Outrider

[Sammy]

POST UPDATED JUNE 2010

And just who the hell am I?

Sammy Tamimi, a performer/director/producer by night, Chicago nerd/layabout by day.

Professionally: Trained at Second City-Detroit, Chicago City Limits, ImprovOlympic, Second City-Chicago and The Annoyance. Taker of many workshops, maker of many more, producer of a couple shows, performer in a crap ton more.

Personally: I've washed dishes, bussed tables, served food, rented cars, messengered packages, rented pool tables, made pizzas, rented tennis courts, given plasma, coached tennis, delivered bread, temped offices, monitored newscasts, collected unemployment, admin assisted and drove an airport shuttle bus in circles until I wanted to scream. I've worked first shift, second shift, third shift, doubleshift and doubletime. I've been hired & fired, re-hired & re-fired, been laid off or have walked out or just never showed up again. And these are just the ones I remember...

...and I've probably made more in a month or two at any of those jobs than I have earned in my whole improv career.

Yet here I am.

An improvisor in Chicago.

Still.

It's been about 12 years since my first class at Second City-Detroit and about 10 years since I moved to Chicago for improv.

I've had various improv journals over the years, but I was most active in updating them when I was in Detroit and then transitioned to Chicago and for a few years after that.

It's not every journal, or every part of any given journal--in fact, I recently (2010) went back and just deleted filler entries or ones that were stupid to put up in the first place--so think of it as "Sammy: The Director's Cut."

I'm probably gonna start writing again as I enter the Second City Director Program and, yet again, think way too much about improv and my life.

Enjoy,
Sammy

[Sammy]

2/2/00—Wednesday—6:23 in the p.m.

AN ACTIVE MOMENT

I’ve decided I’m going to write not just about the show, but about improv in general. Why the hell not? Lord knows my teachers have harped long and hard enough about the necessity of keeping a daily journal, so…


THE CHARACTER’S WANT/NEED

Why do I improvise?

I know the reason I improvise now is very different than when I first started at the Second City-Detroit Training Center.

In January ‘98 I began Level 1 with Mary Jane Pories. You could find me Sunday nights on the third floor of SC building, in the empty and unkempt bar/buffet/business space that classes were held when the empty and unkempt Official Training Room was being used by another class or Tour Co. If asked why I improvise, I would have said, "I want to have fun and make people laugh." If pressed, I would have said, "I NEED to make people laugh."

In January ’99, I was in Manhattan attending NYU film school and taking classes at Chicago City Limits with John O’Donell. If you asked me then, I would have said pretty much the same thing. "I want to make people laugh."

Now, in January ’00, I have finished (and restarted) the Training Center Conservatory Program. I am improviser with Planet Improv’s Juanita Bobo and A.C.R.O.N.Y.M. If I’m not doing anything with them, I usually get stage time once or twice a week either at SC’s Tuesday night Improv Jammers or as a guest of Big Fun Limo in their competitive short form set. But now if you were ask me why I improvise, I would reply, "I want to make people think. I want my scenes to say something, to mean something. Oh, yeah, and while I’m at it, hopefully I can hopefully make them laugh."

Somewhere along the way, I learned that making ‘em laugh is easy. Anyone can do that. So SAY something with your scene…make the audience think, make the audience feel, THEN make the audience laugh. We as improvisers have Carte Blanche onstage, but as artists we have responsibility too.

Ray Carney, a Boston University film teacher, recently wrote an article in MOVIEMAKER called "The Path of the Artist". Although intended for film students, the article speaks to anyone involved in the creative arts. He writes:

"Never forget that to be an artist, above everything else, to be a truth-teller, one of the few left in a culture seized in a death grip by media-induced fictions and journalistic clichés. You speak secrets no one else dares to whisper. You exist to share your most private feelings and personal observations with others. They are where truth lies. Don’t be afraid of being too personal, too private. Your most secret fears, your private doubts and uncertainties are everyone’s … My teachers told me that filmmaking was about telling gripping stories. It took me years to realize that that’s not an ambitious enough goal. You can do much more than that. You can give viewers new eyes and ears. You can change their states of awareness so that they see, hear, care, and feel differently. Your work exists to express things too delicate, too fluttering, too multivalent to be said in any other way. You’re doing something much more radical than telling a story. You’re rewiring people’s nervous systems. You’re doing brain surgery. Art gives us more than new facts and ideas; it gives us new powers of perception. … You speak the most subtle language ever created—the language of art—a form of expression more nuanced than verbal language, more complex than a theorem in physics, truer than anything in the newspaper."

Whew. If that doesn’t inspire ya to bare your soul onstage, I have no idea what else will.

[Sammy]

2/4/00—FRIDAY—11 in the pm

USE YOUR ENVIRONMENT

My friend Gino forwarded an e-mail, thought’d I share it with you:

"Subject: Sami

MY RESIGNATION
I hereby officially submit my resignation as an adult. I have decided I would like to accept the responsibilities of an 8 year old again. I want to go to McDonald's and think that it's a four star restaurant. I want to sail sticks across fresh mud puddle and make a sidewalk with rocks. I want to think M&Ms are better than money because you can eat them. I want to lie under a big oak tree and run a lemonade stand with my friends on a hot summer's day. I want to return to a time when life was simple; When all you knew were colors, multiplication tables, and nursery rhymes, but that didn't bother you, because you didn't know what you didn't know and you didn't care. All you knew was to be happy because you were blissfully unaware of all the things that should make you worried or upset. I want to think the world is fair. That everyone is honest and good. I want to believe that anything is possible. I want to be oblivious to the complexities of life and be overly excited by the little things again. I want to live simple again. I don't want my day to consist of computer crashes, mountains of paperwork, depressing news, how to survive more days in the month than there is money in the bank, doctor bills, saving cash register receipts, gossip, illness, and loss of loved ones. I want to believe in the power of smiles, hugs, a kind word, truth, justice, peace, dreams, the imagination, mankind, and making angels in the snow. So here's my checkbook and my car keys, my credit card bills and my 401K statements. I am officially resigning from adulthood, and if you want to discuss this further, you'll have to catch me first, cause … Tag! You're it."

Gino works second shift in the Gear Lab of some Daimler-Chrysler plant. He works non-stop, averaging 6-7 days a week year-round. He made around $70,000 last year…not bad for a guy who basically snuck into the recruiting session at the local union; he found out at the last second and went on a lark. A few years and a few promotions later, he’s living "very well".

I knew Gino sent this to me as a friendly note, y’know, a "Hey, this reminded me of you!" sorta thing. But it brought to the surface some of the things I’ve been thinking about for a while…and now that I’m almost 27, I beginning to second guess a few things about my life.

I always wondered, what would’ve happened if Gino called me to go with him? What would have happened if I would have stayed at MSU…or WSU…or UofM…or NYU…and got a degree, even if it was in something I didn’t even really care for? How different would my life be? How different a person would I be? Would I be happier?

Would I be an adult?

Among my (non-improv) friends, I am the exception to the rule. They have degrees. I don’t. They have white-collar jobs. I’m lucky to find a job that pays $9 an hour. They have job security. My job IS Security (guard). They are supervisors, engineers, lawyers, teachers, lab techs, physical therapists, registered nurses and physician’s assistants. They have shiny new cars, take paid vacations and basically are productive members of society. My car is on life support, my vacations are when I’m between jobs and I’m pretty sure the high school counselor isn’t gonna ask me back on Career Day ("Today, our guest will discuss living at home and subsistence living in the suburbs as a starving artist. Taking time off from his busy schedule of mooching free refills at the Borders cafe, I present Mr. Tamimi.").

I may not be the Poster Adult for a responsible lifestyle, but you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I am happy.

When someone asked me what I did, I’d say whatever my job was at the time then mention later in the conservation that I improvised. Now, when someone asks me what I do, I tell ‘em I’m an Improviser. Point blank. If they ask me what else I do, I tell ‘em I’m a screenwriter. If they ask me how I pay the bills, then I’ll tell ‘em whatever my other job is at the time…but I’m an Improviser first and foremost (and yes, I pronounce the capital "I" through sheer force of will).

I may never own a new car, have nice clothes or live in a nice neighborhood, but I’ll always be happy with who I am and what I do. And in the end, when you’re slingin’ back shots and bullshittin’ with your buddies, isn’t that all that matters?


RUNNER

(Replies to "Why do you improvise?")

"Why do I improvise? Wow, that is a question I've wanted to answer for a long time, and now that I'm getting the chance, it's alot easier than I had ever imagined. I improvise because I love acting. I don't feel right about anything I'm doing, except when I'm acting. I love acting, and improv is the rawest form of acting. There are no writers telling you what your line is, there are no directors telling you where to walk, it's just the actor, the audience, and the miracle of creation. That is what draws me back to that stage every single time I have a chance to be on it.

Not only is improv the rawest form of acting, but in my opinion it is also the most difficult. The truth of the matter is that it is the only form of acting where the actor is the writer, director, and the actor. And when you stack on the fact that there are other people involved, well, that's like having 8 writers, 8 directors, and 8 actors with 8 different agendas. And when those 8 agendas become one, wow, look out, welcome to the miracle of creation. I love acting, and with all of the lies told every single day in our world, it is the only thing that is still the truth." –C.C.H.

"Why do I improvise? Well, allow me to ramble for a few. I BEGAN improvising to impress a women (its amazing what a man will do for recognition from a woman). She said she thought I would be good at it, so I thought "what the hell". Needless to say, the relationship didn't work (but that's OK, I'm not bitter, that bitch). However, I stuck with it (nobody has told me I suck yet?). I enjoy the camaraderie with my fellow improvisors, and it has become a mini-family for me. I have made countless friends and drinking buddies, and at the same time it has allowed me to escape my daily life (work!) and find a side of me that I never knew existed. Did I mention I like to entertain? The approval felt by gaining a laugh from others is an incredible boost to the old ego. So that's it, in a nutshell (however large a shell that is)." —K.W.

"I improvise because its fun and life-affirming. What does that bullshit answer mean? When true quality improvisation is occurring, so is trust, love, and the act of human beings building something wonderful together. Oh, and I enjoy a good, spontaneous dick joke every now and again." –J.J.

(stay tuned for more!)


CURTAIN CALL

I gotta dig through the code for the site and root out a few problems, so…

"This is IMPROV 411, but individually I am…Sam Tamimi! (clap, clap) On spellcheck is MS Word! (point, clap, clap) On browser is Internet Explorer (point, clap, clap). Thank you Ladies and Gentlemen. Don’t forget to tip your HTML and please stick around for Page 6!" (clap, clap, wave, exit stage left)

[Sammy]

2/6/00--Sunday--10:45 in the pm

BLACK OUT

I have so much to say about this weekend, but I don't have any time right now...I start my new job working midnights as a security guard in an hour and I gotta get ready.

The next time I get to the computer...hopefully Monday afternoon...I'll tell you guys about Saturday's rehearsal, drunken debauchery and broken hearts on that night at the Town Pump and the Old Shillelagh, a birthday card from my father and A.C.R.O.N.Y.M.'s first ever rehearsal.

...& BOTTOMS

OK, I gotta protect the K-Mart warehouse safe from fiends with thoughts of a five-fingered, blue light felony in their heart.

[Sammy]

2/8/00—TUESDAY—8:30 in the pm


PROP SWITCH

I had to settle for some White Castles. Mmmm Mmmm, cholesterol never tasted this good. (for those keeping score, 2 Chicken with cheese sandwiches and 2 Double White Castle burgers all washed down by a medium Coke)


CAST PARTY

Has improv made me an alcoholic?

Even in college, where booze was cheap, available and plenty, I never drank as consistently or as much as I have since I’ve started improvising. It seems that after every improv show I’ve performed in or seen, a bar was designated the post-performance rendezvous. Maybe it’s cuz not many places are open late at night that would tolerate a large rowdy and raucous crowd other than a bar. Then again, I don’t remember any improviser saying, "Sam, we’re hitting Einstein Bagels after the show for a blueberry bagel or two. Then we’re going to an afterhours Dunkin’ Donuts for a coupla Bearclaws. You in?"

I think I’ve written more scenes, learned more improv and made more friends at the bar than I have than when in class. However, I think I’ve inhaled more secondhand smoke, spent more money and said more than I should have at the bar than I have than when in class.

Hmmm…I think I’ll have a pint of Bass and ponder this some more…


TAKING A MOMENT

Well, I’m 27.

Another year has come and gone. So, I’d like to share with you where I thought I’d be in the year 2000 when I was younger.

*When I was 25, I thought I’d still be in film school finishing my magnum opus that would be my ticket to Hollywood in the year 2000.
*When I was 21, I thought I’d be the nationally syndicated humor columnist that even Dave Barry had to read every Sunday in the year 2000.
*When I was 17, I thought I’d be a world renowned author of Sci-Fi/Fantasy novels in the year 2000.
*When I was 13, I thought I’d be old in the year 2000. Old but rich.
*When I was 9, I didn’t care. I had to go outside and play.

Well, I’m 27…

…and I don’t care. I have to go onstage and play.

[Sammy]

2/9/00—WEDNESDAY—4:25 in the am

GRIPES

Yes, I’m bossy.

In the last coupla months, I’ve noticed my attitude during classes and rehearsals has changed. I’ve become a little more focused and "serious". Don’t get me wrong, I still have fun and laugh way too much and way too loud, but I’m taking my improv education and experience more seriously now than I have before. (In fact, Jim has asked a few times during rehearsals "What’s the matter?" and "Where’s the Sammy I know?")

I have come to value my improv time. If we have three hours to practice, let’s practice. If we have five hours to rehearse, by God, let’s put those scenes up and let ‘em rip. I want to do this for a living!

So…

Don’t yap and crack wise when the teacher’s giving notes so we can learn. Don’t sit around in class and BS for half an hour when we can be practicing games. Don’t waste time during rehearsals just cuz the director’s not there when we can be running scenes.

Hey people! Just being there isn’t enough! Do something! And if you’re gonna do something, do it wholeheartedly—don’t half-ass it and waste everyone’s time. If you fucking slop your way though some games or scenes just because you don’t feel like being there, you have no respect for me or any of your troupe. Every time you’re out there, give it your all…because people are depending on you. If you don’t want to be there, don’t show up. End of story. I don’t want to hear you whine about how tired you are or how bad a day you had or how everyone hates you and your dog, Scrapps…just show up, pump up and play. I care, I really do, but let’s talk about it after class at the bar. But if you just want to sit around and bitch, stay at home. If you want to try out your latest stand-up routine, stay at home. If you don’t care about your fellow improvisers, stay at home—I won’t miss you.

No really, I won’t.

So if I’m bossy, it’s because I want to PLAY. I want to LEARN. I want to SUCCEED.

I hope you do too…

…and if I’m a bit bossy, I apologize.

[Sammy]

2/10/00—FRIDAY—2 in the am



RUNNER
("Why do you improvise?")

"I have to. It's like breathing.....If I don't do it, I think I might die. The whole creative process involved with putting together a sketch comedy review or performing a long form piece, it's great! Being with people you actually like, working together to create this "work of art." I'm not sure how I lived without out this type of expression before now. (…) I found it. I found what I love to do. I love Improv. I love to act. I am an actor. Me, Dawn Franklin, from Burton. This year I plan on moving to Chicago and immersing myself in Chicago-style improv. I can't wait. Hey, when you find something you love to do.....GO FOR IT."—D.F.

"I improvise because of the unique intense euphoric high I experience when in a spontaneous moment I become one with a group and that group produces something greater than all of us together alone could have ever imagined." –A.P.

"Why do I improvise you ask? Well there are a few reasons:

1) Improvisation is the form of acting where real truth exists. When you see a film or play (and this is excluding improvised moments in either.) You are seeing people "portraying" a moment that either really happened and was adapted to script or screenplay or something someone made up. In these mediums (with which I also really enjoy working) the actors are re-creating a moment. They are trying to construct something from a blue print. Sort of "if we had really been there it would be like this..." stuff. When you watch an improvised show, you are watching people REALLY have moments. What happens comes out of what actually happens and is driven by the choices, spirit and emotion of the players. It is truly a living art.

2) The thrill. The difference between doing an improvised show and a scripted show sometimes is like the difference between bungee jumping and taking the stairs down. Both are going to get you there...... There is an adrenaline involved with improv that forces you to find real emotion on stage. Your pulse races and suddenly when someone says "don't be scared", you really are scared, physically and mentally. Thrill seeking. That's what improv is all about.

3) Imagination and play. I was so glad to discover that the vast imagination I had when I was a kid wasn't completely destroyed by "adult life". I found it with improv. Suddenly you regain the feeling of playing ghosts in the graveyard at dusk with the neighborhood kids. The visceral payoff of just playing for fun is immeasurable.

I could go on and on but that's enough I guess.

So that's what I think. Faux rill."—M.E.


THE BLOW

OK, I’m gonna write one or two more entries tonight and then I’m taking until next week off. After all, if I don’t have a life, I won’t have anything to write about…

[Sammy]

2/12/00—SATURDAY—6 in the pm


REFERENCE LEVEL

On my cluttered, dusty shelf sits an eclectic collection of books. A sample: "Play Winning Chess" (still don’t), "The Filmmaker’s Handbook" (not much use now), "Atlas Shrugged" (who cares?), "Where the Sidewalk Ends" (still makes me smile), "The 48 Laws of Power" (a compelling read), several texts on Taoism ("The Tao that can be named is not the Tao"), "The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Storytellers and Screenwriters" (a must for writers) and of course, a clump of books on improv.

In this clump are "Improvisation for the Theater" (Spolin), "Impro" (Johnstone), "Truth in Comedy" (Halpern, Close, Howard), "Something Wonderful Right Away" (Sweet) and "The Compass" (Coleman). I have only ever finished one of these books.

Yup. You guessed it—"Truth in Comedy".

This is the only book that ever really caught and held my attention as a beginning improviser. It got right to the point with straightforward language and concrete examples. It taught me the basics of improv and improv philosophy. It was a fun read. Hell, I even read it while waiting for my audition for a performance-level improv class at CHICAGO CITY LIMITS in New York City.

Needless to say, I like "Truth in Comedy".

All I remember about the other books were either that they were remembrances of the early days of SC or they were Gobi Desert dry dissertations and examinations of improvisational theory and technique. I’m not saying they weren’t valuable aids…it’s just that I wouldn’t know because I never finished reading them.

Gasp! An improv pagan!

Every time I glance at that shelf, I feel the slightest twinge of guilt. Then, I hear a tiny voice say, "If you were really serious about studying improv, you’d read me!" Then I hear a another voice say, "Play winning chess…play winning chess…play winning chess…" Of course, I ignore both of them and reach for the MAXIM magazine with a scantily-clad Jennifer Love Hewitt on the cover, which I’ve only read 57 times since I bought it.

Eventually, I’ll read those damn, boring-as-hell improv books—but until then I’ll keep my dog-eared "Truth in Comedy" near and my MAXIM ever nearer.


DR. KNOW-IT-ALL

No matter how CAUGHT IN A CABARET goes, I know I’ll always think how it could’ve gone better. In fact, anytime I improvise, I think about how I could’ve done things differently; should I have entered that scene? Was that the best scenic choice I made? How could I have made my partner look good? Etc. I try not to be negative, because negativity is a self-fulfilling prophecy (and I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not always successful…at least until the second pint of Bass or so…). I just want to figure out what went wrong and why and how to avoid the same mistake again.

Rich Goteri, an instructor at the Second City, said that we as improvisers tend to judge ourselves more harshly than the audience does. He’s right. I’m Mr. Positivity when I’m chatting with other actors about their performances but I’m Mr. Critical Bastard when it comes to my own.

Why do I judge my own stuff so harshly? Because, I don’t want to become that guy who thinks he knows it all, thinking that everything he does is right—that every choice with every character in every scene was perfect. I’m afraid the instant I stop trying to better myself, I will grow stale and die a creative death.

As my man Vinnie G. said:

"I am an artist. It is the very opposite of saying, ‘I know all about it. I’ve already found it.’ As far as I am concerned, the word means, ‘I am looking. I am hunting for it. I am deeply involved.’"

[Sammy]

RUNNER
("Why do you improvise?")

"Why do we exist? What is the meaning of life? Why do we improvise? For centuries, people like me and you have been searching for the answer to the question of you and me. They search while pounding black labels at the local bowling alley, or while hopscotching with a girl named Apricot, or when waking up in a dumpster behind a Chinese pizzeria. And to this day, no one has yet to find the answer to these questions, but they still keep on searching. Maybe that's it. Maybe that's why. Because what is existence, what is life, what is improvisation and why do we do any of it ... it is a constant search." –A.B.

"I want my answer to the question "why do I improvise" to be wise and profound. The kind of thing people will remember and quote later...I think I'm about to fail. I'm trying to figure out the "RIGHT" answer to that question, and of course, there isn't one.

The answer is... I do it for other people, I do it for myself, I do it because I'm good at it, and because I suck, I do it to meet new interesting people, and to become a new interesting person (Does this remind anyone else of the letter they wrote at the end of "The Breakfast Club"?).

For me improvising is both a selfish, egotistical act and an act of honest generosity. I improvise because I am good at it and I feel loved and accepted when I perform. But I also do it to for the guy in house right who hasn't laughed in three days, who needs me to remind him that it's not all that bad. I do it because I love it...(That part about "honest generosity" was pretty quotable)" –C.J.D.

"…my reason is because I have to. (…) I think it's a calling or something certain people have. That's it for me." –E.M.

[Sammy]

2/13/00—SUNDAY—a bit past midnight


PROPS

"Obscenity is the weak improviser’s crutch."

Jim quoted that to us one day. It really got the wheels a turnin’ in me noggin’. I started thinking to all the times I’ve swore onstage and during improv practices. Why did I swear?

I was scared…scared of what was going on both onstage and inside me.

It was an easy cop-out. I could fake rage with a few "fucks" or a good ol’ "goddamn". I could avoid feeling something for a girl in a scene by calling her a "bitch" or "ho". If I needed a laugh I could yell "dick" and "shit" and get one. If I didn’t know what to say, any obscenity automatically became the adjectives to fill my sentence—"Johnny, you asshole! You fucked my sister! That whore bitch! I’m gonna kick your ass, dickhead!"

I’m not saying it was never justified or true to the scene, but that 99% of the time cursing wasn’t needed…or wanted. How many new improvisers, or poor ones for that matter, resort to unnecessary swearing off the get go. How many burst into Tourettes-like fits of vulgarity when the scene explores an uncomfortable topic? ("Son, I have AIDS." "Of course you do you cocksucking, faggot-queer!") How many go for the cheap laugh? (insert any dick/titty/ass-fucking joke)

I never really thought about it until Jim mentioned it in rehearsal. I decided that I’m better than that. That I can improvise onstage without the crutch of vulgarity. That I can play smart even if my partner isn’t. That I can be a stronger improviser if I stop swearing…

…but it’s gonna take a lot fucking work.

[Sammy]

2/13/00—SUNDAY—2 in the am


JUST PLAY

Chris DiAngelo almost got his butt kicked by a heckler.

He was MC’ing open mic night at a local dive bar in Lincoln Park that’s never had stand-up comics before. In fact, this bar is pretty much a drinkers bar. On a Saturday night, there were prolly 20 people there…6 of which were improvisers/comics, 4 who were Chris’ family and 3 who were assorted friends (you do the math).

Anyways, Chris started his routine and some blue-collar Joe Alcoholic in the back said something. Chris snapped back—a bit too hard and a bit too persistently perhaps. The guy got all riled up and I had visions of me being locked up in the Lincoln Park pokey ‘cuz I killed the heckler trying to kill Chris. Luckily, the Heckler was ushered off by his buddies and Chris got us back on track. Jodie, Dora and Gary did brief comic sets and then we got the crowd of 15 (which was now 6 improvisers, 8 friends and the very bored 40-year-old chain-smoking bartender) all pumped up for improv.

The newly christened Fort Street Players for the evening were Chris D., Dora, Gary, Jodie, Eric and myself as host. Last Second RO: Gripes, Party Quirks, Rewind, Open Option, Switch.

I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time. For all intents and purposes, we were improvising in a friend’s basement on Saturday night for S&G. I don’t know how else to describe it. We were playing for ourselves and it felt good.

I remembered why I first started improvising tonight…to have fun. Between Eric being totally clueless as host of Party Quirks to Chris divorcing Dora and taking his Donkey with him in Open Option to Gary’s bravura performance as a black Shakespearean hockey player who doesn’t want to be the goalie in Rewind, I couldn’t stop laughing or smiling. These were fellow improvisers. These were my friends. These were kindred souls. I’m so blessed to be an artist in a profession that has brought so many good memories and good people into my life.

(which hopefully won’t be ended at the hands of homicidal heckler Joe Alcoholic in a dive bar in Lincoln Park)

[Sammy]

2/16/00—WEDNESDAY—11 in the pm


PIMP-A-SONG

About a year or two back, a song called "Everybody’s Free (to wear Sunscreen) hit the airwaves. It was simply a man reading a speech to a graduating class of students over a techno-track. His advice and words struck a chord in me and still resonate till this day.

His speech:

"Wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, Sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience.

I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 pm on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.

Get plenty of calcium.

Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.

Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good.

Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard.

Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.

Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble, and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it.

Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen."

(Contrary to popular belief, this speech was NOT written by Kurt Vonnegut, but was written by a Chicago Tribune columnist. In fact, this speech was never given at a graduation ceremony. The song can be found on Baz Luhrman’s "Something For Everyone" Album—which you can borrow from me if you really want to )

[Sammy]

2/20/00—SUNDAY—11 in the pm


RUNNER

"Why do I improvise? Well, I started improv classes because I wanted to be "part of" the magical energy I saw happening during some improvisation. Now that I have, indeed, experienced such magic on occasion, I improvise -- like any good junkie -- for my next fix.

The fix in question is the incredible realness of being connected to the proverbial "group mind." The feelings of rightness, joy, and even love stemming from mental and emotional "oneness" are incomparable. Physical boundaries become all that separates me from my fellow players, as our minds become blended together. Witnessing creation happening around you ("in" you!) when in sync with other players -- creation of which you are an integral part, but so not in control of -- is living magic. Fairy tale stuff; like flying.

It's like we, the players, are colors; splotches of paint each. And from us is painted an amazing picture; sometimes beautiful, sometimes tragic, sometimes hilarious. But "we" do not "paint" the pictures; we are only it's colors, blended. Who is the "artist"? The artist springs from our group mind, and is far more powerful than any one of us. Man, that is fucking cool.

In a lonely world where people rarely look each other in the eye, let alone "connect," that's why I improvise. (That, and to make the other guys look good, of course!) "—A.P.

[Sammy]

2/21/00—MONDAY—1 in the am


TRANSFORMATIONS

Sometimes when you least it expect it, you grow up.

I have had the pleasure of being a kind of Permanent Guest Improviser during Big Fun Limo’s competitive short form set every Saturday night at the Wunderground for the last 6 months or so. (I lucked into guesting with BFL when Jim Nemeth filled for a while as director.)

But I haven’t always enjoyed playing with them. In fact, until recently, I almost resented it.

I would go and play with them, looking—no—searching for excuses why I shouldn’t. I would repeat this laundry list of sins to myself like some brainwashed improv Moonie. They would drink before shows. They would do dick and tittie jokes. They would do scenes that didn’t SAY anything. They acted unprofessional. Etc. Every time I went there, I swore to myself it would be the last time I improvised with them.

Then everything changed.

I don’t know what.

After two weeks off, BFL was up again. As I hung out backstage with these guys, I realized something—who the fuck was I to judge them? Who am I to decide if they were good enough for me? What kind of a goddam conceited bastard am I? Maybe I’m not good enough for them!

Yes, they’re an ensemble with a different improv sensibility than me, but you know what? Week after week, they’ve let me improvise with them. Trusting me to make them look good on stage, trusting me to entertain the paying crowds that come see them, trusting me as they trust one another.

And who the fuck am I to judge them?

They are doing what they love to do, making people laugh. Whether it be in a harold or a game, these guys truly enjoy what they are doing. And God help me, during those two weeks, I missed playing with them every Saturday night. I missed their silliness, their enthusiasm, their unbridled joy at being improvisers. They know why they improvise and that’s good enough for them.

Maybe it wasn’t they weren’t good enough for me, maybe I wasn’t good enough for them. In my quest become some sort of Uber-Improviser, I forgot we are all brothers and sisters in the same family and if we don’t take of each other, no one else will.

I feel like such a shit. I’m actually crying writing this.

Improvisation is based on trust and love. And any time I ever dissed them, public or private, I was betraying that trust, that love as surely if I had spit in their face.

I AM a shit.

Y’see, on Saturday I improvised Cabaret all morning, then improvised with Jim and co. all afternoon and did competitive short form that night with BFL. I had run the improv gauntlet, and while my skills were solid, my soul was left wanting.

Any time I’ve ever watched a class show, a troupe performance or a improviser onstage and snickered or made a cheap comment, I was passing judgment…on myself. Was I so insecure that I felt I had to belittle someone else? Was I that desperate to feel better about myself as an improviser…and a person? Was I that afraid?

Yes, afraid.

How many of our disparaging comments are born out of fear? The fear of rejection? The fear of humiliation? The fear of failure? How many of us are afraid of sucking onstage? And seeing others suck makes us so good that we rush out and give ourselves self-congratulatory pats on the back about how much better we are and how we could never suck that bad?

I feel so ashamed.

I am no better than anyone else.

I know that now.

And that’s why I have to apologize to the improvisers of Big Fun Limo.

I don’t think I could improvise with them again without apologizing, even if they didn’t know how I used to feel. I’ve changed, but I feel I owe it to them. To everyone. So here it is:

I’m sorry.

I am sending this journal entry to them via e-mail. If I’m lucky, they will let me improvise with them again. If not, that would be a more than a fair and just punishment…I would understand it—

—and deserve it.

[Sammy]

2/22/00—TUESDAY—Midnight

THANK YOU, 10 MINUTES

Wow.

For the first time I don’t know what to say…so I’m gonna just ramble for a bit…

I’m trying to be a better person. And I’m trying hard, so damn hard, to become that better person.

I don’t why it’s become so important to me. It just feels right. I can’t explain it. It’s like if don’t, I’ll suffocate and die.

Maybe at 27 I’m coming to terms with things that I should have a long time ago. Maybe as an improviser the only way for me to improve is to find my "voice". Maybe as a thinker, I’m finally listening to my heart. Maybe this. Maybe that. Maybe everything. Maybe nothing. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

It’s like I see this path ahead, this meandering, tortuous, rocky trail ahead of me. I don’t know what’s at the end—or even if there is an end—all I know is that for once, for once in my fucked-up, hodge-podge, train wreck of a life, I—a vagabond traveler—know the path to travel.

I might fall, I might backtrack, I might even leave the path—but I know it’s there and that I need to travel it, wherever it may lead…and I feel so right walking it. And I know that the struggle to stay on the path is more important than actually arriving at my destination.

I have no idea if this is making any sense. If this were a TV guide entry it’d prolly read:

8:00 p.m.
"JOURNEY" (Pilot) Sammy Tamimi (played by Sammy Tamimi), a struggling Gen-X slacker artist, begins a journey of self-discovery. 60 min. ***(out of 4)


THANK YOU, 5 MINUTES

The show is in 20 hours.

There’s so much left to do. There’s so many things that could go wrong. There’s so much riding on this.

Know what?

I don’t care.

I’ll tell you why.

Every time I step on the stage of Second City, I get a tingle up my spine. No matter if it’s class, rehearsal, Jammers, a show or in my imagination, I still feel that tingle.

Mary Jane Pories, my Level 1 teacher, gives a walking tour of the Second City on the first day of class. I still can’t believe that I’m actually signed up for improv classes. She walks us down the back stairway and pops open a door.

We’re backstage.

My heart stops. What the hell am I doing back here? I’m just some guy from Taylor-tucky!

The class, goofy grins on their faces, shuffle behind MJ. Still in shock, I follow.

I remember is standing center stage under lights that seemed so bright—too bright! I remember closing my eyes and just basking in that warm light.

Silently, I promised myself that one day I would improvise for a sold out house on that stage. I promised that every day I wouldn’t take for granted performing on that stage. I promised I would become a Second City improviser and perform nightly on that stage.

The class shuffles after MJ. It’s time for my first improv class.

I still feel that tingle every time I step on stage. Sometimes it’s overwhelming, sometimes I can barely feel it, but it’s always there.

No matter how the show goes, I cannot be thankful enough—because I am performing on the Second City Main Stage…and there is no other place I would rather be.


THANK YOU, PLACES

The show is in 19 hours.

Thank you, Jim Nemeth, my Captain, for trusting me and giving me the opportunity to be a part of Planet Improv. And despite all my "notes" and e-mails, I wouldn’t change a thing about this show (well, actually… ). "O Captain, my Captain…"

Thank you, Clif, Courtney, Dawn, Dave, Denise, Katie, Lou and Steve—everybody in Juanita Bobo—for their dedication and sacrifice. This ship’s crew is one of the finest I’ve been a part of…ever.

Thank you, Second City, for letting us put our show up here. Our ship wouldn’t set sail if not for Harbor Master Joe Janes’ blessing.

And a special thanks to you, the improvisers of Detroit, for all your love and support—it is the wind in our sails…without it, the voyage isn’t worth taking…


Sammy Tamimi
Improviser

[Sammy]

2/23/00—WEDNESDAY—7 in the pm

TIME DASH

…and now I’m awake again.

After the show we gathered for notes. Jim told us that the light cues on the board in the light booth were totally screwed and Sarah (stage manager) had to run the board manually. He said it was like a grenade went off in there…anything that could have gone wrong up there did. I told everybody it's like STAR TREK: any time they take a new ship out for a spin, something REALLY BAD happens...

Although I was still a bit pissed about what went wrong, we ended up laughing over the inanity of it all. We went out to the Town Pump, got drunk and hung out…and were surprised how many people didn’t realize how much went wrong. Jim said we know what went wrong and that’s why we were bummed, but to the people in the audience it was all a part of the show.

People enjoyed it, so I guess that’s all that matters.

By the time I had a pint or two at the Pump, the show was forgotten. I was hanging with my friends, having a few laughs and chatting about nothing in particular. The show may have sucked or the show may have rocked, but either way, I still have my friends.

And that’s all that matters.

Because shows come and go, but hold onto your friends are forever.

[Sammy]

2/23/00—WEDNESDAY—10:30 p.m.


IMPROV JEOPARDY

I took too big a gamble.

I quit one job wagering I would get another in a couple of weeks. I had two interviews at the same company for different positions, both of which went well. Or so I thought. Y’see, they’re making the calls to people they want to hire this week and it’s already Wednesday night.

If I don’t hear by Friday, I lose. I lose big.

My current assets:

$900 in the bank. A possible $1,000 federal tax return.

My current debits:

$12,000 on various student loans (none paid on since last year). $2,000 on credit cards (frozen accounts). $2,000 (at least) of desperately needed repair work on my dying car (which I don’t pay insurance on). A pair of trips to Chicago in the next two months.

God, I need that job.

For the first time in my life, I’m trying to take responsibility for my finances. But it’s so damn hard. (…)

For the last hour, I’ve tried to write something where that (…) is. I wish I could explain how dysfunctional my family is and how that ties into me being an irresponsible little prick. But I don’t know how…at least not yet. I need some time to sit and think it through. Family…thinking about it twists my stomach up a bit. Gah!


RUNNER

"Why do I improv?

I know why I started. I'm in this band and I have zero stage presence, like the amps were grooving more than me, and I thought to myself, "hey! Why not take an improv class to loosen up?" and then I loved it. And I learned just how long I had been improvising without even knowing what I had been doing. Singing songs about passing mail boxes. Creating stories with my underwear, all the really lame stuff I did when no one was looking was apparently improv, even in my band a handful of the songs were written on the spot.

It's magical. The closest thing to being a wizard of some sort. To create. Even non-sense words and dances or full out scenes where you end up crying, because it's so right to cry just then. It's not all comedy, kids. One of the best scenes I ever saw had me sobbing. I forget that every once in a while (frequently), and try to make people laugh too often. I improvise to create. To give something to this world. Maybe it's not always something good. I've made my fair shares of mistakes on stage. It's the art of it all. Making something out of absolutely nothing. It's the purest form of art. There's no canvas or pen or marble or camera, you start with nothing. not a damn thing and you play the creator. and everything is beautiful. I love it. It thrills my soul like sweet poetry. That's why I improvise." – P.J.

[Sammy]

2/25/00—FRIDAY—12 in the am


TRICKS OF THE TRADE

It’s amazing how many times I’m perusing magazines, books or graphic novels and I find something that applies to improv…something that resonates with my skewed sensibilities.

In the introduction of the graphic novel "ASTRO CITY: Confession," Neil Gaiman writes:

"Listen now. Read this carefully, because I am going to tell you something important. More than that: I am about to tell you one of the secrets of the trade. I mean it. This is the magic trick upon which all good fiction depends. It’s the angled mirror in the box behind which the doves are hidden, the hidden compartment beneath the table.

It’s this:
There is room for things to mean more than they literally mean."

That was it.

Doesn’t seem that important to you? Not impressed? Convinced you could get deeper, sager advice about writing from a fortune cookie? Trust me. I just told you something important…"

Neil Gaiman is a legend in the comics industry. His series, "Sandman," which chronicles the rise and fall of Morpheus, the Lord of the Dreaming, helped redefine what comics could do…and how to do it*. In fact, "Sandman" became so influential that it is required reading for literature classes at several universities…Michigan State University among them.

Why? Because his stories are more than "Protagonist versus Antagonist." You enjoyed the "Protagonist versus Antagonist," stories but you re-read "Sandman" because the stories were parables, allegories, metaphors and comments on the human condition all rolled into one fantastical whole.

How many times do our improvised scenes do the same thing? How many times is there an actual sub-text to the scene? How many times do our scenes run deeper than what’s on the surface?

That, ladies and gentlemen, is the true challenge.

Sure, I can do a scene about a catching my wife cheating on me…but can I address the misogynistic double standards inherent in society at the same time? During a transaction scene, can I parade and satirize a character’s prejudices without beating the audience over the head with it? During a father-son bonding scene, can I smuggle Freud’s Oedipal conflict into my choice of words, my posture, my attitude?

Can I?

I don’t know.

But I’ll sure as hell try.


Footnote:

(*but let’s not forget Frank Miller’s "The Dark Knight Returns," Alan Moore’s "The Watchmen" and "Kingdom Come," Kurt Busiek’s "Astro City" and Chris Claremont’s "Squadron Supreme")

[Sammy]

2/29/00—TUESDAY—9 in the am


DIRECTOR'S NOTES

Unfortunately, I don’t define my life by what I’ve done, but rather, by what I’ve done wrong.

And it feels like there’s been a whole lot of defining going on lately.

I didn’t get the job.

Neither editor from the Gale Group called. I’ve never interviewed for a job and not gotten it. Ever.

Rejection sucks.

It really does.

I didn’t get an answer.

Erin never wrote me back. It’s been almost 3 weeks since I mailed the shirt with a simple 3-word message. All I wanted was my friend back. Nothing more, nothing less.

Rejection sucks.

No, it really does.

I didn’t get the vibe.

I ran into two improvisers from Big Fun Limo last night at the Town Pump. I’m supposed to meet with BFL after my show tonight, but if last night was indication, the Bridge Over The River Kwai fared much better than I did…or will.

Rejection sucks.

Really, though, it does.

So, I’ll just keep on keepin’ on…weather the storm…roll with the punches…stand up and dust myself off…(insert world weary wisdom here)…

[Sammy]

2/29/00—TUESDAY—10 in the am


RUNNER

"Why Do I Improvise?

Lights up, bare stage, single spot, center

[IMP 1 enters, X to center spot]

IMP 1 - Why do I improvise

Lights up on DSR, IMP2 Revealed

IMP 2 - Because I can [Light Out]

IMP 1 - Why do I improvise?

Lights up on DSL, IMP3 Revealed

IMP 3 - Because Every moment of my life is improvisation. [LO]

IMP 1 - Why do I improvise?

Lights up on DSR, IMP Revealed

IMP - Because I create. I am a god for those moments on stage. When I say it, it is true.

IMP 1 - Why do I improvise?

Lights up on DSL, IMP Revealed

IMP - For the memory of Del. [LO]

IMP 1 - Why do I improvise?

Lights up on DSR, IMP Revealed

IMP - In the hopes that others will see it, love it, and try it. [Lights Stay on]

IMP 1 - Why do I improvise?

Lights up on DSL, IMP Revealed

IMP - Why the fuck not? [Lights Stay on]

IMP 1 - Why do I improvise? Because if we can create, just for a moment, the illusion that you are searching for, and take you out of this pathetic reality that you call life; make you laugh, cry, or merely think, then we have accomplished something in just a few moments, something that most people never accomplish in their entire lives. [Black Out] "—C.C.

"Why do musicians compose symphonies and poets write poems? They do it because life wouldn't have any meaning for them if they didn't. That's why I draw cartoons. It's my life." - Charles Shultz (thanks, PJ)