Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Almost there!

Get ready to pop open a bottle, toke your best joint, and smack your grandmother’s titty*, because the time is nigh!

In less than 24 hours, my lady love and I will be saying “see-ya” to our current craptastic apartment and diving into our sexy new digs at The Battle Ranch. Like a greedy fat kid before Christmas morning, I’m sitting in a room full of overstuffed cardboard boxes ready to rip’em open at the first chance I get. But of course before that can happen, we have to move’em, haul’em, and place’em underneath that new roof which will not only house my out-of-shape derriere, but also become the artistic playground for all the fine-ass awesomeness of my theatrical peeps. I’m excited to say the least.

But I have to admit, even with all the potential genius that this move will mean, the “Dear Diary” girl inside still whimpers at having to say good-bye to my residence of four years. It was here at 394 Metropolitan Avenue that not only did I grow my company from a pipe-dream to, um, a bit less than a pipe-dream, but it’s also the first apartment I shared with my darling Abby. (Yeah, you’re allowed to groan. But I warn you, any public mocking will warrant a kick to your nuts. And when it comes to the kicking, I’m a fuckin' ninja.)

Prior to moving to 394, I was a single lad surfing the post-college life-stream on an aerobed (an inflatable bed for those who've alway had money) and rooming with two college buddies of mine, Jeremy and Dan. During those days, when not working or writing, the sunny hours were spent on Dan’s Playstation and the evenings comprised of bar hopping, chasing-tail, and – surprise, surprise - copious amounts of liquid courage. My room was meticulously decorated with dirty laundry, old scripts, and empty beer bottles. What can I say? I was the proverbial “before-picture” in an episode of “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy”.

When Abby and I first met, I obviously didn’t reek of long-term commitment potentiality. I had the maturity of a sixteen year old let loose on their father’s liquor cabinet and my professional aspirations had (or should I say “have”) as much probability of success as winning the lotto (an analogy so overused for artists that it might as well be tattooed). These are not the attributes most women look for when searching for something more than a weekend fling.

However, Abby saw it differently. Like a real estate mogul buying land in a developing neighborhood before it hits, Abby bought stock into me even though I seemed to be a sucker’s bet. She gave me time when most would have booked. It didn’t bother her that I had dropped more day jobs than Star Jones had dropped pounds.

No. None of those things scared her away. She was in.

Abby may not play cards, but she is a fucking gambler. She knows when to play the odds, weigh her bets, and go all-in. She did that with me and, looking at what we’ve pulled off together, the chips definitely slid her way. Not only was she not scared off by my less-than-GQ demeanor, she took those questionable elements and and made them her own. For anyone who knows me or my company, it’s pretty clear on what I mean by that statement. It’s her producing savvy that’s made Vampire Cowboys what it is today. And that includes, of course, The Battle Ranch.

Saying good-bye to this old apartment of mine is bittersweet. For as shitty as it was, it housed a lot of friggin’ memories. I started my adult-life here. That’s pretty fuckin’ special. But as special as that is, I’m ready to go. I’m ready to see what new adventures The Battle Ranch will bring us. And I’m most happy to have Abby right by my side in seeing it all. I really love that girl.

(And, yes, I’m serious about those crotch kicks. Mock quietly.)

*What kind of fucked up expression is that, Qui?

Monday, July 30, 2007

Making out with Ma-Yi!

This weekend – between packing, writing, and even a shit-load more packing – I managed to make time with that other theatre company that gleefully sucks up my spare hours and keeps me cranking behind my keyboard - the always badass Ma-Yi Theater Company.

What? You don’t know who they are?

Racist.

Just kidding.

Seriously, folks, these guys are some of the best. Truly. Go see their shit. It will fucking change your goddamn neurotic New York lives forever.

But not only are they full of uber-awesomeness at a level only known to Rock gods, sports heroes, and those girls we all knew in Junior High that blossomed early, they also offer out their artistic mojo generously.

This past Saturday, Ma-Yi held an open house allowing any actor who wanted to play with Ma-Yi the opportunity to slap that credit onto their resumes.

Let me break it down. It goes a little somethin’ like this, hit it:

Ma-Yi is one of the multitudes of companies across the nation that’s participating in Suzan-Lori Parks365 Days/365 Plays. For the few (And, what, there’s like two of you out there?) who don’t know, 365 is a play cycle scribed by the brilliant Ms. Parks that is – as the title suggests – 365 short plays that she wrote during the course of a year at a rate of one play per day. As well, as part of the producer’s mission to include everybody, any company in America or abroad who wants to produce the plays is given full rein to do so with the only stipulation that admission has to be free. Individual productions would cover one week (or seven playlets) of the 52 week play cycle. Theatres are free to adapt, interpret, and produce their set of plays in any way they choose.

For Ma-Yi’s production (Week 39), they decided to further pursue and hopefully explode this idea of “Radical Inclusion” set forth by the playwright. How so? To open up their casting pool the same way Ms. Parks’ has opened her play to producers - Ma-Yi will actively cast any actor who wishes to participate.

Ahem. Let me repeat that.

Ma-Yi will actively cast ANY actor who wishes to participate. . (Yes, now would be the appropriate time to say “WHAAAAT!?!”)

Now, remember, this isn’t just some fly-by-the-pants (What kind of expression is that, Qui?) group, this is an 18 year old Obie Award winning Off-Broadway producing entity that’s considered the nation’s leading Asian-American theater company. And they are handing out roles like a vengeful hooker with an STD (Uh, weird analogy alert).

It’s a brave move to say the least. But as I said, Ma-Yi is badass and – as we all know (because we’re all badass or at least students of badass) - ya don’t get to fuck the A-crowd by playing your shit safe.

The Open House served as both an introduction to any actor coming on board the project as well as a day for us to just play, meet a gaggle of new faces, and embolden, enliven, and expose a new crop of actor-types to the community (Or as we members of Ma-Yi like to say “the family”) of Ma-Yi. As a co-director of their Writers Lab (Not an actor in 365 cause Qui don’t act), I was there to just help spread the love.

Approximately 70 folks showed up. And since the mission was bring in the new, the vast majority was a mixture of kids straight out of college and folks who had never stepped onto a Ma-Yi stage.

The five-hour day broke down like this:
Section One: Ice-breaker games
Section Two: Improv games
Section Three: The immediate creation and performance of new plays.

The first two bullet-points are pretty self-explanatory. The third, which by far was the most exciting element of the day, was Ma-Yi’s chance to see what these guys could do and to explore how we could all act as collaborators. After the first couple of hours of playing games, the large group of actors was split into three smaller groups and charged with creating a five to ten-minute play. We were given a NY Times to find a catalyst, an hour and a half to work, and soon after, we would be performing.

Working in theatre, perhaps one of the shittiest aspects to what we do is auditioning. And it doesn’t matter which side of the table you’re on, the process is pretty fucking dreadful. You’re either the one out there trying to show your best shit in three minutes or you’re the one who has to break hearts and figure out who had the best three-minute shit (Ew). Obviously, it’s not a very conducive environment to birth awesome. But it’s what we do and, honestly, there has to be a better way for us to get to know one another.

Thus the Ma-Yi Open House. At the start of the day, Ralph (Ma-Yi’s Artistic Director) put it bluntly, “I don’t cast people I don’t know”. He went further on to say (And I’m approximating here since I didn’t bring a tape recorder), “The truth of the matter is the best way to get cast by Ma-Yi or by almost any theatre company for that matter is to get to know them. At EPA’s (Equity Principal Auditions), I’ll try to take notes on new faces, but that information disappears pretty quickly if I don’t get to see those notable new faces do something soon. So we here at Ma-Yi decided to do this Open House so we could change that – so we can get to know you and for you to get to know us in a period longer than three minutes – so we can begin building a real relationship with one another. As an artist, I believe what we do for this world is important. I also think the only way to change the world is to do it together. But before we can do that, we gotta find a better way to say hello. So here’s the invitation if you needed it, come be part of our community. Don’t be bashful. Now, let’s get to work.”

Around the blogosphere, this term has been trumpeted around a lot. Ralph said it too. “Community.” It’s part of what makes what we do so very special. When I first came to NYC straight outta grad school, I must admit that I didn’t consider how important this aspect would be to me and to all the artists I know. It’s not something taught in school as anything of importance. But living here, creating a life here, having peers and friends in this profession to help motivate, inspire, and push me has become so integral to who I am and what I do. Maybe other artists may feel differently than I do, they may feel that they can create their shit in a vacuum and still have it smelling like roses. But me, I needs my peeps. And I’m not just talking about my direct family of Vampire Cowboys and Ma-Yi Labbies. I’m talking about the whole enchilada – everybody I’ve worked with from LAByrinth to Nosedive to Youngblood, The Brick, Partial Comfort, ALL the folks that make up Off-Off Broadway (Because Off-Off Broadway is where the shit is real), and the bloggers, the badasses, the drinking buddies that keep me going everyday. This is my community and I love ‘em. I fuckin’ LOVE them.

Ma-Yi’s Open House was awesome. It may not have immediately revolutionized auditioning, but at least it was an attempt to make it better. I met an incredible amount of people and actually found ways to connect with each of them individually. I got to see what kind of plays they’d come up with, what kind of characters they could play, and we all had a chance to rock it out. That’s pretty cool considering that in a regular day of auditions, I’d probably go through the same amount of actors, but wouldn’t be able to tell you one thing about any of them other than what their headshots looked like. On this day, however, I could tell you what they did, the funny stories they told, the crazy shit they put together, and found that even in the course of only five hours, any assumptions I had about any of them at 10am was blown to shreds by 3pm. It was a pretty great way to meet folks. And, once again, my community (which just grew by 70) inspired the hell out of me. Don't be surprised to see a few of these guys on a Vampire Cowboys' stage as well. They impressed me.

Not a bad way to procrastinate from packing and writing, huh? Not bad at all.

Friday, July 27, 2007

Preparing for the great Exodus . . . well, sorta

Along with script deadlines, the other Herculean task that’s been clogging my day-runner (Yeah, I still use a day-runner. Whaddup?) has been that of packing. In less than five days, Abby, myself, and our whole posse of Vampire Cowboys is moving into our very own space, The Battle Ranch (AKA the former Studio 111), out in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. The new digs are complete with an office, two rehearsal studios, and a three bedroom apartment. Yep, it’s pretty fly for an art sty.

How’d we score this splendiferous deal? The story goes a little somethin’ like this. Kick it:

The current owners of the space called up Abby (Vampire Cowboys’ Managing Director and my lady love) and was like, “Yo, we outta here so we can get our school on. You want in on this muhfuckah?”

And Abby was like “Fa’ shizzle!”

The End. True Story.

(Disclaimer: I’m not sure if those were the exact words that were exchanged, but I’m pretty sure I captured the essence of Abby’s voice and personality.)

And so . . . The Battle Ranch was born.

Without a doubt, this will revolutionize how my whacky band of Undead Wranglers artistically operates. Already in the works, we’re looking to schedule more workshops, more fight classes, and more programming into our season. All of which, you can find out about at www.vampirecowboys.com or . . . here at Beyondabsurdity, that is if I remember to post it.

But before the revolution begins, I gotta box up my shit. And Abby and I, after living it up here in our current cozy rat trap of four years, have acquired a mad amount of silly, sentimental, and professionally significant shit. From knick-knacks to clothes to the unending Vampire Cowboys inventory of weapons, props, paperwork, and costumes, it all has to go into our cardboard kingdom of moving boxes. We had all summer to do it. And, of course, like anyone in this very situation, we procrastinated on it like it was undergrad English assignment.

So that’s gonna be my weekend, Vamp fans. Hope yours rocks.

See ya on Monday!

Beyondabsurdity: The New Style

So I’m in the midst of more writing deadlines than I can count. More than I ever experienced in grad school, more than all my undergraduate English classes combined, more than – to say the least - what I’m used to having to juggle on a regular basis. And this is when I thought it’d be a good time to reboot the ol’ Beyondabsurdity blog. Why? Because I’m a fuckin’ retard that’s why.

But then again, perhaps this is the most interesting time to document – as the slug-lines goes – the life of an artist refusing to starve. Unlike the original incarnation of Beyondabsurdity five years ago, I’m no longer a Williamsburg waiter drowning my lack of artistic work sorrows with nightly jaunts to after-work hipster watering holes. Gone are the days of Tiswas, Filter 14, and trashing the town with my buddy Howie at every bar/club that kicked the early aught rock-vibes of NYC indie-pop. Gone are the random hook-ups, the drunken slouching, the mornings of wondering “how the hell did I end up here?” In its place, I’m now a working playwright who found love, a place in my artistic community, and the sense to stop drinking once I lose all the feeling in my cheeks.

This is the 30-year old Qui. Perhaps boring now in some aspects, but thoroughly more happy in others. I’ve traded in my skinny tight rocker jeans for a career and it feels pretty damn good. Besides, I can’t fit in my old clothes anyways. Now that I can afford food, my body is no longer the lean 135 lbs of pure metrosexual muscle that it once was, thus making my fitted t’shirts look not so flattering.

Sidenote: In the past five years, I have gotten (in my approximation) grossly out of shape. And to do something about it, I also returned to the world of rigorous exercise this week. And all I have to say is . . . this shit is hard. Especially since I’m no longer doing it to get laid by stranger ladies . . . and let’s be honest, sex is the greatest motivator.

Once upon a time ago, BeyondAbsurdity was a place to tell my story on how I began my rookie life here in the ol' NYC. Now, it’s a half decade later and though I'm no longer a red-shirt freshman, I also haven't quite made it to the Superbowl just yet. There's still alot of story to tell. Here's Chapter Two: the journey from Qui the downtown rebel writer that I am today to hopefully a writer whose words will one day pay for the livelihood of his family, his children, and a whole bunch of other grown-uppy stuff of that nature. Will that actually happen? We'll see.

I’m at a precipice – the same precipice that the majority of my close theatre buddies are experiencing. We all work a ton. We all have gained some small measure of success and respect. We're all still virtual unknowns and thoroughly broke. However, we’re on a verge of something. But what is that great something? It’s an exciting time to be an artist (which has been said by every artist during every period of time in all of existence). I’m ready to see what’s next and I’m happy to share those experiences with you . . . you handful of people who actually read this utterly unimportant blog of mine.

I hope you enjoy the updates and thank you for bookmarking this page.

Welcome back to BeyondAbsurdity: the New Style!

Four and three and two and one (What up!)
And when I'm on the mic - the suckers run!

Thursday, July 26, 2007

What the fuck is this shit all about?

1) Who the fuck are you?
Answer: Qui Nguyen

2) What the fuck do you do and how does it relate to this goddamn blog?
Answer: I'm a New York-based playwright and fight director. This blog is about those experiences.

3) Really? You fight?
Answer: Yep. But just for pretend.

4) Pussy.
Answer: That's not a question.

5) Why is this muh-fuckah named BEYONDABSURDITY?
Answer: My first play ever professionally produced was a script called STAND-UP ABSURDITY (Wing and Groove Theatre - Chicago, 2000). This blog's name is an homage to that - it's about all the work I'm doing post that first production.

6) Wow. That's fuckin' gay.
Answer: Well, ya know, I do work in theatre.

7) That suppose to be funny?
Answer: Yes.

8) So how often are you gonna update this shit? Everyday? Every hour?
Answer: Probably pretty often at first. Then I'll lose interest or get busy and update it very rarely. And then, probably none at all.

9) Well, at least yo' fuckin' yella ass is honest.
Answer: And yellow.

10) So if you a writer an' shit, who's your favorite storyteller?
Answer: My mom.