Sadly, Party's no longer offering their bonus-on-balance at the end of every month. I didn't take advantage of this as much as I could have, as I had money split between multiple sites and recently lost withdrew everything from Party.

For players who signed up before January 2003, this monthly bonus paid an annual 10 percent on any balance of $10,000 or under (it used to be uncapped -- people including certain Party consultants named O'Malley were making boatloads of interest every month), resulting in a max of $83 per month. The only requirements were 200 raked hands and no more than two withdrawals per month.

Besides their multi-tourneys, I now no longer have an allegiance to Party and will stick with Empire because of their VIP points... as small and useless as they may seem, it's at least something. (At least something = 1000 raked hands = 100 points = $1... puh-leaze!)

In general, I think it's a good idea to keep funds spread around. You never know when one of these offshore sites decides to go down, and it could happen at any moment -- whether they run off on their own or are forced to, they still have your money with practically no recourse.

(Damn you and your lies, ChoicePoker.)

While not officially returning to poker, I've been dabbling in 1/2. A far cry from where I was a few weeks ago, but I may just stick with 1/2 for awhile to build up the bankroll. Some plays and calls are downright questionable (understandably) and makes me believe I could carve out a living just multi-tabling 1/2. With its low variance, I couldn't possibly go on any tilting benders from one hand... right? Plus it goes well with Red Bull & vodka.

Party has $5K freerolls for the next couple nights if you play 150 raked hands the day before. I played the first one and made it to the top 90 (out of 1590, though top 50 cashed) just by playing five hands. I doubled up early with AQs when I limped UTG to nab a few callers. I rarely make this play, preferring to raise to protect, but the table was playing tight, I needed chips, and my plan was to make a big bet or check-raise the flop if a King didn't appear. The chip leader was in the BB and raised all-in. I put him on a bully steal. And even if not, pot odds were good enough for me to double up, particularly if anyone else called. I called. He had 10-10 and I sliced his chipstack in half when I flopped an Ace.

The very next hand I doubled up again when I saw QQ. I raised a small amount. It's folded to the new chip leader. He raised all-in and I called. He had 66, and the torch was passed to me to become the new chip leader.

This lasted me to the end when I raised all-in with 99 in early, and was called by A9 in the BB who covered me and caught an Ace.

Ah, well. I feel much better about this tourney. Better to be out in 90th (or 1590th) than bubbling. I played a couple other big tourneys (the overlay-is-still-good Empire $25K and a $250K at Party) and both times I was bounced early. Felt good about those as well.

My wireless connection kept dropping in a satellite at a site where I play as a woman (a very unattractive avatar, I might add). I was getting good hands, they were holding up, and I was getting respect at the table.

One guy remarked, "You must have Aces hidden in your bra."

I responded: "I'm not wearing a bra."

Which was true. And which sparked a host of follow-up comments.

Alas, the connection finally died completely and I was helpless but to watch the lag and see myself get blinded off to 20th place (one time with pocket Kings that were automatically folded on my action). Just a qualifier, so no prize. Very friendly table, as I find most tables are when I'm a woman.

I do need to cut back on these things because the cost is excessive. But they're so much fun.

§
Before playing poker nightly, I was seeing a good five plays a week. Not hard to do in the #2 market for theater (DC is surprisingly second to NYC).

Since then I've dropped down to an embarrassing one a month.

When telling a friend of my poker hiatus, he was flabbergasted: "What will you do?"

Catch up on plays. This past week I saw:

Far Away by Caryl Churchill
Porcelain by Chay Yew
Orpheus Descending by Tennessee Williams
Senor Discretion Himself by Frank Loesser (and Culture Clash)

I'm usually at these things opening weekend (papered for the press, free food at the reception, and actresses to hit on); except for Orpheus, these I put off until closing weekend.

Orpheus is a rarely done Tennessee Williams tragic fable. It didn't entirely work for me because it was too soap opera melodrama. Some nice moments, but ultimately there's a reason why it's seldom performed. And there's a big setup with a guitar as a symbol of the main character's soul, and when violence erupts it's natural they would destroy the guitar. But nope. Either Mr. Williams didn't see it that way or the theater scrapped it because a guitar prop for every show would be too costly. But boy would it have been effective.

Senor Discretion is a terrific new musical by Frank Loesser, of Guys and Dolls and How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying fame. A couple years ago there was a new production of Guys and Dolls that began in DC, traveled around, ended up in NY, and won a Grammy. The widow of Loesser loved it, had lunch with the director, and told him to "expect a package." That package was a 300-page manuscript of an unfinished musical by her late husband.

What a find! It makes you wonder about all the other undiscovered works out there by our modern masters (the Shakespeare Theatre recently unearthed a collection of previously unknown Tennessee Williams one-acts in someone's attic, and they've mounted a production showcasing ten of them).

The director enlisted Culture Clash to complete it, and it's pretty terrific. The basic plot revolves around the town drunk who's elevated to sainthood. It still needs work -- some questionable relationship issues, I think -- but it's rumored to tour Texas, CA, then NY. I wouldn't doubt we'd see it pick up a few Tonys in a couple years.

Sadly, there was poor box office and I saw it with a half-full audience. I suspect the title has much to do with it.

For Far Away, I rang up the theater and they unexpectedly recognized my name, saying: "Ah, grubby: playwright" and then comped me tickets. Very nice to be recognized in my little corner of DC. Even nicer to get free tickets. This rarely happens, so I bask in my ten seconds of fame.

Churchill is very much the poet and absurdist and commentator on the too-real terrorism of our times (I was astounded by the repetition in Blue Heart, ending with terrorists emerging from the refrigerator). Combining consumerism with genocide, the middle act contains a parade of dozens of chained prisoners wearing "hats to die for." Literally. Their solemn march to their deaths is an image I won't soon forget. To drive the point further, the main character/hatmaker laments, "I wish we didn't have to burn the hats with the bodies."

Her plays are challenging bits of audience-puzzling work that ultimately reward and, at least for me, inspire. And all in three acts, no intermission, and a 45-minute running time. My kinda evening.

If left uncensored in my own writing, I gravitate toward apocalyptic ideas and the constant threat of death, usually combined with familial relationships. There's something close to my heart about family bonds in times of crises. There's no better crisis than the end of the world, whether personal or global. On a figurative level, of course.

I didn't call in advance for a reservation for Porcelain. Okay, truth be told I was hoping I'd see someone I knew to comp me, but I didn't. The box office guy did ask if I was a student or member of The Actor's Center and if so, I could get in for half-price. Lest the poker gods come after me, I did not fib a lie and forked over full price.

I went mainly because I see everything this friend directs, and his plays are always worth full price. I met him (or rather, his work) several years ago when a play I wrote and a play he directed shared a stage at a gorgeous Methodist church tucked away at the tip of Northwest DC.

Methodist churches as stages = cussing is okay.

This play was about a woman's fear of childbirth coming to life when only she could see her boyfriend's baby daughter -- in the guise of a 200-lb. man in pink pajamas.

My director staged it in a cartoonish way that I didn't think was entirely successful. For it to work, I think the horror of this grown baby has to be played straight and without comic antics. It's funny, but it has to be scary for the female character. The director was after audible laughs; I was happy with nervous laughter. The actors felt uncomfortable being Stooges (in their movements too, as they'd back up and jerk awkwardly like they were puppets or animatrons), and two of them took me aside privately to ask my opinion (to which I responded positively, as it would be inappropriate to say anything that didn't side with the director). They loaded up the baby with props, including a Groucho mustache, glasses, and cigar. I felt this only distracted the character (and the audience) from the main point.

It's never a good idea to force actors into your vision; these are collaborative pieces after all and everyone needs to feel a part of its creation.

He's a terrific comic director with many good ideas, but sometimes the idea is more overly ambitious than the execution. I went on to better projects with him, when he formed his own company and produced four other plays of mine to increasing success and fuller houses and bigger budgets. He did direct another one, which is a favorite of mine and a loose sequel to the baby play. It follows the same woman as she now fears marriage and commitment so much that she turns into a cow (the notion being she so resisted conforming to society's ideas of marriage and the minute she gives in -- cowdom!). My favorite part was the When Harry Met Sally orgasm scene that "climaxes" with squirting milk from the cow's udders -- and they built a marvelous working udder into the cow costume. I still giggle when I recall the whole audience ducking in a reverse wave as the milk went a-squirtin'.

I have a partly finished children's screenplay lying around that a screenwriter friend budgeted at $75M (partly finished, remember) to produce. It contains an earthquake, a tidal wave, a volcanic eruption, a flying dragon, and other assorted budget-bursting scenes. He asked if I thought it would be animated, as no studio would touch it otherwise (this was pre-Harry Potter).

Sometimes it's nice to write for the fun of it, unencumbered by budget constraints. If I thought of that, I probably wouldn't have written the orgasming cow scene.

On the other hand, as is usual with no-budget plays, it's good to be given parameters. It forces you to be more creative with different approaches. That's why I enjoy the collaborative process so much; when finished with a play, I completely give it over to the director. I want to see what they come up with. I've had a couple plays that have been produced multiple times, and I'm consistently amazed how different each one is. Sometimes it's worse than I'd imagined, but usually it's better. And sometimes I luck out and the director adds something (a prop or set or costume or song) that's so far and above better than I imagined that I wish I could rewrite the play to incorporate it and claim it as mine.

For instance: I wrote a one-act that took place on a Christmas tree lot over the lifetime of two characters. A kinda romance in the vein of A.R. Gurney's Love Letters. Each scene advanced one or two years. It's simple to write scene changes; just hit Enter twice and begin typing. Staging is a different matter -- I had no idea how I would've staged it except for the obvious route of blackouts between each. My director came up with the idea of including scattered cubes on a bare set, wrapped up like Christmas presents. After each scene ended, one of the characters would pick up a box and stack it. Each scene, the characters notice one of the trees that's there year after year, a tree that no one wants. For one reason or another, the female character committs suicide, and she's represented symbolically by the tree. And by the end of the play, they've finished stacking the boxes and by God we can see that tree. Brilliant, just brilliant. I get goosebumps just thinking of this.

But back to that Methodist church.

Also onstage there was a strange piece (that lifted piano music and a mask from Eyes Wide Shut) that was somehow visually arresting with no budget. The actor in it played my baby, and you couldn't tell he was the same guy. Their performance branched out around the audience, including the rafters and the rear, forcing the audience to turn their uncomfortable wooden chairs.

An intriguing capper to a collection of plays showcasing the talents of local acting and directing classes.

Coincidentally, this director and I shared another stage, and his piece was again strange and odd but fiercely visual. (My piece was the baby play again, different director and actors... this time played straight and getting zero laughs. A couple artistic directors were in the audience, too... a bad play beat.)

He went on to direct a staged adaptation of A Clockwork Orange. Probably one of the best plays I've seen, though I wouldn't say that to his face (no sense in him getting a bigger head than he already has).

What I enjoy about our relationship is we can tear each other's work apart without hard feelings. We both listen to what the other says, and then dissect. There are few people I would share a play-in-progress with and he's one of them. (We also dated the same girl, which is always amusing fodder.)

He got into trouble with the play after Clockwork that caused some notoriety in the DC theater community and The Washington Post, forcing it to shut down a week in advance. He made unauthorized changes to the script without permission. The playwright came down from New York to see it, was appalled, stormed out in the middle of the first act, and threatened lawsuits.

But after seeing the play and discussing the changes, I felt my friend was correct. He did err in not seeking approval, but artistically I thought they were sound and valid alterations. Admittedly, I was biased because I knew him and the background, but even now I would stand behind him.

Of course, my opinion was in the minority of the playwriting community, which was collectively appalled that I'd side with someone who'd change a word of their precious text.

I mostly remained quiet in these heated arguments.

I started with screenwriting and being accustomed to and even expecting the director to change things at whim. I believe my plays are stronger from the screenwriting background, and this attitude comes with it. Stage directors and actors tread cautiously around the playwright, not wanting to offend.

Me, I just want the thing to be good even if the words need to be changed. Perhaps I'm naive in thinking changes will more make it better than worse.

Anyway, Porcelain was good.

If you've read this far, I have no point. Welcome to my Wednesday night red wine ramblings.

Plays and writing have been on my mind lately because of the inspiring plays I've seen this past week, and my want to pursue this insane, nonpaying career full-time. It's been a long time coming, and I feel I'm on the precipice of realizing this dream. Even if I have no bankroll to do so.



lunch:
Wendy's mandarin chicken salad
Frosty
Snickers bar
Milky Way bar
Fritos
mini-M&Ms (the Shrek ones -- marketing works!)

4 Diet Cokes
1 Diet Coke with cherry
a few glasses of red wine

dinner:
grilled salmon
penne pasta with tomatoes and corn
roast beef
crackers & mozzarella cheese
bread and chocolate and fruit fondue