Preemptive anxiety and unspecific sadness.

Shut the fuck up: they still tasted awesome.

"Ritual in Transfigured Time"

So here's a fun thing to do. Take your favorite piece of creepy or sad or beautiful or haunting music and play it while watching this gorgeous silent film. I like to watch it with Arvo Part's "Tabula Rasa II: Ludus." If you start the music just as the credits announce the title, you have a perfect soundtrack that matches with the images and feeling UNCANNILY. It's better than that Pink Floyd/Wizard of Oz combo. But find what works for you. I have always loved Maya Deren (even though she was into voodoo) and I'm getting closer and closer to stealing her hairdo. I case you didn't know, she's the filmmaker AND the star, and I do believe that's Anais Nin in the doorway.

Pokemon chillaxin' on the Chillow

It really does stay cool, but it slides around in my pillowcase, so now it's hers.

Now that he knows what strange pussy is...

So for the THREE 3 1/2 hr drives I made in the last 30 hrs or so, I thought I needed some new music. I made myself a fun iMix of 80s power ballads as a specific reward after my NYC callback, and I put stuff like "Sara" by Starship and "Against All Odds" by Phil Collins.  I know you can barely believe it.  One favorite is "I Want to Know What Love Is" by Foreigner.  I've always liked its frank simplicity.  I think of it as a genuine anthem for the pressing, universal question of WHAT LOVE IS.  And really listening to the lyrics actually inspired some tears (shocker):

Now this mountain I must climb
Feels like a world upon my shoulders
I through the clouds I see love shine
It keeps me warm as life grows colder

In my life there's been heartache and pain
I don't know if I can face it again
Can't stop now, I've traveled so far
To change this lonely life

I wanna know what love is
I want you to show me
I wanna feel what love is
I know you can show me

I'm gonna take a little time
A little time to look around me
I've got nowhere left to hide
It looks like love has finally found me...

And so on.

But after a few hours I ran out of new music and turned on the radio only to hear this earlier Foreigner song, the lyrics to which I also had never really listened to (commentary included):

Well, I'm hot blooded, check it and see
I got a fever of a hundred and three
Come on baby, do you do more than dance?
I'm hot blooded, I'm hot blooded

You don't have to read my mind, to know what I have in mind
Honey you oughta know
Now you move so fine, let me lay it on the line
I wanna know what you're doin' after the show

Now it's up to you, we can make a secret rendezvous
Just me and you, I'll show you lovin' like you never knew [I don't know anything, I'm 13!]

That's why, I'm hot blooded, check it and see
I got a fever of a hundred and three
Come on baby, do you do more than dance?
I'm hot blooded, hot blooded

If it feels alright, maybe you can stay all night [Gee, THANKS!]
Shall I leave you my key?
But you've got to give me a sign, come on girl, some kind of sign
Tell me, are you hot mama? you sure look that way to me

Are you old enough? will you be ready when I call you bluff? [um, NO!]
Is my timing right? did you save your love for me tonight? [EEEW...]

Yeah I'm hot blooded, check it and see [CHECK WHAT?!?]
Feel the fever burning inside of me
Come on baby, do you do more than dance? [I like band practice and social studies...]
I'm hot blooded, I'm hot blooded, I'm hot

Now it's up to you, can we make a secret rendezvous?
Oh, before we do, you'll have to get away from you know who [WHO?? DAD?!]

Well, I'm hot blooded, check it and see
I got a fever of a hundred and three
Come on baby, do you do more than dance?
I'm hot blooded, I'm hot blooded

Hot blooded, every night
Hot blooded, you're looking so tight [GAAAA!]
Hot blooded, now you're driving me wild
Hot blooded, I'm so hot for you, child [CHILD?!?]
Hot blooded, I'm a little bit high [INDEED!]
Hot blooded, you're a little bit shy [or TERRIFIED!]
Hot blooded, you're making me sing [Are you implying that your dick makes noise?]
Hot blooded, for your sweet sweet thing [How romantic...]

I prefer my anthem.  

But good for Lou Gramm.  Everyone's gotta grow up sometime, I guess.

I'm catching on.

You know, there's some good stuff that happens on reality TV. My new Vermont friends had me over for SYTYCD tonight and it was so much fun, but they told me to look up this dance and I love it. I love the glimpse into the rehearsal process (semi-precious dancer tears aside) and then the finished dance and that that GLORIOUS gift of immediate feedback (most artists don't get immediate feedback, if ever). But as I've seen a few more episodes of this show I'm really getting into the "contemporary category" in particular. The choreographers that work with on the show are, from what I understand, really high-quality and the dancers are talented and work their asses off and anyway, if people young and old all over America are getting excited about all different types of dance then YAY AMERICA. More art is GOOD.

Here goes.

New Celebrity Crush: Paul Schneider

So, we all loved Lars and the Real Girl, right? But he was all sexy and greasy in The Assassination of Jessie James by the Coward Robert Ford (God, what a title),




and now I learn that he's in the new Jane Campion movie (doing what I can only guess is a really good Scots dialect) and I IMDB'd him and found out he was born in 1976. Doesn't that surprise you a little? I mean, I'm 33, he's 33, and he looks like a grown up, so I guess I do, too. Sheesh.

Anyway. Very hot, very interesting actor. One to watch. And we can say with some certainty that the new Jane Campion movie may be boring and under-written but it will be sexy as hell and beautifully shot:



In fact it looks like Paul is giving the best performance in the whole film.

Okay, I admit it:

I am VERY anxious about what this woman is planning. I mean, for my own sanity I should just go with Occam's Razor: she's in debt and stressed and exhausted and embarrassed, and governing is harder and more boring than she thought, so she quit.

But what if that's not it....

Hey, Isaac, if you REALLY want to cry...

'SYTYCD' Top 8: Melissa & Ade's Contemporary Performance @ Y! TV

Ahh, youth.

This was the most important movie in my life when I was 14, and I still think it's one of the best movie kisses ever. How could I have guessed, at age 14, that I would never love anyone as much as they seem to love each other in this movie.

Really? Really.

Today after I got out of the shower, I stepped on a bee with my left foot and was stung.  I had to hurry over to rehearsal (we open tomorrow) and do the show in kinda serious pain (if there's not ice on it it kills), and then I drove over to the post office to drop off some mail, and somewhere along the way lost my left shoe.  I think it's in the street downtown, but I have no plans to go look for it.

Right now I'm soaking it in a baking soda paste, and hoping this stops hurting for our 2nd run. 'Cuz I can't walk on it or put it in a shoe and sock.

This blows.

****Update*****

It was a YELLOW JACKET, not a bee.  Yellow Jackets can sting you more than once buy don't leave the stinger in you.  I checked:  I found the corpse of my assailant and saw that indeed his stinger was still there.  I tried baking soda paste, epsom salts, ice and vinegar, and apparently the only remedy is time.  It's supposed to hurt for 48-72 fucking hours.

And it does hurt.  I haven't been stung since I was in grade school.  And I don't remember it hurting for more than an hour or two.  At least I'm not allergic.

Home Stretch

I finished Six Feet Under Season 4, and Season 5 is in the mail. One of my favorite things about Season 4 was Claire's final art project and show, and I found it on the SFU website. The art is by a fella named David Meanix.

Here he is is working with some cast members:




And if you like his work visit his website; lots of great mask work.

Fuckin' Technology (contemptuous snort)

So yesterday after rehearsal I went to see Public Enemies with a few cast members, and then we had dinner, and them we went over to another company member's house where we did some various substances and sat around a big bonfire in the yard.  And today the SM and a cast member and I went for a FIVE HOUR hike and lake swim in southern Vermont, off the Appalachian trail.  

The common theme:  the inability to be away from one's cellphone for more than a second. 

Since I've been here, the people around me have taken every call, answered every text, and listened to every voicemail, NO MATTER WHERE WE ARE or HOW RECENTLY ONE LAST HEARD FROM THAT PERSON.  Be it under the brightest stars I've seen in years, or on the top of a mountain, or in a forest, or a vegetable garden, or a bar, or an ice cream stand, these folks just gotta talk to their partners about what they're doing that EXACT moment, and what their partner is doing right now back in the city, and what EVERYONE had for lunch and what they're considering having for dinner.

I may be bitter, but can we all agree that that's just BULLSHIT?

There's a NEW one!

Oh, good grief.

So first we had "The Laramie Project," then we had "The Amish Project" and now we have "The Columbine Project"?!?

Really?  Really.

Look, if you wanna write (sorry, compile) a piece of theater about a contemporary American tragedy, go for it. Especially if it's gonna be as good as "The Laramie Project."  But do they all have to be PROJECTS? Can't we let it be a PLAY? Can't you guys come up with your own ideas?

Coming soon: "The Gloucester Teen Pregnancy Pact Project," "The Heaven's Gate Nike Track Suit Project," and "The Joaquin Phoenix Public Meltdown Project."  

Actually that last one may be in post-production.

Full-on crisis.

There really is a spider problem in this house. I was just taking a shower when a HUGE-ASS spider appeared, dangling from a web right in front of my face. I screamed, and got out of the shower still soapy. I studied the spider as calmly and rationally as possible, trying to think what to do with it. I'm not into killing spiders: I think that's bad for both my spider-attack karma and my regular karma. So I looked for a bowl or a cup or a wastebasket that was big enough to cover the thing and pin it to the wall with no chance of me missing and actually coming into contact with it, but with a mouth not bigger than the folder or a magazine I'd use to complete the trap.

Since I can be a little dim in times of crisis, I took my cat's food dish and pinned the spider to the shower wall without making sure my magazine was in easy reach. I froze and thought. Finally and painfully I stretched my way to a sheet of paper and slid it between the wall and the dish, and then I maneuvered that combo to a sturdier base of my resume folder, and then ran downstairs with it to let the spider out the front door, only to realize I was in the SKIMPIEST of nighties with no underwear of any kind underneath. I really might as well have been naked. Both Putneys caught me, and I had to apologize for my state of deshabille and my probably somewhat insulting terror of the spiders they allow to run rampant in their house.

That wasn't even the BITING kind. Just the big, spindly kind.

I'm getting the creepy-creeps.

Where do I fucking start II

Good: There's a Taco Bell on Benmont St.

Bad: The spider bit my knee (or his roommate did).

Good: I have SOOOO much free time I think I'll start writing that screenplay I've been thinking about for a year.

Bad: The show is TOO cute. High Fructose Corn Syrup-City.

Where do I fucking start.

Look. I TRIED to quit this job. I had a funny feeling. I need to listen to my FUNNY FEELINGS from this day forward.

The bad news:

The folks I'm staying with are nice and all, but I know they don't want me here. This was confirmed by my SM last night over drinks and dinner at the local pub during "Midnight Madness." This is why they only found me a place to stay 5 days before rehearsal started, and not incidentally 5 days before I told them I'd quit if I couldn't bring Pokemon.

During "Midnight Madness," I calculated that the local obesity rate is probably about 80%.

Speaking of calculations, since the theater is triple-booked all the time for some reason (it's a museum, a gallery, a theater, a jumping off point for tours, and a BARN) we are rehearsing 4 hour days. Huh-- so one week of rehearsal (minus Monday): that's 24 hours of rehearsal. Not cool.

There are mice scratching in the walls. Or worse (and more likely) BATS.

A very big spider lives in the corner or my room by my window. Sometimes, he goes away for awhile, and then returns. I was glad to see him return, actually, because then I knew he didn't crawl into my mouth in the night.

The good news:

When I'm done I'll have $1400 I didn't have last month and wasn't going to get any other way.

I bought "Play it as it Lays" by Joan Didion at 20% off at "Midnight Madness."

I get to do yoga DVDS with my laptop in a beautiful field, surrounded by the Green Mountains.

I'm not paying an A/C bill back in Boston for the hot months.

I have something to do to take my mind off the All My Sons audition in New York, which is only the most important audition of my "career" so far.

My host family has wifi.

Almost, Maine is cute no matter which way you slice it.

Hannaford's is open 27/7 (though the town rolls up the sidewalks come sundown. Might explain some of the obesity in fact). I bought pancake batter.

There is something very strange and beautiful about this little corner of the world.

I still wanna love you... I mean I still do...

...but Mr. President, you are still discriminating against gays. I mean, YOU can change things here. YOU can help. What are you waiting for? Your words, and what are hopefully your beliefs, aren't matching up with you actions on this particular front. And I really get scared when you do that.

You gave one helluva speech at the NAACP, the last 10 minutes of which got me VERY fired up, in a way I haven't been since the day you were sworn in, and I'm so proud you're our president. But this clip... ugh... reminds me you've got a LOT more work to do.

I just love this.

Live blogging of Almost, Maine rehearsal...

2:52 pm: We're blocking. Which involves only exits, entrances and standing and talking. When I try to mix it up by crossing down left or up right, he stops us, and tells me to stay still. This will look like an off-book staged reading, I guess.

Speechless.

I'm here. In Vermont. Mistake.

You can't suckle from the teat of a shooting star!!!!

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Half Baked Alaska
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Joke of the Day

That's SOOO true.

So, I don't know anything about chakras. The only thing I remember from whenever I first heard about them is that your sexuality chakra is red and is in your nether-regions. Not surprising, you might say, but as it turns out I remembered incorrectly. The red one means something else...

Whatever.

A few nights ago I could NOT fall asleep because I was so fiercely envisioning a glowing purple light that just wouldn't go away and wouldn't explain itself, and I thought, this might be some kinda weird Chakra-crap. I'll look it up tomorrow.

Online I found a Chakra Quiz, which I found very amusing, and the results I found embarassingly telling:



See that! Dude, I only have THREE open chakras: the purple and blue ones are OPEN, everything below the neck, not so open. The only thing below the neck, I found out by clicking on "what this means," is that my sexuality is in decent shape, but I'm totally scared and emotionally closed off (as demonstrated by my lowest functioning chakras, the red "root" chakra and the green "heart" chakra). Incidentally, I went to a psychic four years ago and she said the same thing after talking to me for half an hour.

I am not surprised by any of these findings, but it is a little sad, I think. But I think I should explore why my violet "crown" chakra is working overtime right now.


Take the test!

I'm not even going to THINK about the fact that I haven't changed much in the last four years.

Fuck.

You know, it's been a strange three weeks, and I'm not having a great night. I'm home between gigs for like 24 hours, and I'm totally restless. That last show was just... a wash. A blip. Meant nothing to me. It wasn't art. It wasn't particularly fun (the people were great, and it's a nice theater, but that PLAY). It was just a job. It was just WORK. And i didn't blog out there because I had to sit in the stairwell to get wireless connection.

I just came home, did the dishes and watched a little TV, and then tried to fix the bad haircut I got out there (my guy in Boston canceled, AGAIN), by just cutting big chunks out willy-nilly. It still looks awful.

And then I decided to get drunk.

I can't think of anything that would make me happy right now.

And I CAN'T seem to settle down for a full hour to work on lines for a show that I oughta be off book for on Tuesday. I just don't care.

At least this "headline" on yahoo!news made me chuckle:



I bet I won't have internet in Vermont either. I'll staying with The Putneys, a "nice couple" I haven't met yet. I just about quit that show this week at the last second because they weren't committing to housing me with my cat. Seriously, I threatened to quit. Freedom's just another word for I could take it or leave it.

Just gotta keep on movin'.

Aw yeah, baby: 207 and 207a

I moved. I have a wierd walk-in closet (207a) which is not big enough for a bed but appears to be considered a single dorm room for an unlucky Smith student, and a HUGE bedroom (207) with hardwood floors and a bay window, outside one of which there is a constant loud drip from the eaves after it rains (which lately is all the time). Penny bought me a catnip pouch and Poky played with it, got all bitey and paranoid, and then puked on the floor. Good thing we moved out of the carpeted room. Poor Poky's not good with the hard drugs.

We opened our show! It's not half-bad! This is a 500-seat theater, and it was insane to step out there tonight thinking, "Let's see if I say my lines and make all my entrances, and get all my scenes in order." And I did! See!? You CAN put up a show in a week. They've got it down to a science out here.