Playwright Aaron Dean say...

Son of Man, direct your face towards Blog, of the land of Mablog, the prince, the leader of Meshech and Tubal, and prophesy concerning him.

Eziekiel 1: 38-39

Imagine you live in a little village. Its a happy place. Prosperous and gentle and fair and lovely. The thatch roof cottages sit nestled in buttery yellow wheat fields. There are festivals and dances and it seems the recent Typhus outbreak is fast becomming memory But there is one problem, there is an ogre, up the hill not two miles away, and he gambols down that hill every now and again and scoops up the most apple-cheeked, cherubic, five year old and rips opens its guts and feeds upon the leaky red entrails therein, while the mothers watch and ring their hands in grief. Then he gambols back up the hill, jump roping with the babe's lower intestines and singing Mid-period Moby songs.

Everyone in the village curses and cries and rends their burlap duds and then maybe they burn a goat and by morning they look out at those buttery wheat fields and understand the price of prosperity, they get over it and plan another barn dance.

Then a wandering knight, looking to impress his lady love back home rides into town. Not only is he gorgeous and charming and well-read, his record as a wandering knight is impeccable. Dragons vanquished, riddles solved, spells broken...you could go on forever baby.

He offers to solve your ogre problem. "Heck yes," you say.

You and your buddies armour up and you sing battle songs and play grabbies in the public shower and you head out, the golden knight leading his corn-liquor fueled posse.

You stand at the gates. Weapons poised. The clouds gather, somewhere an ominous bell is wringing. Where's it coming from? A solemn looking raven purches on a denuded tree branch.

You are unphased.

You hear the low, rumbling laugh of the creature.

You stand firm, confident in the knight.

Then over the black, iron gates, breaking the gray sheet of sky comes...a something...it hits right at your feet and when you get a closer look you see it is the head of that little five year old cutie, minus the eyes of course.

The ogres laughing becomes hysterical.

You miterate in your itchy breeches. Making them itchier.

Your knees knock together.

"Hold," Sayeth your captain.

You hold, he's just that good, in his golden helm and mighty sword, his cross draped shield and his...

Wait...wait a sec, what's that being hurled over the wall?

You find yourself in a shower of human body parts. The last thing that falls is the head of another knight, handsome face, golden helm, the works.

Minus the eyes of course.

And the ogre laughs till the earth at your feet shakes.

So what do you do? You run, you run like heck, back to the village. Will the knight and the posse take the gate? Slay the ogre. Who knows! Who cares!

So too is it with a devised piece. Our company was doing good. We had our share of success in a brief existence. But there is always the nagging to do more, to risk more. Then we decided to do a devised work. Which, most sensible people have a fear of. And we were on board, even the sensible ones.

And then come the heads.

Late nights, fast approaching deadlines, rehearsal after rehearsal waiting for the script, blocking waiting, designers waiting. And the ogre laughs and laughs.

Its scary. Reputations may be on the line, and you have started a process, without a play. You rehearse as you write, you have bull sessions and improvs, and they are all wonderful. And then its easy to let up and loose control. And then you scramble!

And you could run back to the village and be comfortable until the next time the monster comes down and then go back to being comfortable again after that. Or you could charge the gate, and risk becomming an eyeless head, thrown out of a gate to scare other posse's. You may fail. You may succeed, but to do the latter you must stay behind your knight.

We did.

We stormed the gate and brought that ogre down.

And now we have a dandy little play.

I love my wheat field. I always have, but what I love more is what it took to earn it. And who I earned it with.

So join me, raise your flagon of mead to the devised work, whether deemed successful or not. But drink not too much. For you never know what comes next to challenge you and your knight.

A little something from playwright Aaron Dean...

Yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip

Bum bum bum bum bum bum

Get a blog

Shan na na na nanana

Get a blog

I have a strange relationship with technology. I always have. Here is me. I am 29 years old. I wear fuzzy sweaters and smoke pipes and schedule time to take walks. All without irony too.

I hate using the phone. I don't like to drive; I never had an interest in automoblies,unlike most Americans who find driving akin to breathing. I didn't really use a computer until I was probably 18, in high school I would visit releatives to write term papers. Although I do like the promise of the personal computer, I still don't know my way around one, and would rather be doing just about anything else than sitting in front of a screen.

And it's not like I hate technology, just the opposite. I find it miraculous! We are living in an age of pure magic, and although I think it has it's merit, I have come to terms with the fact that it just isn't a world I fit into. I'm fine with this. And if you become close to me, eventually you will have to deal with the fact that while you're sweating bullets trying to get a hold of me, because its soooo important to be able to get ahold of me because I'm sooooo important, I am probably watching geese swallow stuff at the park, I can spend close to two hours watching stuff slide down those long, graceful necks. I don't know why! And I have given up analyizing it.

That's not to say that I am stubborn about it (I kinda am though) I'm pretty open minded. I am for whatever reason, just really indifferent to technology.

What I am not indifferent to however, is what it all means for us as a human race.

I'm no reactionary, when I see all the headphones, and screens and see everyone talking to the angels via tiny headsets I don't shake my tiny fists and say "You damn kids...blar, blar.." because it's cool, it's cool stuff. And there is so much talk about what it is doing to us. And I agree that it is doing something to us. And it's not cuz its evil or whatever, we just don't have the maturity, as a society, to balance it out with the rest of our lives yet that's all. It's a tool and a toy, and I love that. But we are not really treating it that way, there is something quasi-religious about the culture of technology right now, and if you don't believe me listen to people get together and talk about their phones. But that's just cuz it's all so new. When you were little and you get a badass new toy, your stuffed animals sat in the corner for a while. But you pick 'em back up and snuggle them again. We'll snuggle again gang, we just need to get all the electro-ecstacy out of our collective system first. So until you do my friends I will be watching the geese. Come join me, and I dare you to leave your phone at home.

Aaron Dean Gets Sentimental: a blog entry by Aaron Dean

December 26th

How much is that bloggy in the the window? The one with the pompous and diluted tail? How much is that bloggy in the window, I do hope that bloggy can expound on a bunch of stuff they have no business foisting on a public sick of everyone's constant flood of half considered opinions.

Ahem. Ahem. I have been summond again, blog stars. This will be a sincere and sentimental one. Focus up the camera on my glistening, teary eyes. I am going to tell a story that will make Ryan Seacrest, Nick Cannon and even that light loafered Englishman on the dancing show do more rehearsed crying than a Godly and Creme Music videooooo!!!

My niece turned three yesterday. Yes, she was born on the Christmas, no halos, but a nice shock of red hair that is turning strawberry blonde and will no doubt be pee-wee football participation trophy gold in some time.

After a good dinner of freshly caught Northern Pike (never frozen, except if you count its time alive in the cold waters of Lake Michigan) and opening of gifts and such, my niece and I got bored with the usual red and greenery, and we picked up flashlights and crawled around on our hands and knees throughout my brother's house, and hunted creatures. When creature hunting you must crawl on your hands and knees as creatures always look straight in front of their own eyes, never down. And then you grab them by the ankles and pull. Then you put them in a sack or something. We didn't have a sack. But we didn't find any creatures either.

My niece told my sister (her ma) that she hates creatures, which she pronounces "teachers" and my sister frowned at the child's exclamation. After that misunderstanding was cleared up, we resumed our search.

We looked in the closet, the computer room, the bedrooms and the basement. We turned on no lights as this is repellent to creatures and makes them difficult to spot. Okay, we did turn on lights in the basement cuz, ya know its scary down there, and we..um...well we walked upright too cuz the floor is cold. But I'm pretty sure their were no creatures in there anyway, so...

But it was cool, becuase there were moments in her big brown eyes of sheer terror and exhiliration, because my god, what if there really are creatures. There might as well be at her age!

The line between reality and fantasy is so blurry for one so small. That flashlight she carried was really a wand. And I wish to everything that I could see what she imagined the creatures to look like.

I bet the were horrible, just horrible.

And of course I got tired, I went back to the red and greenery to sit. Mmmm, sitting.

But there were creatures to catch. And she needed me. She tugged at me, forcing my wand back into my hands, begging me to get back in the game.

I, to my shame, declined.

And so, they're out there.

She went home with her parents to bed, I stayed at my brother's (where I am blogging now) leaving her to fend for herself.

Cuz see, I'm coming back to Chicago, where I don't really need to worry about creatures.

And I have left her here.

Where her mother thinks she is saying "teachers"

I have abandoned her.

But she has her wand and her halo.

And she knows to stay low, so they can't see her.

Aaron still believes there are creatures. He put some in his play. It opens this week, and it is called Escape from the Haltsburg Boys Choir. It's wonderful. Come see it.

Workshoppe. A blog, by Aaron Dean of the Michigan Deans.

[Editor's note: much of the charm of Aaron's bloggery lies in its haphazardness. Much is retained, for authenticity's sake, bless it.]

[Blogger's note: I tried to do this legit, and of course it did not work. We must teach this man to fish. Most spelling errors are intentional. ]

Hello again blog,

Today I have been commanded to write to you on the workshop process for Escape From The Haltsburg Boys Choir. I think every playwright dreams of hearing her words spoken on stage by actors. I have to say, it is a nice old time. I have been lucky enough to see it done about three times or so.

So that would make EFTHBC my fourth play written with intent to perform. But this was neat, this time, because I had the added bonus of doing a workshop.

A workshop [editor's note: at least, as we of The Ruckus do them] is where you almost do the play. It is like a full on performance in many respects except you hear comments and impressions from the people who are good enough to brave yellow skies and share breathing space with shady people who leave five minutes into the performance because of the show's lack of "young boys" therein.

[Editor's note: That really happened. "I was told there would be boys!" Also, the actors hold scripts and work from music stands and someone reads stage directions and the focus is on rewriting. Just sayin'.]

Sleep tight, blog readers.

I cannot blog to you how valuable this process was to me. I was three drafts into the show when we put that workshoppe uppe.

After we finished, I blogged two more drafts. Two days after it closed. I sat up there in the dark, blogging like a real playwright. What a cast, what a director, what a composer, my goodness what a group. I am so thankful. This workshop stuff, if all goes well, fills one with much confidence, and inspiration. And not just for me, but for all involved. One seldom gets the chance to hear candid and constructive comments in the actual performance, and one is not as heady with their achievements, so we actually listen. And want to.

A treat indeed, nothing short of it. Workshops ain't for Santa's elves any longer. This I speak truly.

Thank you all who came to see it, and say stuff about it. Thank you to all who helped make it happen. And thank you ahead of time for your work in what lies ahead!

Photo: Lucas Gerard Photography

"Blog, meet Aaron. Aaron, meet blog."

We've asked the five newest Ruckusers - Kate, Brian, Byron, Aaron and Timo - to write something about who they are and what they do and post it here. Left-handed? Right-handed? Human? Cylon? You'll find out in the coming week. First up is Aaron Dean.

To begin with. I hate the term "blog," gross. It sounds so gross. Bllooooahhhgggg. I don't wanna seem like a sourpuss, but who wants to read this anyway? Not I said the Lance. I have not seen the Juno. But I am hesitant, because word 'round the campfire is they say 'blog' in it a lot for no reason, and I don't think I can handle that. I am also not too keen on this sudden onslaught of movies about the joys of unwanted pregnancy.

So, blog, meet Aaron. Aaron, meet blog.

When I was six, my ma and grandma took me to see 42nd Street at the Frauenthal Theatre in downtown Muskegon, MI.

I really enjoyed it. I was really jazzed up about all the singing and dancing and energy. And from then on... I was hooked. Gross. I hate those stories. But, it is a true story.

Theater did not resurface again until I was fourteen and and I auditioned for my first play. But I was hooked on storytelling. I spent all my time outside when I was little, acting out the stories I had read or imagined to myself. We never had money for camps or little league, but I had an allowance so I had comic books, so I had stories, and a lot of space. Fields and rivers and forests and lakes. Then I won a scholarship to art camp. And that was neat, because I was with all these kids who had taken lessons all their lives, and had been in lots of plays. They were all really depressed all the time. I am sure it was affectation. But I bought it, and it made the girls seem sort of sexy. Of this I am sure they were aware.

Then I did high school and became the "drama guy" at a rural high school that did one musical a year. And that was nice because all anyone wants in high school is niche, and I found it.

Then I went to college and it was art camp again. Only instead of pretending they were depressed, they pretended they were deliriously happy all the time, and by that time I was actually depressed. But in real life, they were too.

Then I came to Chicago, and have been working with adults who are in a little more control of their identities. And that has made theater, for the first time, tolerable.

Aaron Dean, one of the newest members of The Ruckus, is a Chicago playwright, actor, musician and novelist. He also babysits and gives drum lessons. Catch him in The Gay American this spring.

2010: Now, with more Ruckus.

Well hello there. Did you miss us?

We of The Ruckus took a breather for most of November. Well, we did do this:

Zombies for MONEY MONEY MONEY video shoot, song: "Dollar Signs on my CAT Scan." L to R: Paul DuPont, Aaron Dean, Jes Mercer,

Byron Melton (center, not a zombie), Mark Goldfarb, Cory Wolf, Jenny Westervelt. Photo: Jeffrey Fauver.

The video isn't up yet, but we assisted MONEY MONEY MONEY in the creation of their video for "Dollar Signs on my CAT scan." You can hear the song at their website. Many thanks to everyone who came out to zombie or to be an 80s hipster (yeah, weirdest party ever) and especially to makeup artist Nora Hess, who made the gruesome faces you see here with basically no time or money. We loved working with her. Check out the rest of her stuff on her Facebook Fan Page.

Anyway, we spent November doing the things you do after you've produced 13 plays in a 36 seat theater -- we napped. A lot. And ate a lot. Then December hit and we went back to the business of getting awesome. As a part of that getting awesome, we made a lot of big, terribly exciting decisions we want to tell you about. We're very fortunate to be smack in the middle of a successful first season in Chicago, due in no small part to the remarkable Chicago artists we've met and worked with along the way. Five of them in particular were integral to the creation of our first two productions, and we got great big art and administrative crushes on them, so we thought it was time to make our move and seal the deal. We yawned, pretended to stretch while reaching for the popcorn, and cozied up to Timo Aker, Aaron Dean, Kate Holst, Byron Melton and Brian Ruby, whom we now gleefully welcome into the fold as company members. We're now thirteen in number and couldn't be more excited to work shoulder to shoulder with such a talented, smart, clever, and good-looking bunch.

Seriously, go look at their company pages. They're an attractive group.

We're also bidding a sad and fond farewell to two of our founding members, Ryan Dolley and Mitch Vermeersch, who've decided to depart to pursue other projects. They'll succeed wherever the wind may take them, we're sure, and we'll always be indebted to them both for their creative efforts and for the role each of them played in getting us moved to Chicago. They will surely be missed.

We're also positively glowing about some changes we've made to our season. The first big change is the addition of Kristian O'Hare's remarkable world-premiere play, The Gay American. Kristian is a remarkable talent, and I'm honored to be directing his work again. Here's the official blurb:

Farce meets docudrama in The Gay American, an unblinking and provocative investigation of the sexual politics of sex and politics. We follow the rise and fall of former New Jersey governor James McGreevey through the impact it has on those around him-an Everyman-like Congressional Page, his miserable daughter Morag, silently simmering wife Dina, and ambitious aide Golan-and watch his carefully-crafted rising star go supernova in the crucible that is the American political theater.

Cool, right? We're totally stoked. Look for casting information soon.

The second addition is a workshop.... of a musical. Yep. New company member Aaron Dean is working with gifted Chicago composer Jason Rico (fan page here) on an original musical winningly titled Escape from the Boys Choir. Official blurb for that one:

Escape... sends us on a perilous journey with a group of boys on the verge of adulthood. While the boys are not unlike those you might meet on a Chicago street corner today, the world in which they exist is more akin to that of The Brothers Grimm. To our intrepid young escapees, the Tatzelwürm is nearly as terrifying as their heartless choirmaster, the Witch as mysterious as the first pangs of love and lust, and the sweet smell of freedom as lovely as a beautiful young face. Escape... combines the fantastical with the all-too familiar, and the result is a painfully honest, surprising, affecting and seriously funny portrayal of the pain and beauty of adolescence and the beginnings of sexual awakening. If that weren't enough, there's a sadistic groundskeeper, a hallucinogenic mountain-dwelling invertebrate, shape-shifters, kidnappers, and more testicular humor than you can shake a stick at.

They had me at "hallucinogenic mountain-dwelling invertebrate."

The original work of these three remarkable artists will be seen at our home for the season, Rogers Park's The Side Project Theatre, and replace the previously annouced Linear A by Ryan Dolley and the postponed 11-Detroit, to be developed by the company at a later date.

You'll be hearing more from our new company members and these talented writers in the coming weeks -- right here, in our super awesome blog.

To break it down for you: we of The Ruckus feel like the luckiest kids on the block. Five new remarkable faces have been added to our little family, two really killer pieces of new work added to what we think is an already stellar season, and we've many many more months of awesome ahead of us. We're grateful for your support, your interest, your comments, and for all the beers you've drunk with us at Poitin Stil. The Gay American is up next. Hope to see you, at the show and after, in May.

Love love,

Allison Shoemaker and the rest of The Ruckus

(Ghafir, Timo, Joshua, Aaron, Katie, Jeffrey, Joel, Kate, Byron, Seth, Melissa & Brian)

PS - More MONEY MONEY MONEY hijinks below.

Associate Artistic Director Joshua Davis, being super professional.

The dance routine. Yep. Dance routine.

Best. Party. Ever.

(Company member Timo Aker with the lovely Jes Mercer, who was really very hungry.)

Money on my mind. Dollar signs on my CAT scan. Thanks, MONEY MONEY MONEY, for letting us play.

Katie & Aaron Talk Music Over a Ukulele& Bongos Rehearsal

From actor Katie Canavan

If you haven’t heard – I will be playing a completely unoriginal ukulele set at our fundraiser this Thursday, August 6th, at the Spot. Get there at about 7:15 to catch me playing some covers, backed percussively by Aaron Dean.

Aaron and I got together on Saturday to play some music and prepare for the fundraiser. Since I first picked it up in January, I have had a fiery passion for the ukulele. Maybe it’s because it’s so small? So easy? Either way, it’s been fun and I’m addicted to playing covers on my tiny instrument. Not to give anything away, but we play quite a few upbeat pop songs, including “I Wanna Dance With Somebody,” and “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow.”

The latter, “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow,” holds a special place in my heart. Within our rehearsal process for Heist, we have talked a lot about music. About expressing your emotions more deeply using music and letting music do the talking when you feel as if you’ve run out of things to say. This song – WYSLMT – is a perfect example of music that captures a moment in history, and uses the melody and lyrics to express the contradiction between inner and outer self. Although at first glance it appears to be a sugary pop ballad sung by teenage girls, a close examination of the lyrics reveals a narrative that almost everyone has experienced: the uncertainty of love and affection within the bloom of teenage sexuality. This deeper message shrouded in upbeat guitar and tight harmonies tugs at my heartstrings. I love few songs as much as pop songs with sad lyrics. This is the kind of song I can use in my acting. This is the kind of complex emotion that music makes more accessible. This is where I turn when I’m having trouble opening a door to a character.

I hope you’ll be able to come out on Thursday and see what Aaron and I have done with “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow,” and 6 other pop & indie favorites. Although we only worked on it for about 15 minutes, it’s worth a listen. Plus we will be dressed as beatniks, and how could you pass up a black beret?