An Offer I Can't....Refuse?

Got an email from Seth (Rocky director) about maybe doing something for Playfest
A play by Al Pergande (he had a play in the Playwright's Roundtable thing I did. I hated it.)
Seth said that both Tyler and Todd had signed on. Can't decide what to do. There are pros and cons.
And, whore that I am, the place would be full of BPCLI people (that's BOLD PRINT CAPITAL LETTER ITALICS people to you) for me to gawk at. Jeff did Playfest last year and it seemed cool. And this year's line up has a bunch of plays I'm interested in seeing: Driving Miss Cherry Blossom, Me Me Me Me, Nirvanov (which I have already seen and it was fucking amazing), and Prisoners Of Love.
I just don't know if I have the chops to do it, basically a two person show. That makes my balls crawl up into my stomach (a little). And I'm pretty burned on shows right now...however it is just a little One Act.
But this feels like one of those moments where, if you don't do it, you spend the rest of the year kicking yourself for it.....
Arrrrghhh.....why can't I make decisions?

Always Be Closing

Well, still not THERE yet - but last night's rehearsal wasn't the 'jab needles into the center of my eye' fiasco that Sunday was. The opening is still chaotic (but somehow ten minutes too long) and there were a lot of mistakes -- but we crashed through and kept going. The opening scares me, I'll admit. It feels like running across a tightrope as fast as you can, hoping/praying/forcing yourself / daring yourself to not fall into the abyss.
In that respect, I'm glad that I'm working with the people I'm working with. Nothing gives me more confidence or makes me happier than when David makes his entrance. He's totally the safety net under the tightrope for me. Regardless of how everything else is going, I feel like, personally, I'm learning a lot by getting to work with him onstage. So, from a selfish standpoint, the show is going great! I need to tell him that.
Two more rehearsals to go, three if you want to count the preview night on Thursday (let's say two, shall we).

'They don't know anything. You're not going to get hurt. You're Baretta and you're super cool.'
Paraphrased quote, Mr. Orange from Reservoir Dogs, and look how well things turned out for him...

Onion Skin

Sic Transit Gloria

My Latin spelling may be off there. But the phrase does hold true.
Everything we do eventually feels like it's a million miles away.
And like it happened to another person.

I don't think I'd even recognize myself from three months ago.
A year ago, no way, different animal.

I Hate My Interests!

So, wow, 1940s Radio Hour is going to really tank hard this weekend. Pacing sucks, blocking sucks, singing sucks, music sucks (and seems to change every time we hear it), people don't know their motherfucking lines (that's not really plural, actually, to be fair and yet still be vague about it), no stage manager, still no phone rings or lights -- in an 80 page script, our intermission comes on, like, page 62 and then people wonder, 'why is ACT I so long?' (pacing yes, I know, but no matter how fast we are at the top end -- that's still 60 pages until the audience can go take a piss). I hate the show itself. I hate Walton Jones. I'm having zero fun. The whole thing is a chore. And this isn't, 'woe is me' -- that holds true for the whole cast and the crew (what crew we have).
I take part of that back. I enjoy the car rides to and from the theatre. I enjoy talking the 'what just happened' talk with Larry, Sarah, and David as we leave.....and the 'what's going to happen' talk as we head out there. So far, that's the most enjoyable thing going. And I think that we are keeping each other sane. We are laugh and have a good time for the hour we spend getting to Eustis or fleeing Eustis.
I haven't got a clue how to improve things. Well, that's not all true -- "people" need to know their lines...cold, down, dead, exact.....end of the story. Music-wise, there I can't help -- I'm trying to listen for David -- and not being a musical person, I'm not going to start to question the band as to whether these damn songs seem to change from day to day. But I feel comforted by the fact that I'm not the only one who feels that way.
I feel so burned around the edges.

Hey, Wally, Let's Shake

Minutes away from heading back out to Eustis...
Today we have to run the show twice, to help with the pace...
God, I hope people are on their game today...
(I can kinda say that now cause I finally know all my lines)...
Wow, counting today, we have only five days until we have an audience...
A little scary but I feel like there's going to be massive progress today...

I'm The Only Josh That Bothered To Show Up

I don't want to say that this was the worst Thanksgiving I've ever had -- but the only reason I'm not going to say that is because it would give the day too much power over me to admit how bad it was.

I love that my Mom has this idealized, fictionalized version of myself that she keeps expecting to show up for various family functions. And I never quite fit the bill. I don't match whatever the hell picture she has of who and what I am. And she can't just let it go and maybe get to know the person I am now.

A few years ago, when my sister and I first moved out, and then later when I first moved to Orlando, I use to say that it felt like Mom and Dad and Amber and me were characters on a sitcom that didn't know how to relate to each other outside the parameters of THE GEOGHAGAN FAMILY 1979 - 2000. But now I feel like Dad and Amber and myself have adapted and found new connections with one another.

But not Mom - there's always this feeling of..."this isn't how you should be, how did you end up this way, where did I go wrong, why are all my children like this..."

Whether it was my hair, or my job, or going back to school (just for the degree - Mom could give a shit what it's in or what I want to 'be'), or seeing The Rocky Horror pictures.....everything was ill fitting and wrong and a mistake. She couldn't even sit still to watch The Noises Off DVD....it doesn't matter that it's something I'm proud of (even Dad watched it -- and he came down to see it!!)

I will have zero guilt about not coming up for Christmas and for not showing up next Thanksgiving. Chris may have been right all along about these family functions. Just don't show up.

There's just something sad and small and depressing to me about that house.

I wish that weren't so.

It makes me feel so sad and lonely to be this disconnected from my family.

Name Three Things...

1) That you cannot live without...
My friends
My family
My brief periods of time away from the aforementioned

2) That you can live without but CANNOT seem to part with...
TIVO
Cell phone
This blog

3) That you wish to accomplish this coming week...
Have my lines for 1940s Radio Hour down cold
Have my music for 1940s Radio Hour down as close to cold as my tin ear will allow
Eat massive amounts of turkey and broccoli casserole and Key Lime pie

4) That you have accomplished this past week...
Umm, I'm sort of bad about actually following through on anything so...nothing.

5) That are on your holiday wish list...
A new wallet
Giftcards - Urban Outfitters, Target, Borders, Best Buy, Barnes & Noble, Bath & Bodyworks
DVDs: Star Wars Trilogy, Return Of The King, MST3K, Batman Animated Series, Indiana Jones Trilogy, Samurai Jack, Farscape (this all counts as one)

6) That you would like to change about yourself...
Well, I'm comfortable with my greed, so let's see...
My insecurity
My serotonin levels
My fear of authority

7) That you like about yourself...
My sense of humor
....
There's not much else, really.

8) That you should be doing right now instead of what you are doing...
Going to school
Writing (I don't even care what - I should just write everyday)
Working?....fuck that

9) That, in your life, could use more organization...
Any academic part of my life
My future plans, goals
Umm...I like peanutbutter, can you swim?.....

Find Out What It Means To Me

I was just thinking about Aretha Franklin. You know what's bad ass rock star stuff? That moment in 'Chain Of Fools' where all the music drops away except for that drumbeat and she just starts to break it down......"You tell me to leave you alone...my Father says come on home...my doctor says take it easy but you're lovin' is much to strong"......don't you just know that live in concert, when she does that, that the audience just loses their shit. I would love to see that. The idea of it makes me happy.

Thifty Drugstores....Now There Was A Show

We were at the theatre last night until a little after midnight. By that time all of us were punchy and laughing at anything that was even in the ballpark of a joke. (Larry supplied many of the best and dirtiest ones - cause let's face it, it's just funny to hear Larry say in his Pops' voice, "I use to come out on stage with my dick hanging out." That's just why Larry rules) Mostly we worked songs with David (the one playing Zoot -- not David Almeida). It was worth it. I wonder how other people's mornings went? Cause to be honest with you I still feel slightly not of this Earth, more so than usual.
No rehearsal tonight - Jeff changed plans, giving us Wednesday so he can be Scrooge McDuck with the rest of the schedule (he's been reading his battered copies of The Prince and The Art Of War, I guess). So, it looks like I'll be able to drive up to Jacksonville today instead of tomorrow morning.
Please let me have good orderly direction today -- not like the nightmare of yesterday (why are the short work weeks always so hellish??). And if they want to let a brother out a little early, that'd be the icing on the cake. I post again, if I get the chance. But in case I don't -- everybody who reads my little blog (or even if you randomly wandered by) have a great Thanksgiving.

Hatred Of Routine, Fear Of Change

If you haven't watched The Office -- you need to check it out -- here's a bit of dialogue from Tim:

The people you work with are people you were just farmed together with. I mean, you don't know them. It wasn't your choice. And yet you spend more time with them than you do your friends or your family. But probably all you've got in common is the fact that you walk around on the same bit of carpet eight hours a day.

Great show. Poignant, funny, and way too close to real life.

Teeth Are Very Important.

David and I discovered on the long car ride back from Eustis that we are both Teeth People. Not only sensitive about our own teeth - but very snobby about the teeth of others. Now, I don't have blazing white, perfectly straight teeth but my teeth are at least pleasantly jumbled and a nice tooth color. And I'm just so concerned that people are looking at my teeth or that they're really worse than they are -- that when I see someone with horrible, crooked, stained teeth, I can't understand how they function. My insecurity is bounced off of them and their bad teeth -- cause if my teeth were really really bad, I wouldn't be able to go out in public. I would be frozen. So, it's amazing to me when someone with bad teeth goes about their day like they don't have bad teeth.Or if they have a confidence level that doesn't match the condition of their teeth. How can they do it? I'm constantly aware of my teeth, where they are, how they feel. Anyway, it was kind of funny to talk to someone with the same awareness.
I told David that there are several people here at work who have such bad teeth that unless I'm forced to, I won't talk to them -- cause I would spend the whole time staring at their teeth and wondering what the Hell went wrong.

Remember Sammy Jankiss

My job is a lot like being in the movie, Memento.
I'm constantly finding little notes and post-its that I've left for myself like:
"YOU ARE LOOKING FOR MATTER # 82354" or
"Rios - Closing book - Not on shelf?" or
"Craig R. murdered your whole family, he's the one, kill him"

Another One Rides The Bus

I'm full of quick little posts lately...
But I'm always excited to announce yet another person catching blog fever.
And it looks like another of my fellow phantoms, Tammy, has caught it.
I'll put her on the links officially later but here's a sample a taste a drop in the bucket to hold you over:
www.tammylg.blogspot.com

In The Cold November Rain

I am missing so many concerts this month.
The Killers are playing tonght.
The Hives are playing later this week.
Scissor Sisters are playing next week.
Three bands I really like within two weeks.
Gerrr. Arrgh.

You Can Act Real Cool And Totally Removed And I Can Act Like An Imbecile

We can dance, we can dance.
That is a damn cheerful song, isn't it?
And that particular lyric describes my perfect relationship.

Sing it loud and proud...

Straps McGowen AKA The Grasshopper AKA Rhubarb, Cardsharp and Bon Vivant: Vegas Style 1972

Finally got my haircut today, this morning at 10. Elizabeth did a great job. I don't know about the rest of you but it's very important to me that my hair stylist can hold a decent conversation during the actual haircut -- and in that regard, Elizabeth rules as well. And she totally got that I needed to be able to comb my hair (my cow lick convention) into a 1940s - esque style, as well as the little hipster-messy-but-on-purpose thing she did.
After that met Sarah and Caroline at Toojay's had lunch (Caroline was cool enough to pick up the tab - thank you Daddy's credit card). Then it was off to Sci Fi City to get my geek on, checking out some comics and roleplaying stuff, then to Best Buy to look at DVDs, then Target, then Barnes & Noble, and now home sweet home, typing on Rob's computer (when will I be able to get a computer of my very own??). Later tonight, I'm heading over to Kevin and Marcie's -- it's basically a little Dia De La Josh. Found a few possible Christmas ideas for some people (and a ton of stuff for myself).
Tomorrow is all rehearsal work grind put your back into it type stuff. Might go see Tenor, don't know yet. Need to go over my lines (need to snort a few lines to get through my lines, Lord -- 'Right, Lou' , 'Sure, Lou', 'Mr. Cantone?', 'You, Mr. Tilden', 'Hello. How are you?', 'I wanna go get my good pants!!')
My right eye hurts. Sort of a dull throbbing thing. Like I'm really aware of my heartbeat as it makes its way to my right eye, that kind of thing. Weird, annoying.
Oh, and Emily, if you're reading this you need to start a blog.
Random thought - I want to try and put a picture up, I know Amber put up one....
Well, I'm off to try and finish up Fevre Dream and then look over my lines.

Never Let Them Take Your Tighten Up Away

I'm in one of my random, chaos theory good moods.
No reason for it - today is more or less a rerun of yesterday - but for whatever reasons, I'm in a good mood.
Maybe it's the weekend calling, or the approaching holiday, who knows...

After last night's 1940's rehearsal, the cast (Jeff, Sarah, Anna Kay, Josh, Rick, David, Elizabeth, and myself) went to the Red Fox Lounge to see Mark and Lorna. They were great. I love being a regular at a bar. They played a cool set and Mark gave Jeff a lead on a pianist. A jazz pianist. It turns out that a lot of the music that the Samuel French Company sent for the show is....to tell the truth since I don't read music, I'm not really sure exactly what the trouble is with the music....it has something to do with the things we know and love about all these old standards not really being written in the music that the musicians have to look at. Something like that, I think. So, we need somebody that can flow and improv all the stuff that's great about that kind of music.

Rocky Horror you need....a website. Our director (the infamous Seth) has put one up. It's www.rockyhorrorshow.net You can see a snazzy picture of me in my corset if you click on the History section. (It's from the curtain calls).

I had my first ever comment to my blog by someone I don't know. That was very cool. And unexpected. I don't really think of this in terms of strangers possibly reading it. Pretty neat pretty neat.

Is it wrong to spend my entire Christmas bonus on myself? Just a question, a notion.

We just got this new copier / fax machine / coffee maker up here on the fifth floor. It's brand new and has that fresh new plastic smell. Like a Trapper Keeper. I love that smell, it should be made into a cologne.

I need to buy Q tips.

I'm getting my haircut tomorrow with Elizabeth. My last haircut was 127 days ago....with Elizabeth. This is the longest period I can remember going without a haircut. I did start the job last night by shaving my sideburns (muttonchops). So, today, I feel a little like a mushroom head. If I have the time / money I want to dye my hair black again (licorice black). It's give Mom something to be annoyed about at Thanksgiving dinner.

Wow, the fire alarm just went off......

On A Loop In My Head

Nipsy Russell is dead. For the time being anyway. The new and improved OCD phrase playing like a scratched record in my head is:

The Devil and Daniel Webster. The Devil and Daniel Webster. The Devil and Daniel Webster.

Which is a short story, I believe. Never read it. But I've probably thought those words 3 million times today. I started when I was stopped by that train and I haven't stopped yet...

Say it with me: The Devil and Daniel Webster. Ahhh, feels good, doesn't it?...

I Know That You Know That I Know That You Know That I Know

I detest homeless people. Sight and smell. Their grubby faces. Their low rent con artist banter when they try to tell their sob story to you. Or the indignant way they demand a dollar or a cigarette. Every time I see one of them shuffle towards me, I think: bullet to the head, mass grave.
Lake Eola is such a nice park and I love to go there. It's pretty, relaxing and nice. Except when you're sitting in the little red pagoda on your ten minute break and suddenly five homeless guys are there begging, demanding, and ruining the view.
Oh, but Josh, have compassion for the downtrodden, the surplus populace, the hard luck cases, there but for the grace of Blah Blah Blah...
No. Nope. Nada. Bullet to the head. Mass grave.
Of course my blood is up right now. I don't expect this is a policy anyone in authority is going to sign off on any time soon.

Okay.

And while I'm complaining about minor things: OPEN FUCKING SESAME!! The elevators in this building are horrible. This falls into my Inanimate Objects Conspiracy Against Josh file. Which is located next to the Gravity Ain't Josh's Momma file. See also the Josh's Clumsiness Causes A Panic file

Also in the IOCAJ file we have...my shoes. This is twofold. They won't stay tied and they now squeak when I walk. The only time they don't squeak is when I'm stopping to tie them.

And I was stopped by a train this morning.

It's Craig and Crystal's anniversary with the firm today and Terrence is taking them to lunch..they wanted me to go at noon...but I can't do back to back noon lunches so I told them I already had plans...I don't, really, at least not anything that couldn't be shifted...but fuck that, let them go at noon. Just about the only good thing going today is having all of them out of the office at the same time.

What about Wally Fergusson???

On the 1940's front -- I have to spent some time this Friday and Saturday running my lines until I have them down. I just have to keep doing it and doing it until they're mine. Counting today and assuming we're having a Thursday preview night before we open on the 3rd -- we have 15 days until there's an audience in front of us. A little scary but I'm still not really worried about it. I can say that I'm ready to have some props in my hand. So many of my bits rely on props.

This Would Make A Great Story For Gorey To Illustrate

Have you ever known (or been forced to work with) a real, sour, mean spirited old man or woman. Just somebody that sucks the joy and light and life and energy out of the room. A dried up, toxic, vile old toadstool. And if the answer is yes (and it probably is), have you ever wondered if there was one special thing or person in the world that actually could melt the old bastard's (or bitch's) heart. Like they were a character in a Christmas movie and all they needed was to be reminded of the goodness in the world. Let's say its their grandchild they haven't seen in years or a dog that looks like old Jake (I decided to name the dog Jake, it's a good, solid old person's dog name). You know what I'd like to with an old stone face cocksucker (or cunt) like that: find that one special thing that melts their heart and drown it in a bucket right in front of them. That's what you get, you old goat. Then I'd laugh my best unhinged, deranged laughter and send them on their miserable way.

Just something I was thinking about today.

Time, Need, and Greed

I fucking loath taking the early lunch. Noon. It makes the afternoon so fucking long.
Just the whole day drags from this point on. Tick tick tick tick tock. Damn.
Theory of Relativity. It always defeats me.
Tonight is a 1940's rehearsal in Eustis. Think I'm carpooling with David...
Then, depending on how late rehearsal runs, it's Lorna's birthday at The Red Fox lounge.
Some Rocky people are going...I want to go but I have a feeling by the time we end tonight, I'll just want to go to bed. Can't just do that -- I'll have the newest episode of LOST to check out in the DVR. That can't wait until Thursday. TV junkie. Seriously, the show is so good...it just gives me that compulsive feeling like The X Files and Buffy and Farscape use to...that...must...watch...vibe.

Micro Christmas Random List:
1) Gift Cards - Urban Outfitters, Best Buy, Barnes & Noble, Borders, Target, Bath & Bodyworks,
2) Car stereo -- nothing at all expensive or fancy -- it would just be nice to be able to play a CD or listen to the radio since I can do neither. Although I wouldn't scoff at an XM.
3) A computer. One of my very own. Again, nothing fancy, although a laptop would be cool. It's just something I need.
4) An Ipod. This is totally indulgent. I love these things. The only problem with them is they are always loaded with other people's music which is usually a complete waste of space. It's time I had one so that I can correct this problem.

Leave The Gun, Take The Turkey

Now place your fat, stubby child's hand on the brown construction paper and outline it. Color each finger in tones that say Fall, your reds and oranges. Draw a little beak on your thumb, cut the whole thing out (with the special green handled lefty scissors, in my case), slap it on the fridge and you're more than half way there.
Ah, Thanksgiving, the glutton's holiday. Where the only real traditions in the Geoghagan house are a familial stupor/nap after eating too much turkey....and the tension of who's pissed at who (the whys aren't as important). The only thing I can report is that this year my particular profile is low. Last year being the miserable Hell that it was, my status was on the tip of everybody's tongue. But I hear rumors and half sentences and pregnant pauses that this year there has been some trouble between my Dad and my older brother John.

Quick Geoghagan Family Tree:
Mom (Diann Geoghagan, formerly Diann Dubose, originally Diann Warder -- of course she was adopted, so I guess even that's not her original name -- anyway, it'll work for us)
Dad (Gary Geoghagan)
Amber (my little sister and the product of the two mentioned above)
John Dubose (Mom's son, my half brother, technically, although that's a term that we have never used, it's always just been brother. Jesus, John must be closing in on 40 if he's not there already)
Michael Dubose (John's son)
Susan Dubose (John's well, hell, ex wife now, I guess, or so close as to make no difference)
Little Gary Geoghagan (Dad's son, you get the picture, late 30's?)
(actually Little Gary's brood doesn't really factor into this story, so for now their names aren't important)
Chris Dubose (Mom's son, ten years older than me)
Jessica Dubose (Chris's daughter, ten years younger than me)

That should do for now. Now, Amber knows the full story but here's my sketch.

John is and has been and always will be a fuck up of the First Order. You name it: drugs, booze, social skills, jobs -- he should have been drown in a bucket when he was born. That kind of thing.

Now Mom and Dad have always had a Yours Mine Ours and Theirs kind of tension about all the kids and grandkids. Dad treats Little Gary better than John, forgives him of this and that. Dad's mean to Michael. Again, that kind of thing.

Isn't it funny how when you're a little kid you have one picture of your family. Then as you grow up, the picture shifts and distorts to the point where your childhood memories seem almost a myth. And I have a pretty mundane family, so I can't imagine what that's like in a family where real fucked up shit and secrets happen. My family has middle of the road dysfunction.

Anyway, the story revolves around John pawning a bunch of my Dad's DVDs and a DVD player and the two of them getting into a huge argument about it and long story short (too late!) my Mom is thinking about not having Thanksgiving at the house this year. She's thinking about just going over to my Uncle Lee's girlfriend's house and that being that. Now, don't get me wrong, I want to see Uncle Lee and Ladonna and Jennifer but --- You're telling me I'm driving up to Jacksonville to eat Thanksgiving dinner in some lady's house that I don't even know.

Bullshit. Complete. Total. Absolute.

So, Amber is suppose to talk some sense into Mom this week.

I'm sorry, I wish you all could see the smile on my face at the thought of that conversation.

Vice Versa

So, my answer for number 12, I think I would switch places with...man, I just can't pick...it would be interesting to switch with just about anyone for a day....Jeff or Marcie or Amber or Steve or....I don't know....maybe I could split my day up amongst several people, a few hours here, a few hours there. Walk a mile in their blah blah blah and all that. Or maybe just run their credit cards up and clean out their bank accounts (do I automatically get knowledge like that from them...or just me and my memories in their bodies?). That would be a handy dandy little mutant power, wouldn't it? Just keep switching bodies and taking people's stuff and then...pop...switch again and make your escape. Hmmm. I think I've lost the spirit of Amber's original question. Vice Versa (that would be my super villain codename). Like the Fred Savage movie.

There's a quiz question for you: what super power would you like to have...and what would be your codename???

Okay, here's another one for me: I like to be able to cause people to hallucinate or see illusions and my codename would be, Madcap. Maybe I was affected too much by seeing The Incredibles last week.

More random stuff: start watching LOST and start watching The Venture Brothers.
I think I'm going to get to go to yoga tonight, I'm excited even though it's been so long that the class will probably kill me.

Spread Your Legs, Quiz Whore

This is from Amber's blog, it's a little random but here goes:

1) Favorite coffee drink?
Cafe Vanilla Frap from Starbucks.

2) Favorite alcoholic drink?
Whiskey Sour.

3) If you could do anything (jobwise) what would you want to do?
Be a writer.

4) What would you do if you won the lottery?
Spend it on coke and hookers.

5) Who is the person you spend the most time with?
Don't know. It would probably be a seven way tie.

6) What's on your Xmas list?
My God. Too much. That's a post of a different color.

7) Do you have someone special? (Okay, we get it, Amber has a boyfriend, Lord!)
I have lots of special people around me but....if this question is meant in a romantic way, nope.

8) Ever been in love?
Yep.

9) Who do you admire?
People who are funny. People that can enrapture an audience.

10) Blonde, brunette, or Red Head?
Everyone knows the answer to this: Red Heads.

11)Favorite food?
I like large portions of whatever I'm having.

12) If you could change lives with one of your friends for a day, who would you pick?
This is tough. I may have to get back to this one.

That's that. For now. On another note, I'm reading this George R. R. Martin book, Fevre Dream, and it's awesome. About vampires and steamboats and the Mississippi.

We Do Not Sow

Why can't we look the other way? - Interpol, "Evil"

All things being equal, this hasn't been a bad Tuesday to dip my toes into the waters of the work week. Work week? For me, that means 'avoidance of work' week. I've never claimed or presented myself as anything but a C student at any of my jobs. I'm lazy and shiftless and I pout and complain and mumble and......anybody out there hiring? Anyway, put some files away, write an email, put some files away, write a few lines on this post, put some files away, go to break.....
I brought two pictures of myself dressed up in my red dress (from Once In A While) to work today. There's some residual thrill at having such straight laced people go......ah, oh, is that you in the middle there, ah.....that's great. Now, if six months from now I'm still passing out photos down at the end of the bar....it may be time to just let it go.
So, yeah, still feeling that 'high school is over' feeling in regards to Rocky. Cause no matter how much we stay in contact with each other (and I plan to) we'll never spent this much time together again. Things change. Sucks.
Just read some really nice emails from John Didonna and Seth. I suppose they are right, you can't spend five months of your life with people and not be changed by them.

Turning the page....but bookmarking that page as a memento.

A Bubble For Me To Be Germ Free

Day off. Sleep late. Lunch. Phonecalls. Haircut appointment for this upcoming Saturday. Trip to Target. Barnes & Noble. Bought a George R.R. Martin book. Home again home again jiggity jig. Rehearsal tonight for 1940's. Beautiful weather. Well rested. Wonderful weekend. A few tears (more than a few). Closing night. Cast party at Natalie's. Independent Bar Sunday night, danced, drank, had fun. I'm going to miss seeing everybody. There you have it, the Rocky chapter is closed. Wish I could have more days like today. But I refuse to let the dread of "what kind of bullshit is waiting for me tomorrow at work" ruin today. I feel content. Nice. And I'm going to attempt to enjoy it.

Let's Get This Party Started.....Right?

And, if not an actual party, let's at least get me the fuck out of this building in bullet time fashion, please. This has been a hellish, draining week, ending on this rotten, busy Friday. I'm glad I have Rocky to look forward to tonight. I need some fun and music and pretty spinning lights and partial nudity and Urban Decay make up and the patter and babble of backstage and all of it wrapped up in the bittersweet 'this is it' vibe we've got going on. I need the white noise of activity and entrances and exits because if I thought too long or too hard about this week and this job and.....other, lonely stuff....yeah, well, I don't want to think/waste time/write about it....moving on....Kevin's link doesn't work yet, have to fix it....but there's time, he doesn't post much (he's one of my rare treat post people).....Motherfucker, move clock move......I'm excited about tonight. I'm taking off Monday, gonna take a little breather, try to get a haircut (hippie!)....it's been 16 weekes since my last haircut and that wasn't exactly a flat top so my hair is pretty long right now.....and my sideburns are threatening to become more interesting than I am....

Rinse and Repeat

It's one of those kind of days at work today.
Buzzing, pissed off, high strung beehive.
(which makes no sense to me - all the lawyers are on some retreat)
Gotta keep this short.
I'm happy that Rocky is getting some repeat customers.
Amber, Marcie, and Alyson are all coming again. That should be cool.
And then we have some new people (virgins, as they say) coming:
Kim, Elizabeth, some of my 1940's cast, some people from my job may come as well.

Fuck me gently with a chainsaw!! -- the emails are piling up. What are are these people working on?

So, When's That Tyler Girl Getting Here?

Welcome to the revolution. I love that my new X-men power is the ability to 'push' people into creating a blog. All to relieve me of boredom. I sent Tyler a text message today with my blog address and a few hours later --bam--she sends me her shiny new blog, which I have added to my friends to the left.
So now, all the people that came to the party I had a few weekends ago, that kept asking, "Where's that Tyler girl? She's hot. When's she getting here?" --- you can keep tabs on her yourself.

Mark & Lorna

I can't wait until 1940's rehearsal is over tonight. Afterwards, several members of the Rocky Horror cast are heading down to The Red Fox Lounge to see Mark and Lorna. I'm not sure who all is gonna make it. Doesn't matter. It's going to be fun. I just need to hear a little "Sway" and "Cell Block Tango". That'll be the perfect way to kick off this final Rocky weekend.

Confusion That Never Stops, Closing Walls & Ticking Clocks

Have your eyes ever just went slack and unfocused...and you couldn't get them to focus again for a few seconds...? Like you try and try to control those tiny muscles and nerves that normally work without you even being aware of them...and it's like you can't find them. Now is this something I should consider serious....or just my body rebelling, denying the boredom of the day, refusing to take part in yet another 'little project'. So, hopefully this isn't some new medical nightmare for me to deal with. Just boredom. Numbers leak out of my head. I can't hold on to them. Can't do even simple math problems without fingers and scratch paper. In my brain...they just don't....stay put. They wiggle and squirm and fade. I blame factions. I was fine in school until we had to learn factions. Decimals. Percents.

OCD FUN for today: If you see someone wearing red, count to 17 real fast. In your car, if you have to speed up to slip pass a yellow light, say, "Junkyard Dog, God Bless His Soul."

We're all going to get through this hateful, dull Thursday together.

An Officer And A Geoghagan

"Pretty good."

That's my stock answer when somebody at work asks how I'm doing. It doesn't mean anything.
Especially today. I'm numb, depressed, bored, anxious, and tired. I just want Richard Gere to walk through those elevator doors and take me away from all this.

If I have to hear Craig's New York Bronx accent one more time today -- I'm draping myself in a Confederate flag and going on a killing spree.

Yadot Eldood A Tsuj

Well, my last post was kind of the blog equivalent of a doodle, wasn't it. I don't know what my problem is this week -- I can't concentrate on any of the stuff I need to do at work. I have 300 unofficial bosses that can get me in trouble with my official one. I love that. There are too many little bullshit projects going on right now, each one sucking the life out of the last one. And all of them of a boring, office work nature -- not worth describing. Picture that scene in The Matrix where all those rows of guns rush at Neo and Trinity...only replace guns with files. Although if you want to picture Carrie Ann Moss instead of me, I'll understand. I've already been asked (in all seriousness) if I have dyslexia. I can remember loving to doodle. I use to draw mazes. Huge minotaur proof mazes, whorls, loops, endless. I've gotten in trouble here for my doodling. I drew that caterpillar, the one smoking a hookah, from Alice In Wonderland. Sic Transit Gloria. I also specialize in a caricature of myself. Mostly its in the eyebrows. Sleepwalking. Day dreaming. Pie in the sky.

Why is wasting time so soothing to me? Why can't I string together two thoughts today?
Am I starting to hate my job (eight months in -- a new record for me)? Or am I just hating this week?
I'm bored. I'm lazy. I'm sloppy. I'm tired. Too tired to even roll my eyes properly.

I was thinking about part of the conversation Marcie and I had, we were talking about status, and whether or not status was important to me (this was in regards in my fascination with local celebrities). And after thinking about it a bit - I don't think status itself is important to me -- I don't have to be a BOLD PRINT CAPITAL LETTERS IN ITALICS PERSON myself. My fascination comes simply from wanting in be included, on the inside of something. God, I'd make a wonderful cult member, pass the cyanide punch. I just want to run in the same circles as the people I find interesting. I don't want to be invisible, I suppose. I want attention but not pressure. The extroverted introvert speaks, right. Josh, confidante to the semi mediocre theatre niche of Orlando stars. That's the funny thing to me about local celebrity -- a lot of the names that occur to me and that I attach all my projected stuff onto -- wouldn't mean a fucking thing to that vast majority of Orlando. Like I'm sure somewhere in this city is a band that has a small but growing following, and this band probably has a fan or two that would love to hang out with them and just be there.....but if I heard of this band, I'd say, "who gives a shit." I'm sure there are other examples beyond the band example. I just like the selective nature of local celebrity: Some people know your name and some people could give a shit. Now, don't think that I'm just a sycophant or that I would gloss over somebody who's a prick just to be friends with them. My criteria for friends remains the same. You're either cool or not. I just want a large circle, that's all. Or maybe instead of a circle, I want a maze. Enough people to completely lose myself in.

The mind wanders...

Black hole. Wormhole. Time Machine. R is for Rocket. S is for Space. Astronaut. Cosmonaut. Sputnik. Red Scare. Red Menace. Better Dead Than Red. Masque Of The Red Death. Poe. Raven. Crow. Fall Of The House Of Usher. Gold Bug. Goldfinger. Bond. James Bond. Sick Boy. Lust For Life. Iggy Pop. I Wanna Be Your Dog. Ziggy Stardust. Major Tom. ... Where was I? Bradbury. Burton. Wonka. Mars. My Very Elegant Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas.
Mercury. Venus. Earth. Mars. Jupiter. Saturn. Uranus. Neptune. Pluto. Of course Pluto might just be an upjumped escapee of Neptune. We'll never know, I suppose.

Maybe It's The Wild Sint Maarten Guavaberry Island Folk Liqueur Talking

I just got back from Marcie's, where I had one of the best conversations I had in a long time. One of the kind where each tangent opens up new daisy chains of thought. No dead ends in sight. Really cool. Wish I could remember even a quarter of the quotes we had going. Funny, I had only planned to stay a little bit. And we ended up hitting a bunch of subjects: work, Kevin and Marcie's cruise, honesty, quarter life crisis, Rocky Horror, what we expected from the absinthe party, my various crushes, blogging, the hazards of blogging, my interest in local celebrity (I wish I had a local celebrity PEOPLE magazine), how beautiful people are treated in society, when's the next Game Night, when we're gonna game again (D&D), man, there were so many more and none of what I've written really sums it up properly. It was good fun.

Promised Myself I Wouldn't Cry

As this past weekend approached, I just felt sad about Rocky ending, of the whole crazy, fucked up thing being over. As I look back over some of my past posts, I still can't believe that this is how it all played out. The bullshit was worth the photo finish. Who would have thought...
The audition (oh my God, singing in front of John Didonna, all by myself), the call backs (who are all you people and what do they do at this building?), the movie nights (let us review: MARAT/SADE, Velvet Goldmine, and House Of 1000 Corpses), the hurricanes (Charley, Frances, and Jean), the 'dance' rehearsals (I won't waste too much time on that), meeting and becoming friends with: Jenn, Todd, Tammy, Tyler, Steve, and Kim, grope sessions and lift and falls and smoke, Heliocol (they make pillows? No, swimming pools?), The Antibabes (or Antipretties, again, won't waste too much time), Natalie stepping up to the plate, Jager shots with Steve and Todd, finally moving the show into Theatre Downtown, meeting Aaron and Fran and Frank, the set, the screen, the multimedia, the costumes, the make up, our dressing stations (me in between Todd and Jeff), Tammy helping me with my make up and geisha / Kewpie doll / Queen Amidala lips, and that last Tuesday where everything was pure chaos theory.
Then the first preview and the second, and Opening night, and Gina and Geoff and Kevin and Megan and Kevin and Marcie and Steve Miller and David and Matt and Amber and Brian and Miss Sally and Val and Fran and Alyson and J and Tony and Jeff's Dad and Sylvia and her kids and Sue and Scott and Juliette and Clay and all the people I know that came and supported the show (I realize I'm jumping around in time a bit and at the start of the weekend not all of these people had seen the show but I'm writing from this point in time so bear with me), and seeing the fun and the escape of it all, the rediscovery.
The feeling of solidarity, of helping to pull victory out of the jaws of defeat. Of helping to create something beyond myself, something that people enjoyed. Of being inside. Inside the circle, the tribe. I consider myself a hobbyist, not an actor. I don't have a craft I'm honing. I'm in this to meet people, make friends, and have fun. That and the applause of a room full of strangers and friends is always a nice sound (yes, there's some hole in me that does need that, that is filled by that). But I think that this feeling of creation, of....making, doing, being...is also why this is my hobby. I don't know if I can put it into better word for those of you reading this.
So, with all that in my mind - I went into the final weekend feeling a bit like someone who knows he's about to be exiled from OZ or Narnia or Never Never Land.
Then, I was given what we all want at the end of something....more time.
The Rocky Horror Show has been held over. Extended. Three more shows. Two this Friday. We now Close this upcoming Saturday.
Three more shows: three more times to see Todd chat people up during the preshow, to scream out, "Where's the best place to fuck?" at Natalie, to watch Jeff kill as Simon Lock, to fuck with the front row during any the songs, to wear a black bra and white wife beater, to dance the Time Warp with Tyler, to help the fierce John Didonna around during Sweet T, to slap the stairs and sing, "Hit It! Hit It!" during Sweet T, undressing Matt Majors with Jenn, the shoe on my face (Jenn knows what I'm talking about), Natalie petting us, bringing out Andy's birthing pod, helping Amanda into the box of glass, pulling Ward out of the freezer, swing dancing with Tammy, lifting Sarah up for Touch-A Touch Me, ......ONCE IN A WHILE, ONCE IN A WHILE, ONCE IN A WHILE, ONCE IN A WHILE...being in my underwear in front of that many people, helping Katrina with the chair fall, rushing Riff Raff as he points the laser at me....
And that's just the stuff on the stage. There are 1000 little rituals before any entrance or right after an exit. My favorite -- me, Todd, Tammy, and Jenn slow dancing to the Science Fiction Reprise backstage. Although, a close second would be gathering Todd, Tammy, Tyler, Jenn, and Susan together to watch Matt (Brad) as he turns on the scaffolding during Superheroes and grosses us all out by inadvertantly showing us his pasty, white ass and (almost his taint) gross bastard. It's like a gory accident, you have to watch. We all make faces like the NAZIS at the end of Raiders Of The Lost Ark.
We had a few local celebrities in the audience this past weekend as well: Rus Blackwell (more on him in a moment), Marty Stonerock (really nice woman), and Heather Leonardi (she seemd nice and cool and pretty and I could ramble on but I'll stop). There were others, it was strange to actually talk to some of these people. I'm kind of a fan from afar and wouldn't want to bug anyone or weird anyone out. So, it was odd receiving compliments from them. Nice but odd. I'm such a geek.
Speaking of Rus Blackwell, the next day, Sarah and I saw his show, So, I Killed A Few People and it was fucking amazing. Talented man. That's all you can say. It was a one man show and he had everybody in the palm of his hand start to finish. Wave after wave of energy thrown out at the audience and he still had more. It was cool. It was fun. It was powerful. And after the show, he was so cool and unaffected and nice and he complimented Rocky again (we were having none of that -- all the compliments rightly should flow from us). I was impressed. It was a nice way to close out the weekend.
Oh, and if you haven't seen The Incredibles go now! Stop reading this, leave work, skip school and go.
I put it at a solid #3 spot on my PIXAR chart. Counting Toy Story and Toy Story 2 as one long movie (if you want to be a stick in the mud and count them as two movies - which makes sense, no argument here - I would put Toy Story 2 ahead of Toy Story, bumping The Incredibles to #4)

THE PIXAR LIST
1) FINDING NEMO
2a) TOY STORY 2
2b) TOY STORY
3) THE INCREDIBLES
4) A BUG'S LIFE
5) MONSTER'S INC.

I realize there will be a little dissent over my placement of A Bug's Life over Monster's INC. But Monster's INC always left me a little cold, didn't do much for me, whereas the connections between Kurosawa and A Bug's Life are really fun.

A Hard Quick One Up Against The Wall

I'm such a junkie for this stupid blog.
Okay, let's make this as quick as possible. I can't promise it won't be painful.
Saturday, during intermission, I was retouching my make up (shut up) in the mirror when the swishy queen (Doug?) who works at the theatre- I don't know what he does, beyond being the swishy queen - comes up to me to inform me (as he leans in way too close to me and speaks in his best creepy homosexual uncle-I've-got-something-in-my-pocket-for-you voice): "Those girls on the first row house left want to meet you after the show, they think you're hot...if you're interested in that sort of thing." (His tone implying he kind of hopes I'm NOT interested in that sort of thing). Um, thanks, right. Me in my underwear during Once In A While will dispel all that.
But I'm glad he gave me the warning. Cause sure enough, after the show, during the meet and greet, here come the two little punky gothy pierced princesses. And I say:

Me: Hope you enjoyed the show

Blonde Pierced Punky Girl: We did, you phantoms were great and I got molested by a bunch of you. But not you. And my friend here didn't get molested at all.

Me: (looking for anyone else in the cast to save me, none are present) Um, well, yeah, most of my stuff's on the other side of the stage. But we got held over, so come back next week, right.

Blonde Pierced Punky Girl: My friend has something to ask you (nudges friend forward) Ask him!

Brunette Pierced Punky Girl: (dead serious stare) You're hot. Wanna fuck?

Me: (the pause that goes here is worthy of the most uncomfortable moments on The Office or Curb Your Enthusiasm) Um, er, I, well, hmm, ahh, did, did you. Ha. Oh, I, er.......I don't know what to say to that.

Brunette Pierced Punky Girl: (says something else but at this point I'm not a phantom, or even Josh in a corset...I'm looking and swaying and all my ticks and quirks are showing themselves: air piano, ear pull, the works...and I keep waiting for the signal that says..."Ha. Ha. Aren't I funny and bold. Really enjoyed the show"....and it never comes) I have no memory of just how I managed to slip away, what lame joke I used to escape.

This isn't like, check out my groupies, aren't I a bad ass....it's not even look at me freak out....but it was by far the strangest meet and greet I've done since the show opened.

Tammy, later that evening, said, "I'm glad you didn't go with them. That girl was kissing Elton earlier."

Ugh. Yeah, I wouldn't want to be in the same swimming pool with Elton, let alone....

But that's the funny thing, I never even really took a good look at either of them. They were kind of just these menacing cardboard cut outs.

Fasten Your Seatbelts

There's just no time to post at work today. All the bees in the hive are hovering over me. I'll have to post on Rob's computer when I get home. I am chomping at the bit, pissing my pants, I have tales, notions, news, questions, and snide remarks. So fasten your seatbelts...you know the rest.

I HAVE

Ever write the world's longest post only to have your jackass co-worker plug in a shredding machine and accidently turn your computer off, losing the whole thing....

I promise I'll write more later....

But right now things are kind of hinky at work....

It's the oldest of old bullshit. SSDD.

Look busy. Run fast. Stand still. More later....

Who Turned Off The Bright Lights?

Today is so slow, it's not even noon yet. What is going on?
Theory of Revativity 101: Sitting at a 'Joe vs.The Volcano' type desk makes time drag by.

Last night's 1940's rehearsal went well. I've decided that David is a well of takes, double takes, and humor that I'm going to dip into for this show. His instincts as he moves through a scene are razor sharp and natural. Again, I'm happy to finally get the chance to play ball with him. The only thing bad about this show is the time crunch we are all under (30 days to go!!). All of the cast (that I don't already know) seem very cool and nice.

Before rehearsal I went by Kevin and Marcie's to check on Domino, Punch, and Judy (I'm cat sitting). They seemed to all be well. Since they were all in such a good mood, I neglected to tell them who won the election. Let Kevin and Marcie handle that when they get back on Saturday.

I've been debating back and forth about letting more people in on my blog. Mostly, Sarah, Jeff, and Kim. The ramifications of that could be, at the very least, awkward. As it stands now my 'audience' is pretty small: Amber, Marcie, Alyson, Gina, Geoff, Kevin, Megan, Todd, Rob, and I think Steve checks in from time to time. But even with those people, I find myself censoring certain things or phrasing them a different way.

Please don't think of this blog as my journal -- that's where the for my eyes only stuff goes. And anyone looking through my journal would need a Rosetta Stone to translate my idiosyncratic shorthand.

Maybe with this little forum, I can learn to stop censoring myself so much. To back up what I say. To not be so wishy washy (a trait I'm sure all of the people I listed and more who I didn't can't stand about me).

Is it worth it, let me work it, I put my thing down, flip it, and reverse it......

I feel a compulsion to write down that Missy Eliot lyric, no idea why......

Maybe the same compulsion that made me comment on it......

The Nod

I need distractions. Drown me in a sea of trivia and pop culture and 1940's rehearsals and episodes of LOST and burned cd's and a busy weekend and a Christmas bonus and a new DVD or two and Thanksgiving and seeing The Incredibles this weekend and the final Rocky performances and a new book and sex and the holidays and memorizing my lines and white noise. The next four years are gonna be a glitch in The Matrix. Let me sleep and exist and swim through. Lobotomy! Lobotomy!

Bring Out Your Dead, Monsters Coming!!

Well, according to www.cnn.com it's official. I guess this means I'll be 30 years old before I've seen the last of this awful President, this whoreson. How fucking depressing it that? Four more years with that evil fucking monster as the face of America. And with a Republican controlled Senate and House -- we should all slit our wrists. Or set fire to ourselves like that famous picture of the Buddhist monk. That dizzy, disgusting feeling in the pit of your stomach is due to us circling the drain. I can almost hear all the fucking fascist, right wingers, "If you don't love America, get out." I wish to The Purpose and The Random that I could. Let me make this plain and simple for anyone who reads this: WE ARE ALL FUCKED NOW. Period. End of the fucking story. Now, don't let this lead you to believe that I think Kerry was some kind of godsend, perfect, I didn't. Anyone at that level of politics owes Someone, in my paranoid opinion. But this country needed a change -- not the same, corrupt poison that we've all (supporters and detractors) been choking on. Death toll. Cusp. End. Recede. De-evolve. What was it George Orwell said about picturing the future as a jack boot stomping on a human face? Chaos. Madness. Horror. Where are you John Wilkes Booth? Where are you Czolgosz? Guiteau? Where's our 21st Century Oswald? Where are our madmen for a deranged era? Where are the people who deal in lead? Doesn't this just feel like the tipping point, the crash of the wave? Cry out DISCORDIA!. Cry out for us all. Weep, pray, curse, stomp your feet, gnash your teeth, and cry out. Trust not to hope, it has forsaken us. Welcome to the tail end of the American comet.

Burned

I love burned cd's. When Amber and Brian came down this weekend, they burned me several: The Libertines, Iggy Pop, The Pixies, Velvet Revolver, Death Cab For Cutie, The Faint, and Interpol (right now my new favorites). They also burned me copies of my Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Strokes, and Hives cd's so I can pass those along to Steve Miller as payback for the half dozen discs he's burned for me. It gives me an excuse to stop by his place and pick up my Chuck Klosterman book: Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs. And perhaps these will provide me with a little credit for a few more bands, he owns me The Dandy Warhols.
And today we were given new computers with cd burners.........pure glee.

Love, Love Will Tear Us Apart, Again

There's nothing quite like waiting five hours to vote to make you truly love the democratic process.
Cause if I was indifferent to who wins this election, my ass would have been gone after about thirty minutes.
I showed up at the library yesterday at 1:30 pm and didn't cast my vote until 6:30 pm. I'm not hedging a single second, that's exactly how long it took. The line didn't move for an hour and a half at one point (someone broke the machine that collects the ballots, we found out). But done is done and fun is fun and I did my part to vote that Rat Bastard out of office. Enough political rumblings.

This past weekend's shows went well. Amber and Brian and Rob came on Saturday. They ruled. They yelled callbacks (Buy an umbrella, you cheap bitch!!) and they were on the front row of a side where I have a lot of moments, so that was cool. So far, all three Saturday shows have been the best, in my opinion. The Halloween show was a good show -- but I was out of it, tired, a little depressed -- and I felt like I phoned in a lot of my performance -- but the audience ate it up and the rest of the cast was on. After the show, I went to I Bar with some of the cast (Tyler, Ward, Steve S., Susan, Kim, Seth, Katrina, Steve French). And I had a pretty good time, dancing and hanging out. I wasn't going to dance but then a combination of Kim pulling me and the DJ choosing that moment to play the Joy Division song that's become a minor anthem to me changed my mind. Kismet. Didn't get home until 4 am (I've never been at a club when they turned the 'ugly lights' on - so, that was a first for me)

Called in Monday (hence no posts, no computer). Voted. Then drove to Sarah's and we went to Elizabeth's for 1940's Radio Hour rehearsal, which went well. We have such a great cast of people, talented, fun, nice -- the only miserable thing is going to be the time crunch we are all under (we open December 2nd!!!). I have to say that I think 1940's is going to be my last show for some time. I need a breather, a break. Now, I know that as soon as I'm not in a show two things will happen: I'll start jonsing to be in a show, and everyone I know will be cast in something and I won't have anyone to hang out with. But I think it's time. Between rehearsal and the madness that is the closing of the year, Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Year's -- I'm gonna be burned to slag.

Plus, I've decided that 2005 is my Year To Finish My BA In English. Cue The Avenue Q soundtrack, "What do you do, with a BA in English, what is my life going to be? Four years of college and plenty of knowledge, have earned me this useless degree. Can't pay the bills yet, cause I have no skills yet, the world is a big scary place. But somehow I can't fight the feeling that might make a different to the human race!!"

With loans and some time and gritted teeth, I think I can do it. What happens after that is anyone's guess. I think that I'd like to take that teacher's certificate test that Amber took -- maybe teacher some retarded 8th graders about the joys of haiku and Frost and Huckleberry Finn. Perhaps by doing that, I'll find a way to make something of myself. Can you hear it? The tick tick tocking of my twenties slipping away -- "Grow up, you useless fucker, grow the fuck up!!".

I don't know if that'll make me happy or make me feel complete or whatever -- I just know that I don't want to be a 30 year old file clerk (I don't really want to be a 25 year old file clerk, you know). But all that aside -- I feel the call, the pull, to finish up that aspect of myself. if nothing else, it'll give my Mom something new to bitch about (what will it be, school/college has been her thing for so long -- well before 1997 when I graduated).

How to maintain this drive in the face of the horrible beaucratic fucking sinkhole nightmare cue line that is the college experience???? I don't know. I do not know.

So, yeah, it looks like come the New Year, I'm taking a break from the stage (of course, I think Bay Street is doing The Musical Comedy Murders of 1940 and I must be in that!!). But I think school is going to be the focus in 2005.
That's the plan, anyway.