I think it will be fun to pose a question and to see it answered…so here it(they) are, the 3 Fav series!
3 Fav. childhood toys: Knight Rider Kit and Michael, Karate Kid action figure, Ecto One from ghostbusters
3 Fav. Bands: Guster, Bon Jovi, Def Leppard
3 Fav. movies: A Fish Called Wanda, A Nightmare on Elm St., Face Off
Well that was fun for me, please play along and answer…it will be fun!
I rarely remember my dreams and I am jealous of those who do on a regular basis. Most of the dreams that I remember involve me getting embarrassed, screwing up, or just failing in general. I am typically getting in trouble at work or forgetting an assignment/test/speech in college (on a side note: I think it is strange that I still have dreams that I am in college when it has been three years since I’ve graduated. I don’t have nightmares about past jobs or anything like that). And sometimes I dream about improv like I did this Sunday night…
We (Revolver) were doing a harold at iO and from what I was observing (initially I was on the side of the stage) things were going really well. The theatre was full of people and you could see everyone’s face (the stage light’s weren’t blinding). They were all laughing and having a good time. I couldn’t wait to get out onto the stage. I came out and (I forget who I was in the scene with) I said something that just bombed. I remember seeing the audiences’ faces sporting looks like “what did he just say”? It was dead quiet. I kept trying to dig myself out of a hole and it only got worse. Then, and in my head I was thinking “no Rob don’t do it”, I decided to go to my “go to” (this isn’t my go to in real life, but I guess in this dream it was). My “go to” being me miming that I am taking my member out of my pants. This didn’t go over well either. I then found myself back on the side of the stage and, once again, everyone else is doing really well. I, with restored confidence, decide to make my way back out…only this time…no one joined me on stage. Out of nowhere the lights went out and there was a single spotlight in the center of the stage. I was wondering what in the hell our coach was thinking, but then, thinking I am quick on my feet I decided to launch into an improvised stand up routine. I don’t remember much of it, but I do remember that it involved me making fun of foreign people. It was really bad. Then Farrell came in and started a scene about war and I said, I really said, ”I bet those foreigners will start running when they see this (and I once again resorted to my “go to”). This move of sheer brilliance was met with complete silence and Farrell looking at me like I was an idiot.
Mercifully, I woke up, very, very thankful that it was only a dream. I am also really jealous of people who have those dreams where they wake up and are bummed out that it was only a dream.
When I was a kid, my uncles had built this secret club house at my grandparents’ farm, just under a bower of trees. They dragged a bunch of old couches and armchairs there, which were nasty and rained on, but it gave the sense of having a lounge hidden in the middle of the woods. If we were building a club house the same way, what have you guys seen discarded in alleys and bins that you could contribute to our secret urban getaway. Maybe we could build it under the traintracks, and have a hobo gentlemen and gentlewomen’s club.
It may be organic. Or we may stand shoulder-to-shoulder in a line, listing things.
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
You are currently browsing the revolver journal weblog archives for August, 2006.
