Ottawa Fringe 2009, Day 0.75: How To Turn A Zombie Into A Blow Job

I slept poorly last night. It happens a lot. The night before last, for example. I can be dead tired and the moment my head hits the pillow, my brain lights up, and starts whirling away in its little fun-time wheel.

Last night, I was practically falling asleep at my rehearsal. Luckily, my billets were fast asleep when I got home because of their long forty-two hour trip from Edmonton, so I didn’t need to apologize for being a totally lame ass early to bed party-pooper. I, nevertheless, had a good poop, took a shower, had a shot of sleepy-time vodka, read about the American electoral system (man, if you think the Westminster system is messed up, look south, waaaay south), and rolled over to sleep when I felt maximally tired.

Wham. Hammy got in the wheel instead of the diving bell and immediately set to work.

Fortunately, these days (unlike in days gone-by), my inner dervish is almost always whirling in a positive way. I’m not worrying but planning, making-decisions, figuring stuff out, identifying opportunities, etc. It’s actually a pretty useful time of the day for me (hello, play ideas!) but for the whole not-getting-enough-sleep-thing.

On the plus side, last night, I came very very close to lucid dreaming. You know, when your conscious mind takes control of your dream. I’m not convinced it’s really possible but I’ve come close enough a couple of times so I remain hopeful.

Last night, it took some time before it happened.

At first, it seemed to me as if I wasn’t sleeping at all and just tossing and turning. Then, at some point, I realized I had to have been sleeping some of the time because time was moving too quickly. Then, I realized I was having the same dream over and over again. Once my conscious mind figured all of this out, it took control of the situation. I became so excited by this fact that I woke myself up. Rats.

And, yes, my brain turned it sexual. In fact, at the risk of letting out too much Freudian information, I am pretty sure I was being chewed upon by some kind of zombie and I managed to transform it and the chewing into a much more pleasant oral, ahem, relation.

Actually, the sexual transformation may have been unconscious. On reflection, I think it was the transformation that caused my conscious mind to realize something was up. Conscious mind: “Hmm, the zombie that was chewing on me is morphing into a (non-specific) attractive woman blowing me. Niiiiice. Holy shit, I must be dreaming!”

Way to go unconscious brain! Hurrah! That’s totally turning a sow’s ear into a silk purse. From now on, instead of employing the outdated and confusing “sow-silk-purse” turn of phrase, just say, “wow, you totally turned that zombie into a blow job.”

Believe it or not, this line of blogging is well-connected to my Fringe 2009 experience. Oreo, the fine play in which I perform, is set in a sex shop (get details here). Whilst rehearsing in a space filled with vibrators, dildos, and explicit (but tasteful) sex books, the typical theatre-people tendency to play with innuendo is jettisoned and everyone jumps in the sexually crass boat and starts working those oars.

For example, in yesterday’s rehearsal, our photographer flogged the director. If that is the unscripted stuff, just wait for the scripted stuff. There is no such thing as “one too many box jokes.” Oreo even has a dream sequence. See, sex shop, naughty rehearsals, and dream sequences. See, it totally fits.

At any rate, eventually, I woke up.

The Edmonton Billets (hereafter, EBs) were long gone. I caught up on the social and non-social media. The EBs eventually returned to fix a bike on the balcony and prep for their tech rehearsal. Ken brought a bike from Edmonton (the one he was fixing) and Brian bought one yesterday from a Bicycle Co-op here in Ottawa. How cool is that? And totally smart for a Fringe tour as well.

They left. I pooped, took a shower, and made a big mound of meat and organic veggies that I will re-heat for the next few days and serve on whole grain organic pasta and low-fat cottage cheese. Yum! And then I got a-blogging.

I had a cup of green tea, chased away some fornicating pigeons, and will now go read Scorched, which the Married Couple left behind and from which I will mine my second audition piece for an up-coming GCTC general audition call which takes place the day after the closing Fringe party (P.S. Married Couple, I also know where your J-Pod book is).

Later, it’s off to the Fringe Official Opening Night gala to promote the shows and get drunk — not necessarily in that order. We are, as they say, up-to-date.

In for a penny, in for a pound I always say. 🙂

Just like these disco divas:

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