OK, not at band camp. At acting camp. As you may recall, Tboy has signed up for an Acting Shakespeare class as part of his ongoing effort to become a better critic, by doing the interdisciplinary scholarship he didn't get as a music major, and (thanks to Georgetown's tuition rates) by utterly bankrupting himself.
Well, Tboy hereby inaugurates a rehearsal journal -- partly because it's a course requirement, partly because he expects that making it public might turn out to be thoroughly humiliating, and that's probably a good thing for a critic.
Today, at the first day of acting camp, we contemplated the sound “Oooooooo,” but only in our heads, trying to guess where it might live in our bodies. Tboy immediately remembered why he sometimes thinks acting is just one wack this side of Scientology.
Turns out, though, that thinking about where “Ooooooo” lives and then finding out where “Oooooo” lives is interesting, if only because Tboy's body thinks “Ooooo” lives in a very different place than Tboy's brain does. Tboy had imagined a heady, falsetto sort of sound, but (maybe because it's before noon, and Tboy hasn't sung in a while) it turns out “Oooooo” lives in the solar plexus.
So, what we learned today is that the body can teach us things. You guys know this, of course. Tboy, who likes to maintain a carefully distant sort of relationship with his body, finds it intriguing. Possibly a little humbling. But then yoga has been kinda humbling, too.
Then we read our sonnets--oh, yeah, we had to pick and prep a sonnet, which we'll be performing over the next week or two. Tboy, for obvious reasons, picked No. 23:
As an unperfect actor on the stage,
Who with his fear is put beside his part,
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,
Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart;
So I, for fear of trust, forget to say
The perfect ceremony of love's rite,
And in mine own love's strength seem to decay,
O'ercharg'd with burthen of mine own love's might.
O! let my looks be then the eloquence
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,
Who plead for love, and look for recompense,
More than that tongue that more hath more express'd.
O! learn to read what silent love hath writ:
To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.
Tboy volunteered to read first. And proceeded to hurry through it, offhanding things he might have done better to dwell on.
Tboy's put some thought into the scansion and the operative words,, but not so much the intention yet--andd we're big on intentions here at acting camp.
Still, he's beginning to get a pretty clear picture of who the speaker is, anyway. More on which later. We're due to go over them again on Thursday, not least in the afternoon lab section, one-on-one...