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How it feels to make good choices

It’s an exciting day: our next multimedia show is halfway cast.

We’re going to be developing this show for a while: it’s ambitious and involves a lot of people, a lot of music, and a lot of little vignettes that we want to connect into a cohesive story. That’s going to take work and time, but we’re fortunate to have some really great people on our team.

Today, we added two more. We’ll say more and post some pictures and information about them once we start working, but suffice it to say, I’m quite certain that we’ve chosen well.

Float, Punch, Glide, Slash; Dab, Wring, Flick, Press

We’ve begun the process of auditioning dancers for our next massively ambitious narrative rock/multimedia/dance piece. It’s going to be an interesting process, and it feels good to be taking the first tentative steps towards it.

It was also my first time sitting in on a movement audition. Basically, we spent two hours directing the actors in theatre games, character and movement exercises to see what kinds of ideas and follow-through they’ve got.

So we’ve already found a couple of strong candidates, and I’m excited about moving into the next round of auditions and starting development. And, hey, maybe also using this website a little more. I’ll try posting some photos from behind the scenes once things get kicking. In the meanwhile, the band’s residency at The Lovecraft is going quite well, and this month we’re raising the stakes by adding a special guest musician on a few songs. You’ll have to come out to see just who:

Our love affair was sometimes a wrestling match

We fell into it then, a cluster of swinging fists like mosquitos hovering at the edge of the campfire at dusk. Words spit from our lips like sour mouthfuls of stale tobacco, black at the edges and bereft of joy. Later on they’d say it started with a glance; one of us looked at the other the wrong way and the mercury lurched toward the upper degrees, but you and I know this trouble was born far earlier, out of the piss and misery and loneliness in the hearts of each of us on our own time. Since then there’s a streak of brown blood on the sleeve of my shirt; no way of knowing whether it was yours or mine, and tonight I scrubbed at it again, but that stain just don’t want to come loose.

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