Megan's Head

A place where Megan gets off her head.

Author: megan (Page 2 of 262)

A Steamy Sunday in NYC

Yesterday was hot. The cool aircon of the Path Subway to Jersey City was a delicious respite. Our rehearsal was intense. I have written a really hardcore play. Jaci and Zane are dream players. We always feel like we want to be doing the full production.

It is amazing how quickly we make rituals. On Saturday Jaci and I bought little power breakfast bowls. They were delicious. We had to do it again yesterday. Frozen vegan chocolate protein with granola, banana and peanut butter. Yum.

After rehearsals we traveled back to Manhattan and caught a 5pm show of  The Day I Became Black by Bill Posely in a gorgeous old theatre The SoHo Playhouse. It was a very special one man show; a personal, funny, well observed journey towards bi-racial identity and how it plays out in a world obsessed with binary labels, boxes and things. I was charmed and moved by him.

After the talkback we came outside to a dusk that had been cooled by a rain shower that we had missed. It was a beautiful world of wet smells, glistening light and a gentle breeze.

New York Diary – Top Gun on a War Ship

Day 2 was me thrown into the deep end, extreme walking jet lag off, a visit to the Biennale at The Whitney, a trip back up to the Upper East Side, then back down to almost where I was before, to wait in a queue, watching the sailors in their white on the beginning of Memorial Day Weekend, while we waited for the ‘gate’ to open. Then it was the trek up to the top deck of The Intrepid, an actual airplane carrier, with planes on it (and a museum below) for the yearly outdoor screening of Top Gun. I will never be able to accurately explain what it was like. Mad, strange, hilarious, nostalgic, cute, mad, funny and bizarre. Google it. Beyond.

Today.

Today was a trip to Jersey City to have our first of 2 Lost Property rehearsals in the venue. Joy of joys. I cannot explain how happy we were.

Then – absolute luck of the lucky. The day before I had said how I would love to get Mexican vegan food while I am here. Boom. We stumbled upon the most awesome vegan friendly Mexican restaurant Hotel Toruga. It was spectacular.

And then! We saw Walk off The Earth live in an intimate and amazing concert. These guys put on the most delicious, funny, positive, charming, musical, slick and delightful show and I loved every minute. Loved.

My feet are aching but my heart is soaring.

 

New York Diary by a dramatic vegan

Day 1

It wasn’t a great flight. No, the flight itself was fine and mostly uneventful, it was just that I was surrounded by some real weirdos. The guy behind me had a total meltdown and grabbed the air hostess to scream his frustration that the little TV screen wasn’t playing what he wanted it to. Then he kicked out this frustration on my seat for 15 hours. And he would not stop farting. It was pretty toxic. People moved out of the way. The very middle-aged woman across the aisle from me, in a cheeky velveteen dungaree onesie, decided to stand on her chair to sort out the stuff in the overhead locker and then projectile fell through the air, landing on her back next to me. My reflexes were good, I didn’t pack up laughing (like I usually do when someone falls), and I helped her to her feet. She spent the rest of the flight either glaring at me or ignoring me. I think she blamed me. When we were getting ready to disembark, she took a deliberately long time, and farter behind me got irritated, launching me into her to get us moving.

But, we arrived at JFK fresh and early in the morning, waited forever for our baggage which got stuck on an erratic conveyor belt, and then hit the traffic into Manhattan.

After a quick shower I walked to Central Park – really close to where I am so lucky to be staying. I have a best friend who lives in NYC. In the Upper East Side. A dream really.

And then in the evening, after an afternoon rain that left the city glistening, we went to Candle 79, a well-established, double story, incredible vegan restaurant for a mind-blowingly delicious diner. What a taste sensation.

A meandering walk through the park and the most vivid and exquisite sunset brought the jet lag to my face and body and I collapsed in a heap at 9.21pm local time, which was like 4am back home.

How exciting that I am here for my own work. We rehearse this weekend at the theatre in Jersey City. Life is good.

Thoughts on asking for Money

It took everything I had to ask for money to help me get to Jersey City for the reading of Lost Property. I am still trying to unpack why crowd funding made me feel a certain shame. As if I needed charity.

But the desire to go there and represent my work; read it myself, propelled me out of shame and into a shy proudness. And, of course, the process exceeded my expectations. Family, close friends, and even acquaintances helped in big and small amounts and I managed to reach my dream target (which will more than pay for my ticket and production costs in the US). I also managed to do this in a record 4 days. I can’t believe it, and I am overflowing with gratitude and amazement.

So, what I am taking away with me today, and taking with me when I go, and what I will bring back, is that there are people who believe in me. They believe in my work, words, and theatre making. This feeling I am now allowing to permeate into everything I do, and it is no mystery that the flow gates are opening.

I am working more, and dreaming more and making more. I am manifesting and visualising and excited and energised. Watch this space.

Or watch me. The Deep Red Sea comes to the Alexander Bar on 20 and 21 May, just before I leave on the 22nd.

PS. A weird, convoluted, heartfelt bow to Pieter Howes. In the strangest, and most uncomfortable of ways we saw each other. I am sorry the world wasn’t a good place for you to be in.

Lost Property in Jersey City

Finally, after 17 days of squirming, my Thundafund campaign is live. It has been a long, uncomfortable wait but now I can confidently ask for help to get me to the USA to be there in person when my play Lost Property has a reading at this little play festival.

I am so proud of this work, and I have to be there in person because I wrote the play very specifically to be performed by me.

I need $1500 to make this trip real, and I need it before I leave on the 22 May. I am offering some fun and fabulous rewards too, so please take a look and then help. Every tiny bit helps.

Go to this link www.thundafund.com/project/lostproperty and please contribute, and share to anyone you think may be able to help.

With love and gratitude.

Dear Bruce Springsteen

This is a letter to Bruce Springsteen. If you know how to help me circulate it so that it may, against all odds, get to him, please help!

Dear Bruce

I’m writing to you as a friend because that’s how it feels. That is the genius of you, I know. That is how all of your fans feel. It feels like I grew up with you and that we’ve been together, as friends ever since I met you, through a friend, when I was twelve. That is 42 years ago. It’s a lasting friendship.

You were the background to my rebellion; growing up white in Apartheid South Africa, you were the voice of my freedom, the echo of my first heartbreak, the shocking reality of my politics, the narrative of my wildness, the love song (If I Should Fall Behind) at my wedding, my solace when my father died and the poet on my inner journey.

I first saw you live in Harare at the Amnesty International concert. (It was my friends and I who had cheekily painted the ‘We love you Brian Springsteen’ banner that made you laugh. It was many years later that I saw you again, first in Cape Town and then in Johannesburg. I couldn’t bear not seeing you in my hometown and so I flew up for that concert that was like a baptism in the rain. Nothing could have prepared me for how personally I took those shows.

Your words and music have been a profound and enduring inspiration to me. So, when my play Lost Property was chosen to be read at a tiny developmental play reading festival at the Jersey City Theatre Centre on the 31 of May, I couldn’t help myself.  I have been fantasising about you being there. I know that it is beyond ridiculous, and beyond all realistic expectation, but I had to ask. Bruce, if you are in that neck of the woods, and would like to come to hear my play being read, I would love to have you there.

Lost Property is a tiny two-hander dealing with land, and home, and houses, and ghosts, and gentrification, and loss. It is deeply personal, and political and also strangely whimsical. And I think you may like it.

Much love and gratitude

Megan

Page 2 of 262

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