Thursday, May 30, 2013
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
I want to archive my mini essay "The Smile". It was featured on a blog post by Andrew Sullivan. Check me out on The Dish as he dishes on Mitt Romney's laugh. http://dish.andrewsullivan.com/2012/05/23/the-romney-laugh-ctd-2/
The evening ended with a Google Alert. I received a five-star review for my album "Confessions of a Mormon Boy (Live from London)" from Scott Harrah of www.StageZine.com.
"This must-have recording is that rare soundtrack of a solo show that you will want to listen to over and over again. Anyone will find much to savor in this spoken-word gem!"
Here's the link that will take you to the full reviews and the links to the album on iTunes and Amazon! http://www.stagezine.com/mormonboysoundtrack.html
Thursday, May 16, 2013
Donate $10 and get my new album "Confessions of a Mormon Boy (Live from London)!" Please donate right away. Only $6,900 and 30 days left to go! I need your help and can't fund my work alone. http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/the-mormon-boy-trilogy/x/3023743
I started "binging" on alcohol after my divorce and excommunication Aug 2000. I was 30 years old. Within a year I was introduced to crystal meth in a penthouse in New York. I didn't know what was about to hit me. It blew my gaskets and my pleasure centers were thrashed! The crash was beyond demoralizing. I was addicted the first time I used.
There is no way to tell all my story right now and at this time. It was hard to admit I had a problem because I seemed so "normal" and no one around me thought I had a problem. But deep inside I knew I did. It was like a tsunami ready to crash upon me all the time--and it did.
I am grateful that recovery found me within two years of binging and that the programs I started held my hand until I could have enough bottoms to surrender.
I am so grateful for this journey. Recovery is something I learned I could not do perfectly. This is a hard thing to accept for a "Mormon boy." Humility is something that I lacked.
So here is to another 18 months one day at a time. Easy Does It. First Things First. May I continue to show up for life, learn how to serve others and to still be able to say at the end of each day (like I do at the end of Confessions of a Mormon Boy), "Heavenly Father, thank you for my life."
I would be happy to hear from anyone privately who thinks they might have a problem. Maybe together we can talk about a solution that could work for you. It seems to be working for me at this moment. And I see it work for others with much more time and experience. God bless.
There is a feature story about the book and gay Mormon characters in literature. It has appeared in the Washington Post and now on Huffington Post. I'm honored to be in this company! http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/05/24/gay-mormon-characters-in-the-arts-step-out-of-the-shadows_n_3323515.html
Missionary Position is Part Two in The Mormon Boy Trilogy which also includes Confessions of a Mormon Boy and Prodigal Dad.
Music and lyrics by Steven Fales
(based on the painting “Serenity” by Daniel Pollera)
This song may be too intimate,
But sweetheart I’m so into it.
I have found
And all the walls are bright
The sea is calm and blue
And afternoons with you
We’re walking in the sand
Or play your baby grand.
But that place
Is water colored walls
Just two dimensional
I’m trapped inside a dream
The picture’s cruel and mean
There’s no light from above
And we’re not making love.
Making love to you.
This song may be too intimate
But I was just so into it.
How will I ever heal
And find a love that’s for real?
An idyllic scene of sorts
There’s a pair of empty shoes
Symmetrical and new
But the shoelaces don’t fit
And so the shoes just sit.
And that scene
Is now a scene for one
Bare footprints could be fun
But you’ve locked yourself inside
And I won’t let you hide.
I’d save you if I could
But I don’t know if I should.
There’s no knob on the door
You don’t answer anymore.
I’ll save you. Yes, I can.
No! You’re the superman!
Waking up with you.
I was so darn into it.
You’re my biggest sober hit.
Now I’m alone it’s true
Wishin’ I was there with you.
We were so deep in love.
Help me find strength above
I may be crazy
But join me.
And windows full of sun.
So spotless they don’t gleam
‘Cause everything’s so clean.
There’s not a speck of dust
And pipes don’t ever rust.
But that room
Has no pulse or breath
A slow and perfect death
No place for dogs or kids
Or leftover dinner lids
Disapproval and disgust
With no laughs or lust
And fear has killed all trust.
That’s not a place for us!
If you don’t want to play
This song will surely find a way
To give to you from me
My love eternally
And bless you anyway
I don’t know how to say
The waves come crashing on the rocks
And no lighthouse can rescue us.
Don’t let me drown.
I’m going down.
Or you won’t get a chance
To see what’s really there.
Look, really get a stare.
Above the window pane--
Look, there’s a water stain.
It is faint.
You couldn’t see before
It’s not perfect anymore.
It never was that way
And look, we’re still okay.
I’ll try harder not to fix
Anymore of your tics
With all my selfish tricks.
This song may be too intimate
But I am still so into it.
Wondering what is true.
I can’t stop wanting what we had
Because the good outweighs the bad.
I would trade it all for you.
Come back to me.
This song may be too intimate
But I was just so into it.
Come back to me.
Let me learn
And let me earn
The picture’s still undone.
It’s called SERENITY.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
by Steven Fales
She leadeth me beside the crystal meth waters
She cheateth my soul
In the valley of the shadow of the urban jungle
I can never find the right place to pee
So once again I am wet with shame
She has too many tempting alleyways
I cannot decide how far down to go
Or which subway will take me all the way
One is too many and a thousand never enough
Unless this time she will kindly not hold the door
Death, thy name is More!
Bigger, bigger, pull the trigger . . .
I sketch and shuffle across bridge and tunnel
With my tweak and my stink
In my autumn hoodie I scare and
Scatter elders, tweens and twinks
As you speed me to squalor
From Chelsea dungeons to Brighton Beach dawn
I clench my teeth too tired to yawn
So cold you can smell that the falling rain
Will soon turn to snow to salt my brain
And in my flip-flops I straddle and trudge
As you strut on by and I cop my grudge
You cost all I have and barely give back
Your displeasured countenance
And hostile indifference terrify me
I feel alone as you swallow me whole
Too good to call whore at your prostitute’s craft
In your sexy black dress
So bad you can’t even wear red
Trade your heels in for boots with that killer skill
I harness my gods to thy ravenous will
What else is in that duffle?
Trouble, trouble, quite a double
Thy rod and thy staff they escort me
Thou preparest a table before me
In the presence of Hell’s dark Kitchen
My Canal Street Rolex has stopped
My lighter, too, you want it?
I’m sorry, but this time
I just can’t seem to
Give it up or
Get it up or
Glory holes and buddy booths
You don't see me from behind
As I assume the position
You're the dawg tag choker
And that strap on you’re wearing
Could use some more lube
The least you could do
After all we’ve meant to each other is spit
Is that you or me on the faceless, plasma screen
I don’t ever want to know who’s riding whom
It’s all uploaded and downloaded and over with now
Your virus is high and my t-cells are low
I’ve tasted my blood and know that it’s so
Damn, you for burning my thigh with your pipe
And me for ever letting myself smell this ripe . . .
And dreams won’t pay for the view
Not in the swanky penthouses wherein you reign
I can’t even furnish the foyer
The change bowl is filthy copper now
Or is it zinc and soot?
Zounds! The spending loot’s long gone
With only receipts to remind me
That now I am hopelessly drifting in debt
Compounded interest cuffing my heart
Waterboarding what once was hope and art
You are a frenzied banquet on which others feed
Napkin? Crab cake? Tartare? Bizarre!
Your tall flute runneth o’er as I lick the flowing lucre
And hunger and thirst in your miserable, gluttonous presence
Bubble, bubble, have a double
Each gay exhibit doth now prohibit
I can’t even score a free pass to Dendur
And I am not brave enough to go
Where mafia has fed my tribe before
Just ask your red-headed step sister, Vegas
Or my mama’s Mormon daddy
No longer a hooker myself (I know the drill)
Hustle, hustle, feel my muscle
Shazam! Bam! I will not slam!
Leave me! Go! Find another victim
If you can
If you dare
Choose your poison as you huff and puff
Passion passes me by like the parades you fake
And the faggots you smoke
All your manic whims and wishes are wasted on me
For johns will be johns--sores, warts and all
The transaction’s complete
In the wreckage of your presence
I defer to the future
Be careful what you wish for because . . .
Pay your rent late fees and all
And extend your lease without rent control
Say good bye to your pad up on high
In your hipster tower that makes Trump men sigh
I will marry you at last
And bring you down
And slow you down
Surprise! Astonish! Astound!
No limo for you but a taxi for two
I will be the pimp you truly needed
But did not think was man enough
No longer a sugar daddy or trophy wife
We will partner, sweetheart, dear
You will dress in white and so will I
Equally bound with veil and tie
And you will have our sober child
Struck whole and complete the nor’easter past
Blunting steeples and uprooting trees
Littering parks like a ce-me-ter-y
Hovel, hovel, no more shovel!
We will make love to vanilla flames
While daffodils dance to our plunk and ping
Together we’ll cook and read the Times
And nurse the child as St. John’s chimes
Give the nanny the day off—for life!
Let the Boston terriers back in
And take off the leather leash for good
No tag or muzzle for them, you or me
No more need for harm or even charm
We shall dwell in a sunny two-bedroom
Pre-war, fifth floor, modest decor
With coffee, mint and Kelly green
And butterfly kisses on places we keen
Running around in just summer socks
Iced tea and lemonade freshly made
Plenty of ice cream in the freezer to raid
Between 72nd and 86th Street and Riverside and W.E.A.
Pushing a stroller we will be seen
Amen and again, amen and amen . . .
*Origninally titled "New York is My Mistress (Ode to Meth)". This was written in the depths of the Recession after a break up in New York (and a hefty binge) November 2009.
"For the pure sensuous embodiment of evil, Steven Fales alone is worth the price of admission."
A villain is a character who just hasn't found recovery yet!
When I was in college and graduate school I was often cast as the charismatic villain in the play or musical. How could this be? Wasn't I a good wholesome Mormon boy? Yes, I was. But I found I could tap into the villain mentality quite easily even though I had never, ever done anything "bad" or "wrong" in my life. Maybe it was a way to express family secrets. Maybe it was a foreshadowing of things to come.
When I began using and drinking and whoring at 30/31 I wanted to play the good guy. And now after a fair amount of recovery I want to play the villain again! I've played Edmund the bastard in King Lear and I love the cads having played "Joe" in The Most Happy Fella, "Gerry" in Dancing at Lughnasa, "Kodaly" in She Loves Me and even white trash "Tom Joad" in The Grapes of Wrath. I've played many others (onstage and off!). Give me the lost guy with the fading smile--the featured role needed to let the "good guy" shine and who will ultimately outshine himself. I understand my shadow today--it's yearning for the light.
So as I plan to move back to NYC I wonder if I am meant to play the nice dads in the commercials I've been doing or to go back to the villains with a new understanding.
I'm drawn to the story of being burned by the world and reclaiming and redeeming the villains! It's pretty evident if you get to see my new solo play Prodigal Dad in The Mormon Boy Trilogy. The prodigal is destined to make it back home.
Here's the link to my IndieGoGo Campaign. Help me bring more villains into the world! https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/the-mormon-boy-trilogy/set_up
Friday, May 10, 2013
The Mormon Boy Trilogy is not a musical, but all three solo shows have just enough singing to help tell the story: Confessions of a Mormon Boy, Missionary Position, and Prodigal Dad.
I hope you will look at my IndieGoGo Campaign and help me bring my beloved family's music to life Off-Broadway 2014. http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/the-mormon-boy-trilogy/x/3023743
Donate just $10 and get the new album for free! "Confessions of a Mormon Boy (Live from London)!"
Thank you for the music!
Thursday, May 9, 2013
What's your favorite drug of choice? Mine was always my bottle filled with milk. As you can see I was always writing and performing in my TRUTH! Notice the scriptures open, too! Ever the "oxy-Mormon", I'm bringing my intense The Mormon Boy Trilogy Off Broadway 2014--with your help. Please check out the IndieGoGo Site! http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/the-mormon-boy-trilogy/x/3023743
I'm raising funds for "The Mormon Boy Trilogy" Off Broadway 2014. For just a $10 donation you get my new album (now on iTunes and Amazon) for FREE! It's called "Confessions of a Mormon Boy (Live from London)." It's getting all five-star reviews right now! Blessed. Grateful.
Link to IndieGoGo: http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/the-mormon-boy-trilogy/x/3023743
Watch my pitch:
Watch my promo:
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
We live in a world where fathers are an endangered species and dads are disposable. This article in a recent Salt Lake City Weekly brilliantly pens what's going on all across the country. "Non-custodial" means "powerless." In my time in the trenches of Utah fatherdom I can definitely relate to this dad. http://www.cityweekly.net/utah/article-17439-disposable-dad.html