I failed to get my temp timecard signed in time before the deadline this morning, which means I have to wait until NEXT Thursday to get a direct deposit paycheck. Just in time for rent. Whee. Meanwhile, I must not be so carefree with my monies.
Much to Amy's chagrin, I have been preparing a re-written copy of "Among the Oats" suited to my production ideas for use in next year's Fringe Festival, if I enter, and if it gets drawn in the lotto. I am glad that I transcended any bitterness I had about not being drawn this year; I never really felt any. Amidst the crap shows I saw, I felt like everyone got a fair shot at whatever they wanted to do. Fringe was fun, but a bit underwhelming for me. Amy despises the Fringe, more than anyone I've ever talked to.
She didn't care for "Oats" when I did it the first time either. She was in a bad place at that time, and her chief criticism was that the play really had no satisfying resolution. For me, that was kind of the point, but I can see from a dramatic aesthetic one wants to see a show go SOMEWHERE. This next incarnation that I want to do does this, and then some. Using two different episodes, I've got a kooky resolution and a dramatic arc going. The episodes are meant to stand alone, but the three I've compiled (Dream, Fashion, and Death) give a hint of history and lend something to the relationship that the three characters have.
I dunno. The show is "fringey". I think others would dig it. It turns me on. Thas all.
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