Today, I was an extra!
Luckily, I've watched "Extras," so I know what to do.
Jokes, jokes. But no-- I was a bonafide "background artist" for The All-For-Nots and it was a ton of fun. First I sat around and chatted awkwardly with nice people who were there for a variety of reasons. Then one of the crew guys told me I looked like Molly Ringwald. Then I was a "stand-in" so light could be set for a scene. (My grandparents' old neighbor, this crazy man named Ed, was a wannabe actor whose two claims to fame were 1) a Key Bank commercial and 2) the fact that he had been Robert Redford's stand-in for some local shooting on The Horse Whisperer. He managed to bring it up a lot.)
Then I sat with two other extras in a booth behind the cast and did a lot of "hub-bub, hub-bub"-ing a la Catherine O'Hara in Waiting for Guffman. We had fake drinks.
My glory moment came later when I was watching a beer pong game (YEAHHHHH PONG) and then was overcome by my sudden, intense desire to go up close to where the band was playing and make eyes at the sexy female singer. This was in order to help show the shift in focus of the rowdy beer-pong crowd from their game to the band. (World-class actor though I am, I had trouble pretending to be interested in the fake beer-pong game for even a second.) Me and another girl (who knows Anais Koivisto AND just worked with Tasso in Oregon, of COURSE) got to do this and it was silly and wonderfu. And she is super cute, so....
Mostly it was just really fun for me to be on a set. Because I've never done that before....excluding, of course, when I LIVED on a set for two weeks the summer after senior year. (See file: "Dirty People." What? You can't find it? Pity. There were no coffee filters full of dirt today, let me tell you!) It really was quite an operation. I just sat, wide-eyed, most of the time. And listened to other extras say hilarious things like "Yeah, I used to live in Rever Beach. But now I live here because a few months ago, I got a DUI and my license got taken away. And I don't need a car to live here. So...."
The rest of the day was somewhat less eventful. I managed to make going in stores in Greenpoint, watching Lost and The Office, and eating soup take...oh...approximately 6 hours.
Last night, Erin and I went to the recently-renamed North Six (now the Music Hall of Williamsburg, like I wanna say THAT) to see Apollo Sunshine. Now, I have an intense, deep, abiding love for those dirty Western MA hippies, but I have to admit, however much it pains me, that last night, they were a little disappointing. I know there's no point to them just playing their old stuff over and over again, but.....they play so few shows that by the time I get to see them, I've just got a colossal hankering to hear "Magnolia" live. (Which the DID play. Thank god.) There was some asshole in the back of the room who kept yelling things like "I like your other stuff better!" and thought I secretly agreed, I would never yell it like an asshole. The first song they played featured an autoharp, which was AMAZING. But the ubiquitious pedal steel didn't make even one appearance. And the fact that they were opening meant that they couldn't do any outrageous James Brown/ "Today is the Day" medleys like I've heard them do as an encore in the past. They were just in and out in about 45 min. Sigh. A disappointing introduction for Rinnz, too. Luckily, we only had to pay half of the ticket price bc a nice lady gave me a ticket that she didn't need and we just split Erin's. Good. Frugality. Good.
Tomorrow, I will swim and return to the working week.
Note: Don't eat your roommate's potato chips at eleven thirty at night. It will only result in stomach ache.
C'est la vie. Ceci est bon!
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
when they made you, how they made you.
I feel out of control of myself. This morning, I slept until 11:30, but before that, I kept waking up and seeing that it was getting late and berating myself (out loud, mind you) about staying in bed so late. Obviously there's something going on.
Last night I went to the Parkside Lounge to see Greg, Lauren, and Zeke play some old-time music. They were wonderful! I saw a few other friends, mostly singing friends, and had one of those surges of feeling that I sometimes get where I realize how happy I am to have all these talented, quirky, wonderful, kind friends. And that if singing is where I found them, that I'm very happy I found singing.
(Speaking of singing, the night before last was spent in an epic Karaoke Revolution: American Idol fest at Erin's apartment. I killed Tainted Love and Bohemian Rhapdsody...but let's just say that I didn't know Sweet Dreams nearly as well as I thought. And My Heart Will Go On is literally the worst song ever written.)
I also saw Andy last night, which is always nice. I went to his penthouse (I wish it was a joke) to pick up a suitcase he schlepped from Schenec for me. The trip from the LES to the Upper West Side is one I'm glad I don't have to make an any sort of regular basis. I finally met the infamous and elusive Chris, Andy's Sondheim-snob roommate. We didn't exactly see eye-to-eye on things, namely Borat and Johnny Depp....and Jane Krakowski and the WSS revival that is going to change my life and many, many other things. Andy and I drank beer, looked at pictures, and closed the night on a high note by watching the one and only surviving clip from the BRTC's Crucible that's on YouTube. Which is always good for some hysterical laughter.
Tonight, Erin and I are seeing Apollo Sunshine in Wburg. I haven't seen them since, I think, last September. They rarely play in NY because they're too busy living on a farm in Leverett. I love them.
Now, if only I can not feel so illogically sad!
I'm going to swim later and take a walk, I think. Hopefully that'll do something to work it out of my system. It's going on a three days, now, so I'm about ready to be done with it.
Oh, and I finished The World According to Garp. I loved it and now of course I want to see the movie. I am simultaneously horrified and fascinated by who plays Garp.
Psh. That's all.
Last night I went to the Parkside Lounge to see Greg, Lauren, and Zeke play some old-time music. They were wonderful! I saw a few other friends, mostly singing friends, and had one of those surges of feeling that I sometimes get where I realize how happy I am to have all these talented, quirky, wonderful, kind friends. And that if singing is where I found them, that I'm very happy I found singing.
(Speaking of singing, the night before last was spent in an epic Karaoke Revolution: American Idol fest at Erin's apartment. I killed Tainted Love and Bohemian Rhapdsody...but let's just say that I didn't know Sweet Dreams nearly as well as I thought. And My Heart Will Go On is literally the worst song ever written.)
I also saw Andy last night, which is always nice. I went to his penthouse (I wish it was a joke) to pick up a suitcase he schlepped from Schenec for me. The trip from the LES to the Upper West Side is one I'm glad I don't have to make an any sort of regular basis. I finally met the infamous and elusive Chris, Andy's Sondheim-snob roommate. We didn't exactly see eye-to-eye on things, namely Borat and Johnny Depp....and Jane Krakowski and the WSS revival that is going to change my life and many, many other things. Andy and I drank beer, looked at pictures, and closed the night on a high note by watching the one and only surviving clip from the BRTC's Crucible that's on YouTube. Which is always good for some hysterical laughter.
Tonight, Erin and I are seeing Apollo Sunshine in Wburg. I haven't seen them since, I think, last September. They rarely play in NY because they're too busy living on a farm in Leverett. I love them.
Now, if only I can not feel so illogically sad!
I'm going to swim later and take a walk, I think. Hopefully that'll do something to work it out of my system. It's going on a three days, now, so I'm about ready to be done with it.
Oh, and I finished The World According to Garp. I loved it and now of course I want to see the movie. I am simultaneously horrified and fascinated by who plays Garp.
Psh. That's all.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Luxurious Ramblings; Or, Too Much Time to Think!
I'm not sure anymore what is coincidence, and what I invent; what things in my life exist without me and what things exist only because I acknowledge them.
Obviously if something exists, it exists. I'm not crazy enough, yet, to believe otherwise.
Okay, but-- this morning, I was leaving Erin's apartment and I looked at this table that sits in her lobby, like I always do (sometimes people leave really weird shit on it, like shiny pictures of giant butterflies or baby food, lots and lots of baby food) and something jumped out at me-- a flyer for the BU CFA InCite Festival. This is the umbrella under which showcase falls this year, as well as this upcoming production of EGBDF at the Town Hall that I'm supposed to be doing. So I obviously went to see who it was addressed to, not expecting it to be someone I actually knew. But it was. And apparently she lives in Erin's building. WEIRD. Even weirder is that with that flyer was another one that was addressed to a different building, but also to someone I know well.
Coincidence? Yup. I knew one of these people lived in Astoria, and Astoria's a small place, so really, none of this is THAT weird. But it is.
Yesterday, as I looked at my phone to read a text, a girl stepped right in front of me at the bus stop who was carrying something that reminded me so intensely of this person whose text I was reading-- for a reason outside of myself, I mean. Not just my own personal association.
I know I get in moods where EVERYTHING is a coincidence and EVERYTHING is significant-- even if I don't know how. Like when that page from Death in Venice was sitting on my threshold the other day.
This is all somehow linked to my fascination with an idea that was articulated to me in Tony Barrand's Stalking the Wild Mind class that I took junior year. Prof. Barrand was out sick for a few weeks and had various class members pinch hit as teachers. This really lovely girl, Claire, or Kate, or who knows, or why does it ever matter....Claire or Kate gave us a crash course in reading Tarot cards. And I've never been able to say it like she did, but the idea that stuck with me the most at the time and still does is that the cards are not shaping the future or predicting the future in anyway, nor are they creating anything that didn't already exist-- the are simply a way for us to realize what we are already thinking or feeling, or what is already inside of us. It's a way to see what already existed.
My problem or challenge with Tarot cards, though, is the fact that once I've drawn the card, I sometimes become obsessed with its meaning in my life and how I am consciously affecting the "outcome" that is one the card. Of course this is fruitless-- because it ISN'T an "outcome" at all. For example-- the other day, I pulled one card for myself as sort of a potential barometer of the day. Sometimes it's nice to do this. I pulled a card that in some interpretations can relate to friendship or joviality withing relationships, but can also mean forced happiness. So the idea that when I hung out with my friends later than night, I'd be forcing myself to have fun just sort of arrested me. Luckily, I was able to forget all about it.
I am trying to work on not being paralyzed or obsessed by coincidence.
But I guess there are worse things to be. :)
Obviously if something exists, it exists. I'm not crazy enough, yet, to believe otherwise.
Okay, but-- this morning, I was leaving Erin's apartment and I looked at this table that sits in her lobby, like I always do (sometimes people leave really weird shit on it, like shiny pictures of giant butterflies or baby food, lots and lots of baby food) and something jumped out at me-- a flyer for the BU CFA InCite Festival. This is the umbrella under which showcase falls this year, as well as this upcoming production of EGBDF at the Town Hall that I'm supposed to be doing. So I obviously went to see who it was addressed to, not expecting it to be someone I actually knew. But it was. And apparently she lives in Erin's building. WEIRD. Even weirder is that with that flyer was another one that was addressed to a different building, but also to someone I know well.
Coincidence? Yup. I knew one of these people lived in Astoria, and Astoria's a small place, so really, none of this is THAT weird. But it is.
Yesterday, as I looked at my phone to read a text, a girl stepped right in front of me at the bus stop who was carrying something that reminded me so intensely of this person whose text I was reading-- for a reason outside of myself, I mean. Not just my own personal association.
I know I get in moods where EVERYTHING is a coincidence and EVERYTHING is significant-- even if I don't know how. Like when that page from Death in Venice was sitting on my threshold the other day.
This is all somehow linked to my fascination with an idea that was articulated to me in Tony Barrand's Stalking the Wild Mind class that I took junior year. Prof. Barrand was out sick for a few weeks and had various class members pinch hit as teachers. This really lovely girl, Claire, or Kate, or who knows, or why does it ever matter....Claire or Kate gave us a crash course in reading Tarot cards. And I've never been able to say it like she did, but the idea that stuck with me the most at the time and still does is that the cards are not shaping the future or predicting the future in anyway, nor are they creating anything that didn't already exist-- the are simply a way for us to realize what we are already thinking or feeling, or what is already inside of us. It's a way to see what already existed.
My problem or challenge with Tarot cards, though, is the fact that once I've drawn the card, I sometimes become obsessed with its meaning in my life and how I am consciously affecting the "outcome" that is one the card. Of course this is fruitless-- because it ISN'T an "outcome" at all. For example-- the other day, I pulled one card for myself as sort of a potential barometer of the day. Sometimes it's nice to do this. I pulled a card that in some interpretations can relate to friendship or joviality withing relationships, but can also mean forced happiness. So the idea that when I hung out with my friends later than night, I'd be forcing myself to have fun just sort of arrested me. Luckily, I was able to forget all about it.
I am trying to work on not being paralyzed or obsessed by coincidence.
But I guess there are worse things to be. :)
Monday, February 25, 2008
Cutest Oscar moment in recent history:
(In this girl's opinion, of course):
Joel Coen talking about when he and bro Ethan made "Henry Kissinger: Man on the Go" when they were young.
Dorks!
Joel Coen talking about when he and bro Ethan made "Henry Kissinger: Man on the Go" when they were young.
Dorks!
Friday, February 22, 2008
A bad case of the transportation blues.
I used to get strangely sad, or at least emotional, on (mostly) public transportation, really of any kind. In my memory, it's linked to this time that I saw a girl crying on the T in Boston, freshman year, but the phenomenon started before that. Buses, trains, whatever. Bring on the waterworks. Probably because these were times I got to listen to emo music on my discman (!) uninterruptedly and look out the window and the barren highway and stuff. (Not like it's even barren in a scenic way-- rumble strips and exit signs really all look the same.)
Anyway, I guess after taking the bus and the subway and planes (and even funiciulars!) a million times in lots of different places, I grew out of that, but sometimes I feel snatches of my old, seemingly-uninspired sadness. I did this morning as I was on the bus leaving Schenec. Sure, part of me was sad to be leaving, but I found myself getting teary-eyed and it didn't feel like it was related to anything logical or anything like that.
Ah, nostalgia. Sentiment. Wasted on a dirty Adirondack Trailways bus?
My trip was very nice and very indulgent. Slinky was still seemingly under-the-weather when I departed, which makes me very, very nervous. I didn't do anything productive, really-- ran errands with my mom, cleaned some stuff up in my "old" room that I had left over the summer, rounded up some old clothes I'm hoping to sell (get in line, hipsters!), ate ice cream at Stewart's, listened to records, went to lunch with my grandparents...it culminated with a sighting of "the guy whose house blew up" who I have seen at the bus station before. He's always good for a laugh-- at least if you're my mom, who literally cannot control herself when he is around. Jane's nuts. I sound so small-town America. To counteract, I'll relate the following, overheard er route to Albany:
Woman: He asked me what her favorite color was. I said blue. But don't buy her no blue 'cause she ain't no fucking Crip, I said.
Man: Uh-huh.
Woman: I said, she ain't no fucking Crip.
Right?
Yesterday, I went to see my friends Justin and Shannon and their three-month old baby son, Jarell. This baby is really sort of unfairly cute, and we know how I feel about babies... and kids... and, well, people in general, sort of. Justin makes me laugh so hard. We had a grand old time reminiscing about Corey Joye, the time Jimmy Gortva ("the dirtiest boy on Earth," says Justin) looked up Ms. Andrews' skirt, Lavonda Sontag, watching OJ Simpson's verdict being read at lunch time in fifth grade (fifth grade! who let us do that?!), and the kid Richard who only said "bird."
Meredith Monk just walked into LM. Excuse me while I do a modern dance run. Right out the door.
If only.
Work calls.
Anyway, I guess after taking the bus and the subway and planes (and even funiciulars!) a million times in lots of different places, I grew out of that, but sometimes I feel snatches of my old, seemingly-uninspired sadness. I did this morning as I was on the bus leaving Schenec. Sure, part of me was sad to be leaving, but I found myself getting teary-eyed and it didn't feel like it was related to anything logical or anything like that.
Ah, nostalgia. Sentiment. Wasted on a dirty Adirondack Trailways bus?
My trip was very nice and very indulgent. Slinky was still seemingly under-the-weather when I departed, which makes me very, very nervous. I didn't do anything productive, really-- ran errands with my mom, cleaned some stuff up in my "old" room that I had left over the summer, rounded up some old clothes I'm hoping to sell (get in line, hipsters!), ate ice cream at Stewart's, listened to records, went to lunch with my grandparents...it culminated with a sighting of "the guy whose house blew up" who I have seen at the bus station before. He's always good for a laugh-- at least if you're my mom, who literally cannot control herself when he is around. Jane's nuts. I sound so small-town America. To counteract, I'll relate the following, overheard er route to Albany:
Woman: He asked me what her favorite color was. I said blue. But don't buy her no blue 'cause she ain't no fucking Crip, I said.
Man: Uh-huh.
Woman: I said, she ain't no fucking Crip.
Right?
Yesterday, I went to see my friends Justin and Shannon and their three-month old baby son, Jarell. This baby is really sort of unfairly cute, and we know how I feel about babies... and kids... and, well, people in general, sort of. Justin makes me laugh so hard. We had a grand old time reminiscing about Corey Joye, the time Jimmy Gortva ("the dirtiest boy on Earth," says Justin) looked up Ms. Andrews' skirt, Lavonda Sontag, watching OJ Simpson's verdict being read at lunch time in fifth grade (fifth grade! who let us do that?!), and the kid Richard who only said "bird."
Meredith Monk just walked into LM. Excuse me while I do a modern dance run. Right out the door.
If only.
Work calls.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Greetings...
...from the Electric City!
I'll elaborate later. I've been spending a lovely, placid, gluttonous, few days in Schenec. Slinky is sick or something today so he's been sleeping on my bed allllll day. I've been eating. Watching tv. Organizing some stuff.
Returning to NYC tomorrow, straight to work. I can't believe the Oscars are this weekend. I'm not ready for them! I need more time.
Anyway. More later. Good night.
I'll elaborate later. I've been spending a lovely, placid, gluttonous, few days in Schenec. Slinky is sick or something today so he's been sleeping on my bed allllll day. I've been eating. Watching tv. Organizing some stuff.
Returning to NYC tomorrow, straight to work. I can't believe the Oscars are this weekend. I'm not ready for them! I need more time.
Anyway. More later. Good night.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
I'm tearing up these tarot cards.
I recently took the book (Not That You Asked), by Steve Almond, out of the library. This is the first thing I've ever read by him, though I'd always sort of had a hankering to read Candyfreak, though I worry that if I do I'll just be mad that he wrote it before me. Anyway-- one of the essays in the book is called "Blog Love" and is about this weird relationship that Almond had with a blogger who absolutely hated him and all of his work and additionally appeared to be something of a hack in all areas of his professional life. So Almond's essay was essentially about how he hates assholes, and he especially hates assholes who blog, and how most of all he hates the blogs that are a product of those labors.
A tee-hee-hee, Steven Almond. I guess I should mention that I'm not liking his book very much. I think he's kind of a jerk. Maybe this'll turn into the second hack-written blog decrying Steve Almond at every opportunity? We'll see.
I FINALLY saw No Country for Old Men last night. I love going to the movies. I have done it so infrequently since moving here-- I'm still seeing a lot of things, thank you, Netflix, but I haven't been going out. Today I say I love it, but tomorrow I could very well say 'I HATE going to the movies' and honestly mean it. Whatever. I thought the movie was great. It was so brutal and slow and unrelenting and bloody and terrifying.....wonderful. I didn't recognize Kelly MacDonald AT ALL. She was really great and so cute. I mean, SHE's cute. She wasn't cute in it. And I just love Javier Bardem more and more all the time...Maybe I'll go as Anton Chigurh for Halloween this year. HOT.
Other exciting events in my life include: attempting to buy some new clothes at Buffalo Exchange and derailing that plan by ripping one of the shirts I tried on; calmly accepting Aldo's proclamation that 'We should really keep the dishes cleaner'; getting my eyes examined; living vicariously through various friends who are doing exciting things (including but not limited to playing Karaoke Revolution); trying to re-learn EGBDF lines and going to work.
Instead of real content, here are some links.
A cute little article from the NY Times about grammar and punctuation on the subway. Does that ring your bell, or what?
The most ridiculous series of videos I have ever seen. Aldo showed them to me. They were probably everyone's favorite on YouTube about three years ago, but I'm obsessed anyway.
WAIT, WHAT?! FIDEL CASTRO JUST 'STEPPED DOWN'?!?!?!?! I just went to the nytimes.com to retrieve that link and that's what I was met with. What? The eight-grade Anna would be throwing a fucking PARTY right now.
Apparently, he says:
Our fearless leader wastes no time:
“The United States will help the people of Cuba realize the blessings of liberty,” [Bush] said.
Wow.
Anyway, links:
Semicolons
Spare Me My Life!
If you like Spare Me My Life!, there are more in the series. The one teaching medical emergency terms is really good.
A tee-hee-hee, Steven Almond. I guess I should mention that I'm not liking his book very much. I think he's kind of a jerk. Maybe this'll turn into the second hack-written blog decrying Steve Almond at every opportunity? We'll see.
I FINALLY saw No Country for Old Men last night. I love going to the movies. I have done it so infrequently since moving here-- I'm still seeing a lot of things, thank you, Netflix, but I haven't been going out. Today I say I love it, but tomorrow I could very well say 'I HATE going to the movies' and honestly mean it. Whatever. I thought the movie was great. It was so brutal and slow and unrelenting and bloody and terrifying.....wonderful. I didn't recognize Kelly MacDonald AT ALL. She was really great and so cute. I mean, SHE's cute. She wasn't cute in it. And I just love Javier Bardem more and more all the time...Maybe I'll go as Anton Chigurh for Halloween this year. HOT.
Other exciting events in my life include: attempting to buy some new clothes at Buffalo Exchange and derailing that plan by ripping one of the shirts I tried on; calmly accepting Aldo's proclamation that 'We should really keep the dishes cleaner'; getting my eyes examined; living vicariously through various friends who are doing exciting things (including but not limited to playing Karaoke Revolution); trying to re-learn EGBDF lines and going to work.
Instead of real content, here are some links.
A cute little article from the NY Times about grammar and punctuation on the subway. Does that ring your bell, or what?
The most ridiculous series of videos I have ever seen. Aldo showed them to me. They were probably everyone's favorite on YouTube about three years ago, but I'm obsessed anyway.
WAIT, WHAT?! FIDEL CASTRO JUST 'STEPPED DOWN'?!?!?!?! I just went to the nytimes.com to retrieve that link and that's what I was met with. What? The eight-grade Anna would be throwing a fucking PARTY right now.
Apparently, he says:
“I will not aspire to, neither will I accept — I repeat I will not aspire to, neither will I accept — the position of President of the Council of State and Commander in chief. It would betray my conscience to occupy a responsibility that requires mobility and the total commitment that I am not in the physical condition to offer.”
Our fearless leader wastes no time:
“The United States will help the people of Cuba realize the blessings of liberty,” [Bush] said.
Wow.
Anyway, links:
Semicolons
Spare Me My Life!
If you like Spare Me My Life!, there are more in the series. The one teaching medical emergency terms is really good.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Nobody wants a monster for a Valentine. Or, Shenanigans, con't.
Blogs are sort of stupid, in general, but this one really sets new levels. Yes! I'm a trailblazer!
Whatever. There's more that needed to be reported.
I neglected to mention a few supporters, and any good politician knows that's a bad idea. Katy and Jess were there on the first night, which was Valentine's Day, so that says something! (And NOT that they're lonely. On the contrary.) Though who It should be noted, for posterity, and because Jess will, I think, get a kick out of it, that Andy didn't come to the show last night because he was drinking absinthe with his roommate, in their apartment.
Absinthe?
Really?
Uh-huh.
We all went out after the show last night, which was really great. There was a little but not really enough, catching up with Emily, who goes back to Boston tonight. Man, I miss those Boston people. I keep thinking "May, Boston, friends, Esplanade, BPL, Anna's, ERC (I will be there every goddamn day), etc." and it's getting me through the cold nights in my frigid apt. It'll be nice.
I have 3 episodes of Carnivale left and I'm actually feeling a little relieved. No, no one told me I had to watch them in such a marathon fashion, but how else was I gonna do it? Immersion, baby! At any rate, I'm relieved because it's actually unrelentingly scary/creepy/unpleasant/stressful and it's wearing on me a bit. I mean, how many times can I watch Brother Justin's eyes go completely black while he does demonic things? And how many times can I say "Clea DuVall is so hot" before I lose it? Only time will tell. (Man, I love cliches. I really do.)
Oh! The other exciting thing is that the female half of the psychotic and abusive couple that lives below us is MOVING OUT! Aldo and I saw them moving her stuff out yesterday. She hasn't been around since the COPS GOT CALLED last week, so who knows. Thank god. I don't know if he'll stay or go. But thank god.
Today? Work.
Whatever. There's more that needed to be reported.
I neglected to mention a few supporters, and any good politician knows that's a bad idea. Katy and Jess were there on the first night, which was Valentine's Day, so that says something! (And NOT that they're lonely. On the contrary.) Though who It should be noted, for posterity, and because Jess will, I think, get a kick out of it, that Andy didn't come to the show last night because he was drinking absinthe with his roommate, in their apartment.
Absinthe?
Really?
Uh-huh.
We all went out after the show last night, which was really great. There was a little but not really enough, catching up with Emily, who goes back to Boston tonight. Man, I miss those Boston people. I keep thinking "May, Boston, friends, Esplanade, BPL, Anna's, ERC (I will be there every goddamn day), etc." and it's getting me through the cold nights in my frigid apt. It'll be nice.
I have 3 episodes of Carnivale left and I'm actually feeling a little relieved. No, no one told me I had to watch them in such a marathon fashion, but how else was I gonna do it? Immersion, baby! At any rate, I'm relieved because it's actually unrelentingly scary/creepy/unpleasant/stressful and it's wearing on me a bit. I mean, how many times can I watch Brother Justin's eyes go completely black while he does demonic things? And how many times can I say "Clea DuVall is so hot" before I lose it? Only time will tell. (Man, I love cliches. I really do.)
Oh! The other exciting thing is that the female half of the psychotic and abusive couple that lives below us is MOVING OUT! Aldo and I saw them moving her stuff out yesterday. She hasn't been around since the COPS GOT CALLED last week, so who knows. Thank god. I don't know if he'll stay or go. But thank god.
Today? Work.
I get good advice from the advertising world!
Well.
So, first of all, something really sad happened. This guy that worked at Union College, and with the BRTC, and Saratoga Shakespeare...had kids that went to SHS, and his wife worked there, too-- died all of a sudden the other night. He wasn't old. My dad called me to tell me. I wasn't close to him, particularly, but he and his wife could always be counted on to say something super nice after shows-- usually too nice. So, I guess, RIP John Miller.
Uh, after that, anything else seems really sort of superficial...but I'll go for it. What first? Um...well, I got my hair cut by the wizards at Bumble and bumble the other morning (Valentine's Day, if I'm going to be specific), for $FREE.00, which is really the best part. I'm happy with it. Though I'm remembering from short haircuts of the past that sleeping does really weird things to short hair. Which means I have to extend more effort to not look like a freak. Which...is good. Anyway, here's a stupid self-taken picture.
That was on the day of the cut....compared with what it's actually going to look like most of time, which is probably something closer to:
We'll see. Anyway.
I saw a bizarre show at The Barrow Group the other night called "Gray Area," written by John Ahlin. It was about threee hardcore reenactors who kidnap a curmudgeonly, Ben Brantley-esque NY theatre critic/secret Civil War scholar after he writes a column deriding their pastime, or way of life, or whatever. The premise was funny and the show LOOKED amazing-- the set was kind of breathtaking and they didn't look too farby....there was a beautiful sound design and of course I was amazed at the number of instruments in use (esp. with "tech" for Wargasm fresh in my mind, where the game was not "What do we want it to look like?" as much as it was "What lights are pointing toward the stage? Awesome." Anyway, it was way too fucking long and not that great but the point is that the word "farb" was used.
Anyway.
I finagled my way out of work and went to the third and final (continent) show of The Civil Wargasm tonight. Friends were out in fine fettle- Erin, Jimmy, Rachel, Molly Ava, LEVI(!), Matt, Ben Lewis, Emily, Billy, Billy's bro and his bf, a ton of Emily's family members and friends from high school. They were insanely supportive. The couple next to me was slugging back beers and muttering lines they (apparently) liked to each other....seconds after they were said. They both liked farb and all variations. A lot.
It was wonderful to hear people laugh at something I wrote. That has rarely, if ever happened before-- I think the last time it happened was, well....the first draft of Wargasm. When I was a sophomore. Uh, yeah. But it was very exhilirating and nerve-wracking and fun and scary all at the same time, and I can see how people can get addicted.
Oh god, I'm tired and this is ridiculous. I will end with: Levi was his usual neurotic self, saying "Why didn't you tell me about this last week? You could have told me earlier you were doing a show. I know you downplay things, I know you're modest, that's your defense mechanism" and I was like "But it's not a big deal!" and then for a split-second I thought "No, he's right! I COULD have made a bigger deal out of this!" Then the feeling was (mostly) gone. I am disappointed that certain people, namely my parents, couldn't see it.
Ah, well. There'll always be other shows. And it WASN'T really a big deal.....oh, come on! :-P
So, first of all, something really sad happened. This guy that worked at Union College, and with the BRTC, and Saratoga Shakespeare...had kids that went to SHS, and his wife worked there, too-- died all of a sudden the other night. He wasn't old. My dad called me to tell me. I wasn't close to him, particularly, but he and his wife could always be counted on to say something super nice after shows-- usually too nice. So, I guess, RIP John Miller.
Uh, after that, anything else seems really sort of superficial...but I'll go for it. What first? Um...well, I got my hair cut by the wizards at Bumble and bumble the other morning (Valentine's Day, if I'm going to be specific), for $FREE.00, which is really the best part. I'm happy with it. Though I'm remembering from short haircuts of the past that sleeping does really weird things to short hair. Which means I have to extend more effort to not look like a freak. Which...is good. Anyway, here's a stupid self-taken picture.
That was on the day of the cut....compared with what it's actually going to look like most of time, which is probably something closer to:
We'll see. Anyway.
I saw a bizarre show at The Barrow Group the other night called "Gray Area," written by John Ahlin. It was about threee hardcore reenactors who kidnap a curmudgeonly, Ben Brantley-esque NY theatre critic/secret Civil War scholar after he writes a column deriding their pastime, or way of life, or whatever. The premise was funny and the show LOOKED amazing-- the set was kind of breathtaking and they didn't look too farby....there was a beautiful sound design and of course I was amazed at the number of instruments in use (esp. with "tech" for Wargasm fresh in my mind, where the game was not "What do we want it to look like?" as much as it was "What lights are pointing toward the stage? Awesome." Anyway, it was way too fucking long and not that great but the point is that the word "farb" was used.
Anyway.
I finagled my way out of work and went to the third and final (continent) show of The Civil Wargasm tonight. Friends were out in fine fettle- Erin, Jimmy, Rachel, Molly Ava, LEVI(!), Matt, Ben Lewis, Emily, Billy, Billy's bro and his bf, a ton of Emily's family members and friends from high school. They were insanely supportive. The couple next to me was slugging back beers and muttering lines they (apparently) liked to each other....seconds after they were said. They both liked farb and all variations. A lot.
It was wonderful to hear people laugh at something I wrote. That has rarely, if ever happened before-- I think the last time it happened was, well....the first draft of Wargasm. When I was a sophomore. Uh, yeah. But it was very exhilirating and nerve-wracking and fun and scary all at the same time, and I can see how people can get addicted.
Oh god, I'm tired and this is ridiculous. I will end with: Levi was his usual neurotic self, saying "Why didn't you tell me about this last week? You could have told me earlier you were doing a show. I know you downplay things, I know you're modest, that's your defense mechanism" and I was like "But it's not a big deal!" and then for a split-second I thought "No, he's right! I COULD have made a bigger deal out of this!" Then the feeling was (mostly) gone. I am disappointed that certain people, namely my parents, couldn't see it.
Ah, well. There'll always be other shows. And it WASN'T really a big deal.....oh, come on! :-P
Thursday, February 14, 2008
delishhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Taking a cue from one of the Yoga instructors I take class from, and continuing on this new quest to be guided by what feels amazing, I celebrated Valentine's Day this morning by......eating candy for breakfast!
YAYYYYYYYY!
YAYYYYYYYY!
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Train in vain. (Stand by me.)
And suddenly......my life exploded!
In a (mostly, I think) good way!
Phew.
Here we go. This will be all out of order, most likely, but who the fuck cares anyway?
Saturday afternoon found me singing alto and treble in Aldo's bedroomw ith a few staunch singing friends. Kelsey was in town from Boston for a little bit, and Lauren and Jesse came over to see her. I sang with her, and then when she left and Rachel and Zeke came in, I sang treble. I didn't sing tenor at all during the actual singing. It was interesting.
Saturday night, I saw "Passing Strange" at the Belasco with Miss Molly Garber. she got comps through some producer-type person. We were seated directly behind none other than Peter Dagger, a fellow Saratoga Shakespearean, and his friend Jeremy, both of whom appeared at La MaMa a few weeks ago. The show was really, really enjoyable-- one of the actors who I saw (and met) in Well when it was in Boston, Colman, was in the show and he is really a delight to watch. Speaking of delights, I felt so happy to be with Molly--I don't see her enough. I don't really see anyone enough.
After the show, we went by train and foot, in the cold rain, to a bar on Avenue C to meet up with my cousin Matt at a party for his girlfriend, Sarah. This was the first time I had met her and she was so lovely and sweet and I was glad that I made it to the fete.
Before I go any further, here: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ABE LINCOLN! And Ian Merrigan. And Mike Anderson. And Ben Silverstein.
Sunday morning found me being a real person, accompanied by another real person, in my neighborhood-- getting coffee, walking by the water, going in stores, things like that. I like Williamsburg more and more. Excuse me while I go get an ugly haircut. (Oh god, knock on wood, I shouldn't say things like that so soon before my appointment.) Really though-- why resist? Don't be a hater.
This is a gem from hilarious friend and former resident of Amsterdam, Justin:
Justin:
randy quaid is going to be in my nightmares now
i cant believe how crazy he is
he's a QUAID
that's a halftstep away from lower-tiered Baldwin
between a baldwin and a wayans, i'd say
and he sure the hell ain't no Guy Williams JR.
That he ain't, Justin.
After that I had a day at work, a brief stint at a baby's birthday party (she was asleep, I ate food), and a night at Erin and Jimmy's newly-painted and rearranged apartment. The decoupaged tray I made them long ago now has a place on the newly-appointed 'kitsch corner,' right under the Ouija board with a swastika on it. Yes! I fell asleep as soon as I got there. Erin and I ate bagels in the morning and then I made the stupid decision to go shopping. For clothes. In real stores. Obviously a bad idea. Like I don't know myself or something.
This morning, starting at 8 am, I ran tech for my surly bastard child of a play, The Civil Wargasm. It was satisfying and frustrating-- I had to work very hard and exercise my best SM/director/techie muscles. Pat had laid some really good tech groundwork for me, but I invented a light design that I think works okay, and created some sound transitions that are, I think, effective. This is borderline bragging for me. Who is this new Anna who acknowledges when she does work? And good work, at that? (Cocky bitch that she is, I'm sure she'll be nowhere to be found in a few moments.) Michael and I revisited our realization (had on World AIDS day last year) that we cannot and will not ever, ever date-- it's good to make sure you know who to avoid so as to not waste time, right?-- which no one found as hilarious as us, of course. Hysteria was constantly being beaten away, and the fact that I had to climb a rope to get into the booth DIDN'T help. But I love working. I love working. Even when I'm tired and lazy, I love working.
Though not at LM. I mean, not this kind of work.
(HIRE ME! Said like Maeby's MARRY ME!)
Now, work. Tonight, Carnivale and tea. And electric blanket. And dreams of cuddling with Slinky.
In a (mostly, I think) good way!
Phew.
Here we go. This will be all out of order, most likely, but who the fuck cares anyway?
Saturday afternoon found me singing alto and treble in Aldo's bedroomw ith a few staunch singing friends. Kelsey was in town from Boston for a little bit, and Lauren and Jesse came over to see her. I sang with her, and then when she left and Rachel and Zeke came in, I sang treble. I didn't sing tenor at all during the actual singing. It was interesting.
Saturday night, I saw "Passing Strange" at the Belasco with Miss Molly Garber. she got comps through some producer-type person. We were seated directly behind none other than Peter Dagger, a fellow Saratoga Shakespearean, and his friend Jeremy, both of whom appeared at La MaMa a few weeks ago. The show was really, really enjoyable-- one of the actors who I saw (and met) in Well when it was in Boston, Colman, was in the show and he is really a delight to watch. Speaking of delights, I felt so happy to be with Molly--I don't see her enough. I don't really see anyone enough.
After the show, we went by train and foot, in the cold rain, to a bar on Avenue C to meet up with my cousin Matt at a party for his girlfriend, Sarah. This was the first time I had met her and she was so lovely and sweet and I was glad that I made it to the fete.
Before I go any further, here: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ABE LINCOLN! And Ian Merrigan. And Mike Anderson. And Ben Silverstein.
Sunday morning found me being a real person, accompanied by another real person, in my neighborhood-- getting coffee, walking by the water, going in stores, things like that. I like Williamsburg more and more. Excuse me while I go get an ugly haircut. (Oh god, knock on wood, I shouldn't say things like that so soon before my appointment.) Really though-- why resist? Don't be a hater.
This is a gem from hilarious friend and former resident of Amsterdam, Justin:
Justin:
randy quaid is going to be in my nightmares now
i cant believe how crazy he is
he's a QUAID
that's a halftstep away from lower-tiered Baldwin
between a baldwin and a wayans, i'd say
and he sure the hell ain't no Guy Williams JR.
That he ain't, Justin.
After that I had a day at work, a brief stint at a baby's birthday party (she was asleep, I ate food), and a night at Erin and Jimmy's newly-painted and rearranged apartment. The decoupaged tray I made them long ago now has a place on the newly-appointed 'kitsch corner,' right under the Ouija board with a swastika on it. Yes! I fell asleep as soon as I got there. Erin and I ate bagels in the morning and then I made the stupid decision to go shopping. For clothes. In real stores. Obviously a bad idea. Like I don't know myself or something.
This morning, starting at 8 am, I ran tech for my surly bastard child of a play, The Civil Wargasm. It was satisfying and frustrating-- I had to work very hard and exercise my best SM/director/techie muscles. Pat had laid some really good tech groundwork for me, but I invented a light design that I think works okay, and created some sound transitions that are, I think, effective. This is borderline bragging for me. Who is this new Anna who acknowledges when she does work? And good work, at that? (Cocky bitch that she is, I'm sure she'll be nowhere to be found in a few moments.) Michael and I revisited our realization (had on World AIDS day last year) that we cannot and will not ever, ever date-- it's good to make sure you know who to avoid so as to not waste time, right?-- which no one found as hilarious as us, of course. Hysteria was constantly being beaten away, and the fact that I had to climb a rope to get into the booth DIDN'T help. But I love working. I love working. Even when I'm tired and lazy, I love working.
Though not at LM. I mean, not this kind of work.
(HIRE ME! Said like Maeby's MARRY ME!)
Now, work. Tonight, Carnivale and tea. And electric blanket. And dreams of cuddling with Slinky.
Monday, February 11, 2008
computer joke
I love teh font comic sans!!!!111 lolz
Rachel: That's a joke?
Jesse: That's...at least four jokes.
Rachel: That's a joke?
Jesse: That's...at least four jokes.
Friday, February 8, 2008
All hail the Rat King.
Yesterday, I got off at Lorimer instead of Bedford in order to spice up my life a little bit. I walked down N.9th and saw the following: an old-ish guy pulled his car over, blaring "I Will Survive," got out, and left the door open. A younger guy crossed the street and waved at him, saying "Hi." Oldy says "I just gotta dance!" Youngy says "I can see that!" and goes on his way. Oldy dances up a storm. I walked all the way down the block, turned around, and he was still dancing. Ava says: "People sit at their typewriters for hours trying to come up with a line like 'I just gotta dance!' and it never happens!"
Please look at this. Unbelievably horrifying, wonderful, hilarious, and weird.
Last night, Erin and I saw "In Bruges," the Martin McDonagh movie. It was weirdly disjointed and disappointing in some ways....it didn't feel like a cohesive whole, really, and we kept looking at each other and making awkward faces because of the totally over-the-top-in-a-new-and-bad-way insults/racial slurs/violent comments in it. Whatever. I love M. M. but I think he might be going over the deep end. Whatever. Ralph Fiennes is Voldemort. That's all.
The night before, I went to 59E59 to see Slaughterhouse-Five. I'd wanted to see it, even though the reviews weren't that great and blah blah blah. I really enjoyed it-- it was scrappy and kind of a mess and sometimes made almost no sense, but I had an infinitely more interesting time there than at the glossy, well-produced and STUPID show I saw a few days earlier at the Connelly. Of course. Some of the acting was really pretty good, though in one case I think it was just the actor being himself.
Uh....what else. The other day I was walking to work and there was this really crazy homeless guy wailing and yelling on the street. As I walked by I swear to god he yelled 'DARKWING DUUUUUUUUUUCK!'
Yesterday, when I got home, there was a page of a book right in the doorway of my building. Hoping to attach some significance to it, I picked it up tos ee what it was. It was from "German Stories and Tales," and of COURSE, it was from Death in Venice. It took a second to figure out. What this could mean, I do not know. But it was weird.
Yesterday, I met up with Julie and Nitz after their rehearsal, saw Craig for a few minutes, went to lunch with the ladies, then went to Smooch and ate cake for a few hours with Nitz. Spending money, eating, wasting time....high society for one day. Please.
Last night I went to Kettle O'Fish in the Village for round two of Middle Earth, the new BU extravaganza gathering excuse-for-fun. It was a rip-roaring success, and I saw a ton of old friends. I got a little attention for my mug shot in Time magazine, which of course made me secretly happy. Some of the MUDasMAN gang showed up, which always makes my day approx. a bajillion times better. They promised to come to The Civil Wargasm. I'm getting a little bit excited.
Carnivale continues to make my life simultaneously better and worse. That's all I can say right now.
Please look at this. Unbelievably horrifying, wonderful, hilarious, and weird.
Last night, Erin and I saw "In Bruges," the Martin McDonagh movie. It was weirdly disjointed and disappointing in some ways....it didn't feel like a cohesive whole, really, and we kept looking at each other and making awkward faces because of the totally over-the-top-in-a-new-and-bad-way insults/racial slurs/violent comments in it. Whatever. I love M. M. but I think he might be going over the deep end. Whatever. Ralph Fiennes is Voldemort. That's all.
The night before, I went to 59E59 to see Slaughterhouse-Five. I'd wanted to see it, even though the reviews weren't that great and blah blah blah. I really enjoyed it-- it was scrappy and kind of a mess and sometimes made almost no sense, but I had an infinitely more interesting time there than at the glossy, well-produced and STUPID show I saw a few days earlier at the Connelly. Of course. Some of the acting was really pretty good, though in one case I think it was just the actor being himself.
Uh....what else. The other day I was walking to work and there was this really crazy homeless guy wailing and yelling on the street. As I walked by I swear to god he yelled 'DARKWING DUUUUUUUUUUCK!'
Yesterday, when I got home, there was a page of a book right in the doorway of my building. Hoping to attach some significance to it, I picked it up tos ee what it was. It was from "German Stories and Tales," and of COURSE, it was from Death in Venice. It took a second to figure out. What this could mean, I do not know. But it was weird.
Yesterday, I met up with Julie and Nitz after their rehearsal, saw Craig for a few minutes, went to lunch with the ladies, then went to Smooch and ate cake for a few hours with Nitz. Spending money, eating, wasting time....high society for one day. Please.
Last night I went to Kettle O'Fish in the Village for round two of Middle Earth, the new BU extravaganza gathering excuse-for-fun. It was a rip-roaring success, and I saw a ton of old friends. I got a little attention for my mug shot in Time magazine, which of course made me secretly happy. Some of the MUDasMAN gang showed up, which always makes my day approx. a bajillion times better. They promised to come to The Civil Wargasm. I'm getting a little bit excited.
Carnivale continues to make my life simultaneously better and worse. That's all I can say right now.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
also, two silly things and one nice thing:
1) Why is Martin McDonagh so FUCKING HOT?! Here he is at Monday night's NY premiere of In Bruges (which I might get to see tomorrow, hope hope hope):
It brings to mind Emily's famous quote from a few years ago: "He looks like he'd be really good at....having sex."
2) Hilarious antics from Randy and Evi Quaid CONTINUE! He just got banned FOR LIFE from Equity thanks to his shenanigans during the catastrophe that is and has been "Lone Star Love." Basically, the producers (and everyone else) point the finger at these clowns when it comes to the reason the show closed, so now Randy's getting fined the total of two weeks' salary for the whole cast....and various charges are being made against both him and his wife. Check it out (from that most reputable of sources, the NY Post):
A source close to the Quaids said they will appeal Equity's decision. "These are ludicrous charges and this is a kangaroo court," the source said.
I love it.
3) My cousin has a cute baby!
It brings to mind Emily's famous quote from a few years ago: "He looks like he'd be really good at....having sex."
2) Hilarious antics from Randy and Evi Quaid CONTINUE! He just got banned FOR LIFE from Equity thanks to his shenanigans during the catastrophe that is and has been "Lone Star Love." Basically, the producers (and everyone else) point the finger at these clowns when it comes to the reason the show closed, so now Randy's getting fined the total of two weeks' salary for the whole cast....and various charges are being made against both him and his wife. Check it out (from that most reputable of sources, the NY Post):
A source close to the Quaids said they will appeal Equity's decision. "These are ludicrous charges and this is a kangaroo court," the source said.
Randy didn't show up for the hearing, which was held in Los Angeles. But his wife did and, according to a report on TMZ last week, berated several Equity staff members, including a 76-year-old receptionist whom she allegedly kicked in the shins, "drawing blood."
Equity reportedly took out a restraining order against her.
Evi, in turn, says staffers broke her finger, and she has requested a restraining order against them.
During the 61/2-hour hearing, Evi repeatedly screamed that the allegations against her husband were part of a "Nazi plot," according to a source who attended the meeting.
When Randy resigned from the union, he told some of the actors they were part of a "pinko-commie organization" that was out to get him, sources say.
A week before the hearing, Evi e-mailed several actors, threatening to sue them unless they dropped the charges against her husband.
"You have one last chance to stop this onerous campaign or else you will be drawn into a legal quagmire," she wrote.
The "War and Peace"-size complaint was assembled by the entire cast of "Lone Star Love" and included the following allegations:
* Quaid hit an actor on the back of the head four times during performances. When the stage manager told him to stop, he smacked the actor again.
* Another actor was warned that if he made direct eye contact with Quaid onstage, he'd be fired.
* Quaid made "sexually inappropriate" comments onstage, repeatedly referring to an actress' musical instruments as her "gynecological instruments."
* The couple tried to rewrite the script, to eliminate characters.
* Randy "felt free" to change blocking, lyrics and lines during performances, and repeatedly failed to show up for note sessions and rehearsals.
I love it.
3) My cousin has a cute baby!
Better yet-- I'll wear shades on sunless days.
For once, I'm happy to say that things have actually been going on. I've been doing stuff. Hard to believe, I know, but....sometimes the seemingly impossible can occur.
Monday night, rehearsals started for The Civil Wargasm. I didn't really realize it or admit it to myself before they began, but I was really pretty nervous. I did a lot of fast and dirty rewrites on the play, and before now I hadn't touched it since I was in London, and even then not really. I always read everything out loud and of course I know how the Platonic ideal version sounds, in my head (I just struggled to come up with "Plato"-- my instincts first said "Diogenes? No....Hegel?"), but hearing it read by actual people is always different. But Pat has assembled a good cast and they all seem psyched to be there and about the material--one of the actors bought Confederates in the Attic! Cute. I was running on hyper speed and made at least five un-funny jokes about doing crack and things like that. Hilarious.
Before rehearsal, Erin and I made an exciting trip to Pearl for some arts-n-crafts nonsense and then met up with our Mormon lookalike buddy, Professor Andrew Clayman. He really looks Mormon these days. We had a surprisingly less-than-excellent dinner at Excellent Dumpling House (Erin fretted: "This is NOT a good Excellent Dumpling House initiation for you, Andy!") while catching up on who's got kids (one of Andy's students is pregnant and we were reminiscing about the old days of girls doing crossword puzzles in gym class...or playing ping-pong) and who's in Schenectady blah blah blah. It's the same conversation we always have. It's cute to see Andy these days because we all always joked that all he ever wanted to do was become the new Doctor Wolos and thanks to something, possibly good karma, that's essentially exactly what he's done. It's nice when things work out well for people. (But only people I like, of course.)
Yesterday, I went to a brutal yoga class where the teacher actually touched me-- this usually doesn't happen because the classes are so big and there's no way they can pay attention to everyone. But I lucked out and got their early enough to be in the totally La Boheme upstairs studio-- you can see rooftops and chimneys out the window--with the crazy crazy man who is some sort of BMOC in the world of Yoga to the People. As usual, I thought I was going to die, but felt great afterwards. All the instructors have their own spiel and he likes to talk about doing what your body wants to do-- and he said "Why not let yourself be guided by what feels amazing?" And I wanted to yell "Hear, hear!" It's something for me to aspire to-- so often I guide myself by what feels horrible. Why? Why do that? Seek out the good.
I got a text from the illustrious Gabe Levey yesterday asking if I'd read stage directions in a reading he was in later in the night. I said yes, and though it eventually fell through, I went to see the reading and then went out with him afterwards, which was totally wonderful. Lee met up with us and we did major catching up. The best news is the Gabe is going to start working in the box/as house manager at La Mama! Amazing.
Though that reminds me of all the anxiety that's creeping into my daily life about my planned trip to Boston for the month of May. The specific anxiety that comes with the phrase "I'll see if I can get out of work that night/day/week/month" is a kind that I don't like at all. Not one bit.
And now, today. Work, and then a grant-seeking workshop with Katy, and then hopefully, if the stars align in my favor, seeing Slaughterhouse-Five at 59E59. It involves perfect timing, the MTA being sweet to me, retrieving my student ID, and pulling a scam. As usual.
I am realizing anew that life is much better when I am working. Working on my own stuff, I mean. It is better to work. Yes.
Also, being in the rehearsal for Wargasm made me remember just how much I like acting and how I want to do it, uh, now.
What a life. Right?
Monday night, rehearsals started for The Civil Wargasm. I didn't really realize it or admit it to myself before they began, but I was really pretty nervous. I did a lot of fast and dirty rewrites on the play, and before now I hadn't touched it since I was in London, and even then not really. I always read everything out loud and of course I know how the Platonic ideal version sounds, in my head (I just struggled to come up with "Plato"-- my instincts first said "Diogenes? No....Hegel?"), but hearing it read by actual people is always different. But Pat has assembled a good cast and they all seem psyched to be there and about the material--one of the actors bought Confederates in the Attic! Cute. I was running on hyper speed and made at least five un-funny jokes about doing crack and things like that. Hilarious.
Before rehearsal, Erin and I made an exciting trip to Pearl for some arts-n-crafts nonsense and then met up with our Mormon lookalike buddy, Professor Andrew Clayman. He really looks Mormon these days. We had a surprisingly less-than-excellent dinner at Excellent Dumpling House (Erin fretted: "This is NOT a good Excellent Dumpling House initiation for you, Andy!") while catching up on who's got kids (one of Andy's students is pregnant and we were reminiscing about the old days of girls doing crossword puzzles in gym class...or playing ping-pong) and who's in Schenectady blah blah blah. It's the same conversation we always have. It's cute to see Andy these days because we all always joked that all he ever wanted to do was become the new Doctor Wolos and thanks to something, possibly good karma, that's essentially exactly what he's done. It's nice when things work out well for people. (But only people I like, of course.)
Yesterday, I went to a brutal yoga class where the teacher actually touched me-- this usually doesn't happen because the classes are so big and there's no way they can pay attention to everyone. But I lucked out and got their early enough to be in the totally La Boheme upstairs studio-- you can see rooftops and chimneys out the window--with the crazy crazy man who is some sort of BMOC in the world of Yoga to the People. As usual, I thought I was going to die, but felt great afterwards. All the instructors have their own spiel and he likes to talk about doing what your body wants to do-- and he said "Why not let yourself be guided by what feels amazing?" And I wanted to yell "Hear, hear!" It's something for me to aspire to-- so often I guide myself by what feels horrible. Why? Why do that? Seek out the good.
I got a text from the illustrious Gabe Levey yesterday asking if I'd read stage directions in a reading he was in later in the night. I said yes, and though it eventually fell through, I went to see the reading and then went out with him afterwards, which was totally wonderful. Lee met up with us and we did major catching up. The best news is the Gabe is going to start working in the box/as house manager at La Mama! Amazing.
Though that reminds me of all the anxiety that's creeping into my daily life about my planned trip to Boston for the month of May. The specific anxiety that comes with the phrase "I'll see if I can get out of work that night/day/week/month" is a kind that I don't like at all. Not one bit.
And now, today. Work, and then a grant-seeking workshop with Katy, and then hopefully, if the stars align in my favor, seeing Slaughterhouse-Five at 59E59. It involves perfect timing, the MTA being sweet to me, retrieving my student ID, and pulling a scam. As usual.
I am realizing anew that life is much better when I am working. Working on my own stuff, I mean. It is better to work. Yes.
Also, being in the rehearsal for Wargasm made me remember just how much I like acting and how I want to do it, uh, now.
What a life. Right?
Monday, February 4, 2008
It's called a cuppa-chino...
...and wait'll you heard what it costs!
Bits and bobs, as they say in England:
There's a new coffee shop on Bedford Avenue and for the past few days, before the real opening, everything was free free free. The charming gent behind the counter persuaded me to smell the un-ground espresso beans-- 'Wild, right? They smell like BLUEBERRIES!'-- and then made me a fabulous cappuccino. Everything tastes better when it's free.
I accompanied one of La MaMa's weirder regulars to a show yesterday at the Connelly Theatre. It was called "The Lifeblood" and was allegedly about the last days of Mary Stuart. I'm not sure what it was really about because I didn't give a fuck what anyone was saying because it was so boring and the chain-link fence set design was distracting. Alright, I'm exaggerating. But it was super, super boring and the actors didn't do anything to make me like it anymore. I know I'm hard to please-- sometimes every very hard to please-- but come on. They had a lot of money. They have a huge resident company. This is what they came up with?
ANYWAY, she who does nothing shouldn't criticize the work of others.
Rehearsals start tonight for the current incarnation of my short play "The Civil Wargasm." Here's the info, if you're at all interested:
THE CIVIL WARGASM and SISTERS
The Richmond Shepard Theatre
309 East 26th Street, 2nd Floor
Thursday, February 14th @ 5:00
Friday, February 15th @ 5:00
Saturday, February 16th @ 8:00
SISTERS
Written by: Emily Kaye Liberis
Directed by: Craig Mungavin
THE CIVIL WARGASM
(Adapted from "Confederates in the Attic" By: Tony Horwitz)
Written by: Anna Hendrick
Directed by: Patrick James Lynch
Tickets: $15 General Admission. $10 Students/Seniors
Concessions: Beer/wine/soda/water
So. That's that. I guess I should maybe tell my parents about it? I don't know. I don't think they'd be able to come but they'd probably be mad if I refer to it later and that's the first they've heard of it. I don't know.
This week is so fucking zany. My first commitment of the day today is at ten pm. What is this life that I'm living? Why can't I get out of bed before ten thirty every morning?
Ooh, but something good-- I'm accompanying Molly to see Passing Strange this Saturday. I. Can't. Wait. She got free tickets and asked me to be her date. I haven't seen her in FOREVER, at least not for any significant amount of time, and it'll be so good to see her and see the show.
Meowskers asks: Is it worth all this sadness to hold on to your dreams?
Survey says: I don't know, Meowksers!
Bits and bobs, as they say in England:
There's a new coffee shop on Bedford Avenue and for the past few days, before the real opening, everything was free free free. The charming gent behind the counter persuaded me to smell the un-ground espresso beans-- 'Wild, right? They smell like BLUEBERRIES!'-- and then made me a fabulous cappuccino. Everything tastes better when it's free.
I accompanied one of La MaMa's weirder regulars to a show yesterday at the Connelly Theatre. It was called "The Lifeblood" and was allegedly about the last days of Mary Stuart. I'm not sure what it was really about because I didn't give a fuck what anyone was saying because it was so boring and the chain-link fence set design was distracting. Alright, I'm exaggerating. But it was super, super boring and the actors didn't do anything to make me like it anymore. I know I'm hard to please-- sometimes every very hard to please-- but come on. They had a lot of money. They have a huge resident company. This is what they came up with?
ANYWAY, she who does nothing shouldn't criticize the work of others.
Rehearsals start tonight for the current incarnation of my short play "The Civil Wargasm." Here's the info, if you're at all interested:
THE CIVIL WARGASM and SISTERS
The Richmond Shepard Theatre
309 East 26th Street, 2nd Floor
Thursday, February 14th @ 5:00
Friday, February 15th @ 5:00
Saturday, February 16th @ 8:00
SISTERS
Written by: Emily Kaye Liberis
Directed by: Craig Mungavin
THE CIVIL WARGASM
(Adapted from "Confederates in the Attic" By: Tony Horwitz)
Written by: Anna Hendrick
Directed by: Patrick James Lynch
Tickets: $15 General Admission. $10 Students/Seniors
Concessions: Beer/wine/soda/water
So. That's that. I guess I should maybe tell my parents about it? I don't know. I don't think they'd be able to come but they'd probably be mad if I refer to it later and that's the first they've heard of it. I don't know.
This week is so fucking zany. My first commitment of the day today is at ten pm. What is this life that I'm living? Why can't I get out of bed before ten thirty every morning?
Ooh, but something good-- I'm accompanying Molly to see Passing Strange this Saturday. I. Can't. Wait. She got free tickets and asked me to be her date. I haven't seen her in FOREVER, at least not for any significant amount of time, and it'll be so good to see her and see the show.
Meowskers asks: Is it worth all this sadness to hold on to your dreams?
Survey says: I don't know, Meowksers!
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Sunday SILLINESSSSSSSS
Aie!!!! How this has escaped me for so long I JUST DON'T KNOW, but....
Alright, so, if you know me at all, you probably know how I am destined for love with Sondre Lerche, Norwegian pop singer extraordinaire. Yeah, he's married, whatever. Please. We both love Elvis Costello and Ed Wood. AND, apparently, the novel (or movie, in this case) Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier.
"Just like that old movie
'bout Rebecca's spell
I feel like Max never felt
Minus the drama and the fraud!"
Sondre....when will we be together? Sigh.
Alright, so, if you know me at all, you probably know how I am destined for love with Sondre Lerche, Norwegian pop singer extraordinaire. Yeah, he's married, whatever. Please. We both love Elvis Costello and Ed Wood. AND, apparently, the novel (or movie, in this case) Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier.
"Just like that old movie
'bout Rebecca's spell
I feel like Max never felt
Minus the drama and the fraud!"
Sondre....when will we be together? Sigh.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
ends and odds.
So, I don't know who left that anonymous comment a few posts ago, but I guess I appreciate it. Anonymity has its benefits. They actually read that entire quote from Cummings one day in yoga and I liked it then and I like it now.
And Jess-- my statement about the three sisters was more about me never jiving with their mantra of "We must work, we must work" than about the play itself. Though I'm not saying anything about that, either. :)
I did something kooky yesterday-- I played my TRUMPET. Yes, that dusty old thing. The only music I have is tabs from my Captain Destructo days, which I don't even remember how to read, and a book of "Americana" songs intended, I'm sure, for marching band. I serenaded Aldo and Lucifer with "Home on the Range" and "Columbia, The Gem of the Ocean." Aldo tried to accompany me on the fiddle. Nightmares for everyone.
Work is work. Easy. Uneventful.
I finally came up with a draft of The Civil Wargasm that I was semi-satisfied with and sent it to the busy bees Michael and Pat. We'll see what happens.
Michelle Williams released a statement about Heath Ledger and I read it at work yesterday and literally started to cry. You can't take me anyway.
LES singing today-- I'm in no hurry to get there. I'm a little sung out.
I guess that's all. For now.
Hum-drum de-dum.
And Jess-- my statement about the three sisters was more about me never jiving with their mantra of "We must work, we must work" than about the play itself. Though I'm not saying anything about that, either. :)
I did something kooky yesterday-- I played my TRUMPET. Yes, that dusty old thing. The only music I have is tabs from my Captain Destructo days, which I don't even remember how to read, and a book of "Americana" songs intended, I'm sure, for marching band. I serenaded Aldo and Lucifer with "Home on the Range" and "Columbia, The Gem of the Ocean." Aldo tried to accompany me on the fiddle. Nightmares for everyone.
Work is work. Easy. Uneventful.
I finally came up with a draft of The Civil Wargasm that I was semi-satisfied with and sent it to the busy bees Michael and Pat. We'll see what happens.
Michelle Williams released a statement about Heath Ledger and I read it at work yesterday and literally started to cry. You can't take me anyway.
LES singing today-- I'm in no hurry to get there. I'm a little sung out.
I guess that's all. For now.
Hum-drum de-dum.
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