My Wedding

For many reasons, both political and personal, I never thought I'd be married.  And now I am.  I'm still processing the glory of yesterday's experience, and I think it'll be a while before I can write about it with any degree of cogency.  Instead, I'm going to provide the text of the ceremony for those of you who are interested in checking it out, along with the menu and list of people toasting.  I do not have the text of the actual toasts, which is especially unfortunate because they were some of the real highlights for me.  

Before I launch into the text itself, however, there are a few thoughts I'd like to share.  Yesterday, I found myself asking: why is getting married important?  I pondered this question in both its gay context and empirically.  I certainly know many couple, gay and straight, who have spent years and decades together without any of the bru-ha-ha of a wedding and I don't think they're any less in love than a married couple.  There is, however, something significant about taking a few hours out of your life and celebrating two people's love for each other.  Standing in front of your community and taking oaths (or, incorporating your community into your oath-taking, as we did) is powerful.  It binds you to your partner, and to your community.  Like in a Racine play, the word is the event and vice versa.  Yesterday, I promised Rafael that I would honor, cherish and respect him.  When next I'm feeling petty or unhappy, I hope to summon the memory of those oaths and use it as a talisman to inspire me to better.  And I do believe that the formality of the event, and its publicity, will make it more potent that if Rafael and I had done it by our lonesome, or without a legal state.

 

I  WELCOME

I am deeply honored to welcome you to this joyous occasion.   

Today we are here to share in the marriage ceremony between Rafael Ascencio and Michael Barakiva and to mark this important moment together.  We want to welcome both family and friends who have traveled far distances to participate in today—people who have been such meaningful supporters in the lives and journeys of both Michael and Rafael, including John Iacovelli from Los Angeles, a city Michael loves, Marco Barricelli, Beatrica Basso, Ariel Ford and Durand Ford from the Bay Area, and Charlie and Laurie Beth Rose Engbring, who bought an RV five days ago and drove up from Savannah, Georgia.  We especially want to acknowledge Rafael’s family who came here from Mexico City: his mother Margarita, his brother Luis Antonio, his Godmother Sylvia, his aunt Evangelina, his cousins Adriana, Ana Luisa, Alejandra, Eduardo, and Eduardo’s partner, Alicia and his friends Carlos and Carmen, as well as Francisco and Ricardo who came from Italy and Mercedes, who came from Canada. 

Michael was my first real friend in New York.  We became friends over the course of one week at Lincoln Center, participating in a program for emerging theater directors.  I think all of us who became friends that week are here today. That was back in 1998.

Since then, we laughed and struggled our way through our 20’s, he supported my own relationship and helped me navigate career, love, family—and when Rafael entered at the top of the second act, here in our 30’s, they have cooked for me, introduced me to the best authentic Mexican chefs across the country, and were there for me and my partner Makela when we decided to start a family with the birth of our now almost three year old son, Max. 

It gives me personal joy as well to welcome you to this space, this historic setting, The O’Neill, where I have had the honor of being Artistic Director for almost 10 years now.  Beneath this copper beach tree, some of the greatest theater artists have worked—honing their craft and telling profound stories that have impacted the world. Indeed Eugene O’Neill himself, considered one of the greatest playwrights of all time, grew up down the street in New London, and was inspired by this landscape. It is fitting that in this theatrical setting we come together to share the story of Michael and Rafael’s relationship and to all celebrate their union in marriage. Many of us from the theatre consider this space, this land, even right under this tree, to be sacred space. It is a space where our ancestors walked—it is a space where we feel the ghosts who pass this legacy onto us.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that one of the important people in Michael’s life, playwright Wendy Wasserstein, began her own theatrical journey here and often returned to The O’Neill throughout her life.  We lost Wendy too soon.  And that loss was felt on a very personal level, I know, for Michael.  I know Wendy is here today.  She wouldn’t miss the wedding day of Michael and Rafael and she would be so incredibly happy for you both.

Wendy’s characters sought to find love, as we all do.

Maamoun Jibali, my un-boyfriend's actual boyfriend, designed our flowers and rings.  Fab, no?  The runners and chuppah were designed by Shoko Kambara, one of my fav set designers, from the same material shown here.

Jamie Blumenthal in Wendy’s play Isn’t It Romantic said this about marriage: “When I’m 28, I’m going to get married and be very much in love with someone who is poor and fascinating until he’s thirty and then fabulously wealthy after that.  And we’re going to have children who wear overalls and flannel shirts and are kind and independent with curly blond hair. And we’ll have great sex and still hold hands when we are travel to China when we’re sixty.” 

I think we can all identify with Jamie’s dream—the notion to have someone who evolves with you over time, someone who will grow old with you and hold your hand as you move through time.

It may sound very old fashioned, but it is indeed in this space of romance and love Michael and Rafael began their relationship—

II.   First Song – Kiss Me Each Morning

Michael and Rafael made each other CDs with their favorite songs, early in their courtship.  Michael heard the Bettye Swan cover of the song KISS ME EACH MORNING and knew that it had to go on Rafael’s next mix.  The song will be performed by Maria Thayer, with Jim Russell and Glen DeVries on Guitar and Uri Attia on Percussion.

III.   First Reading – LOVE IN THE TIME OF CHOLERA

Another passion that Michael and Rafael share is a love for the writings of the Magic Realists.  Our first reading will be a passage from LOVE IN THE TIME OF CHOLERA by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, read by Rafael’s best friend Mercedes Aldana, a lawyer and an actress from Garcia Marquez’ native land, Colombia.

Quotes from Love in the Time of Cholera

“Together they had overcome the daily incomprehension, the instantaneous hatred, the reciprocal nastiness, and fabulous flashes of glory in the conjugal conspiracy. It was time when they both loved each other best, without hurry or excess, when both were most conscious of and grateful for their incredible victories over adversity. Life would still present them with other moral trials, of course, but that no longer mattered: they were on the other shore.”

“Very well, I will marry you if you promise not to make me eat eggplant.”

“And how long do you think we can keep this coming and going?

Florentino Ariza had kept his answer ready for fifty three years, seven months and eleven days and nights.

----Forever”

― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

Although it was chilly to have our ceremony and reception outdoors, our perseverance was acknowledged by a beautiful rainbow that appeared high in the sky.

 

IV. ON MARRIAGE:

Like any great love story with a happy ending, the initial days of Michael and Rafael’s courtship were marked with difficulties.  Although they met and were immediately drawn to each other, Michael was leaving to travel the world for a directing job. 

However, just days after he left, Michael penned his first letter to Rafael and their real story started. 

Thus began a long period of letter writing and great anticipation built as they would each wait for each other’s missives.  In Germany, Michael asked the front desk staff of the hotel where he was staying if a letter had arrived for him every morning.  The staff felt so bad when they saw the disappointment on his face that they actually wrote him a letter themselves.

Once back in the same space, New York, Rafael and Michael continued getting to know each other.  There was a day when Rafael said he was having some doubts about their future, but Michael said “I just want to walk with you around the park, that’s all.”  Both Rafael and Michael are modern men, with fast paced lives so the idea of just being together, in the same space, outside with that sort of singular focus, a focus on each other is something Rafael remembers fondly as a true turning point.  It culminated in a kiss outside the lobby of Rafael’s office building. Even that moment felt complicated, but as Rafael recalls, he knew he had to track Michael down and work toward something with this man.  No matter where their travels took them, whether it be Mexico, Europe, Philadelphia or Ninth Avenue.

Both Michael and Rafael felt drawn to each other for many reasons and those reasons continued to drive and guide their relationship for these beginning years.  It is clear that these ties will continue to be very meaningful in their marriage.

Michael and Rafael come from rich cultural backgrounds, and their love for their families and their cultures are strong.  They are both passionate about their ideals, and their work.  Both have a great spirit of artistry and it draws them to each other—Rafael has now officially inherited the world of the theatre, which he embraces and draws inspiration and joy from as well.  Rafael also paints and learned to appreciate the importance and role of the artist since he was a little boy, from his Grandmother Tita, who sang professionally in the 1930s with her sisters, The Navarro Sisters.  Rafael has talked to me about Michael’s passion, and it is a large passion—and that he feels they have a good balance in their relationship between being passionate and grounded.  

And then we got our second rainbow, a glorious, full-sky, full-arc affair.  If you think roasting two lambs in caja china boxes to feed 125 guests was tricky, you should see what I had to do to get these rainbows.

And then of course there is food.  Both Michael and Rafael love food. They love to cook, they love to shop for the best ingredients,  and one of their favorite things about traveling is the opportunity to eat at some of the best restaurants in the world.  —they have introduced each other to their favorite foods, and Rafael has taught Michael how to make his pomegranate guacamole and Michael has taught Rafael how to make hummus.  They have taught each other about their cultures and hearts via meals and conversation, and are founding a new Israeli-Armenian-Mexican fusion movement that they’re sure will be the next hot thing.  They see the act of cooking as one of love, like great art, meant to draw people together.  Michael even made Rafael’s favorite mole recipe, after spending an entire 24 hour period grinding the appropriate spices, putting energy and love into that mole—bringing their cultures and families, together.

And that brings us here today.  A day of union. A day of celebration and reflection.

While on a trip home to Mexico, actually a sad occasion—it was the memorial for Rafael’s father who had passed away—Rafael noted Michael lagging behind to speak to his mother and brother. Rafael assumed Michael was privately passing along his condolences, but he also sensed some sort of feeling of joy.  Actually, what was happening was that Michael was asking if he could have their blessing in asking Rafael to marry him—which they agreed to—Rafael’s father had already given Michael a “10” and he did so because language was limited because of his aphasia—he would rank people, and Michael ranked the highest.  Rafael still speaks about that moment when he didn’t know what was happening, but felt joyous.  He now knows it was his father dancing, and celebrating for him and for Michael.

V SECOND READING – WILD NIGHTS

Our last reading will be Wild Nights by Emily Dickinson, performed by Lindsey Gates.  Michael directed Lindsey in a one-woman show about Emily Dickinson through the Lake George Theater Lab, which Lindsey founded eight years ago and where Michael proudly serves as Resident Director.  This play, The Belle of Amherst, was the first play of Michael’s that Rafael saw.  When Rafael saw that Michael had dedicated the play to him, it brought tears to his eyes.

In the email where she accepted the invitation to read this poem at the wedding, Lindsey wrote:

I remember sitting in your apartment working on this play, eating avocados and watching you fall in love. Mostly I remember the look on your face, realizing it was merely time that would make the inevitability of this relationship happen. It was summer. It was hot. They were wild nights.

Lindsey Reads WILD NIGHTS:

         Wild Nights – Wild nights!

         Were I with thee

         Wild nights should be

         Our luxury!

         Futile – the Winds –

         To a Heart in port –

         Done with the Compass –

         Done with the chart!

         Rowing in Eden –

         Ah, the Sea!

         Might I but moor – Tonight -         

         In thee!

VI. Vows

When Michael proposed to Rafael, again in the spirit of romance, he led Rafael to a bench on the bank of the Hudson River on the West Side of Manhattan. 

This bench had been a special place for them both, a place they walked to, talked on, dreamed about life and possibly a life together.  They had spent celebrated every monthly anniversary at this bench, going their each 24^th, since they started dating on May 24^th, 2009.

However, on their three-year anniversary, May 24^th 2001, Michael led Rafael to the bench and something was different.  Rafael admits his eyesight isn’t the best, so at first, he didn’t see it, but then, Michael proposed to Rafael by reading “100 REASONS WHY I WANT YOU TO MARRY ME/I WANT TO MARRY YOU,” which he had written on the bench the day before. 

Michael would like to invite the guests here to recite these reasons, as his vows, to Rafael.  If you received a yellow index card, please take it out now.  Please speak clearly, articulate well, and make sure to say your number so that the next number knows when to go.  Michael, would you start us off?

100 Reasons Why I Want You To Marry Me/

(100 Reasons Why I Want To Marry You)

1.        We make each other happy and I believe we will continue to do so for the rest of our lives.  

2.        We’re learning how to disagree.

3.        When I asked your brother for his blessing, he gave it and called me hermano.   

4.        When I asked your mother for her blessing, we both cried.   

5.        Your mother.    

6.         You let me be there for you when your father passed away.  

7.        I let you be there for me when my grandmother passed away.   

8.        Because I feel like I knew your grandmother, Tita.    

9.        My family loves you.    

10.      We both cook.

11.      We both clean (although you do it better).

12.      You might be a spy.   

13.      Your cat, Taco Grande, thinks it’s a good idea.

14.      Our teddy bear P.J. agrees.

15.      It’s legal.

16.      We belong together.

17.      You get me.

18.      You love the theatre. 

19.      You love my theatre.

20.      I’m so impressed by the company you started and the work you do.

21.      I don’t have to struggle to find one hundred reasons.

22.      You have an artist’s imagination.

23.      Our initial connection was passionate.

24.      Our continued connection is more.

25.      And yet, we’re drawn to each other still.

26.      Being worthy of you is an admirable goal.   

27.      We learned how to share a small living space.

28.      We decorate fabulously.

29.      You love to travel.

30.      You speak many languages.   

31.      You love your friends.   

32.      And mine.   

33.      You let me keep my desk messy.

34.      You’re learning when to let me have my way.

35.      And when to not.

36.      On car rides, and bus rides, and train rides, we talk.

37.      You don’t mind when I meditate in the morning.

38.      You are a very handsome man.

39.      You love your country.

40.      You are incapable of malice.

41.      You are comfortable in your body in a way I envy.

42.      You love the Magic Realists.

43.      It has become impossible for me to imagine my life without you.

44.      You have great taste, especially in color.

45.      You understand the quality of value and value of quality.

46.      You make me laugh: often, heartily and unexpectedly.

47.      You are an adventurer.

48.      See Emily Dickinson, “Wild Nights.”   

49.      I’d rather be blue thinking of you than happy with somebody else.   

50.      You like foreign movies.

51.      You offered to serve lemonade to my soccer team.   

52.      Giving others joy gives you joy.

53.      Every year, you get more handsome.

54.      You know what you like.

55.      You take care of me.

56.      You let me take care of you.

57.      You accompany me to my family functions.

58.      You love children.   

59.      Fatherhood would come effortlessly to you.

60.      I am always proud to walk into a room with you.

61.      You enjoy sleep.

62.      I enjoy sharing a bed with you.

63.      You’re a romantic.

64.      You understand the importance of ritual.

65.      You engage me as a man.

66.      You understood it was important for me to propose to you.

67.      You don’t mind driving.

68.      You are gentle.

69.      Loving comes naturally to you.

70.      As does faith.

71.     But you are not religious.

72.      You don’t watch TV.

73.      You paint.

74.      You let me bring most of my stuff into our apartment.

75.      You like to drink but you don’t get drunk.

76.      You soul is unencumbered.

77.      You don’t torture yourself with regret.

78.      You dress excellently.

79.      We wooed each other with letters.

80.      You have visited me in Lake George, Poughkeepsie, Princeton, Syracuse, Davis and Rhinebeck.

81.      You love an opening night.

82.      The world is a place of possibility for you, a place to surprise and be surprised, full of joy and marvel.

83.      Your ex-wife is your best friend.   

84.      Wendy Wasserstein would’ve approved.   

85.      You massage my feet.  With lotion.

86.      You enjoy a good dinner party.

87.      We have followed each other, through Central New Jersey and Hell’s Kitchen, for most of our lives.

88.      The 24^th. 

89.      With you, three years feels like a long time in all the ways it should and a short time in all the ways it should.

90.      You don’t pry.

91.      But are inquisitive.

92.      When you smile my hearts sings.

93.      I trust you will appreciate this gesture.

94.      I feel least self-conscious and most myself when I am with you.

95.      You prefer experiences to objects.

96.      When it’s chilly at night and we cuddle, you glow.

97.      You’re not scared to haggle.

98.      I’m not sure what your response will be.

99.      You’re the love of my life.

100.    You would’ve forgiven me if I only came up with 99.

Rafael was genuinely surprised that day on the bench, one year ago. He had no idea this would be the day for this proposal.  He didn’t immediately say yes, which Michael says, made him “want to hurl my body into the Hudson River”—in his Romantic Hero way.

But a few moments later, Rafael did accept and a few days later, Rafael returned the proposal with a resounding and passionate “100 REASONS WHY I SAID YES.”

Yet again, romantic, inventive and artistic, their proposal and its acceptance was marked with their unique style and homage to Love.

Rafael would like to invite the guests here to recite these reasons, as his vows, to Michael.  If you received a green index card, please take it out now.  Please speak clearly, articulate well, and make sure to say your number so that the next number knows when to go.  Rafael, would you start us off?

1. You are my love
2. Our love has evolved and grown from within
3. We are learning to disagree gracefully
4. Your eyes
5. You love my country
6. We adopted PJ, our teddy bear
7. You don’t mind that my hair gets crazy in the rain
8. Your beautiful curly hair
9. You love your family
10. I love your mother
11. I love your father
12. You don’t like the suburbs
13. Plays never direct you
14. You direct plays
15. The people you work with love you
16. You write handwritten letters
17. You found the letter that I sent you to Berlin
18. You made three books for me
19. Your sense of space is magnificent
20. I am never blue thinking of you
21. You read my poems
22. I feel secure when I am holding your hand
23. You give love to strangers
24. You know what you want
25. The world is interesting through your filter
26. Your friends love you and they show it
27. You include me
28. Your brother and sister
29. Creative space is a priority for you
30. It is important to make time for our love
31. You love passionately
32. You sing out loud with your earphones on
33. Your hands
34. We sometimes live in my cat Taco’s world
35. You inspired me to paint again
36. We meet every month at the same bench and write our initials
37. You open the door for me
38. You cry when you’re moved
39. You take pictures of small dogs
40. You like my dog Mezcal
41. You drink tequila straight up like Mexicans do
42. You surprise me with details
43. The art of giving is something you’ve mastered
44. Nothing makes me prouder than walking into a room with you
45. You know how much I loved my Grandmother Tita and you love her too
46. You take pride in your work
47. You write beautifully
48. You have big feet
49. Cooking is an art that you master
50. You learned how to make mole
51. You love Puerto Escondido
52. Your name is like San Miguel
53. You believe in magic realism
54. I lived in the same building as Wendy Wasserstein
55. We might have met each other in another life
56. People smile when we are holding hands on the street
57. You taught me to love Wild Nights
58. You bought me a cinnamon ice cream on the street in December
59. I wrote a poem about it and you framed it
60. You know when to apologize and you accept an apology gracefully
61. You know how to say no
62. You know when to say yes
63. I cried at your Grandmother Nana’s funeral
64. Nana’s painting is hanging on our walls with mine and I feel honored
65. You came to my father’s funeral
66. My father, Pepe, gave you a 10
67. You understand how much I miss my Dad
68. You love my mother
69. You learned all of my cousins’ names
70. You feel at home in Mexico
71. Understanding why I love my city came naturally to you
72. You have been kind and graceful to my family and friends
73. And they love you
74. You know how to treat me
75. We laugh together
76. We love good food
77. We believe in the future of us
78. We are patient and loving with our families
79. My brother responds to your affection
80. You play soccer
81. We talk every day
82. You put your arm around me
83. You once said “I want something more” and this changed our lives
84. Your legs
85. You do yoga
86. You allow me to be myself
87. We love Oaxaca
88. Fear of risk is not in your agenda
89. We loved Umbria
90. We had a Roman Holiday
91. You have allowed me to collaborate with you in your projects
92. Mercedes loves you
93. You know when to kiss
94. You had a green umbrella
95. We dream of a beautiful future together
96. When the time comes, I want to be with you
97. You got tickets for Barbra Streisand
98. You kneeled when you proposed to me
99. I only wrote 99 reasons why I said Yes

100.Because the 100th one cannot be written in words

VI.5 – Unity Ritual

(At this point, Ana Luisa gets three containers – two contain clear liquids and one is empty vessel.  Rafael and I are each handed one with liquid and she holds the empty one.)

Before you met, your lives were separate roads, each going in a different direction and seemingly leading to different destinations. But you met, fell in love, and today you find yourselves standing together at the entrance of a new path that will forever join your once separate journeys

You each hold a vessel of liquid. Each represents the separate journeys you once were on, as well as your own sets of friends and families that once were apart. When you combine them, it will represent the coming together of your friends and family, through your marriage, into one. And as the two liquids are poured into one container, your once solitary journeys will now be one of companionship, as you walk a single path together into your future.

"I now ask that you pour the liquids together.  

(the liquids are now poured, forming a new pink solution)

As the liquid has been joined, your lives are now joined, your separate journeys through life are now one. Your friends and family are as one as well, for now you will share those who are in your lives and will walk hand-in-hand along the path of your marriage - united and strong, as inseparable form each other as this new solution."

VII.  RING VOWS

Ayden, could we have the rings please?

(Ayden, my nephew, delivers the rings.  I take Rafael’s ring and recite)

I, Michael

Give to you, Rafael

This Ring

As a symbol of my love and loyalty

And I promise

to honor, respect and cherish you

In good times and in bad

In sickness and in health

For all of the days of my life.

 (I put the ring on Rafael’s finger.  Then Rafael recites:)

Yo, Rafael

Te entrego a ti, Michael

Este Anillo

Como símbolo de mi amor y mi lealtad

Y prometo

Honrarte, respetarte y adorarte

En buenos y malos tiempos

En la enfermedad y en la salud

Por todos los días de mi vida

(Rafael puts the ring on Michael’s finger.)

By the power vested in me by the State of Connecticut, one of the twelve states in the United States where gay marriage is legal, I now pronounced you married.  You may kiss the groom.

(We kiss.)

VIII. Post Declaration Ritual

In the Jewish tradition, a glass is broken by the groom on the wedding as a reminder that we must remember temperance even during times of extreme joy.  It has evolved into a more celebratory ritual.

My sister brings a glass wrapped in a napkin and I step on it.)

The meaning of this ancient pagan ritual is that the egg, as a living cell, is rubbed to absorb the evil spirits and purify the soul of the new couple. The egg is then broken in a glass, for new beginnings.

(Ricardo takes an egg, wave it around us, then crack it into a bowl.)

FINAL COMMENTARY:

Michael and Rafael, you both learned to trust each other, you have the blessing of your family and friends and as Janie says in ISN’T IT ROMANTIC:

“All you have to do is trust me a little bit.  I believe a person should have a little originality, a little “you know”—otherwise, you just grow old like everybody else. And you know, I like life, life, life.  Relax and let me figure it out”

May you both continue to figure it out together and

may you both “grow old on one pillow.”

The Most Important Day Of My Life (For The Next Two Weeks)

I'm still searching to articulate the wonder of Saturday, May 4th, the day on which The Upstart Creatures presented a concert reading of our adaptation of John Milton's PARADISE LOST (cut down to a mere 8 hours), punctuated by two meals that we made for those souls brave, daring and crazy enough to join us. 

Here's a schedule of the day's events:

10AM - First Wave

first wave arrives to begin assembling the sandwiches for tea and cutting the baked goods.  We get to the work in the sanctuary of the church, which is a gorgeous space:



The fillings had been made previously, as had the sweets, but creating 750 tea sandwiches is still a formidable feat.  The loaves of bread had been ordered and picked up by our company member, Linda Larson, and frozen the night before, to make spreading easier (our Tea Mistress, Carol Halstead, did all the research for why those little tea sandwiches taste so delicious - another trick - lots of butter).  We set up the assembly lines: Paul Bernardo (who rode his bike up from Florida the night before), Michelle Beck (who flew in  from Germany the night before), and David Scotchford, our resident choreographer/kitchen master, who cooked and cleaned and chopped his heart out along with his wife, Tomoko Minami.

Our second 10AM crew consisted of +Stephen BelD and Lindsey Gates along with this awesome young woman named Anne who recently graduated from Yale's Dramaturgy program and showed up to help.  They were our Very Berry Crew, in charge of assembling the Demon Dart Berry Picks that were our fifth dessert option for the first meal.

Noon - All Hands On Deck

the rest of the company arrives.  Until 1:30, we all assemble, slice, cut and bake.  Our stage manager, Catherine Costanza, worked in a bakery in college.  And she plays violin.  Both skills are used this day.  Maggie Lacey, along with her two beautiful men (husband Bill Heck, who's basically become a Honorary Upstart by this point, and her son Harry, who was exactly one month old the day of this event), shows up and insists on helping whenever she's not feeding her son.  She sliced up our Fruit of Knowledge Upside Down Cake, which had been baked the day before in the church.  We were all terrified it wouldn't set, but the beautiful thing solidified into a scrumptious delight by the day of our event.  Rafael even asked me to make it as the dessert for our rehearsal dinner.

Jason Bruffy, our Associate Producer, sets up the upstairs space, and performs what I consider to be the technical miracle of running an audio feed to our downstairs space so that actors can hear the reading while they're cooking.  This is amazing because:

1)  that way we all got to hear the poem
2)  actors didn't miss their entrance cues

1:30 - Thank you, thirty.

I make all the company members put down their knives and aprons and start prepping for the reading itself.

2:10 - Curtain

I welcome our audience members with joy in my heart to our (Meta)Physical Feast.  The entire company performs the prologue:

 

Of man’s first disobedience, and the fruit

Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste

Brought death into the world, and all our woe,

With loss of Eden, till one greater Man

Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,

Sing Heav’nly Muse,

In the beginning how the heav’ns and earth

Rose out of chaos: I thence Invoke thy aid

To my advent’rous song, while it pursues

Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme.

Then the actors who weren't in Books 1 or 2 ran offstage to help setting up the tea.

2:10'ish - 3:45 No Teabagging Here

This was probably the most intense period, since the Lower Hall was booked by a birthday party until 3PM.  Luckily, the uncle of the birthday boy studied Milton in college, so he was sympathetic when we bolted through their party into the kitchen, holding platters of chicken salad sandwiches.

The tea was donated by Harney & Sons, since it turns out that one of the Sons plays on my gay soccer team, the The New York Ramblers!  The tea was sensational, my favorites being Diamond Jubilee, an Earl Grey with citrus overtones, and Strawberry Kiwi herbal, and I don't even like herbal tea.  Please note: We brewed all the tea from loose tea and served it in these beautiful urns.  No tea-bagging here!

3:45 - 5  Full Tea

When our audience descend after hearing Books 1-3 of Paradise Lost, they were greeted by one of these:  our savory tea plate, which featured the following sandwiches:

Dr. Quinn’s Cucumber Delight (Vegetarian)

English cucumber dolloped with house-made wasabi cream cheese, garnished with a grape tomato.  Named in honor of Cherub and Honorary Upstart Dr. David Quinn.

Tears Such Angels Weep (Vegetarian)

Baguette covered with goat cheese ricotta punctuated with a home-made black olive tapenade. 

McDonald’s McMilton (Vegetarian)

Eggs salad tossed with a home-made mayo, accentuated with chopped roasted red peppers on white bread.  Named in honor of Cherubim and Honorary Upstart K. Ann McDonald. 

Smoking Johnny Jon

Pumpernickel, cream cheese and smoked salmon sandwich.

Coq of Paradis

Tarragon Chicken Salad Sandwich on seeded bread with apples and cashews.

And then, we moved into our dessert course:

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Fruit of Knowledge Upside Down Cake 

Browned apples baked into a syrupy brown sugar cake.

Sin Squared

Dark chocolate cacao brownies.

Margaret's Divine Thumbprints

Assorted jam cookies, named in honor of Cherubs Margaret and Haim Bar-Akiva.  This dessert was prepared by Margaret Bar-Akiva and company member Maggie Lacey, making it even more Margaret'er!

Anonymous Morsels

Lemon & poppy seed scones, named in honor of our many generous anonymous donors.  Served with lemon curd and creme fraiche. 

Demon’s Darts

Blackberry/strawberry picks garnished with fresh mint leaves.

5PM - 7:30PM  Enter The Pigs

One of two pigs we had roasted (and later, carved) for the feast.

Upstairs: Books 4 - 9 of Paradise Lost - In Paradise.

Downstairs:  The company, led by David and Tomoko, do the prepping for the side dishes that we're preparing for our banquet.  David has already shredded six huge boxes of brussels sprouts (we only ended up cooking half that many) and soaked the currants in the apple cider reduction.  Tomoko begins mincing onions and garlic and parsley and anything else unlucky enough to be caught in her knife's path.

The two pigs, one already carved, one not, for our event.  Our carver can't show up last minute, so Dr. David Quinn calls his gardener, a seasoned pig carver, and with his aid via telephone and a nifty google search, he's cutting up our second Wilbur like he's a pro.

I can't find the shredded coconut or the almonds, so the red quinoa has to go without.  We almost forget to heat up the vegetarian stew that we made the night before (possibly my favorite dish of the day - we ended up using Japanese sweet potatoes instead of American ones because they were on sale and the rich, nutty, subtle taste was to die for).  

But neither of these crisis holds a flame to the moment I realized, ten minutes before the audience was about to descend for dinner, that I had forgotten to assemble the salad.  This is a real "all hands on deck" moment.  Jennifer Thompson, a guest Upstart who stepped in to read the role of the Messiah last minute, leads a crew that rinses romaine, chops arugula, peels clementines and crumbles Greek feta.  Luckily, David whipped up a few cups of balsamic vinaigrette in advance.  Salad for 100 is made in ten minutes.

7:30  to 9:00 Dinner Is Served

I knew I wanted dinner to be a sit-down event.  The first time I cooked en masse was for Brian Mertes' and Melissa Keivman's inimitable Chekhov at Lake Lucille event, and Brian insisted that dinner be a formal, sit-down event.  It takes more energy, it takes more effort, but it's worth it.  We transformed the downstairs space into a banquet hall, with full tea service.  Here was our menu:

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Entrée:

Abel’s Sacrifice (Meat)

Whole pig, roasted and carved.

Cain’s Sacrifice (Vegan)

Chickpea & sweet potato stew simmered in Morrocan spices.

Sauce:

Fruit of Knowledge Chutney

Medley of fresh apples w/citrus fruits reduced for maximum deliciousness.

Grain:

Celestial Bounty w/Fruit of Woe (Vegan)

Fluffy quinoa tossed with fresh ginger, parsley and diced apples.

Vegetable:

Shaved Paradise (Vegan)

Brussels Sprouts sliced and tossed with roasted chestnuts and currants, drenched in an apple cider vinegar reduction.

Salad:

Angel’s Offering (Vegetarian)

Romaine and arugula, clementine slices, toasted pecans and Greek feta dressed in a homemade balsamic vinaigrette.   

Our company members served the guests French-style, which means (and anyone planning a wedding will become intimately acquainted with different styles of service and how much each costs) that they went around with platters of food, offering as much or as little as each guest wanted.  I chose this because I like the intimacy formed between the actors and audience, and also, because I hate wasting food.  I hate it.  People are starving in this world.  Some times, I 'm one of them.  So I hate wasting food.  When we had tons of leftovers at the end, I went to the Chinese restaurant up the block, bought 100 to-go containers, and plated the leftovers so audience members who sat through the last section could take whatever they wanted home.  

9PM - 11:45PM Only Three Hours To Go!

We never actually read-through the last section through its entirety, so you can imagine my surprise when I discovered it was 45 minutes longer than I thought it would be.  

Our company finished reading and cleaning up.  Although I wasn't in the house for most of the reading, I made sure to be there for the very end:

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EVE

all the eastern side beheld

Of Paradise, so late their happy seat,

ADAM

Waved over by that flaming brand; the gate

With dreadful faces thronged, and fiery arms:

EVE

Some natural tears they dropt,

ADAM

but wiped them soon;

EVE

The world was all before them,

ADAM

where to choose

Their place of rest, and Providence their guide:

MILTON

They, hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow,

Through Eden took their solitary way.

I'd say we had fifty people in the house at the end.  I'd say around fifteen of those people had spent the entire day with us, including my good friend and collaborator Suzanne Agins, my  the wonderful writers Jenny Levison and Josh Waletzky, the director Ethan McSweeny, who's work I've always admired, and my very own fiance, Rafael Asencio.

Most of us cried some, finished cleaning up, drank wine, and then went home, our feet aching, but proud.

Two days later, I attended a much-needed yoga class.  I had recently been asked to join the Level I/II class, a step up from the Level I class I'd been attending for the past year.  This means that instead of being the only guy in a class of middle-aged women, I'm now the only guy in a class full of middle-aged women who are much better at yoga than I am.

It was my second I/II class, and in the first class, a week earlier, I'd been introduced to the headstand pose.  I practiced all week, excited to show off how I could enter the pose and keep it for a full fifteen seconds before falling out of it, when my instructor said that we'd try the much more difficult hand-stand pose.

I was naturally disappointed, but dutifully followed her instructions, all the while thinking about how much I wanted to show off my headstand.  And then, suddenly, I was in handstand.  Although I believed I couldn't do it, I surprised myself, and for ten glorious second, stood on my hands, flush with the wall, feeling my blood recirculate.  That moment was, in many ways, the exact experience of throwing this (Meta)Physical Feast.  It seemed impossible, but I allowed myself the possibility of surprise. 

Thanks to all who came, thanks to all who supported, and I can't wait to discover where this Miltonic adventure will lead me next.

   

One Month Sans Cell Phone

The Cell Phone Thief

Exactly one month ago, on the way to a meeting, I got out of the cab, slammed the door shut, realized my iPhone had fallen out of my jacket in the cab a moment earlier, and watch them both speed away into the distance.  Since I hate the sound of a ringing phone, my phone lived on silent, so the cabbie didn't pick up when I called from a friend's cell a few moments later.

I did everything I was supposed to - I kept the receipt, called the garage, even went out to the actual garage (okay - it happened to only be two blocks from my apartment).  I put my phone on lost mode, made sure that a message with Rafael's number showed up whenever it was turned on, and then waited for the good Samaritan who found my phone to get in touch with me.

But that good Samaritan turned out to be more of an Adam Tiler.  Every few days, my computer would buzz, indicating that my phone had been turned on.  It even displayed a map, showing where my phone had been for those precious moments it had been allowed consciousness.  I got to track my stolen phone's whereabouts through New York City.  I imagined it asking it captors to kindly let it out for a brief stroll along Riverside Park, after which they sped over to Spanish Harlem, where it spent a few days on 108th St and 2nd Ave, close to one of my favorite tacquerias.  In all of its adventures, my phone never left the island, but really, I didn't blame it.

A day after I lost my phone, I went on a week-long retreat to the Eugene O'Neill Theater Center to finish up teaching my Advanced Directing class for NTI but mostly, to spend a week writing the final draft of my book.  I decided not to replace it before I left, figuring that the tranquility its absence would afford me would be good for finishing the book.  I was right.

Save $200

I go back to the Big Apple on March 28th, and begrudgingly trudged into the Big Apple Store, where I was told that if I waited until April 13th, my annual rebate discount thing would kick in, and I would save $200 on the iPhone 5.  It was the sign I needed.  I decided to spend two weeks sans cell phone in the big city.

It was amazing.

I was so amazing, one week after my rebate date, I still don't have a phone.  And although I feel the experiment coming to an end (I got into rehearsals next week for my PARADISE LOST project and think that it would sorta be irresponsible not to get a phone before that), I have to report honestly to you, loyal readers:

I didn't miss my phone at all.  I've never been happier. 


Here are a list of times I reached for my phone to realize I didn't have it:

1) Every five minutes, to verify that five minutes had passed since the last time I'd checked.

2)  Every time the person I was with got up and went to the bathroom.

3)  Every time I left the person I was with to go to the bathroom.

4)  Every time I heard someone else's iPhone text alert bell-ring-ping thing go off.  I swear to God, the Pavlovian reaction I've developed to that little sound is down right maniacal.

5)  To quadruple-check the address of the place I was supposed to meet someone.

6)  When someone was late to meet me.

7)  Every time I thought about using one of those apps that seemed so great when I downloaded it and like I would just it all the time but then I realized it was just sort of annoying.

The amazing thing was discovering how many times we use our phones unnecessarily.  When someone was ten minutes late to meet, I didn't actually need a text telling me that.  I just waited.

When I was late meeting some friends because I couldn't remember if Fonda (best Mexican in New York) was on Ave A or B (it's B, fyi) and I couldn't check on any of the five thousand map apps,   they just waited for me.

Every thing was fine.  There were no crises.

I hope that after I get that stupid cell phone today, I will be able to retain the lessons I've learned while we were apart.  I hope I'll be able to break the cycle of abuse that we enact on each other, me depending on it far too much, it enabling my mania.  But I doubt it.

It seems innocuous - why not check your email when left alone in a restaurant for three minutes?  Why not shoot off that text as the bus you're on lumbers up 10th Ave?  Why not catch up on those articles in The Times while you're waiting for the subway?

But these individual moments add up, culminating in shattering our attention spans.  We don't need to be able to communicate nearly as much as our phones allow us to.  Now, when I see people emerge from the subway and anxiously check to see if anyone had emailed them in the twelve minutes they were underground, as I always did, I think the same thing when I see people smoking: slave.

I want to write about two more things - they have no direct relationship to having lost my cell phone.

1)  Today will be my fourth day on a liquid diet.  I woke up on Tuesday, decided I felt disgusting, and began juicing.  Here's what my intake basically looks like:

Breakfast - Green Juice: Kale, spinach, parsley, celery, green apple, lemon
Lunch - Orange Juice: Carrot, beets, lemon, ginger
Afternoon Snack - Smoothie: bananas, strawberries, home-made almond milk
Dinner: Home made beefstock.

The first day was hard and I was headache-y.  Since then, I have felt euphoric.  Concentrating on one thing for extended amounts of time ain't the easiest thing in the world, but I led a three-hour meeting yesterday.  And I played soccer.  I don't think I could rehearse a play like this, since I'm tingling and semi-hallucinating the way I always imagined LSD would make me.

2)  My Paradise Lost Project has raised over 7700 dollars!  Our goal is 10000 and if you're one of those people whose thought about kicking in but haven't yet, we've only got a week to go.  The time is now!  Carpe diem!  Give me your money!

Why I Want You To Give Me Money

This is the poster for our (meta)Physical Feast of PARADISE LOST.  Ain't it neat?

Money Money Money

I love haggling.  Just recently, on a trip to Syracuse I got myself upgraded hotels.  Not just hotel rooms (who hasn't planted someone else's hair in the bathroom to get bumped up to a suite), but actual hotels, in the process moving up from a studio at a glorified Days Inn to a stunning 1BR in a wanna-be Ritz Carlton.

Maybe it's because of the time my ancestors spent in bazaars, but haggling comes as easily to me as mixing cocktails does to a WASP.  And yet, I hate asking for money for many reasons.  Maybe because so much of my life has been defined by its absence.  Maybe because my parents fought about it (in a nutshell, the positions - my mother, Armenian: Let's live!  my father, the Isareli:  Let's save!).  I saw friends starting theater companies and funding films and begging/borrowing/stealing for something they believed in, and I never envied them.  Even the idea of running an institution and having to ask for money on its behalf terrifies me, and not just because it's the part of the job that my friends who are Artistic Directors bitch about the most. 

I've been slowly working through my money issues.  The first thing I try to do is determine whether or not an expenditure is inevitable.  Toothpaste?  Inevitable.  Pinkberry?  Evitable.  If something's inevitable, I try to reason to myself, there's no point in torturing myself about it.  Since I'm going to do it inevitably, I might as well just do it now and get it over with.  The evitable things are trickier for me, but after all, man cannot live on bread alone.  Or Pinkberry, as a week of research showed me.  Right now, I'm just trying to minimize the self-torture I perform after succumbing to the evitable, so that I can actually enjoy that pomegranate frozen yogurt, rather than lacerate myself for having spent money on it as I greedily spoon into my face.

I'm thinking about money these days because I've finally taken the plunge.  I found a project big and weird and epic and unique and lots-of-other-adjectives enough that it has inspired me to leap over the hurdle of my money-asking phobia.  In December, a company of 20 actors and I began adapting PARADISE LOST for the stage.  When I sent the first email out to the actors, I had no idea what our final product would be - or if we would even have a final project.  But on the first day we met, when I was detailing to them what I wanted us to do, I heard words coming out of my mouth, describing a day-long concert reading of our cut adaptation of the epic poem.  With two meal breaks.  And naturally, we'd make the food.  And serve it as well.

I don't really know where the words or even the idea came from.  I love to cook, and a few summers ago, prepared dinner for a colony of 75 artists every night for a week at Lake Lucille, where Brian Mertes and Melissa Kievman would produce site-specific multi-media deconstructed Chekhov plays.  I would plan my summer around these events, and getting to see Bill Irwin do Vanya inspired me to saute, bake and simmer out of my comfort zone.

I used this image for a previous blog post and just think it's so hilarious I can't help myself from using it again.

                                      
Another integral part of this PARADISE LOST process is that we, the artists, are self-producing the project.  And, like Spidey, we've found that even with a little power comes great responsibility.  We have formed committees.  We've created video footage and launched an indiegogo campaign (I'm obviously going to beg you for money at the end of this blog, but if you want to donate now because you believe in art and in me, here's the link: I believe in art and in you, Michael ).  We've created menus, organized master recipe lists, researched ingredient costs.  We've summarized and laid out. We've even already gotten a grant, from the Drama League's New Directors/New Works fund.

This is the basic gist:  we've cut the poem down.  We're going to perform a concert-reading of it over the course of one day, and we're going to break that event up with two meal breaks.  We're going to prepare all the food for those meals.  And we're going to serve the food.  And the whole thing is going to be free.  But, the only way we can make it free is by getting you to donate money.  

The basic guiding principle behind this event is the desire to create something epic, something sensual.  I want to create an experience that is the opposite of the four-character, living room, unit set play.  I want to create the kind of theatrical experience that I love - unique, epic, bizarre and delicious.  People can come to as much or as little as they want, but what I hope is that by hearing this epic poem and sharing meals, community will be formed within the audience as much as it is within the artist community that mounts the event.

We're trying to raise 10K in 25 days.  By this time this blog hits, it'll probably be more like 22 days.  That's a lot of money.  It's more than 9K, but not as much as 11K.

In letters like these, people always write "even ten dollars help."  I never believed them, but now that I'm on this side of the equation, I really get it.  If you donate ten dollars, then we'll only need to raise $9,990.  That's less than 10K.  So even ten dollars really does help.  But not as much as twenty.  Not by half.

http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/paradise-lost--2

                                                  

The Best Thing That Ever Happened To Me

On Wednesday, I lost my cellphone.

By all accounts, it should've been a tragedy.  I was in the middle of an incredibly busy week, on the way to meet a producer, a few hours before four people were showing up to my apartment to be fed.  This also happened two days before I was going to bid adieu to New York.  I decided that the only way for me to finish the final revision on my novel was to leave Manhattan and get the kind of calm and focus that is so elusive for me on the island.  I had arranged a week-long residency for myself at the Eugene O'Neill Theater Center, where I'm getting married in two months, where I'm teaching an Advanced Directing Class.  And because I was leaving New York, I decided that I needed to get everything done that I'd been putting off for weeks.

I splurged on a cab to the producer's meeting, since it was that annoying kind of meeting in the middle of the day, in a neighborhood I'd already been to a few hours earlier.  Ordinarily, I would've squatted in a cafe and earned the proprietor's ire by reading for hours and only ordering tea, but I had to get home, remove the chicken from the buttermilk brine I'd soaked it in in preparation for frying, grate the lime and lemon zest for my chilled cherry soup, and oven fry the bacon so that the salad I was planning to serve after the entree had a little kick.  I didn't have time to idle in cafes.

I stepped out of the cab, greeted the wonderful writer with whom I was about to step into the meeting, patted myself down, and said half to myself and half to her, "My phone is in that cab."

I had kept the receipt.  I called 3-1-1-.  I gave the medallion number.  They gave me the garage number.  My ringer was off, of course, so the driver wasn't picking up when I called.  I suffered through the meeting, came home, and somehow, had lost the cab receipt that had been in my possession just a few hours earlier.  I remembered the garage number, however, and used the magic of the internet to discover that the garage was just around the corner from my house.  I found it, and across the locked gate, saw the cab (Medallion Number 4P19) where I suspected my phone was hanging out, free for once from incessant usage and checking.  But I couldn't get to it.  And I had dinner guests arriving.  And the deep fry thermometer I had ordered from Amazon to get my coconut oil to the perfect 325 degrees of heat for frying chicken still hadn't arrived.

The dinner party, I'm proud to say, was a glorious success (I didn't photograph any of the food, and even if I did, I'm currently at the O'Neill, where the wireless connection feels more dial-up than broadband).  I started with the aforementioned chilled cherry citrus soup, followed by savory sweet mashed potatoes (I used bacon grease instead of butter), blanched broccoli rabe, Rafael's irresistible smoked salsa, and coconut friend chicken, followed by a salad with arugula, romaine, walnuts, cranberries and chopped bacon.  Then my guests (one of my fav guys from my soccer team, his bf, and a straight couple) humored me by playing Citadels, one of my favorite uber-nerdy board games, which was won by the only woman present (I came in second place by one point).

And through all of this, I didn't have my phone.  I've turned on the iCloud track option, and apparently, my phone gets turned on every few seconds every few hours, then turned back off.  I chart its progress from my computer, amazed at the technology that allows me to do this and befuddled by how it's supposed to help me get my phone back.

The last few weeks had been hard on me - every project I'm working on thrills and delights me, but somehow, with the wedding planning, I'd been feeling manic and stressed, not the creature of joy I'd like to be.  I felt it affecting my behavior, and for the first day or two without my phone, I felt its absence, the way you'd miss a cybernetic limb that had been hacked off.

What time was it?  Had someone emailed me in the last six minutes?  What was the weather in New London going to be like?  Was that a text or just my leg muscle twitching?  How many people have responded to my last Facebook post?

This and many other questions went unanswered without my pocket-sized portal to other worlds.  And although I was going through withdrawal, I also felt liberated.  I told myself that if I hadn't found my phone by the time I went to New London, I would spend the week without it.

So far, it's been great.  I do get scared, thinking about all the people who might be texting me, ignorant of my predicament, assuming that I'm unbearably rude in not responding.  But the impulses to check the time or my email every few minutes are already diminishing.  My dear friend (O'Neill Artistic Director and officiator of my wedding) Wendy Goldberg and I took the train up together, and had a two-and-a-half-hour conversation that wasn't interrupted by beeping or pinging or chirping electronics.  And when we got off the train, she was so inspired that she told me to take her phone and keep it so that she, too, would be phone-free for her week up here (seven minutes later, she insisted I return it so that she could check her email).

I love being phone-free, and feel positive that this week will be more productive without it.  And if I need to check my email, I can just use my computer, the way we used to in the olden days.  Or, I can use the iTouch that my family gave to Rafael for his birthday two years ago, that I brought up so that I could have an alarm clock. 

Why Planning A Wedding Is A Cruel Fate That Should Only Be Reserved As Torture In The Ninth Circle of Hell

I Want To Get Married

I want to get married.  I do.  To Rafael Ascencio.

The idea that I found anyone who wants to spend the rest of his life with me, and that that person happens to be someone with whom I want to spend the rest of my life, and that the state in which we live made gay marriage legal are three deeply unlikely events that have colluded to make me want to get married.  I never thought I'd want to get married.  But now I do.  And when you want to get married, you have to plan a wedding.

Planning The Wedding

My sister looked at me in undisguised horror when I told her I was going to have a wedding party (she had her best friend standing up at the ceremony with her, and that was it).  In fact, when she and her now-husband were getting serious, she informed him in no uncertain terms that she did not want to be proposed to.  She thought it was demeaning.  If/when they wanted to talk about marriage, they would do it in a civilized, equitable way.  The incredibly talented Leslie Kritzer and Vadim Feichtner had a small ceremony a few weeks ago and invited everyone to meet them at a bar in midtown after, where there were toasts and libations and some of the most delicious cake I've ever eaten in my life.  The event was beautiful and it captured them in all of their glory.

I proposed to Rafael on May 24, 2012, on one knee, with a ring.  We're having a wedding party of our nearest and dearest, that includes my brother (who also didn't have a wedding party) and my sister (who seemed flattered, confused and disturbed when I asked her to be in mine).  There are many conventions of a traditional wedding we're not following, but basically, we've signed up for the kit and caboodle.  The irony is not lost on me: gays rush to the conventions of wedding and institution of marriage that our straight brothers and sisters eschew as old-fashioned and antiquated.  When you've had to fight for something, you appreciate it differently.

I can't wait for my wedding.  But planning it has been unadulterated hell.

Why Planning A Wedding Is A Cruel Fate That Should Only Be Reserved As Torture In The Ninth Circle of Hell

To be fair, I don't think Rafael would describe the experience of planning a wedding in any way equivalent to getting your wisdom teeth pulled out.  But in the same way that my dentist didn't really explain to me that getting my wisdom teeth pulled would involve a big, sweaty Iranian dentist yanking on them with a wrench, no one really told me what the experience of wedding-planning would be like.  Or maybe they did, and I just didn't believe them.  I'm a theater director, after all.  I'm used to putting on shows.  How could this be so different?

Most Wedding Vendors Are Hateful People Who Try To Rob You

If a vendor is primarily in the wedding industry (a wedding photographer, for example, as opposed to just a photographer, or a wedding planner as opposed to say, an events planner), chances are they want to rob you.  They want to use your insecurities, fragility and vulnerability to charge you at least twice as what their service would go for in any other context. 

 Delphi Harrinton, the gorgeous actress whose equally beautiful husband Norm just passed away last week, described to me how people in the death industry tried to take advantage of her, and I couldn't help but think of the local Connecticut photographer whose starting price to shoot my wedding was more than I had been paid for my last directing job.  Now, I know it's a lot of work, and there's overhead, and lots of other expenses.  But still.  It takes me a month to a direct a play.  It would take this photographer one day to shoot my wedding.  And not one full day, either, because her starting package was only an eight-hour period.

One of the best pieces of advices that I got about wedding planning that, whenever possible, don't tell the vendor that you're contracting their service for a wedding.  The guy who runs the BBQ joint down the street in Waterford has no idea that the two lambs I want smoked on May 26th are for a wedding.  As far as he's concerned, they're just for an event at the O'Neill.  Female friends have performed similar experiments - hairdressers and florists are notorious for the "bridal special," which as far as I can tell, just means +50% cost.

Part of why robbing brides and grooms is so easy is because most of us have never been married before.  Think about how much more you knew about buying a car or apartment the second time you did it (I, of course, live in Manhattan so I don't know anything about either of those things).  Because most people only have one huge wedding in their life, our newbie status makes us vulnerable.

Money Money Money

Rafael told me it would be tacky for me to discuss how much we're spending on our wedding.  I told him that I'm tacky all the time.  He looked at me with a mixture of pity and sadness in his eyes, so I've decided not to reveal how much money our parents are spending on our wedding (and yes, our parents are paying for it because there's no way we'd be able to).  Let me put it like this - it's half of what some non-rich friends of mine spent on their wedding.  It's more than the budget of some off-off Broadway shows I've directed.  And it's certainly more money than I will ever spend in a single day.  The idea that I'm spending this much money on my wedding makes me re-examine my priorities in a fundamental way

Last month, I bought a Calvin Klein jacket for $100.  It was at an outlet store, and had been marked down from $350.  It's actually, three jackets in one - a warm, puffy snug thing that can be worn on its own, a water-proof shell that can also be worn on its own, and finally it serves as a heavy winter-jacket when the two pieces fit into each other.  My only rain jacket was a trench coat (Burberry, natch) that my uncle had given me a decade ago, which is still awesome, but can't be worn in any casual setting unless I want to look like a flasher.  My old winter jacket was easily twenty years old.  I really needed a new jacket, and this one was a steal.  And yet, my hand still trembled as I presented the credit card to the cashier.

I hate spending money.  And the idea that I'm spending this much on my wedding sickens me .  And the fact that it's still not even nearly enough for me to to throw the kind of bash that I want sickens me even more.

The Crux Of It

And this is really the crux of it - the reason that planning weddings are such hell.  We are forced to compromise every day of our life.  If you're a theater director, as I am, you're sometimes even forced to compromise two or three times a day, which is much more than I think can reasonably be expected of anyone.  And there's this myth that on our Special Day (it will be Special regardless of how much mula you fork out), the most Important Day Of Your Life (I find the idea that there is a "most important day of anyone's life" totally ridiculous, and even more so if that day is your wedding) you should have everything exactly the way you want it.    

But as anyone who has gotten married can tell you, it's not going to be like that.  Wedding vendors want you to believe this lie, so they can highway rob you sans the highway.  And if you buy into it, all you're doing is playing into their nefarious, exploitative, evil hands.

Don't do it.  Pretend you're a theater director.  Compromise in the good way.  And like in great theater, the limitations will free you, leading you to imaginative and beautiful and unique solutions that a bottomless well of money could never offer.