sometimes more feet than shoes.
Wednesday, March 31, 2004 The City Loves You. Also, It Wants to Kill You
I had one of those days where everything meshes together just so. The trains came exactly when I needed them to. I made three auditions today, with a minimum of waiting in line. Saw a poker buddy on the line. Even auditioned well.
My plans for the day were to include going to Brooklyn to watch an open dress rehearsal for BG's new show. By the time I got home, I was in no condition to go anywhere. Too tired. Way too freakin' tired.
At some point in the day, between audition one and work, I was walking down 7th Ave, my mind clicking away. An idea for writing popped into my head, as I was staring up at an iPod billboard. Where is it now? Still attached to the billboard, I guess.
| posted by christopher | 10:12 PM
Tuesday, March 30, 2004 May I Present
Ladies and gentlemen, whichever is which, the leader of the free world. | posted by christopher | 9:25 PM
Sunday, March 28, 2004 Keeps Raining
(or, my attempt at being a Goth poet)
It comes without my being aware. Suddenly I am foul, without a clue as to the cause. There is a hollow, an emptiness that has no way to be filled. I am angry at everything. Seething.
Last night I fell into a black mood. Don't know why. On some level, I don't care. Except that if I don't examine it, it's bound to come back. BG gets the brunt of it, of course, being the person trying to figure out why her man got all sullen and snippy.
These moods used to be the norm for me. An all around thing, or around all the time thing. No more, say I. No more. | posted by christopher | 4:44 PM
Wednesday, March 24, 2004 What's wrong here?
This is NEWS?
That isn't news, people; it's called acting. Groan. Some other Earthlink "News" stories include:
"Writer Uses People From Real Life In Novel"
"Accountant Remembers Error From Last Time Spreadsheet Went Across Her Desk"
"Taxi Driver Takes Shortcut"
"Painful Memories of Lost Love Inspire Poet"
Well, must be a slow news day. | posted by christopher | 2:29 PM dance, monkey.
Two auditions this week in which I was sure I would be getting a callback. Nothing. Today though, I am going to a dance callback, and I am more than a little nervous about it. I'm not much of the dancer. I'm not even sure I'd want to work at this place, truth to tell, except that a job there + the job this summer = 6 months of health care. Regardless, it's freaking me out. I just hope I don't crash into anyone. | posted by christopher | 10:49 AM
Tuesday, March 23, 2004 Madam Arcati, at your service
I had a dreamlast week that I came across a box of stuff I didn't realized I had. Some of the contents of the box included a raft of CD's I assumed lost in the move.
The other day I received a package in the mail from X containing some old programs from the Decadent South and Repressed New England that I didn't realize I still had.
Coincidence? Or am I finally psychic? | posted by christopher | 9:17 AM
Wednesday, March 17, 2004 Magically Delicious
I've never been big on St. Patrick's Day. I don't go out of my way to wear green. I don't slap on the Lucky Charms accent. And there's no way in hell you're going to get me to drink green beer. I mean, what's wrong with you. It seems like one of those strange American holidays where something arbitrary is celebrated because of it's inherent commercial value. Blech.
Today, though, I'm going to wear green. I'm going to let the one quarter of me that's Irish come out. I'm going to be spending all day and all night at the restaurant serving beer and hopefully raking in the dough hand over leprechaun fist. | posted by christopher | 9:50 AM
Tuesday, March 16, 2004 Reasons
I moved to New York for the greater opportunities offered here. I moved to New York because I want to act. I moved to New York because I was not getting what I wanted out of The Evil West.
Yesterday I had an audition for a show in Repressed New England, and am going to a callback for it today. Also, I was offered my first regional theatre part; the lead, no less. Get this, though: my agent is sitting on it because there may be better things in the queue. Saturday, I am auditioning for another show in Repressed New England.
This is why I moved to New York.
In other news, a shout-out to the Best Girl, who, it turns out, has been one of the three people who regularly reads these pages. (me: "How'd you find it?" BG:"You advertise on NYCBloggers.") Which is why I'm not writing about my recent tryst with the gay dwarf and the horse. You can feel free to comment, if you like. Perhaps help me with my over use of commas. | posted by christopher | 9:22 AM
Monday, March 15, 2004 House of Blues
The search for an acceptable domicle continues. We've looked thus far in Washington "How much longer do I have to sit on this damn train?" Heights, Park "Need to be an M.D." Slope, Brooklyn "Pepople live here?" Heights, Hell's "Ass-end of Manhattan" Kitchen, and The Upper "$400,000 for a STUDIO!?" East "Look, I can stand in the kitchen and the bedroom at the same time!" Side.
Yesterday we went back to Washington Heights with our expectations somewhat lowered. It's not that bad a neighborhood, really, and the commute isn't bad. BG takes the A train to Harlem every morning for her job, and it's speedy-speedy she says. And the apartment we looked at was bigger, if not better, than the current manse. And it was certainly better than the itty-bitty tiny Hell's Kitchen apartment past Tenth ave that was smaller than our living room and next door to a rehab clininc.
Gawd, but this sucks.
At the end of the hunt, BG and I started to have a conversation that ended with "I need to know that I'm more important than New York." I couldn't answer her. In reality, I don't want to choose. They're equal and I don't want to have to compromise either way. But my first reaction was "Crap, not again." | posted by christopher | 10:35 AM
Friday, March 12, 2004 Good enough
Tuesdays audition was a relevation. I was nervous and it showed. I was a little off key. I forgot lyrics. To an ABBA song. I kicked myself in the ass for several blocks afterward. I walked to the Drama Bookshop and browsed audition self-help books.
I keep repeating myself on this, but I'm sick of shooting myself in the foot by being a) underprepared and 2) being so worried about what people are thinking.
Mostly it's about what people think. I could not be less proud of myself in that regard. I worry about what the three people who might read this post will think. I worry about what the train conductor will think; what the newsie will think' what the random girl or guy on the street corner will think. If I weren't concerned about what people think, I wouldn't have a comments feature. I wish I could be one of those people who don't give a shit about what others think - my Dad is one - but I fear I will always be the one who worries about it. | posted by christopher | 7:22 PM
Tuesday, March 09, 2004 Mirror, mirror on the wall
Back in the Evil West I engaged in a little of the psychotherapy. Once a week I met with Bob, and Bob and I would talk about what was bothering me. Mostly we'd talk about X or we'd discuss my career agida. Bob helped me see how much I needed to move to New York. Bob helped me be ok with myself and my feelings about the family. Bob was an arts fan. He kept poetry journals in his office, went to the opera, told me stories about the famous people he'd grown up with, and even saw one of my shows.
Bob was old. He was frail looking, but he rode his bike every day until he took a spill on wet leaves and broke his leg. He's been doing this a long time. Once he told me that, until he met me, he used to tell patients that the only people who truly knew what they looked like were actors. After working with me and my somewhat unrealistic self view, he had to change his position.
Yesterday I had an audition for a Broadway tour. I thought I blew it. I'm going back today for a callback. Shows what I know. | posted by christopher | 9:56 AM
Monday, March 08, 2004 Oh. No.
The news is bad. While celebrity deaths generally merit only a "oh, gosh, too bad; I liked their work."
This is so very different. | posted by christopher | 7:21 PM Take my shift. Please.
Not a one of my coworkers is willing or able to pick up my Monday lunch shift. Three auditions today. Well two, since I have already skipped one on account of haveing to be at work later. Another is at 3:40, which is easily late enough for me to make after work. The sticky one is at noon. It is also the most important one. I don't get to audition for a Broadway every day. My options boil down to a) call in sick, which I am constitutionally incapable of doing; b) going in and telling the boss I need to leave for noon and will be back a.s.a.p.; or c) quitting. Or d) maybe my agent can swing a later slot.
There is no way I am not going to that audition. | posted by christopher | 9:23 AM
Sunday, March 07, 2004 A Walking tour of Brooklyn
A lovely one bedroom, nicely appointed, great layout. Courtyard garden, laundry, storage, bike room, very high ceilings, dishwasher. Bus stop close by. Right outside the window, in fact. Ground floor. Four hour commute to Manhattan.
Here's a recently remodeled one bedroom where the kitchen is in the living room. Literally. Everything was done to look like the break room of an investment brokerage: dark woods, green marble counter, working fireplace right nest to the built in SubZero.
Right near the MetroTech, here's an apartment ready to move into. Well, first we'd have to pull up the wall to wall carpeting that I am quite sure was once beige. And we'd have to paint. And fumigate. And possible remove our eyes with a broach. | posted by christopher | 6:59 PM
Thursday, March 04, 2004 Schmolitics, or This Is All I Have To Say On That
I was excited by the prospect of Howard Dean. Here's a guy who, call him crazy if you want to, spoke what he thought and was an actual, friggin' LIBERAL. All the crap about electability aside, I was charmed by his utter lack of political skill.
Now the race is on between the Cadaver and the Moron. I certainly think ANYBODY is better than the current resident of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, but I'm not terribly excited by this contest. It might be interesting to see if W. can smirk his way through the debates this time, or if Kerry can survive the Right's painting of him as a flip-flop artist.
One thing I do know, there are others who comment on the this much better than I, and I'm leaving it to them. | posted by christopher | 6:26 PM
Monday, March 01, 2004 Might not want to do that again
When making a pot of coffee, it is theoretically possible to forget to place the carafe under the filter basket. In such a theoretical instance, it would be possible for the heating element to short out, with only the smallest bit of popping and sparks. With the theoretical burner theoretically shorting, it could happen that the power strip into which this coffee maker is plugged would not trip, causing an excess of heat where said power strip is attached to, oh let's say an extension cord. Now this extension cord, if the heat were theoretically high enough, could begin to smoke. And melt.
This is the beginning of what could be called an Electrical Fire, and is undesirable in one's place of work.
Theoretically | posted by christopher | 8:56 PM