what I did for love

My hands and feet are all cut up from Gorefest*, and the other day as I washed fake blood out of my real scrapes I realized I had absentmindedly started humming "What I Did For Love." I immediately thought of Keith.

Keith A. Grassette was working as the artistic director at Riverside Theater Works in Boston when we met. He loves to tell the story of how we met as much as I do. It goes like this: "Michelle was blindfolded when I met her and she bit me." I was auditioning for the role of Helen Keller at the time. Keith loves to explain that even as I was biting one of his hands he was pointing at me with the other and mouthing "this is her" to the producer. I love to explain that I had no idea who Keith was, and had been warned to "stay out of Keith's way," if I ever auditioned at RTW.

Under Keith's tutelage I learned the ins and outs of stage production. Keith taught me how to be professional, how to show up on time, how to take notes gracefully. Over the years I acted in as many plays as he could cast me. I became his intern, I taught some of his classes and eventually became his co worker, teaching my own classes at the theater. Then, most importantly I became his friend. Once I left high school Keith and I were able to share stories over drinks, gossip about mutual friends and trade advice on shows and classes. I went on to teach theater part time for the next six years (and counting!) at Thacher Montessori. Like a child mimicking a parent, sometimes I still hear Keith's words come out of my mouth when I address my students.

One of Keith's frequent speeches to wishy washy students was the "What I Did For Love" talk.
"I got news for ya'll**," he'd say making eye contact with the pre teens crowding the stage steps. "It's not a song about a relationship. It's a song about the theater. Sometimes you make sacrifices. When this is what you love, that's what you do. You miss other things. You give up some parts of your normal life. Because this is what you love."

In college I basically stopped doing scripted theater in favor of studying improv. Keith asks when he sees me (about twice a year now), "You still just doing that improv stuff?" Keith, as a rule, does not really enjoy "improv stuff."

So I called him last week.... and I invited him to Gorefest and didn't realize until I said it out loud how much his answer would mean to me.

He's coming tonight with our friend Maureen. I haven't seen either of them in almost a year. They haven't seen me perform in almost five years.*** I'm full of giddy energy just thinking about seeing them both again and making them proud. Both of them, but especially Keith. I've watched the whole show in my mind, trying to see it through his eyes. Will he think it's as funny as I do? Will he like the music? I think he will. I have a lot of faith in the show. But I recognize the part of me that's 15 years old working as hard as I can to show my director that I've got the "chops." Gorefest is for always for everybody. But tonight, this show is for Keith.

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* The stage is very rough and gritty to prevent slips. Unfortunately, that means that coming in contact with it, even intentionally, scrapes us up a bit.
** Keith is from Maine
*** With the exception of a Three Hole Punch show we did in Plymouth a few years ago.

Mmmmm Soft Places

Not a lot of time to write anything substantial today. All my free time went to sketch writing for the new IA Mainstage show. At work, I costumed A Midsummer Night's Dream almost completely, which was unexpected. The students were super excited for their new digs. I have found that in school play directing there is a distinct kind of science to the production schedule, even in a truncated time period like the ones I operate within. The costumes are neither revealed nor handed off until all the lines are learned and the play has been run at least once off book. Then the costumes are a reward. However, it's my preference to wait until the show has been run several times off book with me nit picking and nagging the kids until they are almost sick of the show. Then WABAM! Costumes. Something to make the old new, and to rekindle the energy of the production process.

After work Keith and I drove to the MSPCA to pick up a sad package: the cremains of Princess Sabrina Diamond Fluffbottom. I haven't seen Keith in ages, but he emailed me and asked for the ride. I was happy to oblige and sad that I didn't have more time to spend. Keith told me the story of the night she died which had us both close to tears by the end. R.I.P Miss Fluffbottom.
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Three Hole Punch got another positive mention in a blog this week. The salty and dapper Neil Reynolds of Code Duello and IB Mainstage plugged our show's final week.
Code Duello is one of my all time favorite improv shows. I have seen them several times in Boston, and once in New York. The first time I saw them was at the Cantab during a Bastard's Inc. show. I immediately wondered, "If I get good enough will I get to work with those guys?" Even now, I can't believe I know Matt and Neil. When we were all at the DCM last summer 3HP sat for their set and talked about how crazy it is that we have the luck (and blessing) to know them. Needless to say, because my love of their show borders on fanaticism I am floored by Neil's plug and by the kind message he sent to us personally.
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In the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you all that my 13 day stretch of work got a nice little break up on the seventh day, Saturday. I took an early train to work, and after a harrowing experience involving a wheelchair, an old man, a discarded mattress and a can of soup in a plastic bag I arrived at work out of breath and sore, but still early for my shift. Ashley had shown up early too, but found out she was not on the schedule. Because the supervisor couldn't approve a float nurse (due to some program wide belt-tightening), Ashley was told she'd have to go back home. Since she needed those hours and I needed the time off she was easily talked into taking my team for the day. Before I knew it I was back at home cleaning my apartment and writing sketches. By noon I had accomplished so much that I even let myself take a nap before church and then had dinner with my adopted grandparents.
People ask how I handle working so much. The answer is that I count on miracles like Saturday all the time.