First Play Practice

First play practice is today. Oh, man, am I curious about how it's gonna go.

But first, I'm waiting to be seen for another Shakespeare Festival audition. Come on. Quit my day job? Please. I've got a career to get back on track. I'll get there when I get there.

Then immediately after first rehearsal is "temp work" till 9:30. Holy cats, it's gonna be a long day.

***

It wasn't meant to be.

The audition for what may as well have been the French Riviera Shakespeare Festival. I mean, seriously. What WAS I thinking?

Got in line at 7:30. Fifth person. Then someone starts passing down this list. "Non equity?" the guy asks.

"EMC," I say.

"Oh. Well here you go."

Confused, I signed up on the list. I mean, these guys seemed to know what they were doing. And now they're all leaving and coming back at 9.

When in Rome!

Long story very, very short, never, NEVER--I really mean it--N-E-V-E-R get out of line.

I could almost cry about this one. You have no idea how difficult it is just to get in the door here. Oh well. Live and learn, I guess.

So no audition today. Let's hop on the train and see how play practice goes.

***

Okay, the music is really pretty good. Some catchy tunes.

That said...

There is zero organization. There is no stage manager. There is no rehearsal calendar. There is no plan to get us all playing these instruments like ukulele fiends. Today's read-through was the first time our director heard/read/did anything with the script.

There are storm clouds on the horizon. I can hear a rumble of thunder in the distance.

But the music IS GOOD.

The cast, however...

The guy playing "the Mysterious Stranger" comes off as one of the more arrogant people I've worked with yet. He's a real musician and quite a bit older than the rest of us so he took great pleasure in showing off all his vast knowledge.

At first I thought, "What a prick!" Then you stop and think, "He's a prick about the *ukulele*." There's something about that that makes it funny.

Then there's Brassy Sassy. Brassy Sassy is 22 and lives in Queens or something and pays, like, $2 a month for her apartment.

I know this because Brassy Sassy is also a nosy little thing who wanted to know where everybody lives. When I told her "the Kitch" (as I call it), her eyes bugged out rudely and she said, "Oh my gawd! Are you RICH??" I said no.

"Well yuh must be!! You live THERE! I mean, GAWD! I live in a huge apartment and only pay ten bucks a month!"

She looked at me with this skwunched up face for the next five minutes.

I've found a lot of people who don't live in Midtown do that. It's this prejudice. And to those people, I'd like to gently say, "Shut up, please." It's hard enough livin here without having people tell you what an idiot you are for living three blocks from Times Square.

***

But the music IS GOOD. I wonder how we're gonna pull this off...oh Lord.

Okay. It's almost time for "temp work". Holy cats. What a day.

Mediocre Wednesday

Despite the somewhat misleading title of today's post, I don't have that much interest in the political situation right now. I know. It looks like, with a title like that, I'm about to go off on who won Super Tuesday.

But I'm not.

The only thing I care about? I honestly can't get past the idea of saying the name "President Obama".

Or "Mrs. President".

Call me old fashioned. But I mean, come on. Weren't we *attacked* by a guy named Obama? And now we're *voting* for him? He's for change? For all we know he's for changing Manhattan into a nuclear wasteland! Come on people!!

But bravo for Bill figuring out how he can sneak in another four more years. Way to go, Slick Willy!

Now if only these Hollywood people like Orpah (if that IS her real name) would shut their cans. This is politics, people, not American Idol.

So yeah. Politics? Can't say I care much. Who won the thing last night? Anybody know? Is Osama our new president?

A Conversation

The following is the conversation I must assume took place between the writers of this show I'm in. First rehearsal is tomorrow.



Four Stringed Guitar Bill: Hey guys! I just finished an original musical featuring--get this!--my favorite instrument! The miniature four stringed guitar.

Francis: That's great Four Stringed Guitar Bill. Now what?

FSGBill: What else? Let's put on a show!

Francis: But we're musicians. We've never put on a show before. We don't know the first thing about it.

FSGBill: Don't let that worry you. I've done some research!

Francis: (to Brancis) He's done some research.

FSGBill: You see, when people put on plays, they have play practice every day.

Francis: Well of course. How else would they learn all those lines?

FSGBill: I know. There are so many in every play. So many lines to learn.

Francis: I don't know how they do it. I can't remember my grocery list, let alone a whole PLAY.

Brancis: Okay. Then let's cast it and have some play practices.

Francis: Wait--Four Stringed Guitar Bill, what time are we going to have play practice? Should we make a play practice schedule?

FSGBill: I don't think so. That would take a lot of time.

Brancis: It would.

FSGBill: Well, when they do plays in New York City, they practice them--you're not going to believe this--they practice them during the DAY!

Francis: During--

Brancis: --the DAY?

FSGBill: Yes! The day! I did an internet search. Most Broadway shows practice from 10:30-4:30 every single day!

Francis: Incredible.

Brancis: Well, we're not Broadway, Four Stringed Guitar Bill.

FSGBill: That doesn't matter. We want our show to be the most professional show possible, right?

Francis: Right.

FSGBill: So play practice during the day it is!

Brancis: Wow! But what if the actors we cast have day jobs? We don't have much to pay them...

FSGBill: That's okay. If they're really seasoned New York actors they should be used to quitting their day jobs and making time for play practice.

Francis: You have a point there. Wow. Play practice in the middle of the DAY! Incredible! Buuuut...if that's how they do it.

FSGBill: It is. And get this...I just got off the phone with the director of our play. He says he wants to do a play reading. On the FIRST DAY OF REHEARSAL!

Francis: Are you kidding?

FSGBill: I know!

Brancis: But what if one of the actors can't make it? Say, the young man playing one of the leads? Suppose he's...I dunno...LATE. He can't quite make it at 10:30.

FSGBill: Well then, we'll just have to call around and find another actor to come in and read his lines for him.

Francis: Yes! That makes the most sense.

FSGBill: The most sense.

Brancis: Who will assist the director though? Shouldn't someone be there to make up schedules and contact sheets and keep everyone informed? Maybe that person could also read that part in this play reading.

FSGBill: I don't think that's how they do it. Not in New York anyway.


I don't make stuff up, y'all.

Smash

I'm turning items back on in Super Smash Bros.

Hard-core Smash addicts turn items off, saying the true test of Smash supremacy comes from playing without the addition of the random items which add a whole new element to the gameplay. Think of them as the flying spiked koopa shell from Mario Kart. They can spell sudden ruin or victory, all depending on if you managed to get to them first.

Thing is, I can't be hard core anymore.

See, this morning I woke up and took stock.

Most mornings I climb out of bed and head straight for the gym. Lots of time, money, energy, and whey protein powder has been consumed in this gosh-dangit frustrating and seemingly unending quest to find the true path to this "Muscle Beach" that everyone else at my gym seems to have had no trouble finding. I MUST find it. I MUST be able to compete with these meatheads. I'm smart. I should be able to figure out how much effort it takes to build a mere five more pounds of muscle.

But I can't seem to get there. So onward I must go. Eye on the prize. Hard core.

Lately, I also do a lot of "temp work". Talking about other "temps" with my artist employer makes me think, "Holy crap. I'm not doing enough with this. I could totally do this full time if I wanted."

But then I think--I'd really need to find someplace to tan. I costing these artists a fortune in Alabaster White.

And I'd need to find this beach everyone keeps talking about...this beach where everyone has lots of muscles. Just five pounds more.

It's elusive. But it's THERE. I can SEE it. So onward I go. Always searching. Hard core.

I practice the ukulele. I got new headshots. I travel the City auditioning for stuff. I'm in the middle of my second stage combat certification with tap dancing lessons to follow. My cousin wants to hire me for a high profile, once in a lifetime position with the film commission of South Cackalackee. I'm in the middle of a creative writing spurt where the ideas are flowing at a quick and exciting pace--the new play should be finished within the next week or two.

But I'm not GREAT at the ukulele--I still don't know the names of most of the chords. The headshots are fine, but geeze they were expensive. Auditions lately are unnervingly hit-or-miss. I'm not "getting" the moves in this stage combat class quite as quickly as the last one which makes me nervous for the test and I've put off these tap lessons for I can't remember how long. I don't know how I can refuse this job offer, but I don't know how I can accept it either. The writing is going well but what if what I finish and the play is a big, lame, jumbled mess?

It all feels just out of reach. Like I'm ALMOST there...but I'm not there yet. So you tell yourself, "You're being lazy. Clean your room. It's filthy" and push yourself a little bit harder.

Hard core.

So yeah. I'm not going to force myself to be hard core at Smash Bros. anymore.

Items are back on.

Get this

If you don't live in New York or if you didn't make the trip up here while this movie was in theatres, you probably have not seen this.


But now that it's out on DVD, you really can't afford not to. Especially since, for some reason, it's an expensive DVD (probably due to its "arthouse" label) and since it's new, it's probably on sale!

I know. It's a documentary about a video game.

But here's the thing: if you have even a passing interest in video games--like, if you can say "yes" when asked, "Have you ever played Ms. Pac Man or Q*Bert in an arcade?" then you WILL LOVE this movie. It's fascinating. It's hilarious. The story and characters couldn't be any more incredible if they had been made up.

But they're not. THEY'RE REAL. Sure, you're manipulated a little so you have no choice but to root for the underdog. But I sort of feel like that's okay. Considering the wacky characters and egos invloved, they probably didn't have to do THAT much manipulating.

Odds are, if you're a girl reading this post, you're going to say, "Thanks, but no thanks."

*sigh* No one ever listens to me.

The End of the World

Seriously, what the crap?

We're supposed to hit 51 degrees today (it's February! In NEW YORK!). Now don't get me wrong. I really do like not having to pile on layers of clothing so's to make walking around the City a little more snuggly and a little less are-you-kidding-me cold, but dude. This is ridonkulous.

It feels like the end of the world.

But that's not all!

How is it I've finished three games in the span of one week? That's unheard of. You see, these days I have little time for games. I typically have even less interest in finishing them. But there you are! Just finished a stack of them. Games I'd been playing for months! And "FOOF" they're done. All at the same time.

Is the universe trying to tell me something? Is something big and final about to occur?

Forkulele Friday

It's here! Forkulele Friday! And in honor of the fact that it's February 1st and pouring rain instead of snowing, I think this new song is terribly appropriate.

Give a listen! Happy Friday and don't get wet!