Megan's Head

A place where Megan gets off her head.

Month: February 2007 (Page 1 of 4)

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everything is much better now. Big Friendly is back. The dogs’ tails are banging hard on the wooden floor, the cat is hurtling down the passage and skidding on the door mat. We girls are all very happy.

So, I didn’t play TheatreSports last night; there were too many of us who put our hands up. And of course, there is that weird I should have been there feeling.

I am very excited. Tomorrow and Friday I will be attending a Yoga Laughter training workshop with Dr Madan Kataria. How cool is that? I can’t wait. I’m sure it’s going to be brilliant.

LA LA LA LA LA LA

Big Friendly’s coming home today

Big Friendly’s coming home today

Big Friendly’s coming home today

one more sleep

or should I say sleepless? Till Big Friendly comes home. It’s been too long. I get a headache just thinking about it.

This week should be interesting. We’re going to see Gaetan Shmidt’s The Dog’s Bollocks which opens at the Kalk Bay Theatre on Wednesday night. And then, on Sunday I’m off to the Fleur du Cap awards; our very own little version of the Oscars. At Artscape. Go figure. Omigod! What will I wear?

And then next Monday TheatreSports opens in our new Monday night venue, The Intimate. Could you believe it? So exciting.

But first I need Big Friendly to just get on home.

Grandsons of Trout

I said “yes!” to the girls when they asked me to join them at the Sons of Trout reunion gig last night at the Mercury Lounge. I haven’t been to see a live gig in ages, and I remember having jauled to Sons of Trout on many a drunken. Also, Big Friendly is STILL away and I know all the dstv repeats off by heart. Sitting at The Shack before the gig gave us a clue as to who and what would be there. I saw tie dye! Quite a bit of it! I saw goth. I saw a few political/struggle/union t-shirts. I saw old faces. And they saw me. And I realised, with a warmth in my heart that is difficult to explain, that I love Cape Town. There are chunks of it that just STAY THE SAME. I’m sure a trip to the latest club in town or bar in Camps Bay would fill me with terror and intimidation; but there on the dance floor, between tall white guy hopping from foot to uncoordinated foot and aging girl groupie with one arm raised (holding an imaginary lighter aloft?) and mouthing all the words, I felt right at home.

The Sons of Trout have gained in slickness and maturity what they have lost in hair. It was ‘kif’ to see them on stage and they are actually really good. The turn-out was a lot less than I expected – did they have much publicity? I wouldn’t know. I’m completely out of the loop.

The biggest clue to how things have changed was in the ubiquitous ‘rock band photographer’. I caught him sneaking a look through the pics he had taken, there in the room, next to the pool table, on his digital camera. No waiting the whole weekend to see what he had got by printing at Orms on Monday.

Other than that, and except for a few twenty somethings who had stumbled upon the gig by accident, it was all beautifuly, nostalgically, boringly, delightfully the same as before.

liber-ar-chee!

I’ve always said how clever Brent Meersman is. Last night proved it again. I went to go and see Liberace Liber-ar-chee, a work in progress, at the Intimate Theatre. It was on last night and will be on again tonight. Brent has written the show and it stars Godfrey Johnson, directed by Mark Rayment.

Now, because it is a work in progress, it deserves that kind of discussion. So, I think it has brilliant potential. And it is going to end up being an extraordinary piece.

What I want to say is how we can all learn from putting a ‘work in progress’ on. It’s a fantastic way to launch a new production, create interest in it, show your commitment to the piece, explore the viability of it, see what works and what doesn’t. It generates a very special relationship with an audience – one where, I for one, feel involved with the process, and want to contribute to its development, as opposed to critising a final product.

I like the humility of the process too. Writer, actor and director place themselves in a vulnerable position and then they have to commit to going through it all again the next time.

The business of theatre-making can be a savage one. This glimpse into an ‘almost’ production also gives an idea of how difficult it is to stage anything without a somebody or some organisation throwing big money at it.

So, thanks guys. I enjoyed being part of last night, and now I feel like I have a special interest in the growth and furthering of the show. Godfrey, you are a brilliant Liberace (someone who I always thought was a bit of a moegoe until last night) And Brent, you really are very clever. It’s a treat having you on that side of the world for a change.

Table Mountain

When I was at varsity here at UCT many moons ago there was grafitti on the bridge going towards the Baxter which read “Table Mountain gets laid” and underneath it “Table Mountain is a lesbian”. I loved them both even though I never knew why only lesbians got laid. Thus began my collection of bizarre bits and pieces of info on Table Mountain. These days I’ve been working on a project too complicated to begin to expand on, but we’ve been doing research and finding out amazing and weird stuff about Table Mountain.

Like, during WW2 there was a waiter at the restaurant on top of the mountain who, because of his nazi sympathies, became a spy for the Germans and he would Morse-code his contacts, letting them know what ships were entering the harbour.

And apparently, everybody should know that the Dassie is the closest living relative of the elephant.

The wind on top of the mountain can reach speeds of over 300km/h. And it’s measured with a thing called an anamometer. Most of the fynbos bushes on the top of the mountain are small almost bonzai versions because of the hectic wind up there.
During Apartheid, BJ Vorster’s government rolled out the ‘separate amenities’ policy and tried to enforce separate cable cars up the mountain and the Table Mountain Cable Way Company refused.

That’s just some of the TMT (Table Mountain Trivia) I’ve picked up and been tickled by.

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