The Metro: Where The Crazy People Live

Evenin'.

It's been a long day. Good one, but long. I saw Shenandoah at Ford's Theatre today with Jeff, Steve, Kevin, and Robin; folks all from Assassins. Good times. The dancing was outstanding, the music was great, the set was phenomenal. Scott Bakula played the lead, a part that was well-suited for him. After the show we agreed that his performance was in fact ScottBakular. When spectacular simply won't do; and it's in regards to your favorite Quantum Leaper, use ScottBakular. He'd want it that way.

The Metro afforded not one, but two completely jarring surprises. On the way to the show, the entire train was far too privy to a man playing with himself in broad daylight. At the station. What? I'm sorry, what?!

On the ride back, a young woman asked what station was next. Smiling politely, I answered, "Union Station". She took one look at me and said, "You look like someone who could kill everyone on this train."

Me. Wearing a suit, tie, and ever-present fedora. Being helpful by answering a question. I'm the guy who could take out a Metro car. I took a second on hearing this, and replied, "I'm sorry?" She gave me another look and said she was just voicing her mind. Before I could come back with anything, the train stopped and she got off. Union Station. Her stop.

After she left, some of the other passengers joked to get past the awkward moment. I shook my head and said, "Man. Someone thinks I could just flip out at random on complete strangers? That makes me so mad I could just..." They laughed. But it was a nervous, "Oh please let him be kidding" laugh.

Just the night before, a guy stormed onto the train, violently shouting obscenities into his cell phone, calling someone (evidently trying to get him in touch with his daughter) a dumbass, and worse. Repeatedly. And still, I'm the one thought to be capable of going apeshit.

Uh huh. O-kay.

Somebody stop this crazy thing. I wanna get off.

Balabushka.

I'm enjoying a flick: The Color of Money. Paul Newman. Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio. Yes, Tom Cruise.

I'm no poolshark. I've hustled exactly one table. But I love this movie (and yes, The Hustler. I'm not about to wax poetic on a sequel without acknowledging the predecessor).

It's about excellence. Being the best at something. Enjoy. You see people in this flick wielding pool cues like they were magic wands.

Four greats came together on this flick-- The three actors already mentioned, and Martin Scorsese. Yes, Tom Cruise is considered a great here; because he's playing a flake and he plays it well. Someone else directed this movie, it wouldn't be half the feat.

It's about getting excited about something. Paul Newman won an Oscar for this movie for a reason.

Enough out of me. See the flick. Ciao for now.

Here's What I Think Of Your Stupid Writer's Block

Ah...

I feel better. I do. The Writer's Block, she is gone. Kicked her behind to the curb, thank you very much.

And the script for issue #1 is finished. It's the right length, the transitions aren't too blocky (I hope), and it has enough gag-details in the background to satisfy yours truly. So there.

Spending time outdoors helped, I think. It was an amazing day yesterday; found a park and had an early dinner. Outstanding. The walk later didn't hurt, either.

I'm wondering if I'm going to attempt to draft issue #2... I don't want to get ahead of myself. Don't want to get with my pants down either, but still. Something to think on.

Thanks to everyone that offered assistance... this crap usually has to resolve itself, but the offers were nonetheless appreciated.

Tomorrow, I have rehearsal. Sunday, a bunch of ex-Assassins are heading, ironically enough, to Ford's Theatre. Hah. That's about it, at the moment.

More to follow, I'm sure. On what, I haven't the slightest idea.

What The Hell, I'll Give It A Shot

I just noticed a comment asking about the comic on a post below... and pondered saying my lips are sealed on the subject, but honestly, who gives a fig? I'll leave it vague as possible, but no need to skirt the whole bloody thing, is there.

Okay. Can't tell you the title. Sorry. I can let you in on this much:

Yes, it's a super-hero comic. A proposed mini-series. My own brand o' capes and whatnot. There will be humor; some moments straighter-laced than others. What can I say, I like to get a bit silly.

As far as plot? Early on, something very bad happens. Unlike most comic book disasters; it cannot be averted, fixed, reversed, or otherwise made to 'go away'. The story will primarily be how the heroes, villains and civilians deal with it after the fact.

That's as close to a synopsis as you're gonna get.

When the pages are done, I'll submit them to the right people and see if anyone bites.

Fingers crossed, folks. Ciao for now.

Curse The Luck

Folks, I'm currently locked in no small case of writer's block.

Damn.

I'm trying to finalize the script for my comic project-- two things left here, and at the moment I seem incapable of doing either. Ain't that somethin'.

...

I got nothin'. Hopefully a walk later tonight (after rehearsal) will assist in getting said juices flowing; otherwise I'm-- I can't even come up with a euphemism for being screwed. Wow. This is bad.

Okay. Nothing to do but walk away from it and then come charging back when it's not looking.

More to follow; God willing.

Next Steps

You know those things that "you only get out of them what you put in"? Two big endeavors along those exact lines are getting ready for the next phase, respectively.

In no particular order: The Comic Book. Character sketches are pretty much done, the script is almost ready to go. It's down to one last scene to write before I send it off to my penciller, and the laying down of detail-work. What kind of details, you ask? Background stuff. In-jokes, hopefully sly references, and other minutae that other comic book dorks/geeks/nerds/etc. would appreciate. I can't resist the temptation. Wouldn't if I could, anyway.

As for my voice-over work: I have my demos. I have my mega-list of contacts. I have the phone number of someone who can run off copies of my CD in a professional quality, hopefully affordably. Nothing left to do but to do it: Run 'em off and send 'em out. And see what happens next...

Oh, by the way-- Happy Birthday, Jaclyn. You rock.

More to follow. One way or another.

72 Hours... And I Felt Every One Of 'Em

Folks, this was a weekend. I mean, a weekend. Felt every single one of those hours, too, I tell ya.

Friday: Up and back to the Big Apple. Had my audition and spent the day bouncing about with Tamia! I haven't seen her in the flesh since her wedding reception, two years ago. She looks great.

Did some shopping, a lot of catching up, and caught a later bus than scheduled back to DC. Hung out with Pedro for a few hours and finally trudged home by one. Eeesh.

Had a productive rehearsal Saturday morning, and tooled around with story stuff for part of the day... Had a great afternoon with Michael over cigars-- The man rocks. Just rocks.

Wished Jaclyn a happy birthday at her party that night, then trudged home (good weekend for that word) at one. Again.

Got up at the crack o' something to cheer Amanda on at her race, where she ran a consistent nine-minute mile. Ten of 'em! Fantastic work.

After heading-- okay, trudging home? The Nap. Yee gods. Friday and Saturday caught up with me big time and just floored me Sunday afternoon. It was over.

Now, we've got another full week ahead. Can't wait. Just can't.

Tired Enough

When it comes to certain areas of endeavor, I'm a workaholic.

Granted, there has to be a stated interest in it for me to actually get motivated, but of late there's been no shortage of those.

I'll work on a writing project 'til my hands are sore. I'll rehearse or act through a pounding headache, pendulous nausea, or a four-alarm panic attack; because the show must go on. I'll hop states back and forth in a day to get done what I need to get done. All of which are at least partially fueled by no small amount of coffee. This isn't boasting, I'm just trying to establish the tone of the piece.

I'm not alone in associating a day well spent; with a day at the end of which, I'm exhausted. This isn't going to change any time soon, so I embrace it. And I wonder... if I'm tired enough.

Aside from the odd bout of insomnia, I've been staying up late for a few reasons, lately. Tonight is the first night in a while that I'm actually weary before midnight. It's helpful since tomorrow's a big day.

Regardless... I'm trying. I am trying. And I wonder-- what is ever going to satisfy that busybody inside for more than a few days, before moving on to another project. I haven't had a vacation in over a year. Not an honest-to-goodness vacation. I unwind these days by, you guessed it, working on something I enjoy.

Honestly? What I'd really like, right now... is a day off. A few would be splendid.

Seeing as how that's not in the cards presently, I'll make do by calling it a night.

Sweet dreams, folks. Don't work too hard.

Have You Been Outside, Today?

I mean, have you been outside?? It's gorgeous! Absolutely stupendous weather.

I have some time to kill before I race off to rehearsal, this evening. This, this right here; is some Grade-A bonafide cigar-smokin' weather. Oh yeah. Call it 'aroma therapy'.

Also one darned fine day for a picnic, I tell ya what.

Productivity

Afternoon, folks.

It's Wednesday, and it occurs to me that this has already been (and continues to be) a productive week: I'm doing what I want to do.

I've had an audition in New York, seen a friend I've missed for years, had a good rehearsal, finished one transcription project and started another, worked with my penciller on character sketches, gone on walks, been in a recording studio, and seen a movie with my brother.

Still on the list: Another audition, writing out a scene for the first/trial issue of the comic, spending time with another friend I haven't seen in over a year, and another rehearsal. BAM.

If I can manage to enjoy a cigar somewhere in there, I'll have it made. HAH.

Have a great night, folks. I plan to, my own self. Ciao for now.

Damn.

Sleep would be a good thing, right about now. At around quarter after one. In the AM.

Shit.

Insomnia strikes every now and again. Granted, it's been a while; but still. To be fair, there's been a decent amount of thought to work through, of late. Career thoughts. Writing endeavors. Moving. Other equal or greater things.

Forgive me. It's been a long week (on TUESDAY) and it is only getting longer. I am not complaining. The things making my week longer are by all means welcome. Part of me would prefer having too much to think about, rather than too little. Like that'll happen.

Okay. Enough outta me. Have a great morning, folks. More to follow.

Outstanding. Just Outstanding.

Folks, I'm pleased as punch to report that I'm headed back up to NY-- this makes two visits in a week!

The cartoon company in question wants me to audition for another show; this one's brand-spankin' new. I'm up for the roles of some teenagers. Cannot. Wait.

Depending on the availability of a certain someone*cough* Tamia! *cough*, it'll either be a real short visit or I could be sticking around for dinner. Who knows?

I really have to hand it NYCastings: I've barely been a blip on the V.O. screen 'til now, and now I'm scooting up for my third cartoon try-out in as many weeks.

Rock. On.

Something To Look Forward To

Later this summer, one of my plays will be performed as part of the Montgomery Playhouse's One-Act Festival. Sweet. This follows in the footsteps of last year's Strange Bedfellows.

Writing Sucks will officially make its debut... I have virtually no information on the production, dates or much else, which is likely as God intended. More than one person has told me; "a writer should never direct their own work". That's fine with me.

I'm looking forward to it. It'll be a pleasant (I hope) night out, sometime around July or August? Who knows. In any case... hope to see you there.

Wow.

In effort to sharpen my skills, I took a voice-over class this January. I learned some valuable things about the craft; including general tips, the frame of mind one needs for the business, and made some good contacts for further lessons down the road. It also accomplished two other things.

#1: It served as a confidence boost, regardless of whether or not one was required.

#2: It pointed me toward a casting website that actually delivers results.

Which is why I'm headed back up to New York for the second set of cartoon try-outs in three weeks. Bam.

YES: These are only auditions. NO: There are no guarantees. Does that do anything to quiet the butterflies, or stop me from being thrilled at the prospect? No.

The same company as before (still not giving a title, don't need to jinx myself) produces a number of cartoons; and this time I'm up for recurring roles. Shazam.

This is what I want to do. The fact that I may actually get to do it? Nothing short of a blessing.

Somewhat typically, I have rehearsal that night. So I have to hop a train back almost immediately. This is a shame, because I have people I'd love to see, up in New York.

Hopefully next time...

Free Speech. *Here*.

I saw South Park last night. In it, Cartman was trying to stop Family Guy from broadcasting a cartoon depicting Muhammad; which would spark any number of negative reactions from people of Muslim faith. Ultimately, he failed, and Family Guy went on to air the blasphemous cartoon.

Comedy Central did not. They blacked out the screen for all of five seconds, with a message saying that they refused to show a depiction of him. Last night. They had no problem with it July 4, 2001, in the episode Super Best Friends, when there was no controversy. Muhammad appeared as part of a Justice League satire, complete with 'flame powers'. Of course, five years ago, Trey Parker and Matt Stone weren't deliberately trying to anger the Muslims, either.

I don't know. Religion has always been a sensitive subject, one that the South Park boys have enjoyed roasting over an open flame, time and again. I enjoy the right to free speech. I appreciate having it, and am grateful for the ability to spout drivel along the lines of, "Adolf Hitler was a surprisingly good dancer." That's good.

However; I think there's a line. Parker and Stone don't need to say things that they know will infuriate large groups of people. You can suggest that someone 'lighten up' when it comes to religion, but that is never, ever going to happen. Ever.

They were fully aware that a present-day depiction of Muhammad (delivering a fish-helmet, in this instance) was going to provoke a negative reaction; and a strong one. Cleaving to the First Amendment like a shield, they aired the episode anyway. Comedy Central omitted the actual footage, but what did it accomplish? They're just going to do it again.

My thing is this-- no-one likes being offended, especially when it comes to religion. I've never heard of Parker or Stone taking offense at anything. Either they're just that copasetic, and have embraced making complete asses of themselves, or the rest of us just haven't tried hard enough to show 'em what it's like...

What would offend them? Trash-talk about their mothers? Asking them why, with all their money, they can't afford good haircuts? Imply a low sperm count? I don't know. Your guess is 100% qualified as mine. On any of this.

My point, I suppose is this. Just because one can do something does not mean that one should. Is that unfair censorship? No. It is censorship, but I wouldn't call it unfair. They're making statements that, in certain corners of the world, would get them beaten; or possibly killed. And they're doing it here.

Just thinking out loud.

Five Questions

Sarah set up a deal: Buzz her, she'll ask you five unique questions. Or, if you're reading this, buzz me and I'll ask you five. Either way, the answers go on your own little corner of the 'net. Neat.

1. What's the most deliberately cruel or mean thing you've ever done?

A: The only thing in recent history I can think of-- writing a pretty damning appraisal of someone’s work (well deserved); discouraging someone else from working with them again. This is NOT someone I’ve worked with personally, just in seeing them onstage. It was the only time I’ve written something like that, by request or otherwise.

2. Who's your favorite comic book superhero and why?

A: John Constantine of Hellblazer. Notorious for being a complete bastard, he is irrepressible trouble on two legs. He’s also very, very loyal to his (few) friends.

3. What made you want to be an actor and how old were you when you figured that out?

A: I was about seven, I think. My family was watching Superman, and I saw Gene Hackman as Lex Luthor... I thought, “That looks fun, I want to do that.”

4. What's your favorite smell and why?

A: There’s a way a certain person smells. I’ve found that most women have their own distinct scent; I’ve never forgotten it.

5. What's one of your most magical or life-changing theatre moments either on stage or in the audience?

A (In the Audience): Seeing The Woman in Black in London. I didn’t know you could evoke real terror in such a setting, and this show gave me genuine nightmares. Unforgettable.

A (On Stage): A recurring moment—getting the audience ‘in my hands’. When I can make them laugh ‘til their sides hurt, or hold their breath and not realize it… there’s nothing like it.

He's Got A Point

Movie Night last night with my brother-- Occasionally the last bastion of civilization in our lives.

Last night? Terminator 2, one of the greatest sequels of all time. Seen as James Cameron intended, on a very big screen.

The week before, it had been Enter The Dragon, preceded by the Kong vs. T-Rex scene of King Kong. BAM. Andy asked the hypothetical question: King Kong vs. The Incredible Hulk. Who'd win? Hulk, I offered. With a minimum of reasoning, I convinced him I was probably right.

Last night; remembering the previous week's Bruce Lee extravaganza, I turned to Andy and said, "Okay. Bruce Lee vs. The Terminator?" Andy thought for a moment: We both knew that outside of a steel mill, there was no way Bruce (forgive me!) could take down a bulletproof cyborg, and Andy didn't want to be the one to say it.

Not thirty seconds later, he grins with triumph. "Casey, the Terminator's just in the movies. Bruce Lee kicked ass off the screen, too." I nodded, happily defeated.

*bows respectfully*

My Two Cents

Folks, I consider myself a fairly generous guy. Decent, helpful to his friends, blah blah blah. But there's something going on downstairs that is rubbing me the wrong way.

At the cafeteria; milk for cereal and coffee (the good stuff) come to $2.52. At the register, they have a small plastic cup with some pennies in it. I thought that it was the 'take a penny, leave a penny' deal. Rather than get 48 cents back, I'd rather just have two quarters when I hand over three bucks, so I've taken two cents out each time I go to the register.

The woman at the register gave me lip about it today. She chided me over always taking pennies out, and never putting any in. Two. Cents. I asked her if she was seriously going to begrudge me two pennies, and she said I should put some in, some time.

You know... I really ought to turn the other cheek, eat the damned humble pie and cough up some pennies for the woman next time I'm buying lunch.

But part of me would love to be a real pain in the ass about this. I mean really. Like many of you, there's a dish in my home chock full of loose change, consisting largely of, what else, pennies. How much satisfaction would I get from taking, say, a sandwich baggie and filling it with copper Lincolns, and just sardonically forking it over to the woman next time I see her? Enough to balance out dirty looks for a month from a cafeteria lady?

I don't think it's worth it, frankly. It's freaking pennies. But the urge to be a jerk about it did come up.

Just sayin'.

Oh, While You're Out

Pick up a copy of ToyFare magazine, issue #106.

I've got an article in there. No lie.

October 3

Leta has continued a game originated by others: Name 3 events, 2 births, and 1 death that have happened your birthday.

Thanks to Wikipedia, it's durned easy. Not just darned, 'durned'.

Events:
1283: The Prince of Wales became the first person executed by Drawing and Quartering. Ouch.

1863: Abraham Lincoln declared Thanksgiving to take place on the last Thursday of November.

1992: Sinead O'Connor ripped up the photo on Pope John Paul II, on Saturday Night Live.

Births:
Buckets of writers, poets, musicians, and actors. Among them:

Gore Vidal-- 1925

Chubby Checker-- 1941

Death:
Roddy McDowall-- 1998

Well. That last one was a bit morbid. Still. Fun to know.

V For Vendetta: When Will People Learn?

Know ahead of time, spoilers found below. Can't say I didn't warn ya.

* * *

Folks, I've said it before, I'll say it again. You cannot go mistreatin' on Natalie Portman and expect to get away with it.

You make her cry, you're going to end up dead. It's as simple as that. Sure, the Totalitarian Regime that is the stage of V For Vendetta has its other flaws, but the fact that they contributed to Ms. Portman's tears is, in movies, the grievous offense.

Three Fingermen try to do most unsavory and unscrupulous things to her at the film's start: They're immediately attacked by a vigilante quoting Macbeth. A friend and confidante is beaten before her very eyes (here come the waterworks); the party responsible likewise receives its deadly, bullet-time comeuppance.

Even the protagonist is not immune to the Freakin' Lava rule: As part of a damned-effective ruse, he reduces Natalie's character to practically nothing through systematic interrogation, isolation, and torture. During which, of course, she weeps.

The outcome? Blown to shit. Our hero in a Guy Fawkes get-up is spectacularly reduced to smithereens by way of the Midnight Kablooie Express to Parliament. The effects of which are not unlike being cast aside a river of freaking lava.

For your own sakes, people: If you find yourself in a Natalie Portman flick, under no circumstances make the woman cry. Hmm, wait-- Tears of happiness would be okay, I think, but you're probably better off not pressing your luck.

I'm just sayin'.

Energy To Burn

Folks, it's been one interesting weekend.

I saw another show last night; Necessary Targets in Reliance, VA. It was directed by a former teacher of mine from SU, and was cast (I think) entirely of Shenandoah students and Alumni. Among them, Wendy. It was a very good show; and it felt nice to 'return the favor' since Wendy had made it to Assassins' swansong performance.

As for today? Who knows. I've been downright restless. Had enough vim n' vigor to take two three-mile walks this afternoon, the second of which may have equally been a decent excuse to pick up some cigars. Who can say.

The word is-- well, the first word that comes to mind is 'antsy', but it's not very dignified. Let's call it... charged.

I've been trying to put that energy to good use, working in force on the latest manuscript for transcription. It's satisfying work, quite literally (or at least, Editorially) cutting a swath through it. Avast.

I'm finally going to see V For Vendetta later on tonight; my first night off and free in some time. Heather can't stop raving about it, and anything from the mind of Alan Moore (albeit diluted) is bound to be good.

Finally, I am pleased to report that I am actually satisfied with pages of the new comic script. The scenes I'm picking out for illustration (should be starting any time now, woot) are going to be good. I would dearly love to see this thing take off. There is nothing quite like seeing your writing in actual print. And something like this? Forgettaboutit.

I am being tight-lipped on this one, at least online. Details are to be had only in person, if you're curious, becuase I dare not jinx myself (or shoot myself in the foot) by divulging any actual details on the story here. That'd be just stupid.

Heather, I'm very proud of you, and I can't wait for your work to be complete. Neither can you, I'd bet.

Ciao, for now, folks. Most definitely more to follow.

Sooner or later.

Let There Be Show

Comin' up next: The Bible: The Complete Word of God (Abridged) at Elden Street Theatre. It's me and two fine gents who I can't wait to work with.

This show's an ensemble piece, folks. I don't think there will be five minutes where all three of us aren't all on stage playing (pardon the term) God-knows-who. Can't wait to get started.

* * *

In other news, I saw Coyote on a Fence last night at Silver Spring Stage. I highly recommend you check it out. Everyone did terrific work. The set was great, the lighting was very effective, the atmosphere of the whole show was something. You've got through the 30th to partake.

Ciao for now, folks. Hopefully more to follow.

Auditions, Auditions

As good a thing to focus on as any: try-outs. A week ago, I made tracks to the Big Apple for a cartoon audition. Sunday and tonight I auditioned for a great comedy on familiar territory. Saturday, I audition for a film project.

And I might have another one next week.

That's showbiz.

Have to stay busy. It's when I thrive, mostly. If this doesn't do the trick...

Well. Let's hope it does the trick.

If It Were Only The Two Bones, That Would Be Something

Well: In a sense of all things related to writing, today was virtually 100% non-productive.

I have some freelance transcribing work. It's engaging, full-focus stuff that is good to sink my teeth into, if I could actually manage to focus.

I'm simultaneously trying to pin down details for the first issue of my next comic project; as my penciller/inker will be ready to get to work in a matter of days. The first draft was completed some time ago, but isn't quite up to standards yet. I can't work on both, evidently. So, in consternation, I got very little done on either front.

A) I need to do the freelance stuff, as it will bankroll my artist's time. I can't afford the project, otherwise.
B) I need to re-write the story; so he'll actually have something to do beyond character sketches.

... Damn.

Items on the list of things occupying the mind, lately. The list, she grows. Or at least, she maintains her length by adding a new item if another one drops off.

Speaking of which, I got called back for a show I auditioned for, on Sunday. Round two begins 7:30, Thursday. Wish me luck.

Bah. Going to wash today off and try to get some sleep.

OH: It was pointed out to me that in another twenty-odd minutes, it will be 01:02:03 on 04/05/06.

Fancy that.

Well, That Makes Sense

My friend Heather is developing a good n' healthy fixation for one Mr. Hugo Weaving. Or as she'd prefer it, Her Veridian Vision Veers Toward His Virile Visage. Verily.

In any case: I just got a big hint as to why-- their birthdays are only a day apart. Hers was yesterday, his is today. It does affect such things!

Nano, a dear friend and one heck of an actor to work with, struck it off immediately. We knew it was going to be fun to work together. Por Quoi? Our birthdays are consecutive. I'm not saying that's the only reason we gelled as well as we did, but I'd wager it had something to do with it.

Fun stuff.

They Occupy Us

I was up fairly late last night, with a few things on my mind. (I wasn't the only one.)

This is nothing new. This is completely nothing new. For myself, thoughts ran towards the latest panic attacks; which happened to coincide with performances. Michael (with whom I shared some cigars last night) pointed out that on at least two of those occasions, we'd heard beforehand that the house was sold out. I hadn't noticed that. Not consciously, anyway.

With one exception, every attack in the last few months has been right before a rehearsal, or an actual show. To which I have to say; Stage Fright? Are you freaking kidding me?

I have never been afraid to go onstage. I live for opportunities to get up before large crowds. It's what I do. Regardless, Saturday night I was terrified. I just wanted to get the hell out on general principle.

It may be time to... talk to someone. A psychologist. Talking has always helped allay these things in the past, over time; I just thought I could sort through it on my own, for once. All evidence to the contrary.

Damn.

Well, it beats the alternative; namely having these things recur on me, without warning, at really inopportune times. The novelty on that experience wore off, real quick.

So what do you say we move on?

Out With A Bang

Tonight saw the conclusion of Kensington Theatre's Assassins. It was a phenomenal run. Simply fantastic.

It also featured the single largest panic attack I've had in years.

I went a year without having one. I've had three in the last month. Something needs to be worked through, and I don't know what it is. I thought (and still think) I have a handle on the various changes going on in my life right now. Maybe it's something else. Who can say?

Jack. Jaclyn. Shannon. Michael. Andrea. Nicole. You got me through this. I can't thank you enough. You stepped up when I needed someone, and I couldn't ask for better support. I'm not thrilled that it took so much to get there, but thank you, regardless.

For people who have never had one-- let me put it like this. You have a button in your brain that is used in emergencies. A surge of adrenaline will kick in for anywhere from ten minutes to an hour, demanding that something be done with that temporary boundless energy, now. It brings along... panic. Complete panic. Emotions run very high, rationale leaves the building like it was on fire, and the only thing to focus on is trying hard not to hyperventilate, mixed with a repeating command of 'Get the hell out of there'.

When it is finished (and it will take as long as it takes), you are drained. Nearly exhausted. This happened 30 minutes before the show, and continued 15 minutes into it.

I. Had. A job to do. So I did it. No-one in the audience noticed (or at least, claimed to notice). I downed a soda for its caffiene and kept moving, through the finale'. Then we struck the set and celebrated our swansong in style. I will soon be asleep, very possibly like a rock.

Right now, though? I'd like to just give a big fat middle finger to whatever it is in my subconscious that's causing this. I don't need it, I don't ask for it, and I can still put on a hell of a show in spite of it; so kindly fuck off. You're wasting my time.

If there's something more useless than that? I really don't want to know about it.

Quality American Manufacturing

We had one heck of a great crowd last night. Very appreciative crowd.

As I was getting into monologue #2, the gun fell out of my belt holster. Exact same place, exact same time, for the third time. "...special orders don't upset us, all we ask is that you--" THUD. "Dammit." Scooped up the gun, and kept going. Okay.

Toward the end of Another National Anthem, the barrel of my gun flew off. It was something out of a bad cop movie. (Not a movie about bad cops.) One minute, I'm holding an instrument of doom in my hot little hands, next minute FWING! I'm staring down the missing barrel at some confused looking audience members who must have been thinking, "Did I just see what I thought I saw?"

I'm supposed to still be pointing a gun at the crowd, and I wasn't about to look any more ridiculous than a guy in a Santa suit with half a gun. So I put the gun at my side and yes, I point at the audience. Meaningfully. Oh yeah. I meant business. You know. With that finger.

Turns out the barrel flew right through the partition in the curtains, easy to find and attempt to fix. A little electrical tape, and the gun is good as... almost new. It's black, the gun is black, there we go.

Sheesh.

Stories Galore

Wow. Yesterday was a day. Dang. A great one, don't get me wrong-- but a long, full day.

I got my tail out of bed at Five, something I never do, to get to the metro, to get to the train, to get to New York. Having never taken Amtrak (or specifically, Acela) before, I was pleasantly surprised to find they had all sorts of restaurants n' coffee shops waiting for me at the train station.

The trip up was nearly 3 hours, but we arrived to the minute when we were expected. I owe Leta and Dave another nod for the great transport advice. You guys rock.

New York City. The Big Apple. The City so nice, they named it twice. I haven't hit NYC in nearly a decade, but man. The sights, the smells... Fantastic. Well. Not all the smells, mind you, but it was certainly a vibrant collage of olfactory... je ne sais pas.

The Studio, Which shall remain nameless... was fantastic. I went in, auditioned for the role I was called up for, and then politely asked if I could take a stab at the other character that was currently being optioned. They said sure, and I gave them something completely different for it. They did seem to enjoy my stuff, so I really, really hope to hear from them. Honest and true. I'll let you all know the minute I hear something.

This was not the end of my day, though. Oh no. I had a few hours to kill until my afternoon train home, so I called my brother (a lover of NY) for advice. He said "Grab some pizza and hit Times Square."

Gorgeous strip o' town. All the standard clichés were in place: Street vendors, crazy preacher-guy on the corner, no muggings thankfully. The Toys R Us up there had a full-sized animatronic T-Rex. I couldn't help passing by a certain action figure line, of which I could possibly someday have a character. Sweet.

I stopped by a few more places, got another book and hopped back on the train to DC. Thankfully I was able to grab at least some sleep, I was starting to flag. Then on to the show...

It's The First Of The Month

Bunny, Bunny.