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.
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