Out Of The Woods

Man, I don't know where to begin...

It's strange to be ready/glad something's over and sad/down that it's over - all at the same time. Since I consider myself a hobbyist, not an actor, I've always said that I'm in shows to meet people, make new friends. (Yes, there is the whole attention whore part of myself, the huge blackhole that needs to be filled with other people's laughter, applause, praise - psychic vampire - but that's off topic). Every significant friend I've made since I moved down to Orlando has come to me through performing. And that's funny cause I don't consider these people "theatre" people - just friends. And Into The Woods is another example of what I think I love about doing theatre - you create this...organism...you build it up from all the strange DNA on the table...mixing and bouncing all the energy off of every person in the cast...and like some terrible insect, it only exists for a short period of time...then it's gone...frozen in your memory...insert your own Jurassic Park amber reference here...and all the inside jokes, the waiting in the wings, the labor pains that get you to an Opening Night...all fade into a familiar pattern in your mind, maybe labeled under "This Is How It Always Goes"...but at the same time, within the same sense-memory of repeated steps...there are also moments so unique that only a handful of people will ever be able to talk in the short hand language needed to describe them. You and a bunch of strangers (or if you're lucky, friends...and if you're luckier a few strangers that become friends) get together and do something that nobody else will ever do...there's never another show like it...and if you changed one person (and sometimes you'd like to) you change the whole creature. And when it's tick tick ticking away....when everyone is in the zone...God, it's a beautiful fucking thing to be a part of...it makes you want to laugh and cry all at the same time. And the added bonus (for me) is walking away with a few more friends than when I started out...friends who go on to other projects and who'll one day will invite me to sit out there in the dark and watch them create other worlds, other creatures...and, if I remain the lucky bastard I am...I'll get to work with them again on something else...somewhere down the line. There'll never be another Into The Woods like this - David, Amanda, John, Tyler, Zinnia, Angela, Mirianette, Geoff, Charlie, or (God help us), Chad or Ashley. And we'll never spend as much time together as we did with this show, that's the sad thing...the thing that gets me down. The same way I got down after Rocky, knowing that Tammy, Tyler, Todd, Jenn, and I would never be those phantoms, those creations again. But I've gotten the chance to work with Todd and Tyler again....and now, with Oedipus, I'm working with Jenn and Tammy....and I know that I will work with the rest of you as well. That's good to know. That makes me smile.

And now, we present: Chad Is Only Afraid Of CockRoaches.

Chad: (repeated for the last ten minutes): Cockroaches are the only thing I'm scared of.

Josh: (he knows it's like kicking a puppy but he just has to) What about sharks, Chad.

Chad: (he's been ready for this and is just glad someone is talking to him) No, cause I swam with sharks at Sea World.

Josh: (knows that those sharks at Sea World are a bunch of pussies that don't deserve the name) No, what about great white sharks off the coast of South Africa, jumping outta the water like heliocopter...would that scare you?

Chad: (I wonder if Josh is annoyed with me?) No.

Josh: (can feel the savage Lord of The Flies vibe in the dressing room and is now on a roll) No? Giant fucking sharks flying through the air? Not scary? How about cobras, Chad. How about you're taking a shower and someone throws a bunch of cobras in there with you? Maybe, huh. Maybe a little scary. Just a bit. How about drowning, Chad. Is drowning scary, are you scared of that? Or maybe of being burned alive, scary yet? Or how about this, you jump into a pool and someone spreads oil on the surface of the water and sets it on fire and everytime you try to come up for air they punch you in the face -- GET BACK IN THE FIERY WATER CHAD!!!!! GET BACK IN THE FIERY WATER CHAD!!!! -- Would that maybe be a little scary?

I would like to thank Kevin and Marcie and Steve and Heather and Kevin and Megan and Elizabeth and Michael and Jeff for coming out to the show this weekend. Again, I'm lucky to have friends like you guys.

Damn, last day on February. 26 years and 10 days old.

The Party Tax

Some people just don't know how to throw a party....

So let me make it clear that a bowl of Cheese Nips, a bowl of peanut M&M's, and tap water do not a party make make.

Or billing something as a cast party and for every one cast member or tech crew (and I'm even throwing in boyfriends and girlfriends of cast members and tech crew) there's three people unrelated to Into The Woods in any way...

This made me bring something out of retirement...the party tax. Amber will know all about this.

If you are at a party that is completely lame...but there's some obligation that forces you to be there...you may take certain items home with you...to compensate you for your lack of a good time.

I usually go for a remote control, if I can find one. Magnets from the fridge work too.

Then there's always posters....but that's really for a pro....and I'm a little rusty (I guess that means I go to a lot of good parties these days).

Lots Of Pretty, Pretty Ones...

Two of my best birthday presents this year have been musical in nature: The original cast recording of Jacques Brel Is Alive And Well And Living In Paris and and The Scissor Sisters DVD: We Are Scissor Sisters And So Are You. Different ends of the spectrum but both very fun.

Even though I want to label it under Complete Waste Of My Time - I'm sort of looking forward to seeing my Into The Woods cast tonight at our pick up rehearsal. It's strange, I'm kind of ready for the show itself to be over - but I know I won't see everyone from the cast on a regular basis once next Sunday rolls around (just the nature of the beast). Got to enjoy these last four shows.

Good luck to Tyler and Amanda on their School House Rocks callbacks. And Ward too. And I'm dying to know what Marcie may have gotten into? Is it bad luck to tell us the name of the show? Comments requested...

Well, I hear the Call Of The Compulsion - time to do a little cleaning.

Rehearsal Diet

Loinclothes. Mud. Henna tattoos. Bones. Feathers. Not too African. Not too Indian. Not to Native American. Not too South American. Pieces of metal. Bracelets. Anklets.

Those are the costume ideas for Oedipus.

And just the little bit of tribal dancing that we did for our "Prologue" last night -- was tiring...my thigh muscles are burning this moring...

But it looks like a mostly-but-not-really-but-yes-really naked kind of show -- at least for us Greek Chorus people.

Good News Rumor: Avis Marie Barnes might be our Jocasta. I had the chance to work with her when I did MSG for Playwright's Roundtable. She is an amazing and talented person and I bet she would rule all over the part. She just has that regal kind of bearing.

Christain Kelty is our Creon. It'll be cool to get to work with him. And Jeff Lindberg himself is The Chorus Leader/Preist Of Zeus/that blind prophet that tells Oedipus the prophecy and I can't think of his name...

John is, of course, really cool to work with. Really...free, full of ideas, passion. Anna and Kevin (our choreographer and musical director) both seem really cool as well.

There are 12 Chorus members - I don't know anyone except Tammy and Jenn - 4 guys and 8 girls. I don't know what kind of a Tribe we'll make - but last night's rehearsal went pretty well.

I'll keep everyone posted, of course.

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And on my birthday front - I would just like to thank all my friends, old and new, for coming out so late Saturday night and helping me celebrate my birthday. I love all of you. You're...just...I'm lucky to have surrounded myself with so many good people. I had a great time and I hope that you did as well.

And, lucky me, that my birthday comes in waves this year....Gina and Geoff are coming down for a MegaCon / Into The Woods combo on Saturday....Kevin and Marcie are seeing Into The Woods that night too....hopefully we can all go do something afterward....and Kevin and Megan and Ethan are coming down to see the show Sunday (they can't come Saturday cause they're going to a wedding....Tim Studer's wedding, can you believe it?)

I'm just a lucky bastard, I suppose.

I Hate To Advocate Drugs, Alcohol, Violence, Or Insanity To Anyone, But They've Always Worked For Me.

Hunter S. Thompson was found dead of a self inflicted gunshot wound.

Damn. Dammit to Hell.

It's Not, What You Thought...When You First Began It...

Happy Birthday to me.Today I'm 26. I assume I'm 26, I've never asked Mom exactly what time I was born and I've never heard her tell that part of the story. I do know that my umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck and that I was blue - some think this is why people become left handed - a lack of blood flow at a crucial moment during birth - I don't know if that's true. 26. So much closer to those numbers that I think of as "adult" numbers - numbers where there's little room for error (the kind of error that I always have at my fingertips). I know my Dad always tells stories about how he never really ever expected to live as long as he has - he always says he assumed he'd be dead early, by some misadventure. This isn't some morose trait of my Dad's - he just has a lot of great stories where he was somewhere he shouldn't have been, doing something he shouldn't have been doing, with people he shouldn't have been hanging around. I'm my father's son, I suppose - I always saw myself in that "Fucked Up And Dead At 27" Club. Selfish, stupid, immature, involved, I know - but truthful. So, it seems...wierd (that's the only word I can think of...but even it doesn't have the right...taste) to be starting this journey to the lands where only decades are celebrated as landmarks...30...40...50...60...can any of you imagine a 60 year old Josh? What sort of twisted, diabolical creature would he be? And what would he think about his younger counterpart? I blame and accuse the Josh Of Ten Minutes Ago as though he were a bastard and a thief...but me from a year ago...two, three...different animal...genetic markers might be the same but I doubt I'd have much to say to 18 or 10 year old Josh. Onion skin.

Let's shake off where that mood wants to take me, shall we. Let's make the choice to be brighter today, not so...prone...to all that shit.

Let's go for a cheap, diverting laugh: my Milky White costume smells like a jizz rag. Gives new meaning to the character's name, yes?

Last night's preview went okay. I had some trouble (of the running into walls variety) but mostly my show, my track went well -- as to the rest of the show, it's hard to say from my vantage. I do know that it was cool to hear Jeff's laugh out in the audinece last night. Very cool of both him and Rob to come last night.

Drink From My Cup, Oh Parched One

Homeless people should be shot in the back of the head and buried in a mass grave. Or they should at least have the decency to kill themselves, these lovers of life.

If those sentences offends you - then you probably don't want to read the rest of this post. Spoilers ahead.

It's not that I don't feel bad for people - but on a Saturday night, sometimes it's nice to sit outside, on the patio of a bar, and drink. And sometimes, when this happens, you don't bring enough change with you for the whole homeless population of Orlando.

Sarah, Jeff, Rob, and myself were all downtown, at Lake Eola Wine Company last Saturday - having a good time, sitting under a mushroom heater that had a fresh tank of propane...laughing, planning to do a little bar hopping (something unusual for us) when:

Homeless Man #1 approaches - I never got a look at him because my years of being a courier downtown have trained me to ignore the bleating of sheep like this. And they always have some bullshit story, and his was that he was writing a book and wanting to know if we knew any publishers -- Sarah, "No, sorry." -- Jeff, "Can't think of any." -- Rob, "No." -- Me - Silence. Oh, okay, well, can I have a quarter. Sorry, none of us have cash on us. (But we all have to say it in that awkward, tail-between-our-legs way, that denying money to the homeless always brings out of people - cause you don't have to be the fucking Stephen Hawking of Homeless Guys to know that people drinking at the Lake Eola Wine Company probably have a little folding money in their pockets -- even if they can barely afford to drink there themselves). So, no book deal and no quarter for Homeless Guy # 1 (aka The Cleanest of The Homeless Guys we were to encounter that night).

Which brings us to Homeless Guy #2 -- and Jeff Lindberg acting very much like Josh Geoghagan.

HG #2 strides up - no bullshit, no story - and demands a dollar, or, "a sip of any of that wine you got there, preferably white" -

And Jeff says, in the knee jerk way speaking to pushy Homeless makes you speak, "No thanks."

And HG #2 says - "What the hell are you thanking me for?" Followed by various grumbles and rumbles as he shuffles off.

And, Jeff loses his shit (it was great) -- "You've got to be kidding me? What did he expect? For me just to give him my glass, like, here you go, brother. Drink from my glass, oh parched one. Has that ever worked for him do you think? Has anyone sitting here ever given him their wine to drink? Anyone. Like, sorry, we're not drinking white -- what is he -- an expert. Pinot all the way. Maybe we could have gotten rid of him sooner by talking about Merlot? Would he have done the whole wine expert thing - spitting the wine back into the cup"

Rob, Sarah, and myself added our little jokes too -- but Jeff got in the best line of the evening with his "Drink of my cup, oh parched one." Classic.

Homeless Guy #3 wanted to exchange two dollars in change for two dollar bills -- but the fact that he shit his pants before presenting us with this business opportunity kinda soured his chances.

So, it was on to the next bar for us -- an indoor one.

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This week -- hell week -- has been so crazy, there's been no time to post.
Tonight is our last rehearsal -- at this point it's really tech that needs to play catch up, set lighting cues, and special effects and such.
I love that everyone has issues with their costumes. Everyone. Cause as we all know, 'it's sad to be all alone in the world.'

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DaDum Dadadadada DaDa DaDum Dadadadada DaDa

A bomb is under a table and it explodes. That is surprise.
A bomb is under a table and doesn't explode. That is suspense.

- Alfred Hitchcock

Now That I Have Your Attention

Maybe I'm feeling a little Cro-Magnon today - I think it should be okay to choke/strangle some people in order to get their attention/let them know you have a problem with their line of reasoning. Not kill them - just strangle them until they pass out. Then when they come around, a new dialogue can begin, with their old, outdated ideas left to the past as you both step forward on the right foot.

Let me give you an example: Virginia, the good for fucking nothing numb cunt bitch costume designer for Into The Woods.

A few weeks back, up in her lair above the stage, I can remember being laughed at and mocked for not liking the horrible cow head that's a part of my costume -- Now, realize that that's not what they (Virginia and her students/cronies/clones/other useless slags) were laughing at -- they were under the mistaken idea that I was mad because the horrible cow head had pink ribbons on it -- "You're a girl, after all." -- Stupid fucking cunt. I know Milky White is a girl, I don't have a problem with that -- I had/have a problem with how ugly the head is and how impractical it is -- (the harness inside it shifts around and the quote unquote eyeholes are useless because they don't match up with where the harness is, so I'm blind on my right side, and the angle I get out of the left side is of the ceiling -- really fucking useful) -- flash forward and then rewind to last night -- I go up to try on my costume (and let me just say how much complaining I have to listen to from Virginia on the way up about how demanding everyone is being and her attitude is: fuck them, I don't give a shit) -- lo and behold, here's my Milky White costume, the head is as I've already described it, and the body is servicable but not much better -- except for THE HUGE BROWN BALLSAC MADE OUT OF SOCKS that's attached to it.

As I like to say first thing in the morning when I wake up: Whafuck?

Yes, a big brown ballsac, complete with two, count 'em, two huge coconut sized balls.

"Oh, you put balls on it. Ha." Is all I can say through clenched teeth.

"Yeah. Isn't it great. It's gonna be so funny. It's great." Virginia the numb cunt bitch says.

Be Diplomatic. "Ha. But I thought that Milky White was a girl. You know, only girls can give milk."

And she just looks at me like I'm a fucking mongoloid that she has to explain the joke to: "That's why it's funny, he's a boy, so he can't give milk."

Am I in a fucking sanitarium for the mentally challenged, it was at this moment that a clear, white hot hatred for this woman blossomed inside of me like a beautiful, evil lotus. You cunt. You fucking idiot bitch. You lazy slag cunt. Am I surrounded by crazy idiots -- the girl playing The Witch is cawing and cackling her approval of my new bovine testicles. I could kill everyone in this room right fucking now - it's up to me to keep this sort of insanity from cursing anyone else. Where am I? What the fuck is going on? What is this bestial nightmare? How much of this is my own fault? Who's to blame? How many times would I have to hit her in the face with one of my stilt-hooves to make the world a safe place for truth, justice, Mom, apple pie, baseball, Chevrolet, and The American Way?

Instead I put on the fucking costume and parade to the stage - to the hoots and jeers of a cast driven mad with bloodlust at the sight of fake brown balls.

Thank Christ and Allah and Kali Herself that Anne didn't approve the fake balls. Although, Virginia The Cunt fought tooth and cigarette stained nail for them. It's no act - she loved those fake balls.

It was around this time - trapped inside the giant pink vagina of the horrible cow head - that I came up with the simple, physical act of the choke hold as a form of ultimate veto.

I'd like to think that a Virginia waking up from being attacked by a hermaphrodite cow, balls and pink ribbons swinging, would be a better member of the human race. An upstanding citizen. Someone on a different course than the slagheap who squirmed and fought the soothing blackout, saliva spraying over the brown bovine ballsac that I would use as a garrote.

I'd like to think that...


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Now for something...other:

Name Your Favorite______ when you were a kid.

1) Muppet.

Kermit.

2) Dukes Of Hazzard character.

Waylon Jennings as The Narrator. "Them Duke Boys done got themselves into a heap of trouble."

3) Disney character.

Maleficent. She sort of scared me and attracted me all at once.

4) Book.

The Hobbit. Hands down. I love all fantasy but this is THE STORY for me, the one that started it all, my love for a whole genre (and the root of my love for sci fi, superheroes, and other related stuff)

5) Movie.

A bunch. Star Wars (over and over again). The Goonies. Gremlins. Cloak & Dagger. The Flight Of The Navigator. The Last Unicorn. Dark Crystal. Labryinth. The Transformers Movie. I seem to remember watching a Rainbow Brite movie where this kid had a flying robot horse that was really cool. A cartoon movie by Miyazaki called Nausicaa Of The Valley Of The Wind (That's Lord Yupa, kill him and you'll be famous!!) Back To The Future. The Hobbit (the Rankin/Bass cartoon version) D.A.R.R.Y.L. The Karate Kid. Ewoks: The Battle For Endor. Conan The Destroyer (I like it better than the first one)

Magic Number

3 Names you go by:

Josh (the classic)
Joseph Joshua (but only when someone is appalled at something I've done)
Joe Goeghagan (this alias of mine worked at Lowndes for a while)

3 Screen Names you have:

Greyjoy is really the only one I've ever used.

3 Things you like about yourself:

My sense of humor

(this is a hard question)

3 Things you dislike about yourself:

(ah, now this is more like it)
My cowardice
My 'glass half empty' chemistry
My wishy washy nature

3 Parts of your heritage:

American Indian (Cherokee, I believe)
Irish
English

3 Things that scare you:

Clowns
Heights
Deep Places (like wells, caves, or ocean trenches)

3 Everyday Essentials:

A shower
coffee
yoga

3 Things you're wearing right now:

Mickey Mouse T-shirt (yellow and blue)
pajama shorts (white and burgandy striped)
underwear (also burgandy)

3 of your favorite Bands/Artist of all time:

Beck
Prince
Johnny Cash

3 of your favorite songs at present:

Any bits that I can remember from Nirvanov
"Evil" by Interpol
"The Ballad Of Maxwell Demon" from Velvet Goldmine Soundtrack

3 Things that you want to try in the next 12 months:

Writing a story
Acting in a Fringe show
Perfecting my Pan Am smile at a new job

3 Things you want in a relationship (love is a given):

passion
communication that happens with just a raised eyebrow or a twitch of the lips
a sense of the absurd

2 Truths and 1 Lie:

I'm a venomous bastard that has a 'kill switch' on all my friendships - I know the exact 'deal breaker' thing I can say to anyone that will make certain they never want anything to do with me ever again.

I keep the vast majority of my opinions to myself

I killed that fat barkeep.

3 Physical Things about the opposite sex that appeal to you:

Redheads
A nice bum
pixie-like body shape

3 Things you just can't do:

Be happy more than sad

Be serious more than silly

Be straight and narrow more than twisted and wide

3 of your favorite hobbies:

Acting
Reading
Gaming

3 Careers you're considering:

Writer
Cardsharp
Junkie

(but I haven't written anything in a while and I'm still kind of scared of starting)

3 Places you'd like to go on vacation:

Japan
The U.K.
Australia

3 Things you want to do before you die:

Start something and finish it
Enjoy what I do for a living
Get away with something

3 Ways you're like a stereotypical guy:

(another hard one)

I like College Football
I'm not very romantic
I sweat - a lot

3 ways you're like a stereotypical chick:

I'm offended that you used the term, 'chick'
I like to wear make up - I'm waiting for the next show that gives me an 'excuse' to wear make up again.
I sometimes stick my dick between my legs and talk in the voice of the guy from Silence Of The Lambs:
"Put the lotion in the basket."

Maybe that's more like a stereotypical serial killer.....oh well...question answered.

Milky "Why?"-te

Tonight, it's back Into The Woods....gonna actually see what my costume looks like....since I missed dress parade on Monday....I feel like I've typed these words a hundred times in the last few posts but here they are again: Let's see how this plays out...

Take It Or Leave It

Boys act too much, girls act too tough, enough is enough.

Turn Out The Light - And Then Turn Out The Light

Can't even chart this mood - it's a rogue.
Can't explain it to myself - it involves my feelings about too many different people.
It exists in my head more like a series of shapes - instead of thoughts - most of them sharp.
Just need it let it play out, die down...

Deeper And Deeper

When you know the house to clean, you can clean most anything, that's what my Mama told me...

Not a Quiz - just a general question - what is your favorite music to clean house to?

I had a pretty fun mix going today, including:

Madonna - Deeper And Deeper
Me First & The Gimmie Gimmies - Cabaret
The Darkness - Get Your Hands Off Of My Woman
STP - Big Bang Baby

...among others...

I Paid Eight Bucks For This Movie And I'm Not Leaving Until I See A Midget Pop Out Of A Windmill

Jeff, Sarah, and I went to see The Rich Weirdoes take on Baz Luhrman's Moulin Rouge last night. And I've got to say that it was pretty damn good.

The costumes, the staging, the casting were all sharp. And fun - it was interesting to see how they handled shadowing some of the scenes. The stand out moments: 'Roxanne' (wth Logan - such a nice guy - as The Narcoleptic Argentinean), 'Like A Virgin' (Ofir as Zidler was spot on and the guy shadowing The Duke was funny as hell), the Can Can and The Diamond Dogs sequence was wonderfully done, the girl playing The Little Green Fairy was good, and of course, my Rocky Horror cast mate, Tammy, playing Satine was a stand out - she was the best shadow up there, syncing up with the movie effortlessly - and had about 50 costume changes to boot.


The overall atmosphere was just fun. My only problems with the shadow cast was a few of the dialogue scenes not being shadowed - but in their defense, they only had three weeks and I think that the original idea was to just perform the musical sequences - oh, and the guy shadowing the Ewan McGregor track - sometimes I wanted to scream, "Have you never lip synced in the car, come on!"

And since the crowd was a Rocky type crowd, there were a few proto-callbacks thrown at the movie. Most of them didn't really work (and, oddly enough, a lot of them didn't happen until the end of the movie - where were these people during those long dialogue scenes?). The title of this post is by far the funniest one of the night - to me - it was perfectly timed and the crowd ate it up.

Some others:

Ewan McGregor sings 'Come What May' and a girl in the back of the audience sings 'I'm Not Gay' over him.

In one of the few callbacks to happen at the begining of the movie, when the title card came up: Paris 1900 - somebody yelled out: 'Paris? What the fuck happened to Denton?'

When Satine dies at the end - someone starting singing - 'Consumption Junction, What's Your Function?...'

When Ewan McGregor throws the money at Satine for 'curing him of love' - someone yelled out - 'You're not getting any change!'

My second favorite - and one that seemed really organic and funny - whenever Satine coughs - the whole audience would start coughing really dramatically.

And even though we were all turning into pumpkins - we stuck around to tell everybody what good jobs they did - and to check out the 'backstage - staging area' (which was much bigger and cooler than I thought it would be). It was cool to see Tammy and Jay again. And Tyler was there (with a story that made me glad I didn't have to go to rehearsal Wednesday) and Seth and Kim and Matt Majors (okay that one - not so cool to see again - I did a great job of not shaking hands or hugging with him).

I almost wish I was involved with the show - cause I have about a hundred little ideas about small additions that could be made that would be fun for the audience. Pinwheels. The prop bags should have pinwheels in them. That's all I'm saying.

They are performing the show this weekend and next weekend, all shows at midnight. If you get a chance to check it out, you'll have a good time. www.richweirdoes.com

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Before the show, Jeff and I went down to Taste for a little preshow snack. Goatcheese. Olives. Tucher. Riesling. You know, the basics. Had a great conversation - played this game Jeff came up with on the spot, I'll call it the Sensory Game for lack of a better name - You come up with a Sight, Smell, Sound, Taste, or Tactile Sensation that immediately comes to your mind when thinking of a particular memory. We did a whole lists worth of Rocky Horror Sensory Game. Let me say once again: I love College Park. Besides the fact that it's a tad expensive - why don't I go to Taste more often - every time I go there, I have a nice time. It's such a cool little place.


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As much as I'm not jumping for joy about ITW - Sarah's stories about Everyman put it in perspective.

How much does this suck - she has rehearsal Monday through Thursday, not on Friday - me - nothing all week except Friday. Sucks.

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Still feel that buzz about that story (if it's a story). Got some nice, 'go get 'em, champ' comments from Amber and David - so, for those I say thanks. I'll keep you posted. In person, or blog form.

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I was so tired this moring - I had promised Sarah coffee - (staying up late, almost meaningless to me, I have this whole day to stretch out, if I wanted) - my alarm clock doesn't work anymore (it's like me, I suppose) - I think the first sentence I made this morning was - "Two White Chocolate Mochas, please." to which I was asked, "What size?" by the militant bald guy behind the counter - not that he was being a dick - he was just in morning rush/let's make this quick mode - And I seriously thought - "Fuck. They have different names for their sizes. What the fuck are they?" Now, he would have accepted me saying, "Medium.", I'm sure - but in my frozen state I felt myself slowly flipping through my mental vocabulary rolodex, trying to find the fucking word I needed - feeling myself holding up the line - until finally my mouth (all on it's own - it does this more than I care to admit) said, "Grande." - Thank you crocodile brain, coffee for all, you are my hero.

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I have received two phonecalls on my cell this morning - from a number that doesn't come up as someone's name - and I'm sorry - but whoever the fuck they are - they haven't left a message - so, fuck 'em, as we say in the industry - Sometimes I don't pick up my cell even when I can read the name coming up - that's usually the case - leave a message, you know - Why do I feel like its bad news, trying to catch up with me? - if it's important, leave a message - although, sometimes, I'm a little freaked out to check voicemails - one day the shoe is gonna drop and it's going to be this horrible news - it's like hiding from this event - excuse me, Event - that hasn't happened yet - but whoever this person is - they can call from now to the end of time and I will never answer a random number that calls - a voicemail will eventually get checked - it's the Pandora in me - random number, never. Leave a message, you evil, cruel, baby killing bastard, you heathen pervert, you cockteasing, tormenting fucking sadist, you fuckface, evil son of a bitch, calling me, grinning like a cat shitting in pure delight - who the fuck do you think you are?

I love caller ID.

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Well, my blood is up. Let's go do some yoga, shall we?

Gigi Slings Some Game

Bad to the Bone or Rotten to The Core?

My core is fairly mild mannered, so I'll say Bad to the Bone.

Hell Bent or Heaven Bound?

I'm probably doomed to some purgatory. Maybe Phoenix.

Night Owl or Early Bird?

Night Owl Massacre

Matte or Glossy?

Umm. Matte.

Open Book or Putting Up Walls?

I'm an Open Book - then once I've told all my secrets and been good and fucked over - I Put Up Walls (surprising and annoying everyone)

Tomorrow Is Another Day or No Day But Today?

Yankees? In Tara? I won't think about that now...

I wish I could hold to those Fortune Favors The Bold / No Day But Today impulses.

An Unholy Buzzing

As my Dad would say, "I don't know if I'm washing or hanging out." (He's got a million of 'em, nyuk, nyuk)

I'm listless - nothing satisfies - not watching a movie, not TV, not reading - book, magazine,The Weekly, don't want to take a nap, don't want to listen to music, don't want to draw, don't want to go anywhere, the house is boring and fairly clean, I'm beat, I'm broke, I'm bored -- but -- but there's this one thing, this kind of buzzing in my ear...

Silly as it may be...or simple as it may be...all I want out of life...God, it's going to look so stupid and tiny written out here...all I want to do is write a fantasy story. Yes, yes, yes...like a million geeks and losers before me, I know. Something vast and world building and magical but personal and real and dark.

All day today - the bare bones of these strange characters have been bugging me, showing me glimpses of themselves...I'm not even sure where they would all fit into the story yet...I'm not even sure exactly what the story would be...and I'm scared cause I just don't think I have the chops to try...I don't know that I know how to flesh them out, fill in the blanks, and put them all into a story...

What if you're a fuck up and a failure -- but suddenly, you're the only person around when people need help -- and you know that if you do nothing, people will get hurt -- you're not part of the flock anymore, you're not anonymous -- you're all people have, not because of some lame prophecy or fate -- just dumb luck, randomness, and your own sense of...how things should work -- what if this were the event that forced you to grow up and become an adult, in a scary adult world, full of lots of people who have played the game longer than you -- and in most cases, play it better -- but you have to try --

I think that's the theme for the main guy, the main character (no crazy fantasy names yet, ha-ha).

I think of the stories I like (Martin, Meiville, Herbert) and what those people have done with the fantasy standards -- how they turn them on their heads -- vast, sprawling worlds that seem real or like they could be 'the world next door' - they have weight, history, and kind of a dirty mundane quality. No black and white. Tons of gray. Three million sides to everything.

No Dark Lords -- in my mind -- the villain (or the proto-villain) is kind of the middle management of evil. Or better yet, of entrophy. He just wants to maintain the status quo -- keep everything right where it is -- no matter what.

These other characters pop up like suits from a strange Tarot Deck: The Assassin Infested With Two Demons, The Boy Whore (sometimes thought of as The Painted Boy), The Drug Addicted Cardsharp, The Savage King (Savage King Simon, sometimes), The Failed Messiah, and his sister, The Possible Messiah....and of course my 'hero' (sometimes thought of as The Worst Apprentice)...and the 'villain' (sometimes thought of as The Chamberlain -- like Dark Crystal)....there are others....fucking Cecil B. Demille, right....and other concepts: a decadent, crumbling empire....an upstart nation....rebellions....spies....strange bloodlines....dying gods (or things that might at one time thought of themselves as gods)....

I don't know quite what to do with this. I'm at a lose, at sea. There's all this buzzing and I don't know how to make sense of it....and the thought of fucking it up....

It's scary to start. It's scary to think that you just don't have the talent to get from Point A to Point B.

And I can't even quite see Point A from where I am now.

Who Knows, One Day One Of These Women May Be Firing Me.

Just got home from an interview with AmSouth. Part part part time position. It went pretty good. I don't think I'm intimidated by interviews the way I use to be. It's like I have this hidden level of interview-charm that I keep in reserve. I ended up talking with Vivianna and Michelle about an hour longer than most interviews take. I seem to remember the same sort of thing happening with Terrence - we went on about film noir and Audrey Hepburn for 45 minutes. Anyway, it went well. We'll see. It would bring in a little money while I'm figuring things out.

Kaotic Chic

Say it with me...

As we all know by now - I love lists. Especially, if they walk the fine line between serial killer notebooks scribblings and cryptic ransom notes. When I was cleaning the house last week, I found a little pad of yellow paper (the kind of pads we used at Foley - not the kind we used at Lowndes). I realize that I have always written out these lists - lists of books, lists of DVDs, lists of cities, lists of gangsters, lists of Star Wars characters, lists of songs...
This list is entitled, "Words I Love"
Milquetoast
hippodrome
zeitgeist
hubris
sotto voce
atavism
hegemony
cuckold
bon mot
kitsch
For reasons that must have seemed terribly important to me at the time, I wrote out the definition to each of these words as well. I wish simple boredom at work could explain why this was vital. I have dozens of notebooks and scrap paper filled with stuff like this.

Sarah would be terrified...

A...flock of birds...Jesus, there must be a hundred of them...have descended onto the tree outside the window. There are more birds than leaves at this point...and they must be in the middle of some sort of political debate -- they're loud.

Saint Valentine...

(random Google search - various sites - no facts checked for validity)

--- At least 3 different Saint Valentines are mentioned in the early martyrologies (their word not mine but I could easily add this to my list of words I love) under the date of February 14th.

--- Started in the Roman Empire, February 14th was originally a holdiday to honor Juno.

--- "Only Capone kills like that." said Bugs Moran after learning that seven of his men had been killed in a warehouse on Clark Street.

Only happy when it rains...

1) Cloudy or sunny?

Cloudy. Today is great. Seattle, London. I would get along fine with rain. It might even make me appreciate the occasional hot, blistering day.

2) Wheat or white?

Wheat.

3) Center of the room or near the walls?

Depends on the situation. Even when I'm near the walls, I want to be in the center of the room. And when I am the center I don't feel like I should be there - that's the dichotomy.

5) Harp or Pitchfork?

Paraphrased Chekhov quote: " I never meant to write about angels or devils. But I couldn't help writing about a few clowns" As much as I'd want to be a hero or a villain -- my nature is more jester-like than anything else.

7) Burn Out or Fade Away?

I turn 26 this month. It's also in my nature to fall for the romance of burning the candles at both ends and burning it brightly. I can remember my Dad telling me how he never thought he would live as long as he has. Can't there be some other way...Burn Away, Fade Out....all my heroes in the pantheon I keep in my brain are all pretty dysfunctional.
Even the title of this blog post, 'Kaotic Chic' (it's spelled that way on purpose)...I got it from this comic series that I read, Powers. In the first story arc, a superhero is killed (her name is Retro Girl - kinda a Wonder Woman type superhero) and when the good guys find the killer, he says that he killed her to preserve her - so that she'd always be young and perfect, a symbol. Kaotic Chic is a phrase he spray painted on a wall near where he left her body.

I remain - intrigued by people who die at the height of their power or on the cusp of their power. Icons. Heroes. Myths. Legacies.

If you're wondering about the skipped #'s on this most micro of quizzes -- I didn't care for the questions.

Ah, time to go Inhale and do some yoga. Namaste.

This Is The Blog Post That Will Change The World

But probably not. Hopefully not. None of them will. Ever.

That's the way I like it.That's what I'm aiming for. If you can aim for something without putting any effort into the process. Useless, leftover baggage. Pointless, meandering, self indulgent tripe. Surveys! (I prefer to call them Quizzes). Blathering. Scan for YOUR NAME HERE. Gaze into the madness and lameness of my belly button.

My motto is: If it's not fun, fuck it.

And any good time wasting activity should be fun - for someone.

I kid, I joke, take none of it as gospel. I'm just amusing myself. Moving on.

Bring me the brown one, he amuses me. Let him pay for his crimes. Yes, that insolent one on the left: SEIZE HIM!
SEIZE HIM YOU FOOLS, HE'S GETTING AWAY!!

Udder Boredom ---

I wish there was a way I could deconstruct Milky White and put her back together in my own image. Moo. Groan. Moo. Milking. Die. Back to Life. Moo. The End. Let me throw in three dozen, 'Yawns Under Horrible Ugly Cow Head'. Oddly, enough, I'm not as bitter as that makes me sound. With most of my worry and concern going to finding a job -- I don't have a lot of time to be truly filled with stupid righteous anger about ITW. It is what it is. It'll be a cute, fun show for those who see it. Whether or not the person in the cow costume is having a good time won't derail anything. Remember on that first South Park, where the aliens are talking to the cows: Moomoo Moo moo Moomoomoo. Moo.

Oh well, whatever, nevermind ---

Since seeing Nirvanov (wow, officially, last month - my unemployment has made all the days bleed together) I've had a serious jones to listen to to Nirvana Unplugged In New York. Actually, to listen to any of their music. And I also kinda wish I knew someone who illegally bootlegged a performance of Nirvanov. Those songs need to be played as well. Which, for whatever reason leads me to the thought of that DJ, Danger Mouse, who did that mix of Jay-Z's The Black Album and The Beatles' The White Album - and although I've never heard it, I want to own it. It was called The Gray Album and it's been banned - he didn't have anyone's permission.

Insert clever Latin phrase here ---

Can anyone tell me why the Men's Restrooms in Borders (in Winter Park) and in Barnes & Noble (on Colonial) are the fucking filthy-horrible-Dane Cook bit-touch-nothing-with-your-hands dirtiest public bathrooms this side of a South Carolina truckstop? Are the women's restrooms this bad? The Men's Room in both of these stores screams - "YOU ARE IN A SHIT HOLE BATHROOM IN A BUS TERMINAL WHERE YOU WILL BE SHANKED FROM CROTCH TO BREASTBONE FOR YOUR LAST NICKEL, RIGHT AFTER YOU'RE FORCED TO PERFORM FELLATIO ON A COLORFUL CHARACTER WHO CALLS HIMSELF - BARRIO MAN - " Just a queston for the group.

WOULD YOU RATHER...

1) WYR....lose your teeth or your testicles (or, for the ladies in the house, let's say, clitoris)?

Tough right off the bat. Hard choice but I'm going to say teeth.

2) WYR....lose your non-writing hand or an eye (either one)?

An eye. I could get a bunch of cool glass eyes like that guy in The Last Action Hero.

3) WYR....travel to the future or to the past?

The past. Maybe somewhere between 1920 & 1950

4) WYR....kill a neighbor or kill a neighbor's pet?

Shhhhhhhh. Goodnight, Joan (as I lay the pillow gently over her face)

5) WYR....burn an American flag or turn a fire hose on that pinko burning an American flag?

I'll burn a flag. I have guilt over never doing anything worthy of having a fire hose turned on me. Cause, God, knows, if you're getting a hose turned on you - you're doing something bold - for good or for ill.

6) WYR....peer into the mouth of a volcano or peer into the abyss of an underwater trench (proper gear provided for both ventures, of course, not just in your skivvies)

No deep sea diving for me. Volcano, please.

7) WYR....be a hero or a villian?

I'm probably a villian who thinks he's a hero -- the worst kind.

8) WYR....be abducted by aliens or kidnapped by Bigfoot (or you can say The Loch Ness Monster instead of Big Foot if you're more comfortable with Nessie)?

After watching Eegah! on MST3K - I think I'll take aliens over Bigfoot (or other caveman types)

9) WYR....fight a bear with a knife or fight a gorilla with a slightly larger knife (no knife more than, say, ten inches long - but as to tactics - you're the Homo Sapien - use that brain)?

I would fight the bear -- so I could use the Anthony Hopkins' line from The Edge - "I'm-a gonna kill the motherfucker." Fuck you, bear.

10) WYR....be a spy or an assassin?

Umm. It'd be fun to be a spy. Even as it's most prosaic - it's not all James Bond - hell, it's probably not even all John Le Carre - but - come on, a spy's most boring day ever STILL has to be fairly exciting.


BREATHE

Thanks to Kris for telling me about this yoga show on Oxygen called, Inhale. When I got up this morning I had an episode in my FreeVo and I unrolled the mat and followed along. I liked it. Yoga heavy week for me, candlelight yoga last night and tomorrow night (I'm not needed at rehearsal on Wednesday) and this show today. Physically, I feel good.

Except for these headaches I've been getting. Both Sarah and Jeff said it sounds like a migraine - my stomach actually hurt, like I wanted to throw up - even with the shades drawn, the light was too bright - sharp needle-like pain in my temples, eyes - dull, roaring ache in neck and shoulders - plus, over the last couple of weeks, I can 'feel' them coming on - like, I say to myself - here comes one of those headaches and sure enough - boom. I don't even like typing the word migraine. It's silly - but I feel like if I call them that - then that's what they'll be - like, I should never give them a proper name, it'll only give them more power. They're just headaches. Nothing special about them. La - dee - da.

Anyway, I feel good now - no trouble in sight. I have a job interview Thursday morning. We'll see how that goes.
No word yet from Oedipus. The audition was just this Sunday and already it feels like a long time ago, weird.