Saturday June 6, 2001
Another day another deutschmark. I woke early, cycled down to the local watering hole where a free internet connection lives, ordered my daily Milchkaffee (cafe latte to you) and there you go.
Last night was a run through of the play. We open Wednesday (june 20). We had the horses, chickens, real guns firing blanks, make up, and the pyrotechnics. Yes, at one point they blow up a coke machine. The girls are all wearing wigs, the narrator whom we call “Buffalo Schneider” is made up like Buffalo bill in a costume with gold chaps containing white LED’S.
After much strutting and fretting in an armored ham manner, I must die in this play as well. I must lie motionless with a harmonica stuck in my mouth until I rise to sing a duet with one of the greek boys. We do “rock and roll suicide” by bowie and then we return to the dead. I, of course, had lots of practice being dead for hours at a time in Agamemnon so this is nothing, nothing I tell you.
When the chickens are onstage, held aloft by a chorus line of spanish dancers wearing huge mustachios and wigs, they talk about how frank, my character, started his career as a cold blooded killer by killing more chickens than his family could eat. I then give “the chickenspeech” in german where I tell of my delight in killing a nine year old boy at the begining of the film. When I shoot him, a chicken jumps on his neck and pulls out a vein, drags it across the farmyard for 12 meters. whoo hoo. big fun for the whole family.
enough. the coffee is kicking in and I am getting long winded.