Requiem for the Salton Sea

We’re not in item yet but if this maintains its present course, that might be an option.

I’m not talking romance but rather another possible collaboration born out of mutual love of music and story-telling. The subject of this mutual affection/collaboration are two plays. One is already infused with a wonderful selection of musical numbers to accompany the storyline. The second play is now screaming for musical adaptation and is being mentally formulated as I pound out this blog.

Unfortunately, there’s no immediate urgency since both plays have been rejected and it’s back to square one in terms of their theatrical placement.  ‘I do believe both plays are brimming with potential,’ claims their birth father, so the challenge remains daunting.

This collaboration in question initially began last year with a play entitled: PTV. I had written the lyrics for nine songs for the play but was stymied by my inability to write melodies to fit the lyrics. Enter AJ Scheiber, a very talented singer-songwriter, who agreed to look over my feeble attempt at lyric writing and added his musical expertise. The results are nine songs written specifically for the play.

In the meantime, another one of my plays had been submitted to the Script2Stage venue in Rancho Mirage, California, for consideration for their 2023-2024 season. It didn’t make the cut out of 130 submissions from around the world. That was disappointing for any number of reasons not the least of which was the subject matter which I thought was perfect for that venue and its audience.

Fast forward six months and now, unfortunately, the venue, Script2Stage, had closed down. This has made my options for theatrical placement in the Coachella Valley even more limited. Nevertheless, I want to continue to pursue this idea of musical numbers for my play which is now entitled ‘By the Salton Sea.’

I’ve always been fascinated by the Salton Sea and the area surrounding it. Salvation Mountain, The Slabs, Bombay Beach, North Shore, small towns along the shore and the Chocolate Mountains are all a backdrop for that briny pool of dead water and the fragile desert surrounding it. The area is home to many homeless folks and/or those who just want to disappear from the rest of the world. This became the backdrop for ‘By the Salton Sea.’

There are parts of the Coachella Valley that most tourists, visitors and locals-alike never see or care to visit. You won’t find them listed in ‘points of interest’ or top tourist destinations…and for good reason. This is where the ‘under-served’, ‘don’t want to be found’, ‘unaccounted for’ and ‘those on the lam’ come to hide. It also presents a warm, inviting cocoon for artists, bohemians, addicts, and the like to congregate and flourish.

Into that setting, I envisioned some nameless town along the shoreline that had attracted a strange gathering of the lost, the disappeared and those who want to be off-the-radar. As the playwright, I wondered who these people were? What was going to happened to them? And finally, who really cared?   A quick backstory here.

The Salton Sea is California’s largest lake measuring more than 35 miles long and 15 miles wide in spots. It has a surface area of over 380 square miles and sits at 332 feet below sea level. The sea was created back in 1905 as the result of an accidental break in a canal cut into the Colorado River. For 16 months, the river ran unchecked into the lowest area around; the salt basin which became the Salton Sea. Nearby is Salvation Mountain.

Salvation Mountain is one of the premiere examples of folk art in the middle of nowhere America. The site has become a mecca for those influenced by and intrigued with this kaleidoscope of painted hills, crude cave dwellings and religious scripture. The cave’s paint can and hay bale construction would challenge even the most daring of spelunkers. Down the road is an abandoned World War Two camp nick-named ‘The Slabs.’

Slab City is a snowbird campsite used by recreational vehicle owners alongside squatters from across North America. It takes its name from the concrete slabs that remain from an abandoned World War II Marine barracks called Camp Dunlap.

It’s estimated that there are about one and fifty permanent residents (squatters) who live in the slab’s year around. Some survive on government checks; others just want to live ‘off the grid’ and a few come to stretch out their retirement income. The camp has no electricity, no running water, no sewers or toilets and no trash pickup service. Sounds like a dry run for the apocalypse.

No trip to Slab City would be complete with a swing by East Jesus. East Jesus has been described as an experimental, sustainable art installation. It’s is a colloquialism for the middle of no-where beyond the edge of services. Made from discarded material that has been reused, recycled or repurposed, East Jesus encourages visitors to imagine a world without waste in which every action is an opportunity for self-expression.

I think West Satan is a simply an extension of East Jesus. I found this second art gallery-in-the-sun fascinating and mind-expanding. It was like tripping out without the acid and a glimpse into the lives of those who don’t want to be a part of ‘any scene’ here in fantasy land or the rest of the world.

I thought the story was too good to be lost and forgotten in some junk pile of rejected scripts. So, I’ve decided to add musical numbers (just like PTV) as an enhancement to the play. I’ve shifted through those words, phases, and images encased in my brain and wrote out lyrics describing that place all within the context of my storyline.

And thus begins a new series of rewrites to smooth out the dialogue and scene settings to better segue into song. Much like PTV, it’s both an immensely fulfilling and yet very arduous process. In the end, I hope it will infuse ‘Salton Sea’ with another layer of interest that might help sell the concept to the next venue I approach. Here’s hoping.

Giving Up the Little Things

It’s like a plague (okay, a bit exaggerated, perhaps) that accompanies old age. A creeping, always justified excuse for slowing down and doing less. A self-congratulatory attitude that says: “I’ve paid my dues and now I’m owed some quiet time.” The self-assured argument that you no longer have to do all those meaningless tasks you were assigned early on in life and have been dutifully fulfilling ever since.

Now, you get to choose what you want to do, feel like doing, and damn it, are going to do or not do. And if you don’t want to do________ (fill in the blank here) then you don’t have to. You’ve earned your right to rest. At least, that’s the mindset that often comes creeping into that tired old brain of yours (or should I say, ours.)

The trouble with this self-fulfilling prophesy is that behind the aforementioned righteous rational lies a fatal flaw that can slowly but most assuredly rob you of the blessings of life. The truth is that it’s the little things that mean a lot, especially later on in life. To eliminate them is only to quicken the pace of an early demise or, at the very least, heighten needless anxiety about ‘the little things.’

I’ve seen it happen over and over again; with my parent’s, other friend’s parents and now (under the glow of my twilight years) some folks around me. It’s never seen as giving up. But rather, an embracing of doing less and not replacing that vacuum with something else worthwhile. Cutting back and emptying that repository of memories and not replacing it with anything new.

So, slowly but surely, the exercising slows down and finally stops. Travel becomes too clogged with uncertainty, driving at night is uncomfortable and our ‘own bed’ takes on a new importance. Our old familiar workplace has changed so much we don’t recognize it from when we first started in the business. Politics remains the same and we stop listening to the facts presented and only focus on the style of dress and how ‘believable’ our favorite candidate seems. If we still care at all.

All those morsels in our lives that made it a comfortable pattern of behavior are gradually lost or let go. Now we have more and more of less and less in our lives. The problem with this new scenario is that the vacuum never remains empty. Instead, it is filled with doubt and confusion and uncertainty of the new, ever evolving world all around us.

I can pin-point almost to the year when my friend’s parents stop living in the present. Their eldest was going off to college in the big city and they knew in their heart of hearts that their future was not going to be a repeat of their past.

It was going to be a different world (as seen through their children’s eyes) and they consciously or subconsciously decided to remain in ‘their’ own little world which is what they did. Gradually as the world changed around them, it became harder and harder for them to recognize the old from the new. Their world was becoming less and less like that of their kids. They found it harder and harder to relate to their children’s cares and concerns. The little, inconsequential things, took on new meaning and importance. Their kids urged them to ‘get out of the house’ and into the real world but they refused.

They’d become captives within their own self-made capsule of existence. Unfortunately, along with this isolation came confusion and concern about the myriads of changes all around them. Nothing seemed like it had been before. They felt lost and confused and thus clung to the old familiar at the expense of the new and present.

It’s a trap that’s easy to fall into without a conscious effort to stay informed, updated and involved with ‘skin in the game.’ Not an easy task but one that is critical to living a fulfilling life.

As mentioned so often before, at this stage of the game, ‘health is wealth.’ The secret sauce of staying alive and conscious to the world around us is to stay active in mind and body alike. The options and opportunities are endless and each one of them paves the way for a more satisfying and fulfilling life.

We only get one chance at this journey through life, why not live it to the fullest and take a break afterwards in eternity.