I played in my last Theatresports competition tonight. It was kind of bittersweet. We had a decent-sized audience tonight, and it was a very professional, funny show. That still won’t prevent the axe from falling on our fun though, and the owner reiterated his plans to kill the extended run of Theatresports and Saturday Night Jive at the end of the month. In its place will be an “Advanced Level Workshop” on Thursday nights. We’ll be able to pitch shows for performance on weekend nights. But I’m not confident this will actually work out. Already we’ve been told there are no performance slots until February, which means three months with no improv in Hamilton. I’ve got a few show ideas but I’m not convinced the Staircase is the place for them any more. It’s really hurting me. I once was asked if I had a choice between giving up photography and giving up improv, which would I choose. Without a doubt, I’d give up improv. But, I never thought it would come to actually having to lose something that’s become integral to me. In fact, it’s the catalyst that in November, 2002 got me kickstarted in photography too.
I feel like total shit right now about the whole thing. The Staircase, which was such a welcoming home for me for many years, now feels like uncomfortable territory. When I think of how much of my heart and soul I poured into that place for the last two years, it makes me want to puke.
I’ve been spending some time talking to Laura, who wrote the article about me in View Magazine. She turns out to be quite a talented artist. Last night I had a couple of very vivid dreams that I woke up thinking represented her feelings about her own art being butchered by economic pressures. It was all very symbolic, and involved me finding a beautiful elk that had been shot by hunters and had its antlers torn off to be sold. It had been left to bleed and die in the forest. For some reason it was able to talk, and was also able to use a gun that I gave it to put itself out of its misery. Since Laura had never expressed such ideas to me about her own art, I have begun to think that perhaps this particular dream is actually about my own feelings about my own artistic pursuits. In fact, the more I think about it, the more ridiculous it seems to me that I would attribute these dreams to her feelings when all I really have access to are my own… especially when my own coincide so neatly with the dream’s symbolism. Hmmm. Anyway, it’s time for me to go make some more dreams. I hope tonight’s are happier. :nod: