Closing night of production last Saturday (I like how we only have two shows so we only have opening night and closing night. EVERY PERFORMANCE IS AN EVENT). Details (and a choice picture)
here. Delectable! Our man (that is, our 'man') Hee Zhengxun is the toast of the town, the belle of the ball, that to which a young man's thoughts lightly turn in spring. What of your better two thirds, Karen Lee? Amanda assistant-directed (with great glee) and And Siew Ching Bernice played ... herself.
What did you do, Karen Lee? I stage managed, and found that my wicked youth was not entirely wasted. Oh Unique Lemony. I remember when I was young and wide-eyed and grew up on Unique Lemony's obnoxious stories of how Hwa Chong needs like thirty people backstage to do a job properly done by like ... five. So I had (approx.) five people backstage, and lo, it was good. I remember the days when I was young and stage managing under Unique Lemony's wrathful (and sociopathic) gaze and there learned The Way of the Stage Manager. There were also scheduled meditation exercises and compulsory fasting, but I am proud to say that I am now an initiate to the order, and was turned loose in my sixteenth year to go into the wide world and ply my trade. Oh I remember the bad old days of Unique Lemony! That one-man Cultural Revolution. Class enemies, Making An Example Of, the random appropriation of history, the creation of a large army of destructive and socially maladjusted fanatics ... no matter. This place is most relaxing. No cans through which to broadcast propaganda - physical activity limited to the optional lifting of heavy objects - no restrictions whatsoever on food substances consumed - sensible policy of don't ask don't tell - no mandatory armbands or random unprovoked psychological abuse - on the whole I like it here very much.
So, so, so, I had fun indulging my wide array of neuroses. My OCD flourishes like yeast spores in a warm dark place! Left to my own devices I set upon the vast Hwa Chong backstage and fanatically arranged the handheld props in straight lines; put them in boxes labelled by character; set up a costume rack and hung the costumes on labelled hangers; scrubbed the food preparation surface, clingwrapped the plate of sandwiches, lay out the cleaning equipment, took inventory of all the props; set my saikang to sweep the backstage, wash the tea-set, buy me more ice lemon tea and blackcurrant cordial to fill the decanters, mop the stage, etc etc. And lo, it was good. Pleased with my handiwork, I set about making backstage into a paradise not only of OCD but of decadence and debauchery. (you will find that
this Edward Monkton comic, which is on my desk calendar, punningly sums up my backstage policy).
Personal revelations: when I am stressed the manifestations of my OCD are strong. I think this became apparent about the third time I mopped the stage (and then carefully arranged all the drinks glasses in straight rows) (and then cursed out all the actors and swore I'd throw away their personal shit if they left it on stage left any more) (and threatened to bite anyone who did any more sawing on the food prep surface) (and lined up all my mops and brooms in parallel lines) (and folded my cleaning rags into perfect squares). But I was very happy!!! As in ... I think normally, given leeway to do so, I would be this OCD in real life, but my laziness in its constant pursuit hampers the fruition of my OCD efforts. And organising the vast messes of my life really daunts me. So I only OCD in small, contained spaces over which I have total power! e.g. my desk. e.g. selected bookshelves (I give up on the ones that are three rows of books deep). E.G. BACKSTAGE!!! you really shouldn't indulge me.
Opening night, I was so organised I had nothing to do (having delegated all responsibility I found myself left with few tasks, e.g. the calling of various cues! the placing of the gun! the placing of the sugar glass bottle! the mopping of blood!) so to add variety I was multitasking, viz. playing strip poker while calling cues (and winning) (and then losing!) (oh well). Later Amanda was like ... your stage managing lacks nothing except ... morality. Pointed out to her that the decadence of my backstage was not an issue, Venice at its peak flourished in the arts, science, commerce, etc etc, but was also famed for sexual immorality, something's gotta give, etc etc. Which displeased her. Can't think why!!!
Further personal revelations: when I am bored I EAT ALL THE TIME. Holy shit!!! Pacing up and down backstage with my torch like some kind of demonic Florence Nightingale I'd be chanting, I'm so bored, I'm so bored, and constantly popping seedless grapes or little biscuits or something. And feeding everyone I bumped into. I was a veritable Mother Theresa!!! I'd be eating grapes from the bunch and I'd stumble upon a band of my starving backstage urchins and I'd benevolently pop some grapes into their mouths and send them on their way. During closing night I consumed half a box of seedless grapes, two packets of Oreos, one packet of Ritz biscuits, one roll of Haw flakes (incidentally I think "Whores and Flakes" or something would be a great name for a girl band) and a number of little jellybeans!!!
I would now like to relate The Parable of the Flattering Servant. So I was like ... I had two guys in charge of Operating the Cockroaches, right. One was little Dominic, the apple of my eye! the other was little Alex, a sulky netballer! So they were sitting on the couch and I was on one of my Dionysian processions through the backstage and I was like ... here, have some grapes. LITTLE ALEX eyed his grape suspiciously and said, is this poisoned? Ingratitude! Yes, I said, I licked it before I gave it to you. At which LITTLE DOMINIC declared, A pearl from the mouth of Karen Lee! and placed it reverently in his mouth. So I gave him six more grapes, multiplying his estate threefold. From this we see the great importance of diplomacy when dealing with one's superiors. ... anyway.
ANYWAY. I had a good time at production, which was good, and everyone did real good, especially Hee Zhengxun, whose reproductive ability came this close to annihilation onstage (yes, that was a real chopper) and who got so many flowers he couldn't carry them and walk straight (get the pun) (I came to clear the backstage before the drama centre was locked up and found him frantically cramming his loot into gigantic plastic bags and freaking out because he had too many flowers, too many people love him, he had no space for his profuse vegetation, boohoo) and AmandaChong, who is a ho, and Bernice Ang, who did not after all castrate my vice litwing head, and my backstage crew, which is full of cool people e.g. Po Linn, who is mad good at everything and curses approx. as much as I do, and sweet clever Valerie from main college, and little Dominic and Darrell, etc. And Mr Perry says I can stage manage his dreams! (Jian Yang's snide remarks re: this shall not be recorded here) (Jian Yang is a bastard)
Post-production: we all got on a bus with our many flowers and went to KAP. HWA CHONG STUDENTS BOARD BUS, OPEN FLOWER SHOP. SHOULD PARENTS BE BLAMED
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Sarah is making me some T-shirts! Notably a Mazikeen shirt that will say NORMAL CONSCIOUSNESS WILL BE RESUMED. Apt, no? IN OTHER NEWS everyone around me is now nursing some really moist cold - this is very frightening to me in a way that it usually isn't. Usually people like, drop like flies around me and I am the last man left untouched by whatever dread disease is spreading (I'd have survived the black death, I like to think, while all my friends sprouted like buboes or whatever and died. I have a strong constitution!) but lately I have been mad insomniac and am even now nursing a sort of genteel cough. Shit!!! I think I will eat more grapes, which are rich in antioxidants, I am told!
Tonight I am going to finish an essay for Mr Perry! I was going to do two (including the one that is now a whole year overdue) but I was afraid the shock would kill him. ... ... ... perhaps, as a kindness to him (because I don't want to alarm him) I will put off my essay a little longer and watch my History Boys DVD. ... er. DIE