Backstage behind the scenes of "Henry VI part I" with Gabriela as Joan la Pucelle

He waded through a sea of chickens.
This might've startled some people, but not him.
He didn't even notice them, at all.
He probably didnt even notice the telephone pole directly in front of him.
No, he certainly did not notice the pole, unless he likes running into things.
I can't think of any character in Shakespeare that likes running into things, can you?
That what he is, I think.
If you took every personality from Shakespeare and tossed it in a blender, the outcome would look like Geoffrey's consciousness.
or almost like it.
The original personality is in there too.
Thats me.
I'm mostly forced to the subconscious, and therefore only get to affect him while he sleeps, but I witness everything he does.
Oh bother, I'm so rude, I forgot to introduce myself.
I call myself Chris, because that is my birth-name.
I began going by Geoffrey Marlowe almost 40 years ago.
It was my stage name.
It was part Geoffrey Chaucer and part Christopher Marlowe.
Get it? I thought it was clever.
A friend of mine pointed out later that my first name was Christopher, which was Marlowe's first name as well, so I could've been clever while keeping my first name.
I said that'd be too easy.
I wish I had thought of that though.
I kinda like my name.
He's mumbling some more Shakespeare.
We're walking down the street, its not a pleasant day.
We bumped into someone,
I didnt see who,
stupid me, not paying attention.
Our view moved back up to look at the other being,
Good God thats alot of light.
it hurts our eyes.
"Fair maid, is't thou wilt do these wondrous feats?" He said.
Why'd he say that?
The person is most obviously a man, and tall and strong,
with wings.
That was odd,
the wings bit.
who has wings?
And why'd he call her a maid?
It was Reignier to Joan of arc if I remember right.
huh.
The man has a halo, I wonder if he's an angel.
I just missed whatever they were saying. drat.
stupid musings on the significance of my other personality's choice of words.
He's walking away.
And so are we.
curses.
Angels can cure the mad right? They're all chosen by God and stuff. I need to get to him, maybe he can fix me.
I don't like being broken.

Hamlet, Guest staring someone who looks like Rocco Statone

"Who's there?" I asked.
"Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself." The other Actor, I forget his name, he was playing Francisco, said.
"Long live the king!" I bellowed.
"Bernardo?" Asked Francisco.
"He." I replied.
"You come most carefully upon your hour." Francisco said. He wasn't that great of an actor, but then, neither was I.
"'Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, Francisco." I said. I had just started to act, This was my second performance since high school.
"For this relief much thanks: 'tis bitter cold, And I am sick at heart." He said.
"Have you had quiet guard?" I asked. I was a freshmen at Trinity University in Texas, majoring in Theatre.
"Not a mouse stirring." he said
"Well, good night. If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste." I said. I was going to be the best actor the world had ever seen. The Royal Shakespeare company was going to want me for every production and I was going to act on the Globe.
"I think I hear them. Stand, ho! Who's there?" He said.
More actors entered.

After college I moved to Chicago. I couldn't get any paying parts, so I started reading Shakespeare with a few friends. We would go around reading and discussing Shakespeare's plays and acting theories. The locals called us a cult because we all walked around together with our big trench-coats to ward off the biting Chicago cold, and our copies of the First Folio.

I then moved to Salt Lake City. I managed to get a job. I was in a production by The Utah Shakespeare Festival. I was almost there, I knew that someone from England would see the performance. I new I was almost there.

"I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation
prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the king
and queen moult no feather. I have of late -- but
wherefore I know not -- lost all my mirth, forgone all
custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily
with my disposition that this goodly frame, the
earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most
excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave
o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted
with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to
me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason!
how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how
express and admirable! in action how like an angel!
in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the
world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me,
what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not
me: no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling
you seem to say so."

The crowd was silent. I was terrified. Was I bad? Why weren't they clapping? I had just poured my soul out in that speech and they just stood there.
I heard a solitary patron begin to clap. Slowly.
You know in the movies when on person starts to slowly clap and then everyone else joins in because they were too stunned to clap at first? Well that happened.
The crowd was wild. After the show there were at least three patrons who told me my performance had changed their life.

It was years later. I had moved to Wilshire Towers due to a steady acting job with the Rose theatre there.
I was still waiting to be discovered.

"He will come straight. Look you lay home to him: Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with, And that your grace hath screen'd and stood between Much heat and him. I'll sconce me even here. Pray you, be round with him." I said.
"Mother, mother, mother!" Said the actor playing Hamlet from offstage.
"I'll warrant you, Fear me not: withdraw, I hear him coming." Said Queen Gertrude, or the actress playing her at least.
I hid behind an arras as Hamlet entered the stage.
"Now, mother, what's the matter?" Said the Actor. It was odd, he looked like someone I had seen earlier, who was it. 'zounds itll bug me incessantly now.
"Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended." Gertrude said.
The Police man!What was his name? Rocco Statone! That was it! The actor playing Hamlet looks just like the police man I saw earlier. He had harassed me about something earlier the other day at some festival, its all very vague to me now. I think he said I was drunk in public. Maybe? I don't think I was drunk, all I remember is something about Falstaff...

That was twenty years ago.

I woke up...
The great actor Geoffrey Marlowe woke up, ready for yet another day of adoring fans and brilliant acting.

Romeo and Juliet, guest starring Jack Alwyn as Sampson

He swept through the large polished oal doors, exiting the theatre. He strolled down the sidewalk keeping the collar of his crisp Victorian style cloak high up around his face, more to hide from his masses of adoring fans then to ward off the biting cold.

He took long strides as he made his way to the Library. He used the Library because no one expected him to, why would such a rich famous and attractive man use a public library?

He inconspicuously entered the new shining building by barely opening the doors just enough to slide by. He quickly strode across the room to the stacks. He stopped a few feet in though when he saw that a young strong man stood in his path.

The man bit his thumb at Geoffrey.

"Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?" asked Geoffrey, horrified that one would insult him in such a manner.

"No, sir, I do but bite my thumb." The man, Sampson, sarcastically drawled.

The bright sun beat down upon the beautiful Veronan streets.

"But do you bite your thumb at ME, sir?" Abraham said, starting to get flustered.

After a brief conference with his nearby friend, Sampson said, his own anger rising to match Abrahams "No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, SIR, I do but BITE MY THUMB, SIR!"

"Do you quarrel sir?" Sampsons friend, Gregory, said politely, but with a hidden venom.

"Quarrel sir? no sir!" Abraham said, fearful of the princes wrath lest he be caught in yet another fight.

"If you do then I am for you, I serve as good a man as you." goaded Sampson.

"No better?" Abraham said, nearly laughing as he knew his master was superior.

"Well sir," Sampson started. Gregory whispered something into his ear, "Aye, Better sir!"

"You lie," spat Abraham.

"Draw if you be men," threatened Sampson, as Abraham drew his rapier and he drew his own, "Gregory, remember thy swashing blow," he cautioned his friend as he moved to fight.

I looked around the library's lobby. Why did that man just run out of here? Why was everyone staring at me? Why did I come here? Oh yeah, I was looking for that book...

Everyone stared at Geoffrey. He bowed, then hurried off to the stacks, praying that his adoring fans wouldnt follow him.
_____

Geoffrey rushed down the sidewalk. He wore some shabby cloak that made him look like an extra from Oliver Twist or the like. He slipped into the library and walked halfway across the room before he ran into some poor fellow, one Jack Alwyn by name.

Due to his raised collar, Geoffrey didn't see Jack walking towards him. Jack, gnawing his thumb as he pondered some deep pressing concern, had just gotten up from a computer and, being deep within his own thoughts, did not see the scruffy old actor.

They collided. The man almost choked on his thumb from the impact. He yanked his digit from his mouth, and began to apologize.

"oh, I so-" he began before Geoffrey interrupted him.

"Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?" he said, projecting as only an actor can, with a look of deep insult upon his face.

"What? uhh, I guess, i was just thinking, i didnt mean to-"

"But do you bite you thumb at ME, sir?" He interrupted again, getting slightly impatient.

"No, no, I didn't mean to insult-"

"Quarrel sir? no sir" He said to the empty area right next to Jack.

Jack, now thoroughly freaked out, began to edge his way around the actor in a large radius in order to get out of the door.

"No better?" he sneered at Jack.

He froze, fearful that the lunatic had caught on to his scheme.

"You lie!" he shouted, reaching towards his hip.

Jack, imagining that the man was reaching for a gun, made a break for the door.

Geoffrey froze. his arms dropped to his sides. He looked around as though completely confused. His clothes no longer hung on him comfortably, but clung to him oddly as though he had forgotten how to wear them comfortably. Suddenly, his demeanor reverted back to when he had entered.

He bowed, then rushed off to the stacks.

Opening Night of Richard the III

The Audience roared with applause as the Director took the stage. He attempted to appear tall, but, despite the four feet added to his height by the stage, he failed. This failure might've been caused by his rotundity or perhaps the fact that the nearby throne made him look as a midgit. He began to deliver the house speech and by some miracle the audience managed not to fall asleep.

The Director finished his speech, announced the play, and left the stage. The audience's reaction almost drowned out the opening lines of the first actor to make his entrance.

"Now is the winter of our discontent. Made glorious summer...." He began in a thunderous voice.

He stood with a hunched shoulder, but still towered over the throne that dwarfed the director. His hair had a brilliant sheen, it glowed in the bright stage lights. His brilliantly applied make-up illuminated his face, gallantly combating the emaciating affects of the aforementioned stage lights. His costume, an immaculate Elizabethan ensemble, suited his figure perfectly, causing all the young ladies of the audience to think scandalous thoughts of what they would do to him given the slightest opportunity.

He paced around the gorgeous stage as he ingeniously delivered each line of his monologue. The soft leather soles of his blindingly shiny boots hit the radiant oak boards of the stage, making not a sound to interfere with the lines spoken on stage. The rich, velvety curtains splendidly caught the light and brought out all the right colors in the costumes of the actors.

By now other actors had entered onto the stage, but no one payed them any heed. All attention was on the main character, as superbly portrayed by the famous actor Geoffrey Marlowe.

-------------

A tall, scruffy looking man stood upon a run down stage. The stage looked as though it might collapse at any moment and the warped plywood that made it up creaked at the slightest movement of the man. His ratty clothes, which at some point might've once been a costume, theoretically of an Elizabethan style, were now so moth eaten that one could not even discern their original color. A thick coat of dust covered the man as well as the stage, the seats, and everything else in the building. The building in which he stood, an old abandoned theatre, looked as though is had not seen any manner of human life within a 20 ft radius of its perimiter for at least 2o years. This wasnt the case, as the man, one who called himself Geoffrey Marlowe, had lived in the theatre ever since its closing 25 years ago.