I am, of course, referring to how dumbfounding it is to be ME.

I just don’t get it sometimes (most of the time).

Since I have all sorts of free time these days (!!), when the Dramatists Guild sent out an alert yesterday that it was almost time for this year’s End of Play program to begin, wherein you get one month (June) to write an entire play, while “posting weekly updates to the community tracking the progress”, I decided I’d better sign up!

You know, write an entire play in the month of June, while being tracked by an entire community the whole time.

WTF???

So I signed up!

WTF??

Not only am I always scrambling for quality time to focus and write around here, I am also going to be in NYC from June 11th thru June 14th…

However.

My thought process was that, after having stumbled across my 12-year-old notes (see some previous blog post from a few days ago) for my play-in-progress about Caiaphas, and being kind of blown away by the quality of the notes, as well as how fucking long ago I made those notes —

It seemed like: well, it doesn’t have to be a perfect, final draft of a play. It just needs to be a finished first draft…

And I thought it would be a good way to not lose track of the play entirely and at least write one version of it before I die.

And I knew that, not only did I have those notes really handy now, but I also knew there was a version of the play that I had indeed begun writing, in a Dropbox file marked “Caiaphas” on my desktop.

So, last evening, to refresh my memory, I began re-reading Tom Stoppard’s 1967 play “Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead” to see the various mechanisms that had originally inspired my approach to writing my play.

I got 20 pages in, and then I thought: I need to stop reading, and in the morning, just get out those first few pages of the draft I already wrote, and read it, and begin from there.

And I went to sleep feeling sort of guilty about committing myself to such an intense writing task right now — but it is only for one month, and I do sort of/kind of have some wiggle room in the month of June, project-wise…

There are still 4 months before the new novel comes out. I won’t need to focus on “The Guide to being Fabulous” until summer. If Sandra and I do get the okay to work on the TV pilot, that won’t be underway until July. And the upcoming launch of the mini-podcast with Valerie will get under way later in May… So June is, yeah, well, sort of “open”…

I don’t know, gang. I went to sleep feeling like I’m sort of/kind of losing my mind.

However.

This morning, after all the breakfast shenanigans were over, and I was on cup of coffee #2, I found the “Caiaphas” folder in the Dropbox (and found DOZENS of notes, notes, and more notes — and photos of ancient tombs and ossuaries in there, as well!!)

And I opened the document for the play (that I had written in late 2016 (!!) for fuck’s sake!! Crikey!!!! I’ve lived in 3 houses since I started writing that fucking play!!!).

The play is almost 3 pages so far. And I am not exaggerating, gang, when I say that I was blown away by this fucking play.

It is SO FUN!!

Here are just a couple of samplings from page 2:

Down in the burial cave, STAGE RIGHT, by one of the niches, CAIAPHAS leans against the wall, listening to the conversation above. He is dressed in a black tee shirt, black blazer, black tight-fitting jeans, and he wears Spanish-heeled boots of black leather. 

For our purposes, the cave is not cramped. Caiaphas is tall and lean —in his prime. He is clean-shaven, with thick, curly dark hair —not too short, not too long.

Caiaphas also wears black Ray Ban wayfarer sunglasses, circa 1960s, and smokes a cigarette(...)

CAIAPHAS (to audience):  Did you catch that part, Yeshua bar Yehosef? Or ‘Joshua son of Joseph’ – for those of you who haven’t kept up on your Biblical Aramaic. Yeshua. Joshua – Josh. If you prefer Greek, then Iesous – or Jesus. Yes, that one. ‘Jesus son of Joseph.’ (Caiaphas tosses his cigarette to the ground and stamps it out with his boot heel.) Filthy habit. But it’s not what killed me. (He smiles broadly; a genuine smile, filled with warmth and good humor. He removes his sunglasses, sliding them into a pocket.) (...)

(...)And I am Yehosef bar Caiaphas – Joseph son of Caiaphas. You can call me Joe. (Walking DOWN CENTER) Look at me. I look good for 60, don’t I? Where I come from … 60 is the new 35! But seriously (...)

(...) Anyway. I was born here in Jerusalem; back in that murky era referred to now as ‘B.C.’ – ‘Before Christ’ – and I died here, too, but God knows, it was in the ‘A.D.’ (He chuckles) Get it? A.D. – After Death? Of Christ?  (Pause) Look me up on the Internet if you don’t understand why that’s funny. (...)

*********

BTW–

If you don’t know who Caiaphas was:

“Caiaphas, the Jewish High Priest, orchestrated the arrest, interrogation, and conviction of Jesus, pushing for his execution to appease Roman authorities and protect his own power. He presided over the midnight trial of Jesus before the Sanhedrin, accusing him of blasphemy, and subsequently delivered him to Pontius Pilate to ensure his crucifixion.”

*******

So, you know, this morning, I read over the 3 pages of this play I started writing 10 years ago…

And I realized that my signing up to participate in the End Of Play program was a sign that I am meant to write this fucking PLAY. And not a sign that I am out of my mind.

Perhaps even a sign that there is some sort of spiritual guidance happening here, that is trying to lead me back to my writing and to stop me from feeling so overwhelmed by the caregiving all the time.

We are going to find out.

********

Okay!

Let’s get to the “here’s this’s” because I have to get some stuff done (God knows) before I head out to see the retired Minister and his lovely wife and cat.

So here’s this!

I loved this!!

Lenny Kaye & friends (!!), at Kerouac’s grave!

*********

And here’s this!

A lovely photo of Brian Jones, with a bunch of bedside phones, by Terry O’Neill:

*********

And a couple from Phyllis Stein!

Willy Deville in New Orleans!

Richard Hell, smoking at CBGBs 1978!

************
And a couple of vintage Nick Cave photos to round it all out!

Nick Cave at Mute Records in London. Photo by Phil Nicholls, for Melody Maker, August 1986:

And Nick Cave with a similar expression, photo by Bleddyn Butcher, but I don’t know what year:

***********

And that will be it for now.

I still need to do yoga and begin listening to a new lecture by James Tabor in the “Christianity Before Paul” class, before heading to town. (And also, you know, start sorting through all the many notes for that “Caiaphas” play I’m going to entirely write in June…)

Enjoy your Sunday, wherever you are in the world.

Thanks for visiting.

I love you guys. See ya!

**********

I leave you with this!!

Another winner in the making-the-bed-music-listening department!!

I literally switched on the Oldies FM Radio Station on the retro boom box to begin making my bed, and this ABSOLTUE GEM was just coming on, and I swear, the cats all came darting in again, tails up high, and started playing and racing around.

They LOVE music from the 80s!! I am not kidding!

Anyway.

Wham! “Wake Me Up before You Go-Go”!! Enjoy the fuck out of it, gang. We sure did!!