These days, our hair is falling out faster than a Niagra clip. (Or possibly not. Our propensity to exaggerate is well known.) Neverthless, it’s brought forth an important issue: to shave or not to shave, that is the question. Now the last thing the world needs is another bald Caucasian guy in his early thirties. However, the m/sq. has expressed happiness over hypothetical condition. Oddly enough, it may be H.L. Mencken who might send us over the edge.

David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas has made the Booker shortlist. Again, we here at Return of the Reluctant cannot say enough about how fantastic the book is and how disappointed we are that the American copy is only available in paperback. The novel deserves nearly every plaudit it has received. However, if you need additional arguments, here are a few U.S. receptions:

• Mark’s thread
• Jeff Turrentine, The Washington Post, August 22, 2004
• Peter Keough, Boston Phoenix, August 27, 2004
• Tom Bissell, The New York Times, August 29, 2004

Unreadable? Not on this side of the Atlantic, baby. The Telegraph must be very embarassed right now.

Lessons I learned from Wrestling an Alligator:

1. It could have been simpler. We had a gargantuan set and this was a bit of naivete on our part — particularly since this was a Fringe show that had to be set up and struck in 15 minutes. Given that the tone was absurdist, the realism of the set detracted from the goofiness, to the point where the performances were scrutinized more heavily than they needed to be.

2. As a director, I neglected to have pickup rehearsals between performances. The result was a carefully tailored show that radically changed in a matter of days. I’m still happy with how it turned out. 160 audience attendees for four performances for a debut play in a small venue is fantastic by just about any standard. But since I come from a film background, this in-the-can mentality could have been avoided and the careful tics that had been established over time could have been preserved, had I done the basic work here. My bad. I’ll be volunteering on some more shows and taking a few classes to get my chops up here.

3. Production circumstances kept me in the booth, where I was only able to see half the stage. I really needed to be in the audience to assess the show and keep things tweaked. Of course, if I hadn’t insisted on crossfading between two CDs, it wouldn’t have been necessary. Funny how one little detail becomes an arduous regularity. (And that’s just one little example.)

4. Do not give the audience too much information to process — particularly when it’s oblique and obscure. This kind of thing works for novels (Gene Wolfe comes immediately to mind), but this approach is more prohibitive to the stage. There were audience members who remained enraputed with our show, but were trailing five minutes behind trying to pick out all the references. This killed potential laughter. And it came at the expense of audience members reacting on relaxed instinct. Some people really hated us for this. A couple people saw the show twice, and they confessed to me that they were relieved that they were finally able to understand it.

5. If you introduce a pre-show element, be sure it relates to the show and doesn’t come across as a cheap marketing gimmick. For all shows, we handed out visitor badges. This was an eleventh hour idea on my part, but ultimately it created more confusion than it was worth.

6. Hauling a bigass van around San Francisco with a set is a bad idea. Because there’s just no damn parking in the City, and you end up parking in the Avenues and getting home at two in the morning. Had the set fit into a car, I wouldn’t be nearly as exhausted as I am right now.

7. Never underestimate the gestures of other human beings. I was truly overwhelmed by our incredible volunteers, and the support I received from friends, family, co-workers, lit bloggers who came all the way from Los Angeles, and the other swell folks who came out to see our show. Beyond that, Christina, Kirk, Amanda, Meredith and the good folks at the Fringe were some of the nicest people I’ve encountered. The other Fringe performers and volunteers who went to see our show were incredible. San Francisco’s film scene may be teetering on the brink right now, but this city’s commitment to independent theatre is very much alive and well. There’s a good deal of talent and drive in this town.

Despite all this, I wouldn’t trade my Fringe experience for the world. I learned a good deal about theatre, myself, and other people, and had a blast. There are many things I will and will not do again. And it was fantastic to watch our great actors create such magnificent characters. Contrary to the anonymous coward who wanted to “off the bastard before he ‘creates’ again,” I will return next year to the Fringe — if not sooner for another local show.

For those who weren’t able to see it and expressed interest, we did videotape Saturday’s show. If you’re interested in a tape, drop me a line and we may be able to work something out.

And, hell, I may pop in here more regularly than I suggested. It’s really just a matter of time. I have a funny feeilng that I’ll have more of it starting this week. But now it’s time to rest.

What’s going on in the blogosphere? What’s happening in the literary world? Is George Bush out of office yet? I voted for the other guy, didn’t I? Or was that a dream?

These are the queries that come to mind as I stick my head above the ether, checking in on this place just after Bondgirl’s grand interview, which I knew about but truly astonished me in its final form. I’m here to announce a fundamental problem that I truly hadn’t anticipated a few months ago: namely, a new and very active life.

The new life is good, don’t get me wrong. Despite a rapidly receding hairline, I feel sexier than I did six months ago, and, on the whole, I’d have to say that I digest my meals better. (And here I was thinking it would get worse.) But this new existence comes at the expense of regular posts to this blog. Those who’ve watched Return of the Reluctant (and the other edrants incarnations) may have been taken with the prolix prolificity. I’m really not certain I’m the same person today than the punk who went literary gonzo last December. Something about turning thirty. Something about diving head-first into theatre. Something about setting goals, making it happen, and recalibrating my priorities to also encourage unexpected greatness in others, take chances, and demand the most out of myself. Something about, well, leaping into research on the second play, working to extend the run on the first, and otherwise broadening this lovely plane I’ve been building up.

I don’t even hate Dave Eggers anymore.

I’m still reading, but obviously not enough to count. I’m still writing, but I value it more.

The problem is that I’m doing. A lot, actually. And something had to fall by the wayside. So I counted all the treasures in the chest, and scaled it down to what was needed. Sadly, Return of the Reluctant was one of the gems that had to be thrown overboard — even though I liked it. Or, at the very least, put in a semi-retired state.

So I’m here to say adios, muchachos. Either that or call me in Tijuana. You’ll see me on the backblogs. You may even see me here. If any of the Superfriends are interested in sleeping over at the beach house, they’re more than welcome here. But me? Sorry, folks, but the muses sweet-talked me.

On Friday, 49 people saw the premiere of Wrestling an Alligator. Which means we sold out (I think). I wasn’t able to completely read the audience reaction from the booth, but we got laughs, gasps, applause, and at least one positive review. Our cast did spectacularly well and we were praised to the nines by audience members while I was loading the van. All of which was far more than I hoped for.

I can’t say enough great words about the people who run the San Francisco Fringe Festival (much less the surprise audience members who showed up on Friday). All of them have been extremely kind and supportive. And if you’re in the San Francisco area, I highly encourage you to check out the numerous shows presented.

And then there’s us. There are still three more opportunities to see us. Location again is the Exit at Taylor theatre, located at 277 Taylor Street.

The three remaining shows are:

Friday, 9/17/04: 10:00 PM
Saturday, 9/18/04: 4:00 PM
Sunday, 9/19/04: 2:30 PM

Please be sure to join the fun. Only $8!

Now excuse me while I go collapse.