03 November, 2013

Ask Al: Method Acting

The Method Makers..

Dear Al, 

You seem to know stuff. 

So... 
Method Acting: 
Um.
...what exactly… IS it? 

Thank you,

Curious


  *

Dear Curious,

Yeah. Good one. 
Let's start with a Dictionary-esque definition: 
"Method Acting is a group of techniques actors use to create in themselves the thoughts and feelings of their characters, so as to develop lifelike performances."

[*ta-DAAA!*]
[:::confetti!:::]
[**balloon drop!!*]
...

[. . . crickets . . .]

... I know. 
That's it. 
Not all that shocking right? 
No one slices off their leg, or speaks in tongues, or won't answer to the name on their birth certificate in that definition.  
Incredible. 

C'mon! Admit it: you expected me to mention living amongst a family of wolves for a year to prepare for your star-making turn in "The Jungle Book." 

Nope. 

Look: just like Square dancing, beauty pageants, certain religions, the cities of Detroit, Liverpool, and Tripoli, carbohydrates, and that majority of "isms" everywhere; sometimes perfectly non-crazy, totally decent stuff gets some weird, and arguably bad, "press." 

So: I'm not passing judgement on any of the previously mentioned, by the way (who doesn't like a good talent competition and for Pete's sake I'm from Detroit), I merely present them as things you doubtless have some kind of opinion about without a lot of true research or experience. Just like Method Acting. Everything you "know" you most likely don't really know--you've just heard about it...


To begin, let's break down what Method Acting's origins, in order to understand it better. 

Stanislavski.... DA...

The "Method" refers to a method of teaching the craft of acting, based upon “The System” created by Konstantin Stanislavski (made internationally famous by his first publication entitled, "An Actor Prepares," published in 1911). In the mid-to-late 1920s Stanislavski's method of teaching acting began to be adapted by American actor, director and teacher Lee Strasberg specifically for American actors to meet the particular psychological needs of the American actors of their time, to keep apace with the ever-changing
evolution of drama and theatre itself.

Based on the 1911 Stanislavski conceived-concept of Emotional Memory (a well of memories within us that stir and create truthful emotional responses), Strasberg based the majority of his teachings. But by the 1920s, Stanislavski had moved on from this concept, discrediting Emotional Memory as a viable means of achieving truthful acting, and replaced his theory with the use of Imagination ONLY. But this shift occurred unbeknownst to American followers who, of course—pre-internet-communicado—could not communicate directly with him

Thus, (and this is crucial): ‘THE METHOD’ IS NOT THE SAME AS STANISLAVSKI’S 'SYSTEM' — it is an OUTGROWTH of the American theatre scene--particularly in New York, flourishing in the 1930s and 40s. (
NOTE: Though sometimes Stanislavski's teaching are referred to as "the Method," for the sake of clarity within this post, whenever I refer to Stanislavski's work I shall call it "The System" and whenever I refer to the American off-branch started by Lee Strasberg I shall call it "The Method." Making this distinction with such starkness is somewhat unique to me and my acting/teaching life, so wherever your further research may take you, these terms may be used interchangeably. Be very sure to establish which school of thought is being referred to because they are similar but different.)

To put it simply: Stanislavsky's ideas changed over his life (particularly in regards to his use of Emotional Memory) and Strasberg did not necessarily incorporate these changes. 

Though not all Method actors ultimately use the same approach, the origins of their techniques lie here. Stanislavski and Strasberg are the "Fertile Crescent" of Method Acting. 

*

Lee Strasberg (1901 – 1982)  - AFFECTIVE MEMORY

"The real secret to method acting—which is as old as the theater itself—is creating reality."
– Lee Strasberg

Lee "Feel Your Feelings" Strasberg

Considered the "father of Method Acting in America,” Strasberg co-founded the Group Theatre in 1931with directors Harold Clurman and Cheryl Crawford, hailed as "America's first true theatrical collective.” In 1951, he became director of the non-profit Actors Studio considered "the nation's most prestigious acting school".

Strasberg's method emphasized the practice of connecting to a character by heavily drawing upon on personal emotions and memories and experiences, aided by a set of exercises and practices including sense memory and what he termed “AFFECTIVE MEMORY”—a memory present in our lives that causes an AFFECT. This is different and distinct from Stanislavski’s Emotional Memory.

Affective memory is defined as:
 "...any memory you as a human being can call upon when approaching a character to manufacture controlled emotional reactions to specific events and circumstances."

For most actors, simply recalling a past event will not produce an honest emotional response.  Relaxation plus truly vivid Sense Memory is the "combination to the safe--" the safe in which personal treasures (of the actor's memories) are stored away for the lifetime. The actor delves within his memory for the parallel event, and finally commits to creating its re-living. 

The "Affective Memory" is one of the most widely known procedures in all of "method" acting.  It has obtained a reputation that ranges from "dangerous" to "genius."
(...understandably... on both counts...)   

Noted Strasberg students/practitioners are Ellen Burstyn, Dustin Hoffman, Al Pacino, Sally Field, James Dean, Marilyn Monroe and Jane Fonda.

SO…
The most controversial technique of Strasberg’s Method teaches drawing emotions for a character from a specific past experiences and remembrances of the actor.

Strasberg renamed Stanislavski's earlier technique to 'Affective Memory' and continued to teach it as a proper acting method long after Stanislavki discredited it as a useful acting method.

To illustrate the difference between the two methods:
  • Stanislavski has the actor ask himself, "What would I do if I were in this circumstance?”
  • Strasberg adopted a modification, "What would motivate me, the actor, to behave in the way the character does?"

Strasberg asks actors to replace the play's circumstances with their own, and if they did not HAVE those circumstances— to go out to, [please oh please oh Lordy-loo] WITHIN REASON, find them… 

Allow me to clarify for the hot-tempered: 
  1. He SPECIFICALLY notes that drawing from memories/experiences a MINIMUM of seven years old is crucial to avoiding risking psychological trauma.
  2. And "going out and finding" experiences includes, say, learning to ride a horse... NOT, say, STABBING YOURSELF... (like a certain Nicholas this-script-looks-absolutely-terrible-okay-I'll-do-it Cage was once rumored to do... whooops...) 

 *

...And now! A little History lesson! 
 [*Go-back-in-time music*]

HISTORY

Once upon a time….
Three friends Lee (Strasberg), Sanford (Meisner) and Stella (Adler) were all acting and learning from one another mostly at a place called THE GROUP THEATRE (founded in 1931 by Strasberg, Harold Clurman and Cheryl Crawford). 

[*Do do do! Lee, Stella and Sandford all doing theatre stuff*]

Over time, Sanford and his fellow actor Stella began to fall out with Lee over his use of Emotional Recall, they both preferred/chose to use the Imagination to stimulate emotion and involvement in a play's imaginary circumstances. 

[*And now, for a little more context...Before The Group Theatre...*
...*further-back-in-time-music *]

Stella Adler (1901– 1992) - IMAGINATION

"In your choices, lies your talent!" 
– Stella Adler

STELLAAAAA!!!
In 1922–1923, Stanislavski made his only US tour with his Moscow Art Theatre. Many actors went out of their way to view these performances, and among them was Stella Adler. These had a powerful and lasting impact on her career (and subsequently upon 20th-century American theatre.) She joined the American Laboratory Theatre in 1925; it was there that she was introduced to Stanislavski's acting theories, taught to her directly from founders/Russian actor-teachers/former members of the Moscow Art Theater – Richard Boleslavsky and Maria Ouspenskaya.

When Adler joined the Group Theatre in 1931, members there were already leading interpreters of what was being called “The Method acting technique” based on the work and writings of Stanislavski.

As actor-types are want to do, they all began dating each other. Adler was hot-and-heavy with Group Theatre co-founder Harold Clurman (remember him from earlier? She eventually married him in 1943), and in 1934, they went to Paris together.  It was there, in France, that Stella Adler studied intensively with Stanislavski for five weeks (she was the only American actor to personally study with Stanislavsky). During this period, Adler learned that Stanislavski had revised his theories, emphasizing that the actor should create by Imagination rather than Emotional (Experience/Memory) Recall. 

Upon her return, she broke away from Strasberg, on the fundamental aspects of his now noted "Method" acting.  In fact, Adler specifically stated: 
"Drawing on the emotions I experienced—for example, when my mother died—to create a role, is sick and schizophrenic. If that is acting, I don't want to do it." 
Whoa... strong stuff. (I guess it had just never really... been her thing...)

She left Strasberg to feel his feelings, and started her internationally renowned Adler schools in both New York and Los Angeles. And also wrote a heap of marvelous books. Among her noteworthy students are Robert DiNiro, Marlon Brando (possibly her most vocal champion), Martin Sheen, Warren Beatty, and Elaine Stritch.

*

Sanford Meisner (1905 –1997) - INSTINCT

"An ounce of behavior is worth a pound of words"
– Sandford Meisner


While Adler broke away and started her Adler Schools, Sandford Meisner (who probably 'didn't wanna fight,') also left the Group Theatre to develop his own techniques over at the Neighborhood Playhouse in New York.

Sanford Meisner...? ...Sanford Meisner....Sandford... MEISNER...


Meisner created the first comprehensive, full-blown American acting technique, which he developed to train an actor to create all the layers of a complete performance over a two year period. (It was, and still is, one of the most systematic and complete acting techniques in the Western world). 

His teachings make up his opus, "On Acting."
Meisner's work was based on the principle that acting found its most profound and truthful expressions in behavior that came from the actor's real human response to circumstances and other people. Because of this, his entire training method relied heavily on accessing the actor's IMPULSES, through which real, truthful responses, as well as real behavior were accessed in the moment. 

So, just for clarity, what exactly IS and "impulse?"
Noun.
1 (a). An impelling force; an impetus.
1 (b). The motion produced by such a force.
2. A sudden wish or urge that prompts an unpremeditated act or feeling; an abrupt inclination.

This technique was not only applied to improvisation with others, but also to rehearsal, interpreting a script, and creating the specific physical characteristics of each character. 
 
Meisner has become perhaps the most noted for his "Repetition Exercise--" that is, the basic (but revolutionary) exercise that Meisner invented to train the actor's responses. 

In this exercise, two actors sit across from each other and respond to each other through a repeated phrase.  
  • Actors observe and respond to each others' behavior (and the subtext therein), and reflects what is going on between them in the moment, such as "You're smiling." The partner responds with "I'm smiling." "You're smiling!" "Yes, I'm smiling..." Etcetera. The way this phrase is said as it is repeated changes in meaning, tone and intensity to correspond with the behavior that each actor produces towards the other. 
  • Through this device, the actor stops thinking of what to say and do, and responds more freely and spontaneously, both physically and vocally.  
  • The exercise also eliminates line readings, since the way the actor speaks becomes coordinated with his behavioral response.  
Later, as the exercise evolves in complexity to include "given circumstances," "relationships," actions and obstacles, this skill remains critical. From start to finish—from repetition to rehearsing a lead role—the principles of "listen and respond" and "stay in the moment" are fundamental to the work.
His approach was designed “to eliminate all intellectuality from the actor’s instrument and to make him a spontaneous responder to where he is, what is happening to him, what is being done to him.”

Meisner's noteworthy students include Alex Baldwin, Peter Falk, Gregory Peck, James Gandolfini, Jeff Goldblum, Steve McQueen, and Naomi Watts.

 *

So you want my point-blank advice? 
 I dunno. 
I'm a personal believer in using what is the most effective and appropriate for the given project, role, time in your life, and circumstances of all of the above. Sometimes impulse needs to be brought to the forefront. Sometimes it isn't healthy to use a real-life affective memory and my vibrant imagination will serve perfectly well. Other times, I am certain that my affective memory is what makes me a "special" casting for a particular role, and feel it is (in a way) my responsibility to share that truth.

In short:
               Do what works. 

But as a guide: 

Don't move to a farm.
Don't stab yourself.
Don't die. 

Over and out,

Al


27 October, 2013

"Ac-cen-tuate the Positive": or, A Phone Call with Tyne Daly

Things you need to know to appreciate the following:

1. So I'm going in for Gypsy.
2. I obviously told Tyne about it. 
3. Senses of wonder, humor and irony... (as in "how is this my real life...?")

This is the "transcript" from the middle of our phone call:

*

Tyne: So when are you going back in?
Me: Next week.
Tyne: Haven't we discussed that you don't really have the legs?
     [::sigh::]
Me: ..... yes Tyne.
Tyne: Well you have everything else!! You have the soul! AND you have TITS--and she didn't have those. Plus I think science has proven that if you have tits no one cares about your legs. But you should probably wear dark hose. NOT patterned hose, just DARK, SOLID HOSE--
Me: --Okay
Tyne: If all else fails there are always SHOES--
Me: --OKAY...Thanks Tyno.
Tyne: [singing] --AC-CEN-TUATE THE POS-I-TIVE!
Me: I get it.
Tyne: ...Anyway, are we meeting this weekend? I thought we could go for a walk.
Me: Sure. I could use some exercise for my hideous legs.
Tyne: I'm ignoring that. How about we walk from the top of Central Park to the bottom?
Me: Sure.
Tyne: All we need is the right shoes and the right ATTITUDE. Which, come to think of it, is all we ever need...!
     [Call waiting beeps]
Me: I gotta go Tyno, Len Cariou is calling me back.
Tyne: Tell him he owes me a phone call! And roughly $30.
     [Pause]
Me: ... I will.

[Scene] 

22 October, 2013

Friends I Admire (and Why) - Part 1

Lilly and I a week before high-school graduation
Lilly
  • Constantly in search of deeper understanding.
  • Finds a way to laugh even when she is heartbroken, devastated, hungry, or having major surgery. 
  • She's "born with the moon in Cancer..." just like me!
  • Adventurous. (That is, in fact, an understatement. Which is why I tried to modify it with underlining and italics.) Lilly is a person who writes the following casual text message:
Lilly: Hey so I want to catch up before the 30th because I am leaving for the Galapagos Islands..." 
--RECORD SCRATCH--

Other examples resemble, "skiing in the Andes by myself" or, "taking a commuter plane to Rio." Lilly and I have had some wonderful traveling experiences together, but aaaallllsooooo one NOTABLY unlucky experience (which involved being robbed a night train from Venice the week of our mutual 20th birthdays... if you know me well, you know the tale...). Anyway, Lilly wants a "do-over." We have been discussing our next journey...to "The Antarctic." Naturally.
  • The most musically gifted person I know. 
  • I once told her how sad I was that I didn't have a "partner" to go to with my "stuff." Her first response was not sympathy, but rather "I am your partner. You 'go' to me."
  • Pretty much the cutest damn human being I’ve ever met.


Check out that smile!
Alex
  • The most important body-image role model in my life.
  • Has never judged, compared or belittled me for making different life choices.
  • ...and in fact, truly celebrates the differences of other peoples’ paths.
  • She is 1 of 3 "Alexandra Sisters." That is special, magic kind of stuff.  
  • She is a true 1930s beauty queen.  
  • Lives a completely creative existence of pure, unpretentious appreciation for being alive. 
  • Every choice is joy, every circumstance is accepted and experienced with grace. 
  • You know how sometimes you wonder "What would I do if I were actually homeless?" Well Alex and her husband Oliver are the friends that would absolutely take me in. In fact my room is probably waiting. (Not that they are anticipating my homelessness! They just really mean it.) No questions.


...WERQ.
Dane Laffrey
  • Just. Fabulous.
  • Dane dropped out of school and pretty much moved into my house after Dad died. So... there's that...
  • When he invites you over for dinner? You are eating quinoa pasta with shaved asparagus and Food Network delights because Dane is the kind of guy who SHAVES ASPARAGUS FOR YOUR DINING PLEASURE.
  • He does the most unbearably accurate impression of my now-gone Grandmother.
  • He is, with the natural exception of adult refinement and personal growth, the same deliciously wonderful guy I met at 16. 
  • He makes me feel really "believed in."
  • The world’s best platonic “back up” husband (and for the record: our back-up offspring would be so tall and so well dressed [see photo])

Tasha
  • She still gets my post in the UK... that's a friend...
  • Tasha is the person you write that BATSHITCRAZY-middle-of-the-night email to about some fear you have, anxiety eating you alive, or just some guy issue-- and she will patiently write back with the PERFECT response (in fact, is noted for exclaiming "OH AL!" whenever I do something characteristically ridiculous, or fabulous, or any combination thereof.)
  • She possesses un.wav.er.ing love for her friends and family and has no problems showing it. 
  • She named her child DAISY. Because she "liked it!"
  • She is the most natural mother I've ever seen.
  • We share a mutual love of The West Wing
  • ...and her relationship to hummus is as deep and real as my own.
  • She is the type of person who can stay with you in your tiny New York apartment. With her 2 year old. For a week. And you don't even remotely panic (before or during!) because she is as relaxed and easy and she is fun. 
  • She says I am “with the words” 
  • Crucially: Tasha is the most supportive cheerleader of a friend...
  • ...who literally saved my life.

Amy Maiden
  • One of bravest people I know.
  • She carved her incredible life out of thin air and now lives her dreams.  
  • Three words: AMAZING AMAZING AMAZING.
  • Sometimes you have to get together to pretend you are not watching a reality television casting show but you absolutely are...week after week... for the whole series... 
  • I appreciate that I can text her in the middle of whatever time of day or night with some random thought... because we have the kind of friendship where time zones and hemispheres don't matter. 
  • She is FEROCIOUSLY loyal. 
  • Sometimes one needs to breakup with one's boyfriend...who left town for a month without telling one. And when one does that, one needs to write a breakup speech. On a napkin. With the assistance of someone named Al one--frankly-- barely knows. What can I say? TEARS + SAID NAPKINS = ETERNAL BONDING.

16 October, 2013

How "noticey"...

So I spent the last weekend with my nieces in Corte Madera (one of the many perks to working in San Francisco is spending more time with the lovely Hannah, Madison [and now baby Charlotte!])

As we passed a Halloween owl decoration in the house, Madison (the precocious middle child with a cuddly disposition and a smile that could melt the heart of Sauron, The Grinch, Professor Snape, and probably any green-skinned monster wearing a helmet made of spikes) announced:

     "Aunt Al! Look! A Halloween owl! And you like both Halloween AND owls!"

I was floored.
My my. How "noticey" of her.

I promptly did what any sensible adult on the verge of a cuteness-diabetic-coma would do-- I responded by getting out my video camera:

     "What else does Aunt Al like?"
Supposing, naturally, that her response would be
     "MADISON!!"

But instead, allllll thiiiiiis came out...

Kids sure do say the darndest things... (crazy things-- like "Avant Garde" and "Danny Kaye")


[* taps arm, injects insulin*]

06 October, 2013

22 September, 2013

"The Land Where the Good Songs Go"

Friday, Oct 11, 2013 8:00 PM
Saturday October 12, 2013, 7:00 PM
, San Francisco, CA


Alexandra Silber, an audience favorite in recent San Francisco Symphony concert performances of West Side Story, returns to make her local cabaret debut.

Reveling in the colors and textures of the old-world Broadway soprano sound of the golden days of the musical theater: standards, favorites, classics, songs familiar and "un"-- all told with her interpretive depth and signature wit.

"The fastest rising soprano in musical theater...Alexandra Silber may be the fire starter for getting the Broadway world re-acquainted with it's "legit sound." The Huffington Post


Get your tickets here!



13 September, 2013

JeremEy Tiger

He pulled up in the driveway.

It was the spring of 2000 and Jeremey was driving across the country— from Oregon back to Northern Michigan in his beat-up, late-80s, light blue Oldsmobile station wagon named Estelle--the engine grotty, the edges rusted.

He brought the car to a halt and jumped out with uncharacteristic elation, practically dancing as he swooped me up in his arms and kissed me, then theatrically kissed my mother’s hands and bear-hugged my father. He set the stage for his excitement, concealed within the back of the Olds.

     “Okay,” he said, “are you ready?”

Jeremey lacked practically all sentimentality in his everyday interactions with others. With his characteristicly harsh, judgmental armor, Jeremey prescribed to the life-theory of: It-hurts-too-much-to-laugh-and-I-am-too-old-to-cry-so-I-am-just-going-to-be-a-dick-to-everyone-until-I-feel-better. Today’s enthusiasm could have been the result of either genuine zing, an illegal stimulant trip, or a combination of both.

     “Ta-DA!” he said, opening the back door of the car with a flourish, revealing a giant, full-on child-sized stuffed white tiger…in a seat belt. He laughed out loud. I laughed too, we all did. As much for the brain-crushingly adorkable tiger (wearing, I should mention, a black leather spiked punk-rocker collar) safely secured into the back seat, as the equally gorgeous gesture. It was so out of character, and the moment so genuine. I don’t think I shall ever forget it.

Whenever I think of that memory my face grows a permanent half smile. One identical to the stitches expertly sewn onto the face of what we all came to call, Jeremey Tiger.

*

I never rebelled.
I was the squeaky-cleanest kid you had ever met, terrified that any trespass into the world of adolescence might only add further to the already crushing burdens of my parents. Not that either one of my parents were in any way terrifying, no. I was terrified of my own volition: a perfectionist almost crippled by the terror of error, for to disappoint (or, more crucially), to burden them would have been a weight too great to bear. I felt as though I was the only source of hope and joy and promise. And any mistake--even the tiniest of transgressions--was my contribution to not curing cancer.

I went to school.
I excelled in my extra-curricular activities.
I got straight As.
I over-achieved.
I was the hope, the future, the pleasure, the reason; the source of their focused strength.
And so I took it upon myself to provide my parents with every excessive joy and pride imaginable.
Not because I always wanted to exactly,
     but because I was terrified the entire world would collapse if I did not.

When I did socialize it was one-on-one, or in intensely G-rated settings. Safe. Hermetically sealed. I needed to be in control of everything to avoid making 'mistakes.' My parents wanted me to have as normal a childhood as possible, and so they kept me away from the bulk of the health difficulties.
Who could blame them?
But because of that, I spent a great deal of time alone.
There was no one to share the childhood, or the burdens with.

And so, to the companion of perfection—the only contribution I could truly offer to making Dad well again.

*

I arrived at the (full-time boarding) Interlochen Arts Academy in the fall of 1999, ready to continue on my path, when of a light switch went on.

As previously explained I was a “lifer,” and found myself returning to the Academy with big hopes for the year and big plans for the future.

But this Jeremey person: the strange, pierced, leather-jacket-wearing, punk-music listening, Antonin Artaud spouting, left-handed, red-headed, pseudo-intellectual guy named Jeremey (spelled with three “E’s, much to everyone’s curiosity and oft-time irritation) was rebellious, dangerous, über-damaged, and fiercely arrogant; plus, to a perfectionist ready to bust-the-f***-out: utterly irresistible.

Because in truth, Jeremey was just a sweet, rejected, floundering youth trying to find his way. Trying to find his way like all of us.
And though he was as strange and all-out-there as a Bruegel painting,
though he was ofttimes selfish,
     oh how I loved him as only a sixteen-year-old could!

Sure! He dyed his hair constantly (my favorite being “Number 44B for African American Women”).
Yep! He had a piercing in both ears (and eventually in his nipples)
Absolutely! He was more than a little manorexic, and  
Okay, he waxed on and on (and on) about how everyone on planet earth besides him was a philistine.

But he also held me like a cross between a boy, a man, and a desperate teenager, all of which he was. He wrote love letters, and poetry, and the best book inscriptions you have ever seen, and hell, it all came from a pain (and I mean: what assholish behavior doesn’t)-- a pain I think he probably--at least at the time--had only ever shared with me.

Growing up in Nowehere, Oregon is never easy, but in a Catholic family split apart by unnameable troubles which all led to his emancipation at the age of fourteen, well… no one expected Jeremey to even finish High School. But he found a mentor and an advocate in a local lawyer who made certain he was educated and taken care of at a place like Interlochen.


....I mean, all this said, my parents were still, understandably horrified.

I’m not about to brag about falling for the pseudo-intellectual-without-a-cause routine, but I’m willing to own it. Jeremey was my “motorcycle guy!” He was an assertion of my independence! Now that I was away from home full time,  I was free to explore, discover the boundaries with my own judgments and moral compass.

So after an initial flurry of someone-has-to-do-something-to-end-this-relationship-type phone calls back and forth to Interlochen, I think Mom and Dad resigned themselves to the fact that I would work it out on my own. That the world was not going to come crashing down if I dated a rebellious redhead with one-too-many Es in his name.

And oh how they tried.
I can’t even tell you how many patient, wonderful talks I overheard him having with my mother.
Or the vigorous banter he had with Dad. 
Or, how lovely the meal was that we all shared together after his graduation.
Or how (beyond all social mores and general parental reasoning) they allowed me to visit him over the summer in Oregon for a week. By myself.
Or how, at Thanksgiving, we all decided to have an early Christmas! And Mom remembered a story he had told about loving a 'Transformer' toy he'd lost from his childhood, tracked it down, and gave it to him.
Or, how Dad drove me all the way to Chicago to bring him home for Christmas, (and also where, in the car for the first time he tried to talk to me about sex and I turned into a Church lady while he locked me in the car and nearly crashed as he laughed and laughed at my discomfort. Awesome.)


So what happened?
As is everyone’s want Freshman year of college: Jeremey got out into the big bad world and learned more than he ever had, but still not enough to realize that he actually knew nothing.
It happens to us all.
But when you mix it with a preconceived proclivity to be holier-than-thou, with a dash of I-was-burned-as-a-youth entitlement? Well good ol’ Jeremey—already a little obsessed with himself— became more obsessed with himself, and he had to go.
No hard feelings but, you know, people were, like, dying.
Shame.

Still, though.
When I look back, all I see is what he gave me.
My first true love, a taste of rebellion, a box full of poetry, the best-ever book inscriptions in earnest, left-handed scrawl, and of course, a stuffed tiger I could never let go of as long as I love.

Jeremey gave my family a different kind of conflict to overcome,
     and the opportunity to understand one another even more deeply.
The Silbers believed in Jeremey, gave him a family to be a part of.

In the end, I think we all loved one another.
Very much.

for Prom: his nail polish matched my dress. That's love.

08 September, 2013

A Trip to the Cider Mill

In Metro Detroit, there is an annual autumnal tradition that begins with gusto after Labor Day-- Franklin Village--also known as "The Town That Time Forgot"-- is home to the 19th Century Franklin Cider Mill which opened in 1837 as a gristmill owned by Col. Peter Van Every and historically was the first mill in Oakland County where farmers could sell their wheat for cash.

Today, the Franklin Cider Mill retains its popularity. Along with apple cider and hot donuts, the mill also sells a variety of confections consisting (of course) of apple cider, (preeeeeettty epic) cider donuts, apples (this is the home of the Honey Crisp apple!), gigantic pies, scones, breads, cakes, fudge, Hickory Farms meats and cheeses, jams, spreads, everykindoffruitbutteryoucanconceiveof, local honey, and vintage candies.... (I mean... if you weren't jealous before, aren't you jealous now...?)

A trip home between Labor Day and Thanksgiving weekend always includes a trek down to the Mill.
 It's Michigan Autumnal Tradition.
Ah, the taste of home... 

Music: The Detroit-born genius, Sufjan Stevens. From his 2003 "Greetings from Michigan" album

02 September, 2013

September Soirée

September 1st is a very special day.
Isn't it just a beautiful phrase? "September the First..." --even the ring of it has a kind of musk. It is a beautiful date. And day.

But reader, September the 1st is my Father's birthday. And oh, how it sits there on the calendar, looming over the autumn; a date more laden with disquiet than even the anniversary of his death. Whoever knows why? The human psyche is one complex labyrinth...

On certain milestones I've marked the occasion with very special friends. On others, the day comes and goes with a peaceful acceptance of the unavoidable heavy-heartedness.
It ebbs and flows. Like everything.

But MAN: I hate birthdays.
Well, no. That's not true.
I don't hate birthdays.
I love birthdays.
There is nothing that gives me greater pleasure than reminding people how glad I am that they were born.
     I hate my birthday.
We know this. (Remember the Nietzsche-an spiral of 24? The way I tried to get a grip at 27? The way I kiiiiinda got that grip at 29?) 
It's a passage-of-time thing. (I think it is also why I don't like New Year's Eve, and cut flowers for opening night...I dunno...)
I'm working on it.


I admit I have a tendency to hermit myself in my utterly cozy "Winter Palace" (aka my apartment). I'm a creature who requires a great deal of time spent alone to process life; to defragment my hard drive, if you will. To sort through my emotional output, thoughts, ideas, imaginative musings, etc. And even beyond that: I actually enjoy my own company. For example: I had a truly invigorating weekend spent entirely alone two weeks ago--I literally cancelled all my plans (of which there can often be too many) and indulged myself in "The Cave."

Interestingly (though perhaps not at all surprisingly), all of my closest friends seem to truly understand this process, and are rarely annoyed with what some might consider being "out of touch..." I suppose that is how you know you've found your true friends. They accept you for who you are.

"The Cave" is a part of my process. As I am growing, I'm learning to accept it as such and not scold myself for being "anti-social." I am social--when I give you party OH: I give you party. Socializing is just something I do on my own terms! This is part of accepting myself as I am.

But it is a delicate balance:
one must be ever-vigilant to monitor where "meeting your needs for solitude" ends,
     and "HIDING" begins.
Again: I'm working on it.

     ...Meanwhile, back on earth...

With the incredible insistence of my mother (as well as an onslaught of friends), to *somehow* celebrate the milestone of my 30th birthday, I contemplated some sort of gathering.
Drinks in Manhattan?
A quiet gathering of special people at a restaurant? (Except the majority of my special people don't live in NYC)
A tiny bash at the Winter Palace? (I can throw a serious dinner party)
Again: it's complicated.
So what is one to do?
Well, there is the option of 'Ignoring It' (I usually adore that option) — But no.
Not this time.
Recently I have made a series of incredibly exciting "outside-the-box" choices.
I've been reaching out when I feel vulnerable (and not, as I have been known to do: after I have felt vulnerable with a full, enlightened and palatable book report on "How I handled my vulnerability all on my own Volume 3,937")
I've been trying new things.
I've been taking myself out on dates.
I've been spontaneously getting together with my friends regardless of my mood.
I've been taking calculated risks.
Calling people out of the blue.
Making honest bids for connection.

It has been extraordinarily exhilarating.


...So... wanna know what I decided to do?

I decided to throw a spontaneous gathering at my house over Labor Day weekend (because not all of us were going to be busy up at the Lake House). Spontaneous cocktails at The Winter Palace! A bazillion people came. From every corner of my life. It was the largest soirée I have ever thrown.

The emphasis was on opening my home, and subsequently, my heart, to friends.
To gathering together with interesting people over the Holiday Weekend.
To allowing a personal milestone to be marked on my own terms.
All on my Dad's birthday—this glorious September The First.
What better way to spend the day?
By opening up, and raising a glass with friends old and new.

I think Dad would have more than approved.

Cheers. To all.