end, starting with the nurturing type with Robert.  Upon the arrival of the mysterious and provocative Louise (played by Victoria Hopkins), who insists to meet the men in the cell, and to conduct her interview in the cell, he changes to contemplation then suspicion. Why would she want to expose herself to two strangers incarcerated for manslaughter in a confined room? Her questions are strangely non-threatening and almost pointless: “How long have you been incarcerated?”, “What’s your schedule on a typical day?” Has she not done her homework before hand; looked at their files to know the answers to these questions? Her motive becomes apparent only after she’s alone with Jack.

The scene, before the last, reveals the true nature of Jack’s illness. As he answers her questions in the midst of the brewing storm that knocks down the power, he decides that she is not someone from the parole board evaluating his mental fitness to be released from incarceration, so he seizes the chance to incite Robert by taunting him as being paranoid. James aptly describes the last phase as the realization phase, because Jack goes into action upon recognizing Louise Dupont. “Dupont. You could have found something better”.

The movements between the phases happen quickly in a 1 hour play. It takes thought, technique and execution to convey the psychological moments in live theatre, in the absence of the omniscient narrator, and the team has done this all very well.

Just as Benjamin had made adjustments to his character then this also affects the other characters. Victoria (Louise) toned down her sexual allure between the premier and the 5th performance. I thought this was also powerful, because it complimented Robert’s slow burn. Though conscious of Robert’s sexuality and veiled threats; her target is Jack, and she needs to preserve herself for that purpose. Louise is a mother who suffers, and she needs vengeance to appease her loss like the Greek goddess Demeter who walks and searches under every rock for her daughter Persephone. Jack is not compliant, as he distances himself to assess the situation so that he can navigate the situation to his advantage.

Marianne (played by Jennifer Lewis) upped her ante in the game in the revised performance. She was more invested, and this was important, because she needs to expound that she is the figure of authority in this menagerie. Marianne oversees the two men, and has probably known them for as long as they’ve been in jail. She’s a woman in an all-male environment, and she’s proud of it, as though only she has the capacity for this work. In her mind, in her unique position, she has to prove that she is in control at all times.

I asked James if there were purposeful crossovers of elements of a Greek tragedy in this particular production. His response was only in the direct violence that plays out between Louise and Jack. I also noted hubris, because Robert is a proud man. His pride is his downfall in that he overlooks other possibilities that he is the normal one, and that he is worthy of being free again. His pride keeps him strong to accept his sentence.  He is dynamic because he struggles with his conscience, whereas  Jack does not.  He is purposeful and ruthless to achieve his goal.  C’est fait accomplit.  He is not capable of transformation.  He can only show his character’s chameleon abilities – to hide the truth and is therefore evil natured. Natacha made the point in our interview that we don’t know where evil lies, and so we can be duped by appearances.

By now, as we are near the close of the festival, and The Last Train is at the eve of its last performance the cast, the director, Justin Morosaand Natacha and Cedric are transformed by this worthy journey of bringing us this well thought out and performed work. Justin described that with each performance he wants to get closer to the truth. The Last Train IS a heart-full performance, and the team has given us the opportunity to mine deeper into the human heart. Last performance is tomorrow night at 10:15 at Schkapf Theatre.

Interview with Natacha Astuto – Playwright of ‘The Last Train’

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Natacha Astuto has a habit of speaking while her hands move with the passion of her words.  When she’s thinking of what to say she glances at the right corner of her face, like she’s tickling her left brain.  During the hour that she and I conversed via Skype last Monday night (10 pm PST which was 7 am in Switzerland) she was eager to express as clearly as possible what I tried to draw from her.

The Last Train (La Dernier Train) is debuting in its English translation production at the Hollywood Fringe Festival this year of the Horse in Chinese Zodiac.  She got connected with James Svatko through Stage32.  He came upon the story, read it and called her to say he wanted to produce the play and wanted to play the lead.  As a most weathered playwright she accepted his interest with politeness while maintaining an arms’ length perspective of ‘well, let’s see’.  It’s a natural self-preservation reaction to wanting to be swept away with grand dreams and emotions, but wanting a cushion landing if it was only a dream.

That encounter happened last year.  When January 2014 rolled around, he called her again, and this time he said it was really going to happen, and Natacha decided to invest emotionally into the project which brings us to today.  It was 7am in Switzerland, and Natacha looked a little tired from last night’s performance, but she was alert and wasn’t missing a beat.  I posed my first question- what motivated her to write the play with this dark and sinister theme?  “To be honest” she started, and I thought this was already telling that something unexpected was coming forth.  She said there was not any particular personal or newsworthy event that inspired the writing.  It was simply that two actors approached her with the parameters to write a play with 4 characters. Natacha added her own curiosity to explore a setting that was enclosed, or in other words limited input and output. In French, the expression is Huis Clos, which translates to “No Exit”.  Jean Paul Sartre wrote a play by the same title and told the story of three people in the afterlife forever together in hell.

So this was her spring board, and what caught my attention was the setting of a jail cell and its literal and figurative analogy to our own personal selves – the prison of our minds limited by our mentality and imagination – if we are so inclined.  In a play of 4 characters the idea of lead and supporting seems to be grey.  I think it’s becomes a constellation of individual characters revolving around the theme of where does evil lurk.  This is my take on it, because I’ve been on the hunt on this topic.  The play is not bounded by that theme alone. Art is alive.  What the seer brings into the chemistry or the formula will influence what they get out of it.

Natacha meditated upon the parameters and she came up with a story of two men who had been incarcerated for twenty years in the same cell for crimes we are not privy to.  She wanted to know what happens to people who’ve been removed from normal society for such a long period of time?  My initial take was that she had come upon a story that touched a nerve in her soul and the catharsis of understanding the events came through in writing the The Last Train,  and I found out I was wrong.  Her process of creating The Last Train was internal and organic, which is what makes this story original, and the story telling so provocative.

She covers a lot of ground in 1 hour in the English version.  The French version that is playing in Europe is 75 minutes long.  What translation differences occurred?  It was mostly colloquial references, for example, using ‘Alex Trebek’ of Jeopardy.  Did she change the names of the characters?  (I found that the character of Jack evoked the spirit of Jack the Ripper, and that Louise resembled Clarice (Silence of the Lambs)  in sound .  ‘No,’ replied Natacha, she did not even catch on to those nuances.  I’m esoteric in my beliefs that storytellers are channels of a story, and this came to the playwright in her deep meditations to evoke a story of 4 people in an enclosed chamber.  That is a formula for explosive cabin fever.  Louise was shortened from the original form of Heloise.  Historically the name is attached to Heloise d’Argenteuil who was the lover of Peter Abelard, a scholar and theologian from the Medieval period.  She was also a scholar and her beauty, insight and intelligence sparked a deep stroke in Peter’s heart, who belonged amongst the ranks of the church.

Natacha created characters with whom she can relate to.  There were aspects of each person that she can identify with either personally or through stories she had brushed with and absorbed into her own being.  Jack and Robert are cellmates and they relate to one another similarly as a married couple.  They take care of one another in their own terms.  Though bound by the cell and the daily routine of prison life there are still secrets that each person carries, and neither has the willingness to expose what lies beneath the façade.  But how long can each person bear the weight of the masquerade?

Secrets have a strong sinister voice that is unspoken, but yet very powerful. The idea of caching secrets into the play is a tool Natacha has used in this play and her other plays.  In writing secrets into the story, she gives a loud voice to victims who have not been able to speak of the unspeakable.  There have been people in the audiences who have found consolation in seeing her plays, and came to talk to her to express their gratitude for giving them a voice.

In this story, the two jailbirds are under the care of a woman, Marianne.  This is an unusual compensation in a male dominated environment.  As a former employee at a women’s prison, she was selected for an experimental exchange program recommended by psychiatrists during the nineties.  She found she was more suited working in the all-male environment and remained in her post.  Jack, Robert and Marianne had created a functional triad with the two men acting as subordinates under the authority of a motherly figure.  She is kind and vulnerable, and the two men perceives this, but do not abuse it.  Her language is soft.  When she leaves them, she says ‘See you guys later.’  She unwittingly exposes her vulnerability by confiding that she’s worried and senses Jack’s fear, and this is the feeling-nurturing behaviors associated with women.

The men bide away their time in their own ways.  Jack has a snowglobe and becomes curious about its self-contained environment.  ‘Where does the water come from?’ he asks Robert who becomes exasperated with Jack’s inane conversation about a stupid snowglobe when he only wants to get out.

You don’t give a damn about anything! You don’t even look up

when I talk to you! You’re just here, waiting to leave fucking

feet first!

Act 1 has very strong overtones of Waiting for Godot, I told Natacha.  She chuckled.  She said that James Svatko made the same comment to her.  “What?! I’m not a Samuel Beckett’, she said amused, both thrilled and humbled to be compared to a wholly alive artist/playwright.

The monotony and bubble of the cell is cracked open by a female visitor, and the hidden thoughts and motives of the men rise to the surface. The stakes are heightened and we are drawn in closer to witness the unveiling of secrets.

Natacha is a bright artist and I am very lucky that I had the opportunity to speak with her about herself and the play.  One of the other questions I posed to her was if she found any disparity between men and women in having exposure as a playwright.  She pondered this question deeply.  Her first response was no.  She explained that she already thrives in a man’s world working professionally as a mechanical engineer.  Being in a man’s world she behaves simply as a person doing the work that is mostly filled by men, but it’s not about the gender.  It’s about doing the work.  She is aware of a common theme in comments by other people that they were surprised that a woman had written a play in a setting that was primarily male oriented and about two men in a prison.  Storytelling is a vocation.  It’s a job that can be done equally well by any man or woman.

Natacha has written 6 plays in total.  The Last Train is the first one to be translated into English.  Her storytelling and writing style is purposeful and engaging.  Get curious and thrilled!  Go see The Last Train.

The Last Train is playing at the SCHKAPF, formerly known as Artworks Theatre.  ADDRESS: 6567 Santa Monica Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90038. tel. 323.871.1912

The schedule is:

  • Thursday June 05 2014, 10:15 PM | 1hr
  • Saturday June 14 2014, 6:30 PM | 1hr
  • Thursday June 19 2014, 10:15 PM | 1hr
  • Saturday June 21 2014, 6:30 PM | 1hr
  • Thursday June 26 2014, 10:15 PM | 1hr

Go See the Hollywood Fringe Festival – Top 10 Reasons

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By Analyn Revilla

Top 10 reasons to see plays at the Hollywood Fringe Festivals:

10. Participation in the Hollywood Fringe is completely open and uncensored. This free-for-all approach underlines the festival’s mission to be a platform for artists without the barrier of a curative body. By opening the gates to anyone with a vision, the festival is able to exhibit the most diverse and cutting-edge points-of-view the world has to offer. – That was straight out of the horse’s mouth – http://www.hollywoodfringe.org/learn/index/89

9. Theatre hopping in one night in the same theatre or just mozyin’ on down to the theatre next door to catch the next act.  Two weeks of staying out late theatre-bar-theatre-bar hoppin.

8. Live entertainment with breathing, salivating, thinking, reacting and overacting people in their own skin. This is the opportunity to boycott computer animated movies for two weeks.

7. Make an artist feel appreciated.

6. Surprise yourself.  If you can’t stretch your body, stretch your mind.  It’s yoga for the imagination.

5. Because Theatre is the new Cool (always has and always will be). I liken Theatre to Miles Davis – a classic cool who will always be cool, because he was fearless in reinventing himself.

4. 278 shows! (I think this is about right from the search on the website) to choose from in 2 weeks

acting · american · comedy · dark comedy · hilarious · identity · los angeles · love · new york · one woman show · relationships · storytelling · adult themes · comedic · comedy · dark humor · death · drama · dramedy · ensemble · family · funny · gay · music · musical · musical theater · one person show · one-act · original · satire · solo show · storytelling · theater · women · world

3.  Fancy is back! (I saw FANCY: Secrets from the Bootydoir last year, and was amazed by the talent. Chris Farah is a hot blooded story teller.)

2. A new and brave talent on the scene from Europe – Natacha Astuto wrote the thriller The Last Train. This is the first English version of the play that has played for 2 years in Europe in French. It won both the Grand Prix and the Young Jury prize at last weeks’ FESTIVAL DE CAHORS, FRANCE.

1. Women on the Fringe! This is the list of the shows that were written by women – shortened without the hashtags. Get the complete details on https://lafpi.com/about/women-at-work-onstage/women-on-the-fringe/

  1. BURNT AT THE STEAK by Carolann Valentino

  2. I CAN HEAR YOU…BUT I’M NOT LISTENING by Jennifer Jasper

  3. LYDIA TRUEBLOOD – THE BLACK WIDOW OF THE ATLANTIC COAST by Liz Eldridge & Efrain Schunior

  4. BETTER THAN SHAKESPEARE PRESENTS: MUCH ADO ABOUT SOMETHING, created by Megan Kelly and Kate Grabau (and William Shakespeare)

  5. WOMEN by Chiara Atik

  6. THE PENS SHALL HAVE THEIR DAY by Lesley Gouger

  7. GWYNETH & BEYONCÉ: A Tale of 2 Virgins by Laura Keller and Christina Jeffs

  8. THE CAVE: A FOLK OPERA by Melanie Rose Thomas

  9. HONESTLY, OK – THE SEMI-TRUE STORY OF A GIRL AND HER SHOES by Nicole Dominguez and Lauren Stone

  10. LOST IN LVOV by Sandy Simona

  11. PIECES OF CARRA created by Rachae Thomas and Carly Pandza

  12. THAT’S WHAT SHE DIDN’T SAY: A TRUE STORY OF TABOO, REDEMPTION & MUSICAL THEATRE by Bonnie Joy Sludikoff

  13. THE LAST TRAIN (Le Dernier Train) by Natacha Astuto

  14. FANCY: SECRETS FROM MY BOOTYDOIR by Chris Farah

  15. SHAME BASED FUN by Sasha Fisher

  16. GIMPLECAPPED: A JOURNEY OF “INSPIRATION” by Regan Linton and Laura Alsum

  17. FROM A YARDIE TO A YANKEE BY Sardia Robinson

  18. THE ALEXIS LAMBRIGHT TELL-A-THON: COMBATING ADULT VIRGINITY by Alexis Lambright

  19. MARIA CONCHITA ALFONSO ALFONSO ALFONSO by Marina Gonzalez Palmier

  20. BELLI GEMELLI: AN OPERA SITCOM by Kara Morgan and Heidi Tungseth

  21. LOCKOUT by Ann Matthews

  22. HAROLD & STELLA: LOVE LETTERS by Sheana Ochoa

  23. THAT OLD BLACK MAGIC by Jacquetta Szathmari

  24. CAN’T TAKE MY (EYES) OFF OF YOU by Fiona Lakeland

  25. BONNIE’S FUTURE SISTERS by Meghan Gambling

  26. AND SHE BAKES, LIVE by Daliya Karnofsky

  27. VICTORIAN COURTING AND ZOMBIES book by Susan Sassi

  28. WOMEN ON THE VERGE by Kimba Henderson

  29. Poofy du Vey in BURDEN OF POOF by Courtney Cunningham

  30. THE LAST TEMPTATION OF PAULA DEEN by Fell Swoop Playwrights

  31. RIOT GRRRL SAVES THE WORLD (or, The Zine of Grrrl)’ by Louisa Hill

  32. THE MERMAID WHO LEARNED HOW TO FLY by Kyla Garcia

  33. WAITLESS by Cailin Harrison

  34. DAUGHTER OF . . . by Susannah Blinkoff

  35. CHITLIN BLUES: DANCING IN THE GREY concept by Constance Strickland

  36. 52 PICK-UP by Rita Bozi and TJ Dawe

  37. WHY I DIED, A COMEDY! by Katie Rubin

  38. JESUS H: A SOLOR PLAY FOR THE ZEALOT IN ALL OF US by Mariah Freda

  39. THINGS BEING WHAT THEY ARE by Wendy Macleod

  40. GERMAINE by Rachel Germaine

  41. PATHWAYS the DIGITAL MUSICAL by Lei Lei Lashawn

  42. HAPPY AND GAY by Mary Steelsmith

  43. LA BETE by June Carryl