So THAT'S Where You've Been, Eh?

So it's been more than a month since my last post. And that's... OK. I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and darn it... oh, never mind.

It's been a busy time.

The O'Conner Girls, which settled into a good, crowd-pleasing show, has opened and closed. And I got the guy. Or rather, my character did. But as I begin a newly troubled rehearsal process in which I AM the guy(s), the memory of GETTING the guy is important.


Local reviewer Robert Hitchcox had this to say about the Scripps Ranch production:

While playwright Forgette provides enlightening dialog, these five actors bring The O’Conner Girls to life, a life so convincing it becomes our reality. It is indeed exciting to see actors so together in their roles and relationships that it is no longer acting.

... Lapczynski, in her best role to date, subtly brings Martha’s internal depth to the surface in moments of enlightenment.

Before the first Friday performance of our fourth week, I took a serious spill in a bit of unprecedented San Diego rain. I'd been blessing the wet stuff all day, but when I lost my balance on a bit of mud and took a header on the concrete outside the theatre, I was less than enthusiastic about the resulting damage. I landed first on my right hand, failed to balance there -- crushing my little finger in the process -- and flew forward onto my shoulder and then my face. I performed that weekend with one hell of a shiner and little grip.

When the show closed two weeks later and I was still unable to use my right hand, I was ushered to an Urgent Care center for X-rays. Nothing broken. The doctor there injected something to numb the digit, aiming his needle at four separate nerve centers, and proceeded to "crank" the finger through its full range of motion. This proved that the joints had not frozen into position. What it did not tell me, however, was the source of the pain and injury. While I continue to keep the joint mobile, I fear that I may be continuing to damage a torn or snapped tendon. I've been referred to a Physical Therapist, but for the moment I'm leaving well enough alone.

In the meantime, I've been in constant rehearsal for another show, this one at the prestigious little 6th Avenue theatre run by Dale Morris.

When I say "constant rehearsal" I should point out that I auditioned for The O'Conner Girls and Anton in Show Business on the same weekend. The O'Conner Girls had 8 weeks of rehearsal before a 5 week run; it has opened and closed in the time that Anton has come to ... well. More than 13 weeks after the original audition, we seem to be starting from scratch -- but we are once again fully cast. If all goes well, we are now on track to get this show ready for opening night January 17.

Cross your fingers for us. I can't cross mine.

Burnin' Down the Road

If the land and fires in this image were differentiated a bit more clearly, you would be able to spot seven (eventually eight) separate wildfires burning across San Diego County today. Dry conditions, low humidity, high winds: a perfect firestorm.

The fires, in fact, stretch up the California coast through LA to Malibu, and this is the worst fire -- or collection of fires -- in San Diego history.

That the flames are to the north, east, and south of my position (roughly below the words "San Diego" on the map) suggests that the only possible escape from fire may be the ocean.

As it happens, I am fortunately situated very near the Qualcomm Stadium, which is being used as an Evacuation Center. More than 5,000 people are camping at the stadium tonight, many of them with no home to return to at the fires' end.

And the fires will not end any time soon. First, firefighters have had to devote far too much time to stubborn homeowners who refuse to leave. Second, they've had to spread their resources over too much ground. Third, they're daunted by Santa Ana winds which, at speeds often above 50 miles-per-hour, have fueled the fires and prevented aircraft from entering the area with water and deterrent dumps. Firefighters and the city have had to work to keep ahead of the fires to save people rather than work to keep on top of the fires to save property. With more than a quarter-million residents evacuated and only one death, I'd say they've done very well.

However, that doesn't mean it hasn't been (and doesn't continue to be) scary here. Many, many homes and communities no longer exist. Former evacuation centers have been evacuated. Homes which haven't burned have been looted. Insurance scams have already begun. And all through the day you've been told: don't use your cell phone because the Emergency Personnel need to communicate; don't leave your home because evacuees need the roads; sit tight until we call you -- and be ready when we do. And BY GOD, leave when we tell you to leave because we can't afford to divert firefighting efforts to rescue attempts!

My car was packed and ready by mid-afternoon. ID and insurance cards. Water, canned goods, flash light, handheld television. Laptop, iPod, cell phone, chargers. Actor bag, props, guitars, and a change of clothes.

In the last 36 hours the fires have spread like... well... wildfire. The evacuees have one advantage: they have 5,000 neighbors to wake them up if another evacuation becomes necessary in the middle of the night. Not knowing what progression of fire you might be sleeping through is by far the scariest prospect of the day.


* * * * *

MORNING UPDATE: The fires have not yet encroached on Mission Valley and the nearby Qualcomm Stadium is still an evacuation center. However, there are now 12 fires being reported and more than a half-million evacuees. Everything north of Highway 56, Ted Williams Parkway, Poway is under a mandatory evacuation order. All schools are closed for the week. The good news: air relief is able to fly today.

Quickie

Two of my five shows have come and gone in the last two weekends. Here are the reviews:

Note: the review of each show is intact but is itself an excerpt of a larger review of all programs presented each weekend. Thus the brevity.

North Park Playwright Festival
North Park Vaudeville and Candy Shop

Weekend One:

A Terminal Affair by Lisa Kenner of Los Angeles presents a look at a phenomenon not familiar to most people, the role playing date. This is usually performed by married couples attempting to bring spice into their life. It involves one spouse picking up the other spouse in a bar, a restaurant, or even an airline terminal. Sandra and Martin meet, complete with rolling suitcases, they banter, they rush off. Kenner’s scripting gives Lapczynski and Smith an excellent platform for their talents. Smith directed.

Weekend Two:

Among the Missing by Fred Sahner, Chatham, NY and directed by Kelly Lapczynski. This week’s festival started with an excellently acted and directed piece starring Christopher Armour as Detective Hardaway investigating the disappearance of Rose Dory’s (Jamie Haire) husband. In a brief appearance, Dustin Kisler plays Little Bobby, a true misnomer, who takes care of Rose’s every need now. The outcome of the interview is most revealing.

I get one weekend off to explore a venue for the just-named (in a meeting this morning) New Perspective Festival before Weekend Four presents the second piece I've directed: The Last Supper.

The weekend following that, I'll be opening the Scripps Ranch production of The O'Conner Girls as Martha O'Conner.

And that's all the time I have right now. I've got to run to rehearsals for Anton in Show Business!

Eyre Apparent

Explaining the dissolution of her last marriage, my fraternal twin sister tells me the story of discovering her husband with another woman at a Christmas party. She tells me that her husband, Martin, didn't like it when she glommed onto him at parties so she wandered alone "around this enormous house, Maxim DeWinter's Manderley estate, and after a while..." she looked for Martin.

The actress playing my sister has thrown the line away, but there is more to the Manderley reference, I know. I can hear the line "last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again" repeating in my head; I just can't place it. I ask the stage manager later "is that from Jane Eyre?" She doesn't know either, but types the words into her BlackBerry. The answer comes back: Rebecca.

Ah, Rebecca. Right. Got it. Wow, hadn't thought of that one in a while. But thinking about it now, I realize that confusing it with Jane Eyre really wasn't all that far off. In fact, I can recap both novels/movies at once -- with the generous use of the friendly slash mark.

Ready? This ain't gonna be pretty.

(Jane Eyre/Unnamed) is in love with (Mr. Rochester/Maxim de Winter) whose first wife (Bertha Mason/Rebecca) is (alive in the attic/dead in a sunken boat) and (dismissed as/remembered by) the madwoman servant (Grace Poole/Mrs. Danvers) of (Thornfield/Manderley).

In a telling scene, a bedroom is shown to be (set alight/kept as a shrine) but the estate is eventually destroyed in a fire set by (Grace Poole/Mrs. Danvers) who dies in the act by (jumping off the roof/perishing in the flames).

Given the similarities between the two, there is little wonder that I'd confused them. In fact, because Rebecca was (apparently) inspired by Jane Eyre, the actress Joan Fontaine was employed to fill both roles in the 1944 and 1940 movie adaptations, respectively, adding to the confusion.

Now that the confusion has been lifted, I can sleep at night. I cannot, however, forgive Martin his trespass.

Chuppah Christmas

Our story begins with Sarah O'Conner's daughters returning to the house after the funeral service for husband and father Tom. Martha O'Conner has been living in the house with Mom, helping to take care of her ailing dad for the last year. Lizzie O'Conner has been sending money but has not been home pitching in -- we find out later that this is because during that time her own marriage (her third) failed, she lost her house, and she's been too depressed to even work. It's roughly Christmas time in a VERY Catholic home. Very Catholic. Allow me to stress that.

Coinciding with Liz's return for her father's funeral is the return of Dr. David Stevens, a childhood friend of The O'Conner Girls who has come home to arrange taking over a local practice from a retiring physician. David is comfortable with Liz and wants to ask her something, which makes Liz come alive with hope that the "dreamy" doctor is interested in her, but he is continually interrupted. The audience is supposed to be fooled into believing, as Liz does, that David is attempting to make a move on her. They are not supposed to know that if he were ever allowed to finish the question it would be "is Martha seeing anyone?" The idea that he might be interested in Martha at all is meant to be a surprise twist at the end. And it is. It's sweet and lovely. And -- allow me to stress this -- it's a SURPRISE.

With me so far? A very Catholic family. A "dreamy" doctor who seems to be after Liz. The lovely surprise ending that he is instead after Martha.

Last night, Herr Director (you knew that was coming, right?), who seemingly does not care for this chick-flick bit of theatre, exclaims "I've finally figured out how to market this show!" We know this is going to be interesting, but we aren't prepared for the picture he's drawn. I wish I had it to scan. Wait!

*hastily sketches*



The Chuppah is a Jewish wedding tradition -- and canopy rather than an arch -- and showing both sisters beneath it would give away the surprise that Martha is in the running at all. Am I missing something?

Next!

You Suspected I Was Brain Damaged

So my doctor calls me yesterday and tells me that this oral "squeaking" I've been complaining about for more than a year may be a side effect of my antidepressants and, now that he's done a little more research into it, he's concerned. He's referring me to a psychiatrist/neurologist for further evaluation.

He listed a number of "isms" and "syndromes" that I might be developing, but the one which hit the nail squarely on the head was "Buccoglossal Syndrome" -- a variant of the Tardive Dyskinesia I'd already suspected. Listed as one of the rare (under 1%) neurological side effects of the drug, it may be to blame for what I like to call my RLS: Restless Lips Syndrome.

Buccoglossal syndrome (another term for Tardive Diskinesia, an incurable disease which causes uncontrolled movements of the body)

From what little I can glean from the internet, the oral corea is, fortunately, the least debilitating form of TD. Though I have run across questions and concerns for the progression of the disease as it may interfere with eating and speaking, delving too far into that research is rather putting the cart before the horse until I've seen the neurologist.

I am slowly tapering off of the antidepressants (the causative drug) in the hope that the symptoms may be remitting rather than persistent. For those of you who have not witnessed my "squeaking," it could be described as something between Parkinson's and Tourettes: an involuntary facial tic I have difficulty not doing which results in sucking noises which are very annoying.

Ah well. At least I can use this to my advantage the next time I want to mouth off. Can't help it: brain damage!

Bwah-ha-ha!

Finalized

It's no longer tentative. The producer of Anton in Show Business posted an audition call to cast the final role. The decision has been made. The call is out there. And I'm in.

The call is for a black actress to play T-Anne; but the very white "Kelly Lypenski" has been cast in other roles. Yep, my friends and dear readers, the role of Actress 2 has been cast and "Kelly Lapenski" will be playing Ralph, Wikèwitch, and Joe Bob -- performing these delicious male roles in, respectively, British, Russian, and Southern accents.

Ein minuten bitter! Male roles?

Yes. Part of the subversive "behind the curtain of REAL THEATRE" nature of this show is to have all the parts played by women. As the character Kate explains to the metanarrative character Joby, "eighty percent of the roles in the American theater are played by men, and 90 percent of the directors are men. The point of having a male director played by a woman is to redress the former and satirize the latter."

Maybe. For my own part, I'll consider that I've made a dent in REAL THEATRE when I have redressed the spelling of my poor Polish name.

Did You Say FIVE Shows?

Yes, I did. The results of my second callback are in and I'm cast. Again. Amazing. Remember, I did MONOLOGUES at these auditions. Woo-Hoo!

Okay, that's somewhat tentative right now, but looking good. The director wants me but (as you might imagine) I have beaucoup conflicts in October which the producer must agree to work around. If he does, that'll be the fifth show on my radar next month. While not quite as incredible as my being cast from a monologue in the first place, the resulting rehearsal schedule is somewhat remarkable.

The first show to open, in which I am cast, is A Terminal Affair, directed by Orrick -- October 12 and 13; on the following weekend (October 18 and 19) Among the Missing, which I am directing, will open. Two weekends after that (November 2 and 3) The Last Supper, another show I'm directing, opens; and on the weekend following -- November 9th -- The O'Conner Girls, in which I am cast, opens.

The first three shows, each running only one weekend and each having a Thursday tech rehearsal, created a conflict for The O'Conner Girls, which will run for 5 weeks. Nevertheless I was cast. Now The O'Conner Girls is creating a conflict for Anton in Show Business, which will open in January and run for 8 weeks. Unfortunately, it goes into rehearsal in October. Fortunately, that early start allows some wiggle room for my joining the cast late. And, in the meantime, on Sundays.

This friends, makes for one schizo calendar!


But it's nice to be in demand.

:)

Potty Breaks

After hearing about my multiple shows, a friend jokingly asked if I'd scheduled potty breaks for myself in my busy schedule. It was a teasing remark, taken lightly; but it wasn't far from being a darned good question!

Because my mother also asked about Thanksgiving conflicts, I will risk being repetitive in telling you where all my endeavors stand so far.

I had had no plans to audition for anything for a while. I saw nothing of interest on the acting horizon, so I dove headfirst into my first two directing gigs at the North Park Playwrights Festival. I've cast both shows and we are in the midst of rehearsals.

However, when Orrick followed me to North Park to read scripts he also submitted to direct and took on another two scripts, casting me in both and assuring that I would be involved in all four weekends of the Festival: his shows on the 1st and 3rd weekend; my shows on the second and fourth.

With those conflicts, I had decided not to audition for a full-length show at another theatre but was swayed when the Artistic Director called me in. The four Thursday rehearsals I would necessarily miss while in tech for each weekend's new North Park program seemed and insurmountable conflict, but I chose to let the director make that decision himself.

Meanwhile, I read the notice for a concurrent audition for a show that would open in January, 6th@Penn Theatre's Anton in Show Business. I knew the director; in fact, I had expected to hear from her about another piece being performed at 6th@Penn, a Challenge Theatre production written by a local reviewer who had offered me the "role of a lifetime" in his script. Because I had heard nothing about the fate of that show I thought it prudent to put myself where Carla would be. I was called back for a role.

That callback is scheduled for this Saturday. In the meantime, I have accepted the role of Martha O'Conner at Scripps Ranch, full of curiosity to see who will be playing fraternal twin sister to my Slavic features.

While all of this is going on and I'm juggling four pieces at North Park, four becomes three. For a number of reasons, Orrick decided to let one of his two pieces go, which meant I would no longer be performing it. This, in the end, is good news for the Scripps show as it is one less Thursday conflict for me. The show will open on the weekend following the end of the Playwright's Festival.

But juggling three short shows, one full-length production, and a callback are merely background noise to the call of producing a new summer theatre festival. After 17 consecutive years, the Actors Alliance has decided to suspend its Actors Festival for a year and I am a key player in an attempt to organize an actors showcase to fill the void.

First, our group met with the Alliance to try to find out how the $20,000 income was too little to avoid a loss for the production. The meeting was amiable enough and contained gems of truth but was not wholly satisfying. With none of the monies paid to actors, there is still a large chunk of change not accounted for.

Then our group met with the professional company Vantage Theatre to discuss a symbiotic relationship in this festival: for the opportunity to produce under their insured umbrella, we would provide them 10% of the house and put their name on everything. However, we had hoped that when they offered to add the production to their upcoming season that they were offering something more. We have been left with a great deal of work to do, decisions to make, deadlines to create and meet, while operating on our free time. Luckily, we all seem to have a bit of it.

And I haven't even mentioned the whole fiasco with building the Vantage Theatre website only to be told to dismantle it.

For someone as direly underemployed as myself, it has been an amazingly busy week. And it's only just beginning. Auditions, meetings, callbacks, rehearsals, readings and all manner of who knows what else are piled one atop the other in the scheduling book of my brain. Yet through it all, so far, I've still managed the occasional tinkle.

Thanks for asking.

Conflicting Information

Some things I will never understand. For example, the audition process.

For a local audition, I had to make an appointment with the producer and email her a number of things, one of which was a list of my conflicts. Despite my conflicts, the audition appointment was made.

I arrived at the audition with the standard audition form, filled in completely with my list of conflicts. Despite my conflicts, I performed my monologue.

At the audition site, I filled in another form on which I yet again listed my conflicts. Despite those conflicts, I was called back.

After a long night of callbacks the director indicated the stack of papers in front of him and said "I haven't looked at these. Do you have any conflicts?"

Logue for One, Please

I must be getting better at it. Either that, or theatres are more desperate these days. This week I performed two monologue auditions. You, loyal reader, know that I would rather jump naked on a huge pile of thumbtacks than give a monologue, but those who would (or would not) hire me have not asked and do not care -- a monologue is what they want! Tyrant bastard people. So, in the hope of earning a few ducats, I go and do the very thing that makes ripping my intestines out with a fork seem the better option for a fun-filled afternoon.

Twice.

And lo and behold... I've been called back.

Twice.

In the next round, I get to do the much preferred cold reading audition, in the hope of being "matched up" physically with folks who would play my friends, lovers, or relatives. Thankfully, no more painful imagery will be needed for this round. Thanks, Weird Al. Take five.

Write After Labor Day

With the final applause for Friday night's Hamlet, so too our summer subscription to The Old Globe came to an end. This year's summer season also included Two Gentlemen of Verona and Measure for Measure, as well as the non-Shakespeare offerings of Hay Fever, Avenue Q, and Bell, Book, and Candle -- but it was Hamlet I was eager to see staged. I was not disappointed. Thank you, Mom and Dad, for never being in San Diego on your ticketed dates. Orrick and I enjoyed our evenings out immensely. Now our attentions turn to other shows, ones we are directing and ones we are in.

Rehearsals have begun for both of the short shows I am directing. Blocking has been given and now it is a matter of repetition and memorization for the actors who, even rehearsing only once a week, will probably tire of their scripts well before the shows open.

The North Park Playwrights Festival opens October 12. The opening weekend includes A Terminal Affair, directed by Orrick. He and I are playing the two roles: a married couple attempting to spice up their relationship with role-play at the airport. Of the four plays we're directing, this is the only one that "self-contained" -- limited to the two of us.

The second weekend will bring Among the Missing (directed by me) to the stage. Weekend three will feature the Orrick-directed Cut, for which Orrick's friend Dave and I will supply voiceovers. Weekend four will see The Last Supper produced, with Les Payne in the lead role and Orrick in one of the two supporting roles.

Now you'd think this would be enough for October, but no; it doesn't stop there.

I believe I've mentioned some time ago that a local writer contacted me to offer "the role of a lifetime!" I read Kish's script and prepared myself, scheduling my North Park rehearsals in the daytime so that I would be available for evening performances of that 20-page monologue on off-nights at 6th@Penn Theatre. As it happens, though, the theatre does not allow the writer to direct his own piece. My name has been forwarded to the woman who will direct the piece, but so far I have heard nothing official regarding the part and have begun to book other auditions.

This afternoon I will audition for another 6th@Penn production, Jane Martin's Anton in Show Business. Interestingly, this piece is to be directed by the same woman who, last I heard, would be directing Kish's Challenge Theatre piece. As it happens, I know Carla from my recent stint as Stage Manager to her production of George Soete's Nest, but whether this helps or hurts I do not know. She likes me but has never seen me on stage; her first taste of my acting will be the dread monologue I deliver today. I may know my fate regarding both pieces -- Kish's and Martin's -- very soon.

Tomorrow I will audition for a show at Scripps Ranch, Kate Forgette's The O'Conner Girls. Given my already full plate, I had no intention of pursuing this piece until the theatre's Artistic Director called me at home to invite me to the audition. Rather than dismiss myself, I decided to let the director decide whether my four consecutive Thursday tech rehearsals at North Park prove too great a conflict.

Both 6th@Penn and Scripps Ranch pay small stipends.

With consideration up in the air for three shows, two shows confirmed, and another two I'm directing, October will prove a busy month. And that's without mention so far of the progress we're making to mount a new Actors Festival.

The AASD lost money (despite a $20,000 income) on the Actors Festival this year and "temporarily suspended" the program. After 17 years, there will be no AASD Festival in 2008. Baffled, a group of a dozen or so of us decided that we would put on next year's festival ourselves and have made strides toward that end. Next week we will be meeting first with AASD (as members) to find out where the money went. If we can't secure their endorsement, we can at least avoid making their mistakes. Then we will meet with Vantage/New Works theatre, which is interested in producing our new venture.

And finally, I have been a busy bee online as well. You can now find me on MySpace (which doesn't allow links back to Blogger, we've discovered!), on another Blogger site (a John From Cincinnati photo tour of Imperial Beach), and as a self-named dot com!

Perhaps soon I should begin looking at some lines.... ;)

Park It

Mending Fences, Mounting Fests

I have cast the two shows I am directing at North Park and something stands out: I have cast one actor from every ACT-San Diego show I've done.

In Among the Missing, I cast The Odd Couple's original Florence Unger (who dropped that show one week before opening); Move Over, Mrs. Markham's Philip Markham; and The Importance of Being Earnest's Jack/John/Earnest Worthing.

In The Last Supper, I cast Boy Gets Girl's Mercer Stevens; Caught in the Net's director; and... a gentleman who actually auditioned.

On the other side of the theatrical coin, the Actors Alliance of San Diego is facing some financial difficulties and has decided to fire its Program Director and suspend all actor programs, including the Actors Festival. This has created no shortage of uproar among a certain group of actors who will not be paid their stipends and want to know just how, exactly, the Festival managed to raise more than $20,000 yet report a loss. We've priced the venue and the programs, we've projected the total cost of stipends (a meaningless gesture in the end) and we are still are unable to account for more than $8,000 -- $14,000 if stipends are not paid. Where did the money go? And why, when the Alliance is willing to put $7,500 into a new website (in the works) isn't it willing to save the programs which actually showcase its actors?

A sub-alliance has formed in an attempt to host our own festival next year where the AASD will not. With or without the endorsement of the AASD (which will not come) we plan to do everything we can to provide actors with the important exposure of this large-scale showcase. Whether, in the end, we can raise an adequate amount of money for an appropriate venue and agree on how it should be used remains to be seen; but as always, I'm right in the thick of it!

Could be fun.

Don't Jump!

I was in San Fransisco once, walking along the Golden Gate Bridge, and I saw this guy on the bridge about to jump. So I thought I'd try to stall and detain him, long enough for me to put the film in. I said, "Don't jump!" and he turns... You've heard of the elephant man. He was kind of like that, he had a, well, you could say he had the head of a horse. And my heart went out to him. I said, "Why the long face?"

He said, "'Cause all my life people have called me mean names like horses-head or Flicka or chess-piece or Trigger..."
I said, "Well, don't worry about it, Ed. It can't be that bad."

He said, "My girlfriend's suing me!"
I said, "For palomino?"

He said, "Why was I put on this Earth?"
I said, "My friend, anywhere else you wouldn't stand a chance."

He said, "Nobody loves me."
I said, "God loves you, you silly ninny."

He said, "How do you know there's a God?"
I said, "Of course there's a God. Do you think that billions of years ago a bunch of molecules floating around at random could someday have had the sense of humor to make you look like that?"

He said, "I do believe in God."
I said, "Are you a Christian or a Jew?"

He said, "A Christian."
I said, "Me too. Protestant or Catholic?"

He said, "Protestant."
I said, "Me too! What franchise?"

He says, "Baptist."
I said, "Me too! Northern Baptist or Southern Baptist?"

He says, "Northern Baptist."
I said, "Me too! Northern Conservative Baptist or Northern Liberal Baptist?"

He says, "Northern Conservative Baptist."
I say, "Me too! Northern Conservative Fundamentalist Baptist or Northern Conservative Reform Baptist?"

He says, "Northern Conservative Fundamentalist Baptist."
I say, "Me too! Northern Conservative Fundamentalist Baptist Great Lakes Region or Northern Conservative Fundamentalist Baptist Eastern Region?"

He says, "Northern Conservative Fundamentalist Baptist Great Lakes Region."
I say, "Me too! Northern Conservative Fundamentalist Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1879 or Northern Conservative Fundamentalist Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1912?"

He says, "Northern Conservative Fundamentalist Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1912."
I said, "Die, heretic!" And I pushed him over!

-- Emo Phillips

Things that Crack Me Up Today

For most of my online tooling about, I use Mozilla's Firefox web browser, preferring it to Internet Explorer and Netscape. However, every so often -- very rarely in fact -- I find a web page that is optimized for one of the other browsers and has a compatibility issue with Firefox. One of those pages is my own Mindspring website. What I see when my picture doesn't load properly is just short of hilarious. Although it is an outdoor shot, the failed pic shows what appears to be corner molding, giving the impression that I might have stepped out of my frame to talk to the picture of Dumbledore.

Yesterday afternoon I was handed the two scripts I will be directing in the North Park Playwright Festival. Yesterday evening I was asked to read the script I will be performing in the 6th @ Penn Challenge Theatre program. The three titles together tell their own story: Among the Missing, The Last Supper, and Obits for Dummies. I love the smell of death-theme in the morning.

Now that the Aubrey Awards ceremony has come and gone (with my two nods splitting votes in the same category I predictably did not win), one of the member theatres is hosting its own in-house awards. I was sent an invitation to attend the ceremonial breakfast but did not discover that I was nominated for an award until my mother e-mailed from Tennessee to congratulate me. Thanks for the long-distance heads-up, Mom! Maybe I'll buy that plate of eggs after all. LOL.

Obits for Dummies

In light of the last post, I should point out that I'm not being flippant or ironic with the title of this one. It is, in fact, the title of the next show in which I'll be performing.

Yesterday I received an e-mail from a well-known theatre critic and local playwright, Cuauhtémoc Kish, who is partaking in a seasonal writing contest held by one of the more prestigious theatres in town. Where 6th@Penn once hosted Instant Theatre it now presents Challenge Theatre, which gives its authors a bit more time (nine weeks rather than 24 hours) to write and produce a show of some value. Kish, participating in this season's challenge, has finished his piece and contacted me to perform the lead role, having seen me perform in the Actors Alliance Festival last month (and, though he may not remember it, as Olive Madison in 2005 when he compared me favorably to Bea Arthur).

Now, 6th@Penn is one of those little non-union houses that everybody and his dog tries to get a foot into; it's quite a thrill to be offered a show in this venue without even having had to audition. Though I did take part in the first Instant Theatre at Sixth, that program was, as the theatre claimed when deciding to replace it, "more gimmick than substance" and strictly a volunteer effort.

Though Kish's piece, Obits for Dummies, is written for two actors, the second character rarely interjects. For the most part, it is a hilarious one-woman showcase -- and it's mine, all mine. Woo-Hoo!

The show will be presented "off nights" (Sunday - Thursday) in October, during the same time that the show I'm committed to direct will be opening. I have not yet received my script for the North Park Playwrights Festival, but the producers all but begged their volunteer directors not to drop out and leave them holding the bag. So, I've got some scheduling to work out!

More fun months ahead. I'll keep you posted.

Moment of Silence

My brother's ex-wife and the mother of his two oldest daughters (10 and 12) died unexpectedly in her home on Saturday.

The cause of death is likely to have been heart failure caused by Addison's Disease, a rare endocrine disorder. Visitation was held Tuesday, a memorial service was held last night.

Today would have been her 30th birthday.

How Much Do You Know?

How much do you really know?

Knowledge Keeper You obviously do a lot of reading up on things, paid attention in class and possibly have a high interest in the technological fields of life. You have a high value for great achievements that have been made in the past and current. With ideas given to you, you probably have the possibility to be innovative in new ideas. The world needs more people like you. Congrats on this result.

How do you compare? Take this test! Tests from Testriffic

What amuses me about Testriffic tests (I just can't keep myself away!) is the poor writing in the results. This quiz was titled "How Much Do You Really Know?" Oh, the irony! Before posting this, I changed "payed" attention to "paid" and "possability" to "possibility." Yes, I have a high interest in the "technological fields of life" -- and the technical ones, too. Like editing! Changes I've made in the past... and current.

LOL.

Volume! Hold for Laughs!

After the fiasco of my last full-length show, I said here that I thought it was time for me to direct. Well, friends, now I've taken action.

First, I will be directing a piece in this fall's North Park Playwriting Festival. The submission process for directing in this itty bitty venue was easy: you say you'd like to direct one of the 200 plays submitted from across the country, they say come on in and pick a few. So yesterday, that's what I did.

The play selection process is a little more complicated. All volunteer directors skim through the piles of scripts for the content they'd most like to see done. Each director picks two local plays and four non-local plays for inclusion; those which receive the most of these votes are produced. With so many more plays than there are directors, it is conceivable that there may be no overlap at all. On the other hand, given the limits of the small stage and the varied quality of the writing, it's also conceivable that we all recognized the plum in the pudding.

After weeding out the scripts which required elaborate sets or dangerous props; those whose characters were significantly younger, older, or more ethnic than the actors who would audition to play them; and those requiring more actors than the wee stage could support, I was not overwhelmed by the quality of most of the remaining scripts I flipped through, but I did find a couple worth the try and delivered my preferences.

It was not surprising that I recognized a few names on the local scripts, but I found myself gaping when I recognized the name on one distant submission. Only one script had come in from Tennessee, but I knew the author. Gaylord Brewer had been my English teacher in college. Across the years and thousands of miles, the unlikely role-reversal of having his work beg for my approval tempted me to choose his piece, but ultimately I did not.

The first directors' meeting will take place this Saturday.

The second director submission was considerably more elaborate and whether I will earn the job remains to be seen. After two days of prepping my proposal (including set diagram and budget) and making five reading copies of the script I'd be championing, I interviewed last night at the Coronado Playhouse in hopes seeing my full-length directorial debut during their 2008 season.

The interview went exceptionally well. Though one of my four interviewers sat stonily unreadable, the other three were visibly impressed with my ready answers to their questions and concerns. Save one. That I would be a first-time director with no producer attached to the project may be a sticking point. We shall see.

Coronado or no Coronado, thanks to North Park I am now, officially, a director.

Thank you.

He's Everywhere! He's Everywhere!

Sometimes, when you get a memory like this one stuck in your head, you just have to share it:

How DID it come about that Benton Harbor, weekend winged warrior, selected the visage of a chicken in his crusade against the forces of evil?

Now it can be told.

Agent R

Which Twin Peaks character are you?

You're Agent Albert Rosenfield, the snide and superior forensics expert. Your tongue is sharper than your scalpel, and it doesn't take long for people to start hating you for your supercilious quips, but you are the very best at what you do. You don't suffer fools gladly, but you give respect when it's due. In fact, you're a good guy at heart, but so wedded to your sarcasm that you can rarely stand to treat people kindly.

Take this quiz!

I'm One of the Finest Known!

Patrón

"You are a laid back and relaxed drinker.

Patrón is one of the most finest tequilas known.

It shows you have a very expensive taste on your tongue."

Now you know which alcohol I am.
How do you compare?

Take this test! Tests from Testriffic

Belated Nomination Announcement

After missing the nomination ceremony to travel to Tennessee last month, it seems that I forgot to mention here that I've been Aubrey nominated again -- for both of the ACT shows I did this season. The nomination certificate for Caught in the Net is shown above, but I haven't received my certicificate from for The Importance of Being Earnest yet. The Artistic Director at OnStage recently learned that she has MS and has, understandably, other things on her mind.

The award ceremony is set for the 29th. As both of my nods are in the same category, where votes will be split among myself and 5 additional nominees, I won't be holding my breath for a win. But I will be holding this record: a nomination for every ACT show I've ever done.

Toast!

It is a rare thing for me to eat a BLT. A very rare thing. Because, you see, when I think of bacon, lettuce, and tomatoes I am thinking of three things I don't particularly like. Add mayonnaise to that equation, and this little mental sandwich has "yuck" written all it. And yet whenever I DO eat a BLT I discover anew something completely bewildering: a "yum" where the "yuck" should be. What is it about that makes a tasty BLT so much greater than the sum of its parts?

Could it be the toast?

Toast.... It reminds me of

Can you believe I had to create a MySpace account (God help me!) to steal that little flyer there from theirs? What's the internet coming to?

These guys perform on the same nights of the AASD Festival as one of the pieces I'm in. Funny, funny stuff.

Including a love letter to toast.

Meanwhile, Back at the Motel...

These words, framed and hung outside the OddFellows Lodge at the Sunset Temple Grand Hall, should have been the watchwords of this blog.

Three-Minute Insight

Questions about my personality? It's summed up by this little guy right here -- a throwback to my days of watching The Great Space Coaster (get on board!)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8VWcqILJam4

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tVGuTUzZ_OQ

Picture Pages, Picture Pages

My trip home to Tennessee was eventful and I hit the ground running in San Diego, so today I will just hit some of the highlights with "purty" pictures.

During my visit, we moved my Polish grandmother (Busha) into her first Assisted Living apartment, which she alternately loves and resents. In keeping with all things "Busha," she is likely to undergo psychiatric evaluation for her antics.

During the move, my Irish mother (Katie O'Gracie) tripped, fell, and broke her elbow during the auto-da-fé act of moving her own too-heavy bed. Auto-da-fe? Whats the auto-da-fe? It's what you oughtn't to do - but you do anyway. (Thank you, Mel Brooks). She remains bound in a splint and sling.


My traveling father returned home after most of this to find his new Birthday/Father's Day present waiting for him. A present my brother took great pride in "tricking out" with (among other things) a state-of-the-art GPS Navigational Satellite Radio system that gave us the directions to dinner at Applebee's in an Austrailian accent. Too bad we don't have an Outback in Tullahoma.

And though I'd have plenty of air time flying from San Diego to Dallas, Dallas to Nashville, Nashville to Chicago, and Chicago to San Diego in the four days I'd be out of town, I couldn't resist the Father's Day offer to go flying for the first time with my best friend and licensed pilot, Kenny. He'd planned to take his father to the Will Rogers Cherokee Indian Heritage Days Festival in Guntersville, Alabama, but his father's recent heart troubles prevented his flying and I was allowed to take advantage of the rented plane. A nice day out with a friend I see far too little these days.

Of course, there was also the business of cleaning out a long-held trunk of treasures which had become water-logged in my storage unit. When one of those Wal-Mart Special particle board steamer trunks gets wet, it really soaks it up. And when everything inside is paper, you're pretty much in for a total loss. Because I could not scrape all the pieces out to puzzle this once life-sized poster of the Beatles back together, I'm calling this last shot of it "I Keep John Lennon's Head in a Box."

Also lost were all of my own drawings and others I'd kept to remember my Aunt Mary, a very talented artist who died too young. Photos I'd taken on trips to New York, Arizona, and Florida were blurred to resemble bad Jackson Pollock knock-offs. Keepsakes from my school years -- from class photos to First Place ribbons -- were a crumbled mess. Team pictures from my years of basketball, softball, and *ahem* cheerleading (I was young!) -- gone.

I marvelled, at the time, at how similar the water damage was to fire damage, having sifted through the debris of the Manchester Arts Center on my last trip home. Then I had quite the red-faced V8 moment, remembering how most fires are extinguished. Duh!

And finally, I picked up new headshots while in Tennessee. Of course, because I've been using this picture online on both my personal website and this blog the response to the new pic has been rather ho-hum. "New headshots?" They ask, indreculously. "But I've seen this one!" "No you haven't," I insist. "Not PRINTED!" "But it's not NEW...." "Never mind."

Just for the record, this is the old one. The last one I'd had professionally printed and ready to whip out at an audition.

So I hit the ground running back in San Diego, with rehearsals for the two shows I'm performing in the Actors Festival next month.

Up to Now by Julianne Eggold.

And Hear Me Roar by Kristina Meek.

And then there's the show that I'm Stage Managing right before the Festival opens.

I remember now why I didn't like Stage Managing.

Oh, and that last show, Nest? It's being produced in the Sunset Temple on University Avenue. "And just what's so special about the Sunset Temple?" you ask. Well, it ain't where the Jewish spend their Sabbath, my friend. This is the local OddFellows Lodge. The padded doors that open into a barren room appointed only with rows of pew-like seats and several thrones are equipped with a special "what's the secret password" slot which gives the casual observer an oh-so-comfortable feeling of reassurance! And that's all I'm going to say about it outside of those walls.

Friendship, Love, Truth. Out.

Mad AMAX

Reese Witherspoon and I will soon have one more thing in common. Our tortured marriages to Ryan Phillipe. Our Oscar-winning turns in Hollywood musicals. Our finished contracts with AMAX Talent.

Okay, make that just one thing in common.

By the end of the month, I will no longer be represented by AMAX. The company (American Models, Actors, Artists, and Extras) is finally undergoing a little talent tidy-up by scheduling mandatory re-evaluations. Just how overdue is this decision? Well, I signed with the agency before current owner Ashley Russell took over in 2001 and have never had occasion to meet the new boss. (Same as the old boss?) Even if I were to be in Tennessee when my renewal number hits the lottery, I would not re-up. After seven years of marriage (sound familiar, Reese?), it's time to let go.

But not without the Hollywood montage!

Maestro? A little sentimental music, please. Ah, yes. Dim the lights? Thank you.

Here we see Kelly's interview. The agent checks her headshot, resume, and demo reel for voiceover work. The agent signs her on the spot. Kelly exits elated -- a certified talent with representation!

In this clip, several months later, we see Kelly report for duty on her first AMAX assignment. She is on time and well dressed, as requested. Silk shirt. Slacks. Pearls. She is handed a large bag in which she will find her instructions. Opening it eagerly, she finds lapel pins, mints, and wristbands. Her task is to empty the bag by the end of the day, handing out the goodies to promote the NBA finals on ABC. She'll mix, she'll mingle. She'll wear orange rubber on her head. Watch the NBA on ABC!

Months -- perhaps a year -- later we see Kelly again, reporting for duty at the Home Shopping Network. This time, she knows that her assignment is an audition and imagines that her voiceover reel has caught someone's attention. Finding herself surrounded on all sides by very plump, very pretty women, she waits to be called, feeling unusually svelte. When the call comes every woman in the room is ushered to the set where, one by one, they walk toward and spin in front of the camera, hoping to be chosen as the channel's next Plus Size clothing model. After the audition, Kelly considers new headshots.

In our last clip, we watch Kelly reporting to duty for the last time in the dead of winter, 2006. She has been cast as one of a thousand "springtime" NASCAR fans watching Darryl Waltrip overtake a staged race in his Toyota Tundra pace truck. As the sun disappears and the temperatures plummet, most of the the crowd filters out unpaid. Not Kelly. Freezing, she holds on until "wrap" is called at four in the morning, wondering if extras in California know how lucky they are.

The montage fades. The vision dims. All that remains are memories.

I remember a time of chaos. Ruined dreams. This wasted land. But most of all, I remember The Talent Warrior. The agency we called AMAX...

Bonna-ruh-roh

What were the odds? I was trying to schedule a visit to TN, but had too many conflicts. Finally, I found a week on my calendar that looked promising. Between two Tuesday rehearsals, there was roughly a week with no other conflicts. No performances, no rehearsals, and a director with her own conflicts for the week, assuring no surprise meetings. Perfect. Book it! Between one Tuesday rehearsal on the 12th and another Tuesday rehearsal on the 19th, I scheduled my travel for Wednesday the 13th and Monday the 18th.

Now I've mentioned that this trip overlaps Bonnaroo before. But just to beat the point of the dead horse home (how's that for mixing metaphors?), this trip EXACTLY MATCHES the dates of Bonnaroo. The four days of my vist are the dates of the Four Day Music Festival. The dates of my flights (and requisite travels to and from the Nashville airport) exactly match the travel plans of roughly 90,000 other people. Let me say that again. NINETY THOUSAND other people.

This is going to be fun.

A High Silk Hat and a Silver Cane

The trip to Tennessee has been settled, and though I have exactly the number of days I asked for between rehearsals, four days simply does not seem like enough time! That said, with flights on the 13th and 18th, here is my itinerary so far:

14 Thu: Dentist and storage; evening free
15 Fri: Pick up Dad from Nashville airport (unless Jake does this)
16 Sat: Riverbend Festival in Chattanooga with Kenny and Doug
17 Sun: Father’s Day. Plans TBA.

Happily, Tullahoma is situated roughly equal distance between Nashville and Chattanooga; sadly, the distance is not short.

As Gryphon noted after the last post, Chattanooga’s Riverbend Festival is suffering greatly from the competing dates and popularity of Manchester’s Bonnaroo. Still, Riverbend is a tradition among my friends and we have tentative plans to attend the final night. That the only familiar name on the bill that night is Alan Parsons Live Project is pretty sad (sorry, Gryph, no Kimbrough on Saturday), but we’ll all enjoy the post-Fest fireworks and a late night stop at Waffle House.

And HOLY CRUD! Did I really schedule my trip home for the week of BONNAROO?!? There will be no getting anywhere! We must be crazy to drive through that traffic to Chattanooga while The Police, Fountains of Wayne, Junior Brown, Mavis Staples, Ziggy Marley, Pete Yorn, and Widespread Panic (to name just a few) are playing right in our backyards! And other exclamations as well!

On the 19th, I'll hit the San Diego ground running, returning to rehearsals for both AASD shows.

On Sunday, we met for our first reading of the revised second (longer) script -- and my small part grew three sizes that day. While this means the script, in which I’ll play 4 distinct characters, is now a much better showcase for me, it also means more rehearsal time and throws a spanner in the works on another project – the pursuit of a paying stage manager’s gig.

Don’t misunderstand: the acting gig is preferable and I’ve no desire to get caught in the “she’s a techie” cycle again, but the money would have been nice and, as I’d already offered my services, it was awkward to remove them.

Of course – and this gets complicated – I’d offered the services partly to network with the author, who is also an AASD Fest coordinator and the producer of the next show for which I plan to audition. If there’s anything to the theory that name recognition is a subliminal help, George Soete has been inundated with mine. Yet, if I were to be cast in the show he’s producing, the rehearsals for it would be another conflict for stage managing the show he’s written.

And that, in this crazy business, is just how it goes.

Hi diddle dee dee
An actor's life for me

Lines

Every actor has a way of learning his lines that works best for him. For me, it's a combination of the working in rehearsal (the repetition of reading the lines while writing down the blocking) and recording my scenes to a CD I can listen to on the way there. Outside of rehearsal, I'm not one for book study. In fact, I frequently type my scenes so that I can print and carry only what I immediately need. This could be considered a third method of studying lines, but it also serves to protect the condition of my book. There's nothing quite as sad to me -- a long-time book lover -- as the torn and dog-eared look of a worn rehearsal script.

So it's interesting now to be working on two short, original, unpublished scripts which I've printed from files e-mailed to me. Certainly, there is no need to re-type the lines. And recording them to CD this morning was a quick process.

In one script, I play one of two women in a presidential/personal debate. Although I carry half the line load, that ain't much in a 10-page play. In the second script, I play two small parts in flashbacks to the lead's last job interview (her interviewer) and her school days (her teacher). This play is twice as long, at 20 pages, but I'm on only two of them. Recording both on one disc, I have roughly 10 minutes of listening time. I think -- I know -- that's a record. If not for one play, then certainly for two!

What's interesting about that, then, is that these two pieces, these ten minutes of cumulative stage time, will be more "important" than any full-length piece I've done in San Diego. And I'll get paid for both. Forgetting for a moment the comparison of local, wet-ink scripts to those which have been published, that's quite a deal!

Meanwhile, with two shows competing for my rehearsal time, planning a trip home to see my dentist would seem daunting. As luck would have it, though, Director #1 will rehearse only on Tuesdays and Director #2 will be traveling for a week. Syncing my trip with hers is only a matter of familial communication. Which is not to say "easy."

It seems likely that I'll be flying to Tennessee on a Wednesday, visiting a dentist and picking up new headshots during the week, visiting friends and family on the weekend (Riverbend, anyone?), and flying home on a Monday to make the next Tuesday rehearsal; but it's all a matter of Frequent Flyer miles, my father's travel agenda, and all the other little considerations (airport pickup, a vehicle to drive) that make travel interesting.

If it all comes together, I'll also be rummaging through my storage again, this time looking for a particular prompt script from the Barn era. A script which, should the opportunity arise, I'd consider directing. No, I haven't pursued that idea at all. But I haven't forgotten it, either.

Of course, I'll have to pack plenty of crossword puzzles for the flight in. Because with only 10-minutes to upload to the iPod, I'll be finished listening to my lines before I've even passed through airport security!

Movin' On

The Actors Alliance sent a bulletin announcing the staged reading of "two incendiary plays" this week. Stop Kiss by Diana Son and Oleanna by David Mamet. I attended both.

Tuesday's Stop Kiss reminded me very much (in structure) of Boy Gets Girl. The valuable difference to this piece is that in this one girl gets girl -- and neither girl is filing charges to stop it. Like Boy Gets Girl, it's told in 23 short scenes that allow for the passage of time. Unlike Boy Gets Girl, it's told in two chronologies rather than one -- the audience sees both the progression toward the girls' unexpected kiss while also seeing the progression of events after one of them is hospitalized as a result of it. It was in interesting bit of theatre, but even with the inclusion of the "big bad lesbian kiss," it was nowhere near as unsettling as Wednesday's Oleanna.

In Oleanna, Mamet gives us an about-to-be tenured published professor in his forties and his twenty-something student who doesn't get it. In the first act, the student, Carol, has questions about her grade, fears about failing, and questions about nearly every 10-dollar word or phrase the professor uses. She takes notes on everything. To comfort and perhaps inspire the student, the professor tells a story from his own youth that directly parallels the fears she has, and when Carol later becomes fiercely emotional, he puts his arm around her. In Act Two, that action and words taken out of context from the meeting become the basis of her complaint to the Tenure Committee.

His safety and security in question, about to lose a house bought on the expectation of his promotion and the promotion itself, the confounded professor questions Carol about her charges, becoming more frustrated as the miscommunication escalates. When at the end of the second act Carol attempts to leave, he grabs her arm and restrains her. In Act Three, that action is subject to criminal charges: rape. Tenure and the house are lost. The professor's job is lost. His marriage is in question. His reputation ruined.

Lamenting only the complaint to the tenure committee and its results, he refuses Carol's demands for an exchange -- the banning of his book and others for the dropping of her charges. When he discovers those charges are now criminal, he lashes out and beats her, sealing his fate.

Though I don't know, honestly, whether or not I LIKED the piece, I can honestly say that I cannot remember the last time that any theatrical work stirred me this way. I was mad. Furious. But impressed. Theatre has a unique ability to evoke response in a way that neither film nor prose can do; but rarely have I seen it utilized so well. Or, given the nature of staged reading, so sparingly.

I've never been among the throng of Mamet fans. To me, Glengarry Glen Ross was a staged drinking game -- take a shot every time they say "fuck" and get wasted! And from that, I'd taken no interest in his other works. Now I have to give the man credit. He absolutely made me think and feel.

Damn.

The Actors Alliance theme continued Thursday night with the first read-through of one of the scripts I'll be performing in the Festival. What's going to be interesting about this is that, though it's only a 10-page-play, already the director is spouting grand ideas and parallels. As she should. However, I have my own fears and doubts about taking direction. To be frank, what I have learned and am most familiar with is what I'll call "Barn fare." Working at the Barn gave me the practical equivalent of 4-year degree in theatre, but it was limited. Comedies and farces, the odd mystery, the occasional musical. Light, fun, crowd-pleasing entertainment.

In community theatre, I could use what I learned because most of these little theatres have similar seasons of light, fun, crowd-pleasing entertainment. Moving out of community theatres again without a comedy net, I question my ability to interpret text correctly or to understand and give back what the director wants. I don't have a bag of tricks for this.

Which leads me to my one and only sympathetic moment with Oleanna's Carol: "everybody's talking about 'this' all the time. And 'concepts,' and 'precepts' and, and, and, and, and, WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"

Comfort zone is gone, baby. Gone.

Card Carrying

This is the Actors Alliance membership card that declares me to be a "professional" actor. It was awarded on the basis of significant roles for which I was paid in Nashville, as recognized by Program Director Jason Heil, who has himself performed in Nashville and thus recognized the venues on my resume. Small world. From this point on, I will be trying to encourage growth on that part of my resume.

So, when my current show closes, I'm beginning with the Actors Alliance Festival in July.

I have been cast in two of the plays that will be presented in the Festival, both locally written. One by Kristina Meek, the other by Julianne Eggold. Casting in the first was not a total surprise as Kristina herself suggested I audition for the festival so that I might be considered (I had recently read another piece of hers for the Playwright's Collective). Casting in the second was a bit more surprising as it came without any networking or connections, solely off the monologue I did at the audition. Yes: a monologue!

Paying gigs on the horizon and the opportunity to be seen by a new crop of directors: can't hurt!

A Moment Backstage...

Behind closed stage doors, Mary, Vicki, and Dad exchange a glance.

It says "If we're all back here, there's no one out there who knows their lines."

Four actors on stage improvise the scene.

We shake our heads.

One more weekend.

A Familiar Ring Would Be Nice

Dotty: And I take the sardines. No, I leave the sardines. No, I take the sardines.
Lloyd: You leave the sardines and you hang up the phone.
Dotty: Yes, right. I hang up the phone.
Lloyd: And you leave the sardines.
Dotty: I leave the sardines?
Lloyd: You leave the sardines.
Dotty: I hang up the phone and I leave the sardines?
Lloyd: Right!
Dotty: We've changed that, have we, dear?
Lloyd: No, dear...
Dotty: That's what I've always been doing?
Lloyd: I wouldn't say that, Dotty my precious.
Dotty: Well, how about the words, dear, am I getting some of them right?
Lloyd: Some of them have a very familiar ring.

I've you've ever seen Noises Off, that exchange should be familiar to you. Exceptionally funny! Oh, the hilarity! Great stuff! Unless you're in a show where this is going on in front of a paying audience... and that show is NOT titled Noises Off.

As I go in for another pickup rehearsal of before beginning the third week of performance, I'll leave you with another scene from Noises Off, indicative of the way my current show has been running. I wonder which title I should put on my resume....

Dotty: Sardines! I've forgotten the sar ...
[She notices the sardines sitting on the table and stares at them for a moment]
Dotty: No I 'aven't; I 'aven't forgotten the sardines. Well, what a surprise; I'll just go into the kitchen and fix some more sardines to celebrate!

A Taxing Dilemma

I filed my 2006 taxes early. Easily done this year because -- for the first time since I was 16 -- I was unemployed. Apart from interest income on a dwindling savings account, I earned not a dime all year; and after years earning fuck all and sending Sammy his cut, I thought "take THAT, money-grubbing uncle!" Not this year. No way. If I don't make it, you can't take it! Nyah nyah! *Raspberry*

(Never mind that if I don't make it, I can't take it either).

Consistently employed for nearly 20 years, I decided I'd file anyway so that my return would not be conspicuous in its absence. My lack of income would be on record. Sammy would know I hadn't simply missed the deadline and he'd know not to bother coming after me.

Because, you know, there are so few people in the country that my missing return would be noticed. Of course.

I zipped through the return quickly. Twenty dollars interest, no W-2, easy peasy. Scribble, scribble, fold, lick, done.

Bounce.

Qua?

I didn't send a check. That's not what bounced. It was my TAX RETURN that bounced. My return was returned.

Somehow, in my laughable rush to file, I made the mistake of calculating my measly $20 interest income as earned income. Silly me. Obviously, those are two COMPLETELY different things. I didn't earn $20, my money did. That's money's income, not mine. Let that darned money file its own return.

On that $20, I'd calculated, I would owe $2 in tax. However, the income credit for earning only $20 is exactly $2 so the whole thing was a wash. Nothing earned, nothing owed. I'd filed a $0 balance return.

When the IRS bounced it, I discovered my error. Because the $20 wasn't earned income, it was neither taxed nor credited. I'd owe $0 in tax and receive an income credit of exactly $0 and the whole thing would be a wash. Nothing earned, nothing owed. I filed a second $0 balance return.

My question, Sammy, then is this: wasn't that obvious? I had NO INCOME, hon. Was it worth the man hours, paperwork, and postage to have an income-free filer amend an overly EZ return to prove to you that you weren't getting a dime?

Knucklehead.

At least this year, when I shake my head at the red-tape bureaucracy, I'll know it's not MY tax dollars at work.

What I Really Want to Do Is...

There's a joke in the theatre community that what most actors really want to do is direct. I never understood that. Why?

The actor's job is easy; the director's job is hard. To be effective, he has do a lot of homework. He has to interpret the script, know it backwards and forwards, know what he wants, convey that vision to the cast, give the cast every opportunity to work, and make it all happen on schedule. Why on Earth would an actor, accustomed to the glory of performing in front of an audience, take on so difficult and thankless a task behind the scenes?

Lately, I've begun to understand. Because lately I've begun to think about directing.

In analyzing my own new-found desire to direct, I've come to an interesting analogy: Actor is to Director as Grown Child is to Parent. While there isn't necessarily any animosity, the Actor becomes determined that when it is his turn, he will do it differently. While he is raising (directing) his Child (Cast), he vows not to make any of the mistakes that his Parent (Director) made while raising (directing) him. He'll give them structure ... and freedom. He'll provide the tools, training, and tolerance that he was not given. He'll do it right.

And thus, he's begun thinking of himself as a director. Doomed, like any new parent, to create a whole new crop of mistakes in his effort to avoid the ones he's witnessed. Mistakes which others will resent. Until they begin thinking...

When I do it, I'll do it right.

Predators: Land and Sea

"Tonight the Nashville Predators open the 2007 Stanley Cup Playoffs with Game 1 of their best-of-seven ... series against the San Jose Sharks." The Predators possess home-ice advantage and will face the Sharks again Friday before the series shifts to San Jose for Games 3 and 4.

That from the GAMEDAY report on the Predators website. Here in San Diego, prospects of actually watching the Preds play are dire. With no national coverage (save expensive Pay Per View), all hope rests on local coverage from San Jose spanning rather far south of home ice.

Even if I won't get to see the games, I'm excited to know that the Preds, still a young franchise (added as an expansion team in late '97 for play in the '98-'99 season) have once again advanced to the post season. I was privileged to have a seat at the GEC for the team's first-ever playoff game against the Detroit Red Wings (another team close to my heart) in 2004. In San Diego last year, I missed post-season play as the Predators took on... the San Jose Sharks. According to both team sites, this year's contest is far from a rematch as each team has made extensive changes to its lineup. Plus, Nashville goalie Tomas Vokoun, who suffered blood clot problems last year, will be healthy and between the posts. What I'd give to see it!

Ahh... if there's anything wrong with the temperate climes of oceanside living, it's the distinct lack of ice sports.

My brother kindly reminded me that Games 3 and 4 would only be a train ride away, but while I'm in the midst of direly needed rehearsals for a show threatening to open too soon, the trip seems unlikely. And while I remain steadfastly unemployed, the costs of travel and ticket seem prohibitive. Thanks, though, for the thought. Dang it all!

One way or another I'll be cross(check)ing my fingers for the Tennessee team to advance to the next round.

And pick up some TV coverage along the way.

Whale of a Good Week

What a busy week it’s been, full of rehearsals, shows, interviews and touristy fun with Mom.

My parents came to town last week just in time for my first – and so far only – job interview. Apparently, my brief attempt to explain density with a floating ketchup packet wasn’t what Mad Science was hoping for, but the experience did perk up my confidence for Sunday’s improvisational fund raiser. God, what fun! I find myself remembering little random bits of the show throughout the week – sometimes proudly, sometimes with a blush – and I can’t wait to get my hands on the video.

On Friday, I took my mother (or she took me) whale watching. We booked a Harbor Excursion and went out on the open water, tracking the migration of the grey whale. I’d never been to sea; incredible. We did spot a pod of whales, but as ships are required to keep a certain distance my little pocket Kodak couldn’t manage any great photos. Those are images I’ll have to keep in my head.

On Saturday I went to see Orrick perform with one of his bands and met a former band mate of his from long, long ago who’d found out about the gig on the internet and planned a little reunion of sorts. MySpace: it’s not just for kids.

Sunday, of course, was improv.

Monday, after having seen grey whales in the wild, I took my mother to see killer whales in captivity. Sea World was brimming with spring-breakers, but we did manage to find seats for both the Dolphin Discovery show and Believe ® at Shamu Stadium. We also visited Rocky Point Preserve, where one can pet and feed the dolphins. We watched for a while but decided we’d feed them another time – after spring break. Our one-day admission bought us each a Fun Card, so that we can return any time throughout 2007 for free. I look forward to taking Mom to experience Summer Nights.

Of course, while all of this is going on, I’m also in rehearsals for a fast-paced farce. Publicity photos are now on the website. We open in three weeks.

Easter weekend, I’ll be preparing for an upcoming staged reading – a sort of no-frills performance of a writer’s work – script in hand – with some movement but no set, no costumes, and no lighting or sound. It’s essentially an opportunity for an author and others to hear the script aloud and possibly decide whether it’s worth putting real production money behind.

Come April 27th, when the farce opens and all rehearsals and readings are behind me, I won’t know what to do with myself!

Oh right....

Job hunt.