Deadline Announcement
Word is getting out...
Last Round at Chavez Ravine
What I love about baseball is that (yes it breaks your heart, starts in the spring, ends in the fall, yadda, but) it teaches you to lose. And lose a lot. 162 games. Even in the best season, you’re still going to lose almost a third of everything.
And today is just another loss. Perhaps it’s a bigger loss because history records that a team didn’t receive a special ring. And it is designed to break your heart when a team you admire came so close and a few bad calls, a few bad plays changed the history of fortune.
I grew up a Dodgers fan. I watched Hershiser pitch that final outing in Game 5 against the A’s for the 88 WS win. The minute he threw that strike he looked towards the heavens for a single moment. I’ll never forget that.
I was just a boy but it struck me how it was a game of the gods. And even the players, though shot through with majestic athleticism, were mere mortals passing through the gates for a single moment on the mound when Hersh looks up: fortune, brief smile, how art thou?
Much will be said of Dave Roberts for blowing it 30 years after our last win. Just as Yu took it on his shoulders last year, perhaps Wood, Jansen, Grandal, Madson will all drink some taste of that chalice as well this year.
But for a team to be down so terribly in April and to beat all odds by autumn, snatch lightning from fortune’s crib in the middle of the night, to come to the World Series, the gods, I say, pitched a filthy inning this year on behalf of The Los Angeles #Dodgers
And though it would quench the weary Dodger heart to end the tale by wearing a ring, tragedy nor comedy behaves so well. And perhaps rather than to throw the cup of blame about, it’s quite reasonable to conclude that the Red Sox were the superior team.
And it matters not the fan’s level of deserving or devotion, loyalty, hope held, prayers cast. We practice those not so much to win but to be nearer the divine. And the gods in their wisdom mostly teach us to lose. 3 strikes. 3 outs. One third of the year, lost. That’s baseball.
Congratulations to the Red Sox for an outstanding season. And to our #Dodgers — the words of Vin Scully thunder, eternal, deep in autumn, backed by angelic organ music, It’s Time For Dodger Baseball. And the fans, in their caps and jerseys reply, Was there ever not such a time?
Nine Eleven
Every tower
In my eye was set
9am
Howard & Lafayette.
Every ‘I love you’
Suddenly heard.
Dug for a quarter,
Broadway and third.
Backpack with books
Jets in the air,
Two holes to the south,
Washington Square.
Chicago was next,
Broadway and Fourth,
Men of ash
Stumbling north.
Letter to the Editor Published 9/4/18
Mr. Steve Salerno wrote a thought provoking op-ed in the Wall Street Journal on the state of YA fare. His opinion is that the socially relevant texts that are being curated for young people today go too far in celebrating anomalies, unorthodoxies, fictive martyrs, antiheros, and more. He believes that consciously or not young people will try to “seek membership” into the groups showcased in these texts. He thinks this is not a good direction for YA literature.
I disagreed with his opinion and the Wall Street Journal published my thoughts.
Please read Mr. Steve Salerno’s op-ed here:
And the full slate of letters on this article can be found here:
Or my letter showcased in screenshots below.
This is how reading creates empathy. The same will be true of young adults reading about socially relevant “anomalies” today.
City of Angels
Bangkok’s shortened Thai name is Krung Thep, which translates to “City Of Angels.” From the air, I have to admit, it does look like my hometown. Both towns are rather poorly planned and traffic choked. But both also vibrate something thrilling, both a stone’s throw from paradise. Both readied with a chorus of streetlights after dark setting over the sprawl a kind of halo.
My Writers
What a great room. I’m honored to be working with such incredible Thai writers and filmmakers. They keep my western biases in check and they burn white hot with these long hours.
There’s Kae, she makes films in Thailand and the UK, a mother, who comes at everything through character.
There’s James, who has made films and music videos in Thailand, and he let me ride on the back of his motorbike as he tore through Asok last night.
There’s Grace, our intern, half Thai, half Irish, she goes to university in the UK and at 19 she keeps our YA threads in perspective. She’s already a produced playwright and I have little doubt that one day I’ll be asking her for a job.
Lastly there is Ekachai, he’s staged theatre hits and written plays throughout east Asia, now he basically runs a television and music empire in Bangkok. He channels story with hypnotic electricity and erupts into the most infectious laughter you’d ever want to hear.
They each call Bangkok home and each have a love/hate relationship with the city, something I am familiar with (LA). These people make me a better storyteller. If you want a better international group of writers to shoot down your bad ideas, in search of better index card, you’d want to look no further than here.
REDLINE
It was so nice to come home and find this waiting for me. Steven Stanley sees more theatre than anyone in Southern California. He calls himself “LA’s busiest theatre reviewer by night...” and it’s true.
The real award goes to him. One look at his list of nominations and you have to wonder how he does it. He’s at the theatre 6 nights a week all year. I’m grateful that he keeps coming to my work and grateful that he finds meaning within what I give.
Congratulations to James and Graham too. They are nominated for best performance of a 2 hander. Thank you to Eli and Murielle as well as of course, IAMA Theatre.
Half Dome, ten years ago
10 years ago I woke up in Wawona, rode my bike to the ranger station and picked up a permit to climb Half Dome (I’m told this is very hard to do nowadays). I left from Glacier Point and within a few hours of criss crossing deer I was pitching my tent at Little Yosemite Valley. I met someone from Spain who would become a friend and we ate dinner together and planned to leave for Half Dome very early the next morning. At around 2am I got out of my tent. The full moon had been up for hours and decked Half Dome in a glorious blaze of silver. We donned our headlamps and summit packs and moved through the dark on an empty trail. Within a few hours we reached the cables and by the light of the setting moon we took the final steep climb to the summit. By full moon we’d beat the sun. Within an hour the sun rose over the eastern valley and the small gaggle of hardy sun and rock worshippers cheered. Someone played a flute. I stayed on the summit for a few hours, napping, taking in the vistas, until the hordes of tourists started up the cables. Then it was down down down to the valley, into waterfalls, through the mist, and all the way to the valley floor. One of the greatest experiences in my life.
