Ring Around The Rosie

Tonight saw the first read-through of the script; and it was most enjoyable. We have a great casts assembled. Can't wait to start developing it into a full-fledged production.

In other random trivia-- I don't have any good history with jewelry. Rings and I just don't mix, evidently. (A claddagh ring I bought in college rapidly broke, but that's probably because I bought it.)

I saw one at a street fair, a few days ago. A ring, that is. I liked it, it fit, I bought it. Tonight, my good friend Laura took one look at it and alluded to the fact that it's symbolically a 'chastity ring'. A ring, with a loose ring surrounding it. A sign of chastity.

Yeah. That applies more than I'd like. Anyway. It was a good night. I'm evidently good at a game at Dave & Buster's that earns 1,000 tickets a game. Won it twice. Woot.

Have a good one, folks.

Yay!

No, No, No

They're doing it. They're going to make Watchmen into a movie.

Shit.

Directed by Zack Snyder, mastermind behind Dawn of the Dead and 300... I was gonna try to say something pithy there and it didn't work. I like Zack's movies. Dawn is a fave of mine, actually. That doesn't mean Watchmen is going to be a good movie.

"But Casey", you might think, "You love Watchmen. You love Alan Moore's work." This is true. It's just that I like his books a lot more before they get tackled by Hollywood.

Swamp Thing. From Hell. League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. V for Vendetta. Constantine. Good lord, how many of his stories have been taken to the ringer? (Heather will jump down my throat about V for Vendetta; as she loved the movie. She'd have Hugo Weaving's babies in a heartbeat.) Even when they don't suck, they have little to do with the plot, the themes, or the characters.

There is simply too much material to work with in the book. Okay? It's too big. Too many players with their own character arcs. Cram that into two hours, or god forbid, less?

Nevertheless, Snyder's going to take the persian rug that is Watchmen and turn it into a Bathmat. Or worse, a Cosby sweater.

I sound like a prick right now, and I'm okay with that. The book is one of my all time favorites; not to mention one of the best pieces of fiction written in the 20th century. Don't believe me? Just ask TIME Magazine. I don't want to see it messed with.

Damn.

In any case. There that is. Rant over.

Something Bubbling Around In The Back Of My Brain

I've been doing some thinking about the new Harry Potter book that's to come out. I've been thinking about Horcruxes.

Let's put aside for the minute the theory that Harry himself is actually the last one. (Which is a pretty darned good theory in itself.) The horcrux-is-an-object rules seem to be flexible-- Nagini the snake's even a living creature.

Bad old Lord Voldybritches has established that he has a fondness for trophies; Slytherin's Locket and the rest. He was also ca-razy about his years at Hogwarts. Despite his loathing of everything Dumbledore stood for, he loved the school.

The school.

Hogwarts, the actual building, has proven in every single book to have a variety of surprises. Secret rooms, booby traps galore, moving staircases, more secret rooms, and the place is practically a fortress.

Who's to say the entire freakin' building couldn't be the last Horcrux?

It's unlikely but possible that Tom Riddle committed more murders on campus than just Moaning Myrtle. He'd have to be on-site to do it. Right?

All the books' primary action has taken place at the school. This makes sense, as the main characters are kids; but since the third book, each climax has taken place further and further away. Nevertheless, once the devastating horror settles down, back to Hogwarts they go. The school is home. (Excluding summers.) Harry says he may not bother to return to the school for his last year... I don't think he'll really have a choice in the matter.

The minute I thought of that, I was reminded of a great scene from Stranger Than Fiction. Harold Crick, determined to prove he's in control, stays home from work and does absolutely nothing. Before the day is out, his apartment is partially destroyed. He's part of something bigger than himself. Harry may fight it with all his might but I'm willing to bet the 'mission' he's appointed himself won't rear its ugly head more often than the odd trip to Hogsmeade. SNAPS.

Anyway. My two cents.

Whew!

This weekend saw the first round of auditions for The Yellow Brick Monologues, which will premiere off Broadway in August, barring any unforeseen complications or problems. (Knocks on wood.)

The people that showed up were quite talented. I had a devil of a time narrowing down the casting choices to just three or four actors/actresses per part. Due to time constraints, I'm seeing the Dorothys tomorrow and the rest of the callbacks on Wednesday. Both should be plenty of fun.

Laura, who has gotten to know me plenty well, pointed out that I seem to be at my best (or happiest, I forget) when I'm pulling the strings from behind the scenes. I haven't done any acting since I got up here. Sure, the odd voiceover gig, but no real stage work. Maybe I am best suited in the bleachers and before a keyboard. Right now, I can't honestly say...

Now-- some roles were easier to cast than others. I've already got my Wicked Witches, the Wizard, and my little dog, too. HAH. Anyway. I'm looking forward to callbacks (both sets) with great anticipation. Sweet.

You can bet there will be more to follow.

Heh Heh, Hah Hah

You know what? I love Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang. It's a great flick.

In revisiting it tonight (a plenty pretentious term for 'watching again') I realized one of the crown jewels in this little tiara of greatness: the spit take.

Spit takes, when done right, are comedy gold. KK,BB has such a spit take.

In any case. There that is.

Ciao for now.

A Memorable Night

And for no shortage of reasons! In order of issue (or in more explainable terms, the chronological reasons):

#1. Mark's Birthday. Happy Birthday! I had a truly fantastic time tonight. I hope you enjoy your present as much as I enjoyed playing Six Degrees. Great night.

#2. A new celebrity sighting: John Glover, enjoying dinner at a restaurant w/ open patio windows on 9th avenue. Sweet.

#3. While waiting for Mark outside the House of Brews, who do I overhear across the street but a group of men singing songs of Phi Mu Alpha? The New York Alumni branch of my college fraternity, signing like jaybirds. I joined in, showed them my fraternity pin (kept always in my wallet) and doing the secret handshake, met a dozen brothers in one go. It was nothing short of fantastic, as far as coincidences go.

Today was good. Quite good. A long day to be sure, but a good day none the less. Shazam.

One For the Books

I've been withholding a great story for weeks now; so what the heck, here it is.

Jeff (improv comedian and actor, not my dad) was singing in Foreign Opera a few weekends ago at my first gig in the Laugh Factory. (I know: Awesome.) While most of the time we sing complete gibberish, Jeff squeezed in some genuine Italian.

Specifically, he sang 'I vostri seni sono troppo da maneggiare.' It flew under the radar of most of the audience, but one woman gasped and shook her head, smiling.

'Your breasts are too much to handle.' Jeff got major, major props for this maneuver, once we knew what he was actually saying. The woman even joined us for drinks later, as she had found Nick to be quite the cutie. Well done there, too.

It's a fun group.

If you haven't seen Six Feet Under, you're missing out. I'm on season three, and it's still consistently wonderful. I find myself relating a bit to Brenda (Rachel Chenowith), who apparently can't stop thinking. I feel ya.

It's Thursday, nearly two AM, and I am looking for a new place to live.

In any case. Hope you're well. Ciao for now.

Barely Worth The Set-Up

But what the hell, I'll jump on board. Paris Hilton, in prison, is evidently not having a very good time. In prison.

During a phone call to family, sobbing, she confessed that she's not eating or sleeping.

Glad to see her behavior hasn't changed. OH SNAP!!

Simply Beautiful

Two weekends ago, at my first Laugh Factory show, my friend Jeff was in Foreign Opera singing his heart out while preparing imaginary meatballs.

Jeff dabbles in Italian.

This is worth noting as Jeff sang "I vostri seni sono troppo da maneggiare!" or something to that effect; confident in the belief that no-one in the audience spoke or otherwise understood Italian. He was 99% correct. One woman gasped, covered her mouth as she laughed, and later joined us for drinks because she evidently thought Nick (another teammate) was very cute.

The above Italian, ham-fistedly translated by me via Babel Fish, means "Your breasts are too much for me to handle." Jeff was singing this in Italian, while handling imaginary meatballs. This is a work of genius. Brilliance. And totally worth blogging.

My hat's off to you, Jeff. Cheers.

Important & Not So Important Stuff

Tomorrow (or later today, rather), I have an important meeting w/ a VO guru. We'll be discussing my new demos, and what the next step will be. I hope it'll be mass-production of said demos and then the mailing of to select agents in the Big Apple. I expect nothing of the kind. We'll see.

On my rather long ride home today, I indulged in a fun and on-the-whole new experience. Pulp fiction. Inspired by the phenomenal flick Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang, I sojourned to the nearest bookstore and picked out a few trashy lit-noir gems. The Vengeful Virgin did not disappoint.

I like the occasional bit of junk food. A candy bar, whatever. Consider tripe like the above-mentioned book a delightful bit of junk food for the brain... and not a bad way to kill a few hours.