Andrew Dark's: Words from the Rock

Half way through the dark!

2010-12-31T11:54:00.000-08:00

As we approach the crossing of that temporal line and Star Date 2011 looms ahead. On board the good ship 'Cocteau' we're much sated and somewhat rounder from lots of good rations and fuzzy times. Having safely navigated the Santa Nebula. We're now preparing for active duty on a new mission Code name: 'Ghost Echoes'. I will be writing and producing a 'radio show'. You youngsters can take a moment and Google that now.

It's been a full year, getting to see so many of you on my jaunts to Blighty and the USA. Your smiles, hugs and conversations, have as always stimulated and inspired me. It was heartening to see that nothing short of a Zombie Apocalypse could cut our numbers down and prevent art from happening. Perhaps, Zombies produce art too? I mean, look at all those unique walks they have? Similar yet distinct?

Reminds me of the Chinese artist Ai Weiwei's 'Sun flower seeds'. Which I got a chance to see but not touch at the Tate Modern in London. The work is immense, one hundred million porcelain "seeds" individually hand-painted by 1,600 Chinese artisans, and scattered over a large area of the massive hall entrance to the museum.

The artist wanted visitors to walk across and touch the work, to experience it. The work is simple and transforming on so many levels. He wanted to take something which was small and mass produce it. Creating out of the sheer number of them, a piece of art which called out to you to interact with it. He was also, by commissioning the project, giving work to those villages of artisans. Whose skills at producing fine Ming pottery has come to be in real danger of dying out. This wonderful photo shows you, one of the few times, people were actually allowed to interact with this powerful piece of art. Before, it became the victim of one twat from 'Health and Safety' who decided, that because a tiny amount of porcelain dust was rising in the air as people touched and walked on it. That it might affect people with respiratory problems. So, instead of just warning the public about the safety hazard and allowing you to enter at your own risk. They put on security guards with air quality meters and roped the whole thing off. It was so sad, so many of us standing right next to this beautiful work of art, without being allowed to do the one thing it had been created for. It's irresistible looking at this massive field of seeds. Your hands itch to pick them up and your feet are in danger of stepping over the white rope!

So, why I am telling you about this? Because, I've been thinking about the power of the small. How, like those seeds piled up become something more by there mere number. We too are like that. All of us creating our own art, in our own ways. Our collective efforts and energies make a difference. So, besides making you pick up seeds what is the power of the small? Well, an asteroid over a long expanse of time can move out of it's established orbit with just a tiny fraction of sunlight hitting it. They figure the push is the equivalent to the weight of a shot glass, mine of course filled with Captain Jack.

And that's the thought that I send you this New year. A shot glass full of art can make the largest of obstacles move out of it's seemingly, unchangeable orbit. It can bring light to the darkest of nights. So, when the time comes raise your glass and keep the fires burning. For art is a flame that humans cannot help but come and get warmed by. I leave you with a link to the artwork which I have created this year. Love and peace. Your pal Andrew. "

Listen to the Dark it may be talking to you:

2010-11-16T07:21:00.000-08:00

Halloween night, Londoners rush past me in the cool darkness, so many faces basking in the glow of mobile devices, as they check their digital pulse, by text, tweet or call. It reminds me of a needy lover to whom too much attention must be paid. I wonder, if we will notice our own species demise unless someone updates it on their status? I find myself, closing my eyes and soaking up the sound. Here in my personal darkness, the swiftly passing strangers becomes a steady drum beat of footfalls. Over which an lapping stream of conversations pours by, full of the secrets of their lives, troubles and romances, tribulations and chit-chat all given away at full volume. No care or woe to whom may be listening in this new century. As I am, to a small group of tourists next to me, who are excitedly laughing and swapping places with each other, inside and out of a classic bright red telephone booth. Back in the day, these once plentiful dinosaurs gave someone making a call some privacy. Nowadays, the few left are neutered, unable to phone anywhere. Their purpose in extinction to give visitors somewhere to be photographed in an icon from of an England long gone.

I move on and become again part of this night crawl towards Piccadilly Circus. My mind drifts backwards as I move forward with the crowd. It's been a splendid few days, which started from the quietness of Gibraltar's little airport and brought me here, clattering around on the noisy London Tube. It's more than a quarter century since I've lived in this city but my love for it has never left me. It's funny what you miss? This afternoon, as I strolled across acres of green grass in Hyde park with a lovely bolt of warm sun on my face. I realized, how much I have missed the delicious rustle which leaves make moving on a cool autumn breeze and the pure fun of stepping into those fallen piles of red, brown and gold. The delightful sound as you crunch and crackle through them searching for 'Conkers'.

I've spent hours like this walking, taking in the buildings, colors and tastes of this beautiful old lady which is London and the endless variations of it's inhabitants. My need to soak up this and some art, to re-charge my engines, has also coincided with the pleasure of meeting up with old friends. As I am tonight. I cut through a side street to try and speed up my journey. The huge din of human voices drops dramatically off and a queer, muffled silence falls around me. I walk through this eye in the storm for a few minutes, almost alone. My body shivers and I quickly pull up my hoodie to warm myself against the cold wind pushing me forwards. The drop in temperature feels sudden. “What supernatural?” Quips, the cynical, horror fan inside of me. And then, the next moment I find myself gasping with surprise as a long line of gory Zombie roller skaters, slides past me at breakneck speed. Their bodies all moving as the undead do, in a gruesome, sicking parody of human motion. I laugh out loud at having been tricked. So, that's where the costumes have been hiding? I had been wondering about the lack of Halloween attire? But then, as if by some dark magic, as I followed in the wake of the undead skaters into the circle of Piccadilly. The costumed were everywhere and the creatures were here to play!!! I smiled, the English have taken on this 'Halloween' thing rather well. Yet, another American delicacy absorbed and transmuted into a Blighty version of Yankee form.

I find myself in the centre of 'Piccadilly Circus' which under it's Big Top lighting looks marvelous. Huge monitor screens above us are throwing off gigantic commercials in tsunami waves of vibrant neon colors. A blazing, kinetic kaleidoscope of logos and brands pours down and basks the statue of 'Eros' and I in their Siren's glow. I remember the glittering canyon which is 'Times Square' and having stood there earlier in the year. One half of my life spent happily on the other side of the pond and another half spent growing up here. Both cultures melded in me with a large dose of Gibraltarian to taste. The quietness I had in that side street collapses and the roar of humans out on the prowl is so electric and charged, that it drowns out the circling traffic. It would seem that love could be in trouble? For the famous archer of true romance, is encircled by the children of the night who are dressed up to meet and greet as the no-longer living.

All in all. It's warming up to be a howling good Halloween.

Did I tell you about the Ape babies?

2010-09-26T13:08:00.000-07:00

 The long hot summer has brought literally tons of customers from all over the world. At Cable Car the sheer grind of bringing this endless parade of people to the Top of the Rock has taken it's annual toll. Leaving everyone working at the top and bottom stations, feeling like deep fried toast from the heat and crush of summer's tourists. The Ape's have reached their own saturation point as our furry cousins are whacked up on all the junk-food coursing through their blood streams. These items having been liberated from those foolish enough to bring food into the Nature Reserve. Of course we warn people on the way up in the Cable cars about the ape's teeth and claws. How you shouldn't feed or touch them and never...ever...ever touch their babies. Strangely, nearly everyone laughs when we tell them to be careful about their plastic bags? The laughter is mostly a mixture of hubris from the men, nervous chuckles from the women and squeals of glee from the children who imagine cheeky monkeys a la mode of Curious George. 
 
This is my third summer watching Ape vs Human and it's truly humbling to see them work the crowd with such dexterity, intelligence and quick silver speed. These Simians are professionals at the re-distribution of snacks. Leaving some visitors in a pile of scattered potato chips only a few yards and moments after leaving the cable car. 

All we can do with this barrage of monkey activity is muddle through and try to keep people from being bitten. The silver lining though is every season someone visits our Nature Reserve who is so stupid that they bring deep, dark chuckles to our weary hearts and minds. This year's was a young man who bragged to his large adoring family on the way up that, “No thieving ape was going to get the drop on him and he would punch one if they tried!” I smiled and told him that we had a hospital. He scoffed and strode off the cable car with that serious hard-on stroll men use when they're puffing up their feathers.
 I didn't see him again for about an hour. Then as my cable car was about fifty yards out and approaching the Top Station. I heard a voice screaming for help and caught sight of the owner of the blood curdling cry running across the platform. His two legs pounding away in cartoon style as he desperately tried reaching Warp speed to escape our Alpha Male Gregory, who was in hot pursuit.

It looked Kinda like this!

           (click here)

This normally gentle monkey was running at full speed, in battle-mode with his teeth and claws out. His intent to dispatch a little discipline on Mr. Muscles who was by now a wailing, cry baby of his former heroic self. 

In seconds both human and Ape flew up the stairs onto the crowded terraces. Drawing fresh screams from the people up there who had now inadvertently become eye-witnesses to this primal chase. Meanwhile as my cable car docked at the top station. His desperately worried and  completely breathless family members rushed onto the platform. They had been following the plight of their wrinkled paper tiger as close behind as they dared. Having of course to be careful to keep their distance from the ape going postal in front of them!  I halted their race towards the stairs and asked them what had happened? A literally shaking woman explained that her brother had done the one thing you must never...ever...do. Never touch one of the Ape's babies! I hope this finds you all well and I shall write at you again soon.   

I arrived Tuesday...my bag arrived Thursday...I'm hoping my soul will be here soon!

2010-07-08T11:51:00.000-07:00

A week has passed with no sign of my incorporeal self landing upon these shores and those desperately wistful thoughts, scribbled upon my arrival back here in Gibraltar, are still centre stage. Yet, regardless of my lack soul, I'm back at work and harnessed on top of the Cable Car as it crawls slowly up the track rope, fourteen hundred feet towards the top station.

As the ton and half car makes it's way upward I look down and outwards towards the bay. Which is covered in a thick white heat mist which stretches right across the Straits. My mind is as cloudy as the sea and my heart is drenched in sweet melancholy as if I've left a lover on another shore? For it's there faraway in the good old USA that my soul still lingers, taking in one last dance with the smiling lady in the summer dress. Hoping for one last kiss full of romance.

The ground keeps falling below me and the height which once had me clinging like a child. Now, on this foggy day, has me feeling like a sailor perched high on the mast in the crow's nest. Just then a beautiful old world clipper ship comes gently sailing through the thick folds of white laying on the water and heads towards our harbour. Perhaps, that's my soul arriving in that ship? Maybe now, I can finally land.

Time-slip and it's weeks later and the fog has finally lifted. Funny what a little sleep in the right time zone can do for you? My bags full of goodies are stored away and all the upgrades to the ship's systems are up and purring. The bridge has attained critical attraction, it's walls awash with a collection of Art posters which I brought back with me. It was so good to restore my minds eye by dipping it into that palate of the imagination which is the Museum of Modern Art. Wandering through the galleries my eyes feasted on canvas after canvas absorbing and reveling in their moments, stories and jokes. Yes, I'm one of the few people who laughs out loud in an art gallery! It was especially lovely to see some Rothko's before heading over and having truly one of the best times I've had in the theatre.

I went to see 'Red' a play about the man's work I'd just seen and it was that rare theatrical script...great. Written in dialogue which allowed two fabulous actors to create superb performances. Capturing everyone in their dance and dazzling you with their timing. Drawing from an afternoon crowd a pin drop silence and a en-rapt audience. The Set, lighting and music were their equal in art also, making emotional statements and stirring hearts themselves. I felt as I did when 20 and first watching Equus, completely caught up in that very Greek play of ancient gods and horses. This time it was huge Red canvas paintings and the purpose of art. Art for arts sake? Money for God's sake! The old quandary played out with such understanding of the lightning which burns you unless you let it out to play. The gift and curse of art and why we cannot stop creating. After ninety minutes I left the theatre energized, my artistic engines recharged and ready to take me onwards in my journey. “The word is given...Warp speed.”

Keep it simple stupid!

2010-03-18T08:41:00.000-07:00

"I've lost my inner dude!"

Hi folks,
Late afternoon here and finally some rays of sunshine have blessed our shores. Plus for a fracking change it's not raining. Foul weather has continued through the last two months and Gib has been soaked with powerful storms running across our little peninsula on their way across the globe. I almost went out on the street at three in the morning the other night just because it was not raining. That's how water logged with cabin fever I've been getting.

Otherwise, I'm doing well and have been slaving over a hot script, trying to get this damned piece out of my head. What started as a simple idea to learn an already existing script has morphed into my creating a new cut of Quentin's words. You know me since when did I like the easy road which had been explored before? So, at this point of the process I'm a man possessed. My body trapped in front of the computer screen's light. A moth drawn back again and again by the words flying around me. My fingers dancing across the keyboard trying to keep step with their rhythm. When I was a much younger man I used to imagine that when the muses took me. I was like a romantic figure, you know a painter in a Parisian garret room with a beautiful model draped at rest in the moody light. My frock covered in myriad splashes of paints.

But my ex-wife Lois would attest to my being more like a demented Dr. Frankenstein in a castle laboratory hunkered down over the body of the creature. Plenty of blood smears on the white coat from the rush of words seeking to be put down. So, as to clothe the idea in flesh and finish the deed. So, close...so close. Now, if I only had a brain!

As delirious and obsessive as the ride has become. It shows no signs of slowing down. I have ahead of me the task of putting all these lines in my head in about 10 weeks. No, pressure! So I'll keep this one short and just say that I am arriving on May the 27th and will be in the states until June 13th. So, please make a note because I'd like to see as many of you as I can. I'll be more forthcoming in my next missive.

We have left space dock:

2010-01-22T07:59:00.000-08:00

The Raven and the Blues.

The turn into the new decade has been completed and I find myself like everyone else in the unexplored future ahead of us. This old set of bones feel rather good after a couple of hard months dealing with Mom's health and facing the sobering responsibility I now have. Mom is well but I can see some deterioration in her energy and she tires quickly. I'm no longer just coming home to eat Mom's food. It's only in the last couple of weeks that it's hit me! Grown up stuff!!!

Crossing the Pond.

But do not despair kind reader for I am well. As always at these times it is the theatre which has been the healing balm. It has kept me going and given me somewhere to place the dark emotion and energy. Healing my moods inside by creating something on the outside with other people. Our show has just gone up as I write and our first flight was not too bad with only the normal bumps and scrapes of an opening night. It does look wonderful with delightful costumes and some fabulous props made for the stage. Production was busy with the various calamities that rear their head at every show as you prepare to get the 'Turkey' to fly. I have always loved the excitement of this last bit and the magic which happens as you and the other techs grow closer with the challenge and find new resources and ideas to fix what seem like unbeatable odds with the clock ticking.

His soul goes marching on.

The other thing which has come back and helped tremendously is that the Muses have been dancing in my eyes and I have begun painting again. It's been about two years since I have felt so drawn to work in this form and the release is just wonderful. This art comes from a side of my brain quite different from the theatre. This is less thought out ... more of a mystery. I do not know where I am going when I begin a new painting. There is no goal in sight. No story already laid out. Just the pull of the image and what it calls up in you. And this is what I leave you with these four new pieces. It's best to download and look at them full screen. Let me know what you think. Love and peace Andrew.

The Bride.

"It's going to be a bumpy night!"

2009-12-30T09:16:00.000-08:00

My Dear Friends,

Rejoice, for at last the end is in sight. We have survived the 'Holly Juggernaut' of Xmas and now merely have to cross the drunken meridian of New Year's eve to be through the time barrier to...another unit of measure? As always at these moments the whole of Western Media is in meltdown mode as we leave the 00's and fall into the next. An endless barrage of analysis and remembrance has splashed across our eyes and ears. Gets to where I wonder did I live through the same piece of the time stream as these guys? And don't get me started on the lists of things which have spewed out to account for our first ten steps into the 21^st century. Best movies, Best music, Best Person, Best Butt! If only these experts of history could just recall some of it during the rest of the fracking decade. At this juncture, I must reveal my fondness for the 'Best Butt' as it was a cracking bit of reportage, full of insight and great buns.

As for me ? Like Shirley Bassey when you get to my age you don't include decades in your calender. Anyway, here on the bridge of the good ship Cocteau we're ready for the time shift. Many years doing this crossing have trained me to strap down all the important things. So, the booze and Mom are good to go.

As you can tell I've been in quite a good groove the last couple of weeks. We're busy building and painting the set for the panto and as you know the smallest of distractions into the world of make-believe help to keep my soul afloat. Also, my Quentin Crisp project is coming along well. He's turned out to be a truly fascinating person. What I thought would be a simple process of learning his lines has become so much more. Also and best of all! The good old itch to write has returned. Art is in the house! Well kids, the minutes are floating by and soon the 00's will be gone. So, I wish you all the very best for the next measure of units and send my love as always.

I leave with a few words of wisdom... 'Never turn your back on a monkey'.And yes Bill and Chris those are the very same cute guys I work with!

Have fun storming the castle!

2009-11-12T12:08:00.000-08:00

As I orbit this 'Forbidden planet' Layla Zoe is pouring some acoustic bourbon in my ears with her powerful, smoky voice which cuts through the cobwebs like a warp engine and the memories come flooding through.

Firstly, Up-state New York: The last month brought our 'autumn'. I tried calling it 'Fall' and got that quizzical look from someone which lets you know their failing to understand? You see we don't have any trees here which lose their leaves and so the phrase is a non sequitur. Shame, I did miss the riot of colors and the scrunch of leaves. Which told you Halloween was coming and magic was near.

But, each place has it's way and here our temperature has remained mostly in the 70's with bright sunshine and just a few showers of rain. These drops of moisture have brought forth a carpet of beautiful flowers on the Rock. One a small delicate purple flower reminds me of my sweet Jean-Marie and our time here together. Lovers trying to escape their dead line by dancing in bed. I miss her sharp mind and lovely legs.

Next a memory of the workshop at Elmwood floats through. Especially a fracking table saw!!! Last week my new theatrical partner in crime 'George' and I were starting to build the set for the panto. The smell of sawdust, splinters in fingers and the fun as Mike Gnazzo used to say as you 'dope out a solution to a problem'. As much as George is a fine fellow. I still miss my hulking great friend Mike with whom no project seemed beyond us. Both of us working till we were exhausted, filthy and doing things we would normally only do for money and at the end proud and exhilarated by our efforts.

My preparations for playing the ' Grand old powdered man' are going well. The dramaturgy that one can do in the age of the Internet is astounding. I've watched clips of video him and literally peeked into his New York apartment. I've gathered information from all over the world. While ordering many of the books from the cottage industry which has set itself up to promote this stately homo. I've read the 'Naked cival servant' and found it just a blast. He is so easy to take in and makes you chuckle along no matter how dark the time of his life. I've also read a play by Tim Fountain using Q's words. He was trying to create a piece by which other actors could play him. So, I was interested and... it was bad! Really, bad!!! Good news though, I now have three gigs, two state side and one here in Gib before I go. Things are not good for gays here. Their too much under cover and homo-phobia is all about. So, I've offered to do the piece for our local gay and lesbians chapter and they've accepted. Stand by for moi to be called 'Queer' all over again! Won't be the first time and nothing like Mr. Crisp put up with.

In the last couple of weeks we've had a bunch of art things come through our little Rock. One was a show in the very grand Governor's house. We Gibraltarians still have someone sent over from England to preside over us and he gets to live in a truly beautiful building called the Covent. It was here that a play called 'It's not about heroes' was put on. It concern's two World war one poets and how they met. The play was sweet and full of poetry. But in the end the room it was done in was more interesting than the performance of the piece. These two 'guns for hire' though having good voices blunted the poetry with uninspired renditions. Otherwise the room was spectacular!

Something which was a lot of fun was the John Lennon drawings which we had on display. As some of you will know John and Yoko got married here in Gibraltar. Check out the 'Ballard of John and Yoko'. It was a lovely collection of his drawings and some hand written lyrics. Fab! Took me back in time and reminded me that today's artists have much to learn in style and purpose.

Lastly, we had an evening of remembrance at the Garrison library in which music and poems were performed for Veterans. I was asked to read and foolishly sent in a Bio of myself to get the Chairman off my back who insisted he needed something to introduce me. I performed my bit and all went well. It was nice to be in front of a crowd and hear my voice working again. Then when all the other people were done we had an intermission and I became a source of interest. Two women approached me (not that kind of approach! I wish it were.) to see if I could hook them up with people in 'Hollywood'. One was seeking funding for a "fabulous film project (a Costume period piece)". For which she had sold the option for to some far away agent in the land of the free. The other was seeking resources for 'her daughter to make a film here when she came to the rock'. To both I was polite and then when they'd left I laughed. Lastly on the dangers of letting your resume get out is that the woman who'd put on that play in the Governors house? Now wanted my opinion because I had been a professional actor and had a career. She insisted! I was truthful. I'm sure she'll steer clear of me now. Anyway, write and let me know how YOU are and I miss and love you all. Andrew

“Death by misadventure? Yeah, I've had a few birthdays like that!"

2009-09-05T01:21:00.000-07:00

USS Cocteau: NCC -1957. Captain Andrew Dark
(There are plenty of links to click. Enjoy and I miss you all!)

It's been some fast times here in 2009. The Months shredding away from the calender like toilet paper. Since we last spoke a hot humid August has rolled on by leaving in it's wake the first days of September and my 52nd birthday, Sunday the sixth. So, have a tipple on me.

I'm sitting at my desk 'chillin', feeling peaceful. Drinking down some liquid smoke. It's around midnight and Dinah Washington's sultry voice croons in my headphones. The sassy, sexy horns remind me of dancing (all those years ago) with my beautiful Lois in a New Orleans funeral. Our Creole excursion full of all the southern comforts of Bourbon , Voodoo and love. Outside my bedroom window a lush moon is spilling it's light across the Bay and a sweet senorita of a breeze blows in from Spain. Her cooling breath gently sways the plants and blows across my naked shoulders. A little shudder of things to come perhaps? I'll cast some runes.

I'm on vacation for a few days relaxing, catching up with art and working on some words to send back to you. As always I wonder what to write? After all, a lot goes on in a month but most of it unworthy of posting. I'm not one to change my status on Facebook just because the wind has. What a break through? A technology which allows us to share the minutia of moments which a few years ago we would have been happy to go through alone. But, I'd better be careful it's late and we're getting close to that scary hour when 'ideas become concept's.

On the Art side:

I'm designing a Pantomime (kid's show) and it's 'Alice in Wonderland.' So, I spent a lovely hour today rooting around in our theatre workshop. Smelling the sawdust and looking over the bits and pieces. It was fun to see all the previous shows laying around as props or flats. As my mind was spinning out some new ways to use old stuff my buddy Bob Olsen came to mind. He was the Master. “A bit of fresh paint here and a little nip and tuck there! And we have it!” Of course, it was never that simple! The panto will help to jump start my mind. I need it, since any ideas of acting this year went out the window. Ho-hum!!!

To combat those blues and to celebrate the old curmudgeon! I am looking to perform 'An evening with Quintin Crisp' next year in the USA when I come and visit. It is a fun one man show and I think Mr. Olsen would have appreciated it. So, watch this space for updates. You all have a great month and we'll speak soon. Love and peace Andrew Dark

Burying a rock!

2009-07-03T12:10:00.000-07:00

(This ones full of songs and vids so take the time to click and enjoy!)

Hi guys,
Sorry for not writing more often but even though it's been quite a while since my run in with my 'Appendicitis'. It has taken much longer to re-coup my mojo. This stems from the fact that the show I was going to perform has now been permanently shelved'. It must seem silly to civilians but I found myself deeply depressed. Those who know me are familiar with my Jim Kirk fixation at not believing in the 'Kobayashi Maru' but the more I tried to put this 'Turkey' on the more it went to hell! It had been three months following in the foot steps of Sisyphus pushing his boulder up and down those freaking hills in the Greek Underworld. Every time I thought I had it sorted out and was approaching the summit. The freaking rock would get away from me and roll to the bottom again. So, I buried the boulder in the cat pan and have been licking my wounds ever since.
Anyway, I'm feeling much better and am sitting on a lovely old leather couch in my newly decorated bedroom. The walls are starting to look like mine as the sci-fi posters begin to cover up the plain ivory white paint. It's hard to give up your own apartment full of stuff and travel back home with only a suitcase of possessions into a single room. But with time you gather new pieces and start again. The sun is streaming in and we are in the midst of a hot, sticky summer day. It took a while for the temperature to stabilize but now we've settled into a bake cycle of humid high 80's and 90's.
I've just taken my aunt and Mom out to eat at one of my favorite spots. It's called 'Cheers' after the TV show but there the comparisons stop. There are no eccentric regular drunks or humorous bar tenders. Instead it's owned by locals and the food is mostly Spanish fare served quickly and hot. While Mom and auntie swapped gossip about various members of the family. I read our local newspaper 'The Gibraltar Chronicle'. It's not much to peruse and everyone says so, but buy one and those same people borrow yours and have a peek . The city around us was humming with activity as Gibraltar settles into it's summer routine of tourists washing up upon our shores from the cruise ships and coaches. Whom then rush around attempting to soak in the magic of Gib in just a few short hours. Locals in their shorts and summer dresses take this influx of people in their stride and use the side streets to avoid the crush of humanity on our Main ave. While cars and motorcycles clog the roads due to Government's insistence on scheduling major roadworks at exactly the wrong time. I smile at the proof that bureaucracy like everything else is international! As I'm paying up the sounds of Micheal Jackson's 'Billie Jean' pump out from a passing car and once again for a few more moments the Black Orpheus lives. We in Gibraltar have been affected by his death though running a few notches shy of Australia who've been (according to Internet sources) literally killing themselves to join him walking on the moon. Speaking of which I'm looking up at my brand new poster of Buzz Aldrin on the lunar surface and remembering that wonderful moment when America meant something good to us all. Have a wonderful fourth and much love. Miss you all Andrew Dark

Bob has left the building.

2009-06-13T09:09:00.000-07:00

Since the sad news of Bob's exit I have of course thought much of him. He would have loved the panoramic view from my cable car as it goes up and down over the lush vegetation of the Rock of Gibraltar. From here you can see the rugged coast line of Africa a mere 15 miles away across the blue, blue waters of the Straits and the majestic Moroccan mountains peaking up above the icing of white clouds. Of course, he would've rearranged the clouds, re-drawn the coast line as it suited him and had to fudge the perspective a little to get it to work on the back wall of Elmwood. But, I would have loved the chance to work one last earth bound project with him. Before he moved onto exclusively celestial designs and beyond my ability to turn up for construction. And that's how I have remembered Bob 'working on projects' and the many friends I met doing so.

The loyal family of workers who came and went through the years helping our very own Don Quixote tilt the wind mills and chase his dreams. Of all his works 'Man de la Mancha' was the one most quoted and it's where I leave you now. Miss you Bob.

Your little Brother Andrew Dark.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YGzqbEeVWhs&feature=related

To dream the impossible dream,
To fight the unbeatable foe,
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go;
To right the unrightable wrong.

To love, pure and chaste, from afar,
To try, when your arms are too weary,
To reach the unreachable star!

This is my Quest to follow that star,
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far,
To fight for the right
Without question or pause,
To be willing to march into hell
For a heavenly cause!

And I know, if I'll only be true
To this glorious Quest,
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm
When I'm laid to my rest.

And the world will be better for this,
That one man, scorned and covered with scars,
Still strove, with his last ounce of courage,
To reach the unreachable stars!

“Overture and beginners...not you Mr. Dark.”

2009-04-26T03:44:00.000-07:00

Hi folks, I'm back in the center seat of 'The Cocteau' and I wanted to send out a short note that's not a 'Tweet' but rather an Email with the delusion of being on paper. I am well, although there are parts of me no longer aboard. It would seem my posting on Facebook about something Alien in my body was not so space happy as I thought. A week ago, I was walking home from rehs and the sharp pain in my side which I had (like a dutiful American) been ignoring for five days got too much. In the hopes of getting some medicine to ease whatever was burrowing it's way through me. My friend Eleri pushed me towards the Emergency room at the hospital reminding me that 'it was the done thing in Gibraltar to seek medical help when you felt like some creature was chewing your insides up'. I resigned myself and went in... I hate hospitals!
After a bit of a wait since it was Saturday night and already the ER was busy dealing with an elderly lady dying and the first of the red soaked drunks coming in. I saw a Doctor and he took some blood to have labs run on. It wasn't too long before the Doctor returned and told me 'I was going nowhere'. I said, “But I have a show we're doing this week. In fact we're moving all the stuff in tomorrow for tech day!!!” He said, 'Well, it's up to you but I think your life is more important!' I asked for a few moments to get my head around things. Then followed the dumbest ten minutes of my life as I literally considered whether or not I should go through with the freaking show and then seek treatment. I know it must seem weird to you my non-theatre friends but I can see those of you who share my rare obsession nodding your heads in understanding. For I have never failed to appear on stage in thirty years and have even taken to the boards as my apartment was being side swiped by the vestiges of a hurricane and water was literally washing my world away. Anyway, the moments of madness passed and of course I did have myself admitted and the diagnosis of acute appendicitis brought me to surgery. As the Surgeon was talking to me about the operation and where they would cut. I jokingly asked him if he could fix my hernia as he went in? He looked back seriously and answered, “Good idea...we'll do that!” My jaw hit the floor. I was in a place where health did matter. My adventures continued like a soap opera plot and I found myself in ICU for two days being watched over by nursing staff. Since my neck's inability to bend had caused problems for the 'Anesthesiologist' and I had absorbed so much 'sleepy stuff'. So, to protect my throat and vocal cords I was kept knocked out. Anyway, as I said at the start. I am well and now back home in front of the computers working on being better. The show will be done at a later date and I am thankful in many ways for being here. For I know back home in the States I would have just kept waiting and most probably would've died. I miss you all and will see you soon as I can. Love and peace Andrew Dark...

Xmas Cheer

2008-12-22T23:33:00.000-08:00

Sent by John Whitley

Hi there, and a happy holidays to all. Right now, I'm listening to Glenn Miller's band playing 'Jingle Bells' from a mix I made for my last show.

Christmas is almost upon us and here in Gib we're like many folks in the western world. Our Main street has been full of locals spending money we're not sure will be there by next month. Maybe it's smarter that way? It sure gets the lumps out of the mattress. We've also had an influx of Spanish as they find themselves with a better exchange rate as the pound collapses. It would seem that the English followed the USA model of 'Greed and business' a little too closely.

Sent by Ann Trudell

Gib celebrates Xmas big here I've been to two separate parties paid for by our bosses. A formal dinner dance (dress in a suit) type for which they laid on coaches and took us into Spain. Then a more casual lunch which was in town. Then us guys at work are heading out to eat some lunch on the 31^st. It does my spirit good but my heart bad I'll be climbing on the 'Weight train' next month! That's if I can run and catch it.

Sent by Heather Sabella
Photo shopped by me!

Though everyone here has been complaining that its been the coldest winter ever. We've had some beautiful days. At the top of the Rock we had golden sunshine pouring down and warming us. At one point I had five apes laying around where the cable car comes in sunning themselves. I know it's been different for you. Mark Marshall just web cammed me and I saw the snow you guys have been getting. I love each and everyone of you but I am so glad I don't have snow in my weather pattern. I had to smile when a month ago all of Gibraltar was running around excited and snapping digital pictures of large hail stones. Some people even made diminutive snowmen from the ice. Could 'Jack Frost' have been hiding in my suitcase all this time? Besides these visitors from a higher altitude we've also had some extremely powerful storms come along and pound our little Rock. Just a couple of months ago another ship was sent to the bottom of the sea. Here's some video shot by a local reporter where you can see this large ship being pounded by the sea. I keep seeing a huge watery hand breaking it in two.

So, I did the Xmas show at the historical/hysterical Garrison library which is a truly wonderful building. Several hundred years old, chock full of ancient books and atmosphere. The room we performed in was pure unadulterated Victorian magic with it's tall, tall ceilings and two large fire places. The evening I had designed was 'Christmas in Gibraltar 1945': An hour long radio show broken up by a choir thirty-five strong who sang many lovely Xmas hymns and songs. The material and jokes for the show were borrowed from radio broadcasts during WW2. Now, as you know I'm not usually up for Xmas till...well...December and then not until Xmas week. So, this was very odd for me. I had been collecting radio shows & Xmas music for months. Standing in shorts on a 90 degree day during July pouring over newspapers and soldiers magazines from the period. Looking for mentions of what they were doing to celebrate Christmas and how was daily life? I listened to the radio shows and music over the months and slowly a plan came into form. Nothing written down but I was working on it. Then two weeks before the show my computer coughed up a blue screen which I did not like the look of and made me unsure I could keep it working. It was then that I decided to buy a new machine. Since all the sound files which I was going to to transcribe from were on the hard drive and the thing I was going to write with was the computer.

I found one at a good price and made the purchase. My new set up is faster and smarter than the older. I wish I were too. Days followed battling the new machine as I learnt just how fussy Vista was going to be. But...by the end I got the computers up and the script was written in just two days leaving me in a haze but with a plan called 'B'.

Now, as far as the show? It was like trying to herd cats. Too many lovely, smiling people telling me I was in charge and then constantly reminding me that we couldn't do things that way. I was grateful for the input but tired of the game plan. I was the new kid on the block with no real idea of the shape of the evening but by all accounts a good time was had by all. It was two sold out houses filled to the rafters with plenty f extra seats and fire codes thrown to the wind. We raised close to 1,500 dollars for the RAF benevolent fund and we made more money this year than others.

So, onto the next thing which in my case is cramming my lines for the pantomime and assuming the role of 'Cringe' one of the footmen to the 'Evil Count de Cash'. Not too demanding and something I won't repeat. The director has a habit of not running any of the moments or lines more than once. Therefore no-one can remember much and cares even less. She then gets angry because of this. I know you can see my smile.

I also went and saw my doctor here to get an appointment with an orthopaedic surgeon a few months down the road. It will be worth the wait to have him look at my body and send me for a scan. Perhaps, I can get my knee sorted out. It gives me much grief! But mostly I am well and looking forward to putting this year behind us. Art wise I feel a little cramped. I miss my familiar actors and the quality, humor and understanding they brought to these projects.

But, enough... I found this fun item posted on Yahoo about the New President elect...

Made me smile... I love and miss you so much and shall be thinking of you all through the holidays. Your friend always Andrew Dark

Judy Garland: Merry Xmas (My current fav)

The end of days.. Heratics & Lipstick

2008-10-08T06:54:00.001-07:00

So, what's it all about?

You know the meaning of life? (Song)

Sorry folks... that I've not been writing much in my blog but I needed to work on a few things before the apocalypse comes. As you all know by now the media has informed us that “the end is nigh”. So, I have been busy catching up with a few soul absolving tasks. Isn't it funny? But since, the “Market Meltdown” and the 'Presidential debates' saying my prayers and cleaning out the basement for a bomb shelter seem vitally important. It only seems like a few days ago when the American people exerted some political opinion and expressed angst to the houses of Congress and Senate about the bailout and how it was rewarding the people who'd broken the economy. Oh, how foolish we were believing in Democracy. We had no understanding of how bent the universe is! For the money market gods of Mammon looked down from Wall street and they were angry. In a mighty tantrum they tore down the temple and plunged the numbers into the toilet. For we were doubting that they had done the right thing? We were questioning their motives? Didn't we understand that it wasn't the people running these companies who'd done something wrong? No, it was the E.S.S. (Evil European Scientists) who had played the Large Hadron Collider RAP (song) so loud that it had torn a hole in the financial space time credit continuum of the global economy with their hip-hop. Allowing a Recessional Black hole to connect to our universe and suck out the value of everything as we know it. This is what had caused Main street to wink out. The people to be swept away... Leaving only these brave Captains of Industry to sail upon the sea of paltry billions (we had given them) so they may create the world in their image anew. Give me a break...hang the bastards!

Please, take the time and hug yourself. I offer a few songs and things to reassure you. Keep your chin up and your smile wide. Put on some lipstick and make yourself feel like a billion Dollars! The world is not over. Miss ya Love Andrew Dark.

A Dark Painting:

Unger Report:Making the most of a bad bussiness (Radio humor)

But I like Palin! This guy would be a wonderful VP (Classic Python)

Give me a call on the Banana phone: (Song)

All aboard!

2008-09-01T12:56:00.000-07:00

My ears are still ringing from the booming blues as I head home across Casemates Square. It's midnight and the last throes of our hot and steamy summer are hanging in the air. The youngsters are just starting to head out for one last fling before they go away to university in England. So, I segue from the blues playing at the Lord Nelson to being serenaded by these creatures of the night calling their lust to each other in the darkness. The women look beautiful each one an exotic flower seeking pollination, wearing flowery skirts so short they should be called napkins. The men so handsome everyone of them a King Bee, delightfully long & lean in their low cut jeans showing off their briefs.

My mind is numb from work and my body tired. All day we didn't stop shuttling people up to the top. The line stretching right across the parking lot with a waiting time of two hours. Gibraltar was filled to capacity, three cruise liners were in port bringing over 6,000 people from different parts of the world to our little town. Then there were all the others who had come across the frontier from Spain by coach, car and foot. This multitude all heading towards our Main street and the upper Rock!

As I pass through the ancient tunnel gates which still guard the entrance to the city square. The memory of the queue shuffling slowly forward is still flickering in my eye. An endless stream of humanity like Fritz Lang's gray workers in Metropolis heading towards the elevators to begin their shifts. The difference being these guys are on vacation and are wearing colors not seen in nature. All day: I'd take off the rope and start counting as they went by One, two, three...till I stopped at 24 souls. Souls? Yes, because getting into a cable car is a matter of faith. Those of you who snicker are welcome to join me in a steel can some 14 feet long, 6 feet wide and 8 feet tall which is about to be taken up some 1400 feet by a cable. Then everyone has faith, even those with fear have faith...in their fears. I have faith in the technology...mostly. Except, for the times I don't...

All day: I put people in and closed the door, pressed a button, then waited until the operator at the top was ready. You see like a pair of dancers on wire our cars are linked. One goes up as the other comes down. Within seconds the temperature inside the cabin would soar from our bodies crammed together. I'd press another button and a voice would say “Welcome to the cable car! You are traveling up 412 meters to the top of the Rock of Gibraltar.” This of course does nothing to console those who fear heights and there is at least one person every ride who is very scared. After nearly two months, I can spot the nervous ones quickly. Their eyes give them away. Women deal with it quietly by grabbing a hand rail and looking at the floor but men are terrible wanting to be in control. They also have the odd habit of teasing their women instead of consoling them?

The people who enter the car are an audience with expectations and anxieties. How often do you check the cable? Has the cable ever broken? Are the monkeys friendly? Do they bite? I joke and reassure. It seems forever but after a couple of minutes the car moves upwards and we’re off. There’s a gasp of relief as air comes through the open windows cooling us off and the ground falls away. It's as if some cartoon ray gun is at work because everything below us seems to be shrinking. The buildings, cars and people become toys. Then suddenly we are clear of the town and the scenery opens up to show the Straits of Gibraltar. A cacophony fills the cabin as the cameras beep and a sing song of languages begins talking. I don’t need a Babel fish in my ear to know that all those tongues are saying the same thing how beautiful! For it is a sight which invokes in me a genuine feeling of awe. Not 'awe' as in an “awesome ice-cream” but the real thing! Something both mystical and mythical which your spirit cannot tire of.

On a sunny day the calmer waters in the bay between us and Spain seem like rippling, liquid glass. The ships in the port which are so huge outside my bedroom window now seem small enough for a child's hands. Fisherman's large row boats sit like minute bugs on the waters surface. To the north the wind turbines on the Spanish hills are just the right size for Don Quixote to tilt. But we're not done yet. Higher and higher we go and our ears pop with the speed of our ascent. We're visiting the gods! Over there to the south Mount Hacho peeks over an icing of clouds. It's one of the mythical Pillars of Hercules with Gibraltar being the other. This is where the ancient strong man stood and smashed down the divide between the Mediterranean sea and the Atlantic ocean. At this point the once dark continent of Africa is a mere 14 miles away.

I'm almost home at my flat with a crescent moon smiling down. The ships in the bay once more normal sized and the lights from Spain twinkling their goodnight...goodnight. Love Andrew.

The olympics & the true face of medusa.

2008-08-26T06:47:00.000-07:00

The True face of Medusa?

I write this time from Ocean Village a complex of expensive apartments and piers built by speculators hoping Gib will become another Monaco. The dream to attract people with a lot of money to buy summer homes and berth their luxury yachts. I’m in one of a slue of high class restaurants which have opened and this is an Indian restaurant without a hint of Indian styling or dark skinned waiters. Through the open windows the smell of the sea and the sounds of the bay float across me and the sweet white flower which floats in a glass on my table. All this mingles with Nora Jones whose crooning quietly in the background. As I peruse the menu and listen to the music. I notice a heavy set woman in her mid-sixties looking towards my direction almost smacking her lips. I wince at my sudden attractiveness and order a drink to steady my nerves. A gin and tonic in honor of my dear friend John Whitley who would love this tranquil moment. He would also smile to know that the man with no sports gene (moi) has so far successfully managed to miss the Olympics. A hard thing to do in Gib which like the rest of the western world has become littered in every bar and restaurant with flat screens plastered with the games.
The young waitress with the accent from some unfamiliar European country comes over with my drink and I order a chicken Byranni with some Nan bread. The lady across the room is still glancing over towards me with that hungry look. Feeling like an appetizer at a homeless persons convention. I try looking elsewhere towards a framed picture opposite of me of a British fox hunting scene. An image totally incongruous with the Asian menu I’ve chosen my food from. I drift back to my notes and sip my colonial G&T. Where was I? Oh yes…the Olympics in China with all it’s Ying and yang grandeur and grotesqueness. A more humdrum looking singer swapped out for a lip-sinking cutie. A spectacular fireworks display tweaked with computer graphics. A mind blowing opening ceremony utilizing countless humans doing the same thing in unison. Spooky and spectacular. You ask me Chairman Mao still casts a long shadow across this culture?
But not to worry folks here comes President Bush who bumbles and drools his way through the ceremony and games. Ignoring…like all the press…China’s human rights record and pollution levels. Why wouldn’t they? The USA’s are not so good! I like John Stewart am looking forward to the end of the Bush administration ‘as a person….and as a mammal.’ Speaking of mammals the woman is now looking like she’d like me to suckle her deepest desire.
I look once more towards the picture of English gentry on horseback hunting down a fox…when I spot it. Like Perseus avoiding the gaze of Medusa by using his shield’s reflective surface to see. The glass of the painting opposite me has a reflection dancing in it from an until then unseen television screen which is above my head. A perfectly beautiful young man on the parallel bars. The figure that the woman has been watching with such hungry eyes. He is the tall drink of water which her thirsty body would love to drink. I smile…a little disappointed and eat my dinner in peace. At least I didn’t get turned to stone!

Motor cycles and music (August 14th)

2008-08-20T09:26:00.000-07:00

I slip down Parliament lane towards the Star bar where our oldest pub and my local is. Its situated in a razor blade thin cobbled stoned street which reminds me of New Orleans. For a second I remember my sweet ex-wife Lois dancing with me at a jazz funeral. Then she’s gone swaying on the balmy air. Behind me I can still hear the sounds of the crowd coming from Gibraltar’s main town square. Where I’ve just walked through to get to here. It’s the Summer nights festival and a large stage and sound system has been set up in Casements square so that dancers, musicians and DJ’s can entertain a large crowd of locals eating and drinking at the restaurants. As I pass through the crowd checking out the scene I shake my head smiling. A couple of 21st Century sorcerering apprentices in the guise of two young DJ’s are dueling each other with a cacophony of robotic beats, repetitive crescendos and lusty electronic mush…but not a note of music. Like enthusiastic amateur lovers they grope around each other with sampled slivers of sounds but there’s no ecstasy to fool the ears into orgasm just deafeningly loud sloppy moments. A pair of struggling Mickey Mouses comes to mind with an over conjured tempest brewing wilder and wilder all about them and threatening to drown us all.
Earlier this week the same square had been full of some 800 Shiny Harley Davidson’s from a motor cycle rally that we had here in Gib. (I have a couple of photos attached.) A nice bunch of leather clad folks took over the town. Shame the bodies were not in better shape. Mostly…beer bellied men and older women who should know better. But tonight, the bodies are much younger and hesitatingly move to the beat. Mostly just teenagers dancing who are on vacation and so don’t have curfews and much confidence in their steps. Suddenly, as if hearing my thoughts about the lack of real music in this musical event, Tom Jones voice roars out across the square with a cry of “I think I better dance now!” and The Art of noise song ‘Kiss’ pounds away with it’s own brand of retro electronic beats. Then as if magically freed from the DJ’s spell the youngsters are gyrating as one. A split second later the music wave washes across the adults in the restaurants and toes start tapping while butts bounce around on their seats. Will he ever die I wonder? Or will Tom Jones just keep living on in some zombie form? Inside some future mix? I think he just might. It’s our modern mummification. An eternal digital after-life.
I move inside the tiny Star Bar to get a drink and the babble of music is taken over by the drone of dueling TV’s spewing out news. SKY (British) on one…CCN (European) on the other. Not much of it good…the markets are still collapsing from the credit melt down and the Middle East wars are escalating with their casualties. Joined by Georgia’s foolish attempt to get into a pissing contest with the Russians. Plus, I still haven’t met up with a Hash dealer. I take my brandy and move outside to a cooler table in the night air and sit opposite a stationary store called ‘Write away’ How things have changed? No pen and paper with weeks to get your words to someone. We now keep in contact with facebook and can see the smallest things that a friend is up to. Feeling anachronistic as I write in my journal, I smile at the ease of all the other things in my new life this time. It’s no longer the scarping nails on glass at having to give up the USA. Instead a growing acceptance and confidence in the future. I still miss people but the sense is of something to the end of a run but not the adventure. That there is much more to be accomplished.
The job has turned out to be mostly fun and this week I had a singing experience with some four Germans folks in their sixties who were riding down from the top station. It was a truly beautiful day and the sky we were moving through seemed just endless as a powerful cooling wind slid through the open windows of the cable car. (Yes, we have open windows in summer but they do have bars to prevent folks from falling out.) Then a husband of one the two couples began quietly singing a song to his wife. It caught my ear because it was the same song that I had been loudly singing on top of the cable car as we did our test runs. Partly to overcome my nerves at the long drop but mostly because it is such a thrill to be doing such a thing. Anyway, the fella starts singing and I join in. He turns around, smiles to me and starts singing louder. Then all five of us are just singing our heads off as the cable car seems to fly!!! I finish this weeks ‘Bloggo’ from Gib with the song. Love and miss you all.