Tygerbug
Group: Super Administrators
Posts: 330
Joined: Dec. 2002 |
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Posted: Feb. 17 2003,04:01 |
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Well .... ummmm .... yeah.
You may note that I haven't posted any news of last tuesday's second attempt to give Radio Man a live performance career.
Well, there's a reason for that.
It was bad news.
Basically, there was a band which refused to stop playing so I could do my thing, then I destroyed the whole place by accident and got kicked offstage before I even got to perform.
Ummm .... yeah. (hides in shell)
http://pythonet.org/fastforward/ffvideo/radiokickedoffstage.rm
(1 meg or thereabouts)
This may be funny to you. Nod.
I showed up. It was raining. It had been raining all week. Jason Gutierrez wasn't there. Fuck. I was late, I had waited for him at WPH computer lab, where we met last time. I had to comment on and approve some edits for Journey of Truesong while I was there. It dawned on me way too late that Jason would be at the actual Groundzero cafe. By the time I arrived, the place was almost closed, and no Jason. I called him. He had been looking forward to this for two weeks. But fuck, I was late, I had missed him.
From what happened next, I am rather glad he wasn't there.
I talked to Alexia, the host from last week. I told her I was a poet this time. She didn't recognize me, I don't think ... yet.
Who could I get to tape record the show if Jason wasn't there??
There was a red-haired fellow in the audience. He knew Jason. He had complimented me on the show last time. Clearly, he was insane. I asked him to tape me. Out of the blue, a stranger. He said he was leaving, but would stay for this.
Then Alexia got up onstage.
It was ten minutes til closing, and there would be no time to do my act ... Alexia got onstage. She started singing. She was surrounded by a guy playing the bongos, another on piano, another on guitar, a curly haired girl on bongos from the audience, and two guys, one with glasses, who had leather jackets and mohawks and yet managed to look like complete white bread loser geek dorks. It was very weird.
She was singing in a monotone way .... the sort of way people who can't sing but don't care and think they're artists, or think they're funny, sing ....
When Radio Man sings, he sounds more like a singer than she does. Scary.
She was singing about a penguin. A penguin in space. A space penguin. Captain of the penguin space brigade, or something.
A large stuffed penguin was being hoisted and "danced" and played with by a member of the band. It was then thrown into the audience.
Holy shit, I thought. These people almost certainly think they're funny. No one being serious would act like this.
Either way, I was fucked.
I couldn't follow this.
These people are making a desperate cry for attention by acting peculiar.
These people make Radio Man look normal.
They MAKE HIM LOOK NORMAL.
I was reminded of a shoot we did for Gods of L.A. .... a long time ago, with an actor who quit shortly after if I recall. The character was a performance artist masquerading as a magician -- so desperate for attention that he hit on women as they passed by, talked way too loudly, and defiled a stuffed bunny, covering it and himself in an incredibly amount of fake blood as he ripped a baby stuffed bunny bloodily out of it.
The problem was, we were trying to shoot this on the USC campus, and we couldn't get quiet.
There were people playing very bad music near the music hall .... on trumpets, guitar, you name it.
Then USC's improv sports group came out ... Commedus Interruptus. These morons actually think entertainment is a sport, with rules, and should be played like one. You know the sort of people. Who think they're doing "improv" if they shout really loudly and move a lot. And expect people to laugh because they're following game rules and pause sometimes after particularly desperate pleas for attention. These jackasses are the bane of my existence. These are people too weak to play football, so they convince themselves that they can be comedians. Football comedians. There is always one girl in the group, and she is always horribly ugly and in denial of her ugliness. She plays a slut. I watch her for a moment.
Our actor and I are getting frustrated now, wondering where exactly we can shoot.
Then, the protest starts. At least 300 people march across the lawn, setting up right next to the improv group. They are all shouting. The improv group shout louder to be heard above their shouts. The utter inanity makes my ears bleed.
The protesters are shouting "WHAT DO WE WANT? IT! WHEN DO WE WANT IT? NOW!" over and over and over again.
No really.
I realize that all the posters and signs they are carrying are about sex. About getting laid. The group is equally male and female. I have footage of this.
This is not a real protest. These people think they're funny. They think it'd be funny if they march on the campus, shout really loud and complain about lack of sex.
If they are this loud and obnoxious in their other social interactions, their lack of sex is clearly explainable.
I realized a sad fact .... this is L.A. Shooting a spoof on those desperate for attention can get a little weird here ... because everyone is so incredibly desperate for attention, EVERYBODY, that you suddenly realize your character is, by comparison, utterly sane and rational. Because he is human. He has a heart. He does not play improv sports.
He would never do ... this.
Back to Groundzero.
I stood there, flabbergasted, as Alexia mumbled tales of the heroic space penguin, and glasses mohawk man mumbled backup.
This man was on the poster for the event, trying to look cooler than he is.
Alexia ran the event, last time.
These people were in charge and could do whatever the hell they wanted.
I couldn't follow this.
I was in hell.
Suddenly, Alexia stopped singing and waved me up. She said "POET! COME UP HERE!"
Shit, I thought. Okay, I can do this. I have an act vaguely in my mind. I have a lot of very funny stuff I have a vague idea of how to do. I have an act, sort of. Yes. Okay, I don't have an act, but Radio Man has a topic, and that's all he needs. He can do this.
I grab a stack of blank sheets of paper (some with half-erased pictures of George Lucas on them), that is the one prop for my act. I have my glasses on. Fuck. I have to get my glasses off, into my glasses case, into my pocket.
People are looking at me, so as a defense mechanism, I fall down.
I drop my glasses. Fuck. I scramble to get them, while falling down some more. I am trying to stay in character as Radio Man ... somehow.
This is taking way too long.
People immediately stop paying attention to me, because I have spent 5 seconds without getting up onstage. I can't get their attention after this. Nope. Hell, everyone in the place is onstage anyway, almost. There are more people onstage than in the audience.
The band start whispering to themselves. I don't notice, but checking the videotape later I realize they're talking about what song they want to play next.
That's right. I get up onstage, ready to do my schtick, to entertain for 8 minutes ....
And the band starts playing again.
Radio Man immediately looks very confused, and so do I.
They are very loud. The glasses mohawk guy is singing. He is more monotone than Alexia. I have never heard singing that sounded less like singing. He is ... talking .... about doing handstands on a balcony. If I die, will you remember me? The song repeats itself after those two lines. I can't tell what entertainment is supposed to present itself from this.
Am I onstage or am I not? What's going on? Where the hell am I?
I try to hide behind the Bongo player.
But I can't.
I walk over to Alexia, as she is gesturing for me to come forward. There is a microphone there for me, which isn't on.
We both talk into it as a test. She asks me what my act is. I am onstage and no one can hear me, so I show her the George Lucas pictures. I laugh and say I'll come back later. They guys haven't seemed to notice that I am onstage.
THEY SHOW NO SIGN OF LEAVING.
I walk offstage, utterly confused. There are many things I can be prepared for. But people not noticing I'm onstage or wanting to ever vacate the stage, that I have no plan for.
The place is closing.
Alexia, when the song is done, gestures again for me to get up onstage.
I psych myself up again. This time I'll be ready. This is what you see in the video.
I am ready to do my act.
The band starts playing again, as I walk up onstage.
WHAT THE FUCK??
THEY AREN'T STOPPING.
THEY AREN'T FUCKING STOPPING. WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO? DO RADIO MAN WITH THESE ASSHOLES PLAYING LOUD BONGO MUSIC ALONG WITH ME?
I freak out. I start shaking.
I assume this is my moment.
I try to escape, I try to hide.
I walk to the right of the stage, too close to the sound equipment. All the sound equipment is right up there onstage and easy to step on.
THE BONGOS ARE SO VERY LOUD.
I am freaking out, so I fall down. A defense mechanism, when Radio Man is scared I've learned he falls down.
This is bad.
I fall down, and knock over this sound mixing console ... thing.
It falls.
This is very bad.
The lights go out when it falls. All the lights onstage. All the lights.
This is beyond bad.
SHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT
I have just broken Groundzero.
Can I apologize?
I stagger toward the front of the stage, toward Alexia ...
I want to apologize.
But my brain fucking freezes up.
BECAUSE THE BAND IS STILL FUCKING PLAYING.
And I am Radio Man.
And no one is paying attention.
What the hell do I do?
The act. I have to do an act. Funny, funny. I just broke the stage. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. I just knocked out all the lights. How the hell did I knock out all the lights?
THE BAND IS STILL FUCKING PLAYING! HOW MUCH ATTENTION DO THEY FUCKING NEED?
I'll show them. I'll get some attention. I will show them what a man truly starved for attention really looks like.
I grab the microphone by force.
And I SCREAM.
"I AM MADE OF BEANS!!!!" I bellow for no particular reason, so loud that it can be heard from the next county.
The band plays louder. I had hoped this would shut them the hell up. But no, they love this.
"I AM MADE OF BEANS!!!!!" I bellow again, less loudly because now I am embarrassed.
Suddenly I look at the audience and become afraid.
I fall down. I nearly drop the microphone, I nearly fall off the stage, but it's a defense mechanism and I fall down.
"I have eaten ... I have eaten too many beans," I say, lying on my back, crawling on my legs across the bottom of the stage, trying to hold the microphone up. "I AM MADE OF BEANS!"
Then I get up.
I introduce myself. I stumble over my words because THE BAND IS STILL FUCKING PLAYING. EVEN AFTER THAT THEY DIDN'T STOP.
I was told later by Jason that the bongo guy and the guitar guy had been there since 10:00 .... literally not left the stage for a full hour, since he had been there ..... maybe they'd been there all night.
I am freaking out because this guy has come onstage and is having a chat with Alexia of the sort you chat about when you are hiring somebody to kill somebody.
The curly haired woman stands up and shakes her head at me. Well, not at me but at Alexia, at the band, at anyone who can get me off the stage.
From the back, the sound mixer guy makes that gesture where you slash your finger across your throat ... a gesture that either means "cut it, end the program" or "kill him. Just fucking kill him already. Slit his throat. Drink his blood."
Alexia walks toward me, reaching for my microphone.
I am stupid and assume we've just run out of time. Because it is 11. Because in my stupid heart I am hoping bongo guys will have to leave too.
"Are we getting kicked off the stage?" I suddenly say.
No. I'm getting kicked off the stage. There is no we. I broke Groundzero.
I have been onstage for one minute.
"Uh oh," I say, sounding too much like Squiffy the Derelict Cat for my taste.
Alexia has already grabbed the microphone.
I walk offstage, full of fear, totally freaked out.
I shake my head sadly, and thank the red haired man for taping me.
We laugh about what just happened. He is nervous, maybe.
He leaves.
Later on, I talk to Alexia. She was very angry in the way people are when they want to pretend they aren't angry and are never angry, are incapable of anger. She asked me if I actually had an act planned, or just wanted to trash the stage. I assured her I did, but I was stupid and didn't understand what had just happened really. I said I sort of freaked out because the band was playing. "So, when you get confused you break things." Yeah, I said. Shit, I thought. Wait. No. Um. I just said something stupid.
She says I broke her friend Gerhard's guitar last week. Thankfully he was too stoned to care, Jason told me later. What she says is, he's cool and doesn't mind. Another word for stoned, then. Cool. But she says, you trash the place once, that's okay, your act is funny maybe. But you trash it twice ....
I can tell she hasn't showered in a while. She smells bad. It reminds me of Mariana.
She picks up something weird in my tone of voice and immediately tries to get rid of me.
In a sudden non sequitur, she says ... have you talked to Courteney? Girl with curly hair.
Then she walks away.
What?
WHAT?
What the hell does that mean?
Huh?
WHAT???
Um, I shouldn't need to mention at this point that the guy with the bongos and the guy with the guitar have now gotten back onstage and are FUCKING PLAYING AGAIN.
Their total time offstage? 30 seconds, max.
The curly haired girl assists with bongos, from the audience.
I have no idea what just happened.
It's clearer later, watching the video. At the time it was all a blur.
I walk home in the rain.
There isn't another open mic until APRIL. Fucking April. And I don't know if I can show my face there even then. I am embarrassed and freaked out.
I call Jason and tell him the whole story. He laughs. He is sorry he wasn't there, but I tell him not to be. It was sad enough, alone.
I tell him Radio Man needs a new venue. A new place to play.
This live performance stuff is trickier than I thought.
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Garrett Gilchrist, FF dictator-for-life
http://pythonet.org/fredshow
"23 years and all I have to show for it is 'ow my groin' and 'what?'" - Rich Evans, The Orange Cow Awards
THE BONGOS ARE SO VERY LOUD
"Slide, Radio Man!" - Jason Gutierrez
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