There's A Lesson In This, Somewhere...

...if only I could figure out what it is. Tinker, tailor, soldier, spy...

I've Always Wanted To Say That

I just saw the strangest thing. I just came home from a day out with Tyler and Todd. Lunch with Tyler, coffee with Todd. And Tyler just dropped me off at my house -- and my neighbor, Stephanie, was walking upstairs to her apartment with two dogs, and when she got to her door and managed to open it -- she knocked one of the dogs off the balconey. It landed in the courtyard. Thud! It was a pretty shocking picture.

And I said:

"Your dog just fell. He's down here."

And I went over to it, to see if it was okay -- the dog took it pretty well. Almost stoic. Stephanie came down, frantic -- her and her roommates are dog sitting. But the dog seemed fine, if a little depressed about the whole thing. He never even let out a bark or a whimper.

Desire To Perform A Cannonball Into A Swimming Pool

Today feels like a nice day to go swimming. Easter use to mean going over to my Uncle Lee's and Aunt Donna's house. They lived on a lake. Lake Asbury. And it would be hot. Just starting to get hot. But we were never allowed to go swimming (that was for the 4th Of July celebration at Uncle Lee's) -- cause my Mom would insist that there was "a nip in the air". No swimming until summer proper.

Which suddenly makes me remember some cousins of my Mom's from up North (Chicago?) letting their kids play in the sprinkler in October -- I was so fucking jealous, I wanted in that sprinkler so bad -- Mom was having none of that. "Yankees." That was all she would say, rolling her eyes.

Nip or not, today it would be nice to be floating down a lazy river at Blizzard Beach. That's the only way I can stand this Orlando heat -- if I'm near a body of cool, chlorine-rich, water....

God, I miss the above ground pool I grew up with...in a strange way I even miss the ritual of cleaning it before every summer (it would have cost too much to keep buying chlorine over the winter months, so we would just let it get gross once summer was over). The three or four days it would take for the garden hose to fill it up....that first cannonball. Marco Polo. Sharks and Minnows. Making waves. Making a current by going in a circle for an hour.

That was fun. We were lucky.

This Very Day You Shall Know Both Your Birth...And Your Destruction.

Not a bad tag line, huh?
Really good rehearsal today.
Long but productive.
Off tomorrow. Happy Easter, everybody.
I...am...beat.

We Clean Up Real Nice....

I had a great time at Jeff's birthday party last night.

It was funny to see so many cast members from Oedipus there -- all of our conversations went something like this:

"Wow, look at you...you're...clean."

"I know, right...and look at you...you're also clean."

"It's just, you know...I've gotten use to the dirt and, well..."

"The smell."

"The smell, right...the smells..."

"You're so clean."

"Back at you, ten fold."

And tonight should prove to be another muddy, bloody, itchy, crazy mess....

5,6,7,8

Can't quite find the...flow...today. The good, orderly direction. Feel...just...out of step. Like I'm missing something or forgot something important or I blinked at the wrong time. Zigged when I should have zagged. It's an odd, unpleasant sensation. Foreshadowing? Spider-Sense? Self Fulfilling Prophecy? Something unresolved, unsaid. Loose ends? It kind of makes my chest feel heavy. Weight. Like there's somewhere I should be...something I should be doing...? Yes, it's like I left the oven on or the doors unlocked. Tick tick tick. Where's the boom? What's the boom?

I Dare You To NOT Look At My Burlap-Crinkle!!!

Just a quick, little fun fact about my Oedipus costume. You've heard me talk about it (chicken bone vest, burlap loincloth, weird anklets and armbands made out of this stuff that looks like hay -- Jeff knows the name of it, it's very Festival Of The Lion King, and it starts with the letter R, but I can't remember it or spell it.) You may be seeing it in the Orlando Sentinel soon -- there was a photographer there tonight and he took about 3 million pictures of Tammy and me during what I call The Ewok Penecostal Moment.

But let's talk about burlap-crinkle. My burlap-crinkle.

After some hardcore tribal dancing and puppetry, we take a quick break and I go get some water. It's then that I notice that all the moving and crouching and general Spider-Man/monkey boy type stances have cause the burlap on the front of my loincloth to bulge outward. Cocksure, if you will...

And once you see such a sight, you can't unsee it. It burns itself onto the back of your retinas. White hot, blue-white, purple. You are stuck with the image of my sweet burlap-crinkle. See you in Hell.

Well, in more ways than one, I am filthy tonight. Time for a shower.

Is there a Greek god in charge of cleansing and soap suds. I feel like his name would be Loufa. Or is that Loofah? Or Loofa?

Microphone Check One, Microphone Check Two...

Microphone check three, you can't see what I can't see...you're blind baby...


It's weird to be a teller. Or at least a teller-in-training. It's just the type of job that you take for granted, you don't think about it -- there have always been bank tellers in your life, behind glass, vaguely friendly (mostly), doing whatever the hell it is that they do.

My favorite parts of working in a bank, so far:

Talking into the microphone to the customers at the drive through.

Giving out lollipops to kids. (and dog biscuits to dogs...)

Sending things through the pneumatic tube at the drive through.

Secretly wanting a Point Break style bank robbery to happen, complete with themed masks (Ex-Presidents, Rabbits, or maybe those creepy clear masks). Fatalistic, I know. But I can't help it. And, hey, I'm behind seven inches of bullet proof glass --- let fly, motherfuckers!!!

That's about it. The rest is fairly boring. Not horrible. Just boring, paperwork, regulations, 3 million bits of information that won't stay in my head. I've noticed that unless something is interesting to me, my memory is awful. I can't retain. I can feel myself zoning out during what I'm sure is something I should be paying attention to. But when something grabs me, when I become fascinated, I just absorb facts and fiction with ease.

What the fuck is up with my picture disappearing? I guess I'll have to find another one. Hey Amber...can I use that one you took of me? The bad ass Humphrey Bogart/Marlowe/Sam Spade picture you took? That one would be pretty cool.

Oedipus tonight. We're finally in the Studio space. Chants, odes, beats, lines, sweat, circles, volume, bushes, torches, loinclothes, sand, choke, grit-in-eyes, heat, puppets, whispers.....

Time. There's never enough time. You always want more time. Tomorrow, I get out of work at noon. I'm going over and over the script, the movement, the odes....and still manage to do four loads of laundry. We have Friday off and Easter off. Saturday is, like, an all day event. Then on to Hell Week. Where did March go? It's over (Over? What was over? Not the night...)

Iggy Pop and Absinth Spoons

JavaJohn throws a nice party. And David was there, which was really cool. (Poor David was worried as hell about me -- due to recent blog content -- it's okay, I'm fairly okay, no worries.) Todd and Amanda were also there -- that's a great party as far I'm concerned - David, John, Todd, and Amanda.

The theme was post Saint Patrick's Day, so there was a lot of green -- green cupcakes, green chips, green napkins and streamers....

And John gave me a gift that he got for me in New York -- a green tie with a picture of Iggy Pop on it. John is just totally one of those guys that can remember a tiny little detail about you and then apply that knowledge to a fun, random gift. Once at rehearsal, I mentioned I had a thing for samurai, samurai movies, Japanese history, that sort of thing -- the next day he brought me his copy of Shogun and let me borrow it. He rules.

Another thing about both John and Todd that rules -- and that I'm kind of envious of -- is that, the other night, after bowling, when me and Sarah and Amanda and her brother and Tyler all took off, they went to Independent Bar together. Let me remind you that they had just met at the bowling alley that night. I just think that is so cool -- maybe, mostly cause it's just not something I would do -- go to a club with somebody I just met -- so, I'm glad I have friends that'll do it.

Bowling For Serotonin

Happy post Saint Patrick's Day.

I had a really fun time last night.

A nice swift kick in my mopey ass.

Tyler, you rule. Todd, you rule. Amanda, you rule. John, you rule.

And now, the weekend starts here...

I may have found some purchase on that slippery-as-fuck wheel of mine.

Cheer Up Or I'll Give You A Chelsea Smile...

So, I usually don't need outside sources like the weather to make me feel depressed....but....

This weather is like static, everything blanketed in gray, wet, pissy misery....

This is shotgun-in-the-mouth weather.

This is carbon monoxide and plastic bag cocktail weather.

This is sink full of ice water, straight razor on the counter kind of weather.

So, on top of what I feel are my legit reasons for being moody and depressed (both the external, nonweather reasons and the internal, chemical ones)....I, hell, everybody also has to wade through this thick, wet bullshit.....

Let me muster up enough of a sneer on my face to I can say, "Great."
I'll say it and hold it out for about a minute.

Drive in it, go to lunch in it.

Weather usually doesn't bother me this much. Well, heat, humidity....I'm not a fan of either of those.

Fuck. Negative balance. No honeymoon. Fuck, things just seem....messy right now. No fucking money. Power-fucking-less. Eye strain. Ass ache. Tucked in. This weather. Wet shoe prints in the kitchen. Fucking dust everywhere. Stale. Messy. Piles of shit, clothes. Stacks. Where is everything gonna fit? Fuck. What happens next? Tension. Strain. Deja Vu. Repeat offender. Them door's gonna swing wide!!! Baggage. Useless. Baby. Dead Weight. Fucking menace. Spastic. Oil Change. What Is That Fucking Noise? Calm the fuck down. This weather. This wet, bruise colored weather. Phonecalls. Obligations. Rules. Bills. Floating. Menace. Dread. Loathing. Jackals. Idiot. Useless as tits on a boar hog.

I feel like a had control over some of these things....and now it just feels like I am at the fucking whim of....I don't know....my own idiocy, I suppose.

Somewhere in me....there's a rational part that says: You've been through worse, things will be better again soon. It's a fucking wheel and sometimes you feel like it's grinding you under....but, eventually, you find some purchase and pull yourself back up to the top. Up there the danger is all in keeping your balance....down here, it's all about maintaining, not getting crushed, not letting the pressure smear you all over the place....give in, relax, trust, row for shore....breath....the only certainty is that the wheel is always moving....

I wish that voice was louder. I wish I could make myself calm down....bend....not shatter.

Fucking, om, right???

"Ahoy-hoy!!"

"....finally, someone let me outta my cage....time for me is nothing cause I'm counting no age....no you shouldn't be there, no you shouldn't be scared, I'm under a snare and I'm under repairs...."

Well, I couldn't be happier that the day is over. That is a long time to be stuck in a room, staring at a computer screen. I would make a bad Steve McQueen in The Great Escape....that tiny, tiny room just defeats me. Cooler King. Is it bad that my little notebook is full of doodles....tons of them. (Today I drew a planet that I called Wonderland Prime and then drew all these little moons in the sky and gave them names to {ALICE, MAD HATTER, MARCH HARE, QUEEN OF HEARTS, WHITE RABBIT} and charted their orbits in the sky over Wonderland Prime) Tomorrow, I start on OZ Prime.

You know what's fun: pressing your finger into the slightly soft surface of a flatscreen computer monitor -- it creates this great, watery ripple effect. With blues and yellows all mixed in -- it's probably wrong to do but I found myself jabbing at my screen today like a kung fu student. Creating these rat-a-tat-tat patterns as quick as I could before the first few would start to fade. Raindrops. Bullet holes. Worm holes. The fucking T-Rex is coming. Boom. Boom. Boom.

I am seven years old.

Let's jump from that ship, shall we? Oedipus rehearsal last night was a strange mix of useful and frustrating. Going into rehearsal, I was in a pretty good mood (just happy to not be at a desk), Jeff and Christain were in kinda bad moods - nothing too dark (not by my standards) - just 'blah'. Jeff was starving and he didn't eat and we're rushing to get their on time (the tagline for Oedipus may end up being: WORK MY HOLE!) and we do...and several other people are late (and I've never seen so many people bring food to a rehearsal)....so poor Jeff is starving and surrounded by people eating. And we worked on a lot of the opening sequence....which is good and I'm glad we did...but then we didn't have enough time for the Tiresias bit and that really needs help (which is weird because the first time we did it, it felt pretty strong...maybe we're forcing it too much??). And there are a few other things bothering me about the show -- there's too much committee, too many voices, opinions. Now, I'm not asking for a dictatorship...there's room in this show for us to throw in our ideas. It's just seems like a lot of people talking to hear themselves talk, offering up nothing new or just questioning things to death (what to fuck does it matter what you do with your left arm! let's do it once and see where your left arm naturally wants to be! fuck me!). So, by the time we started our run of the show -- I was frayed and pissed and annoyed. And their was no one to turn this empty rage on - it was no one's fault, just several inter-related things that slowly pushed my buttons. And some people in this show don't even have to come to rehearsal!!! Now, if all these conflicts were known ahead of time, I guess I can't really blame the actor. And then there's the strange case of my friend and fellow cast member that's driving me bugshit - to the point where I can feel my face sneer and my skin crawl with annoyance.

And, now, due to weather, rehearsal tonight has been cancelled. I'm not happy about this (even as frustrating as it can be, I feel like this is bad fucking mojo to not stay in a zone). Our next one is Saturday. So, tonight, I'm going over my script, my lines, trying to remember when and where I move. Hopefully, with three days to do it, I'll have the script memorized. One less thing to worry about.

And maybe somehow this can be combined with a nice, quiet evening with Sarah. So, I can be happy about being handed a night off to share this week. Starting tomorrow night Sarah begins another weekend of Everyman.

The Shield started its Fourth Season last night. I have the episode in my Freevo. Glenn Close is going to take on Vic Mackey, should be pretty cool. Can you imagine that? You're already on a hit TV show. Emmy and Golden Glodes and all that. You're a working actor, slowly becoming a name, a celebrity. You're doing good work on a great police show. And then you get to work with Glenn Close. And not in a guest spot, one episode deal. For a whole season. 13 episodes. A complete character and story arc. That has to be amazing for them. And maybe her being on the show will bring in people who wouldn't normally watch Vic Mackey beat up a pedarist with a phonebook.

What is the most surprisingly accurate observation somebody has made about you?

Anytime anyone (let's see Sarah, Jeff, Marcie, David, Steve, Amber) has told me I'm too hard on myself.

Or when Marcie was reading my Tarot the other day and she said, 'You probably have more friends than anybody I know, so you couldn't be as big a shitbag as you think you are, so knock it off!'

What is the most surprisingly inaccurate observation somebody has made about you?

Probalby Steve Miller - he always seems to point out the things he thinks that annoy or upset me - and those are usual things I can deal with. It's usually something else that I'll lose my shit over.

What do you worry about most often?

The future. The past. The present.

What traditions have you taken on as an adult that were not a part of your childhood?

Drinking at social gatherings. Believe it or not, most Geoghagan functions are dry affairs.

What do you dream about that you don't realistically expect to ever come true?

That I'll ever get my shit together enough to hammer out this fantasy novel in my head.

Name three things you're insecure about?

Whether I'm funny or not, my teeth, and the fact that I don't have a degree in anything (except for my AA)

How do you feel about nursing homes -- for you personally -- should you ever become sick?

Just press a pillow over my face.

How do you feel about life support for you personally?

No. Never. No. I've been through enough of my waking life as a shell -- I wouldn't want to finish it out that way.

You Work Real Hard And The Pay's Real Low -- And Every Hour Goes Oh-So-Slow...

Okay, so far, I'm not a fan of AmSouth training. Alone. At a desk. Independent. Self paced. Test. After test. After test. Staring at a computer screen for three hours straight (I have nothing but loathing for the fact that tomorrow I'll be in that plain as milk room for eight hours). Our trainer, you ask? She's a voice that comes to us every once in a while from speaker phone...from Jacksonville. For physical contact there are a few HR people floating around. HR people always look and act real busy -- but you know that they don't have shit to do. I took five tests today -- don't ask me about what -- great training, huh? -- I failed each of these tests three times before finally passing them -- so by that fourth chance, I recognized some of the questions (although I will say that each test was a tricky fucker for throwing new questions in - or rearranging old questions, rewording them, bastards, so it was always a mixed bag). But by the fourth time around I always seemed to be able to retain what I needed...to pass the test anyway. If anyone asked me about any of it this second, I doubt they'd like my answers.

Subject change: Isn't it funny how you can suddenly and without warning just start to dislike a friend of yours? I bring it up because I having issues with someone in Oedipus, a person I use to really like and think was cool -- now, this person annoys the pure shit out of me. And not in a small way...in such a way that I barely have any tolerance for them and I keep thinking about saying something horrible...using a killswitch on the friendship. Not that I would...too much bullshit to deal with, too many rehearsals left, gotta put the greater good above my petty personality conflict. But it is strange to me...a complete 180 degree turn. And it's not like a, maybe just downgrade this person to 'small doses/long orbit' friendship -- I seriously think that I after Oedipus is over and done with that I don't want anything to do with them anynore. I want to change my mind - but I don't think that I will.

Which somehow got me thinking about my infamous toxic friend from high school, Martin. Martin was funny and cool but there was just something...I don't know...something like a black hole around him. Not that he was negative -- not about himself, Martin was loaded with self confidence about his abilities and talents. It was more like...he just kind of drained at you (me). Kicked the chair out from under my opinions, feelings....until I was really just this extention of his thoughts and attitudes...Martin-Lite. 'Old Cottonhead', that's what my Mom use to call him. I can remember her calling him that the night Martin and me both dropped acid and spent three hours talking to her about BellSouth (my Mom is an operator....and Martin was - is? - a hacker). I never had it out with him or anything...when we stopped being friends (we had stopped being friends long before we stopped hanging out)...I just...avoided him. I didn't know then and I still don't know now: How do you tell someone that you don't want to be their friend? It's fucked up. I can still remember Martin's handle -- Kubiak -- and all those other guys and their fucking code names -- B_ -- Kobayashi -- Sirlance -- Red Dragon -- weird for that to pop into my head just now...ha-ha...Beyond HOPE 1997...

The Sun Is Shining, It's A Lovely Day...

Reports of my clone's death were a little over the top. Actually, I'm keeping him alive so I can have his kidneys.

Just got back from shadowing at the Aloma Branch, home for a quick lunch, then off to some mind numbing training videos/multi-media/tests.

Mad Scientist

I'm so fucking pissed at myself right now I wish I could take a sample of my DNA, clone myself, rapidly age the clone to about the age of 20 or so......and beat the dog walking shit out of him/me.

Fuck. Cocksucker. Bastard. Fuck.

My blood is fucking up....and if only I could bellow until things altered and adjusted and realigned themselves around me. (Without me having to actually do anything, of course.)

What a beautifully miserable end to a numb-dull-as-watching-paint-dry day.

I would almost rather rage around the house like a ten year old than be bored.

Idiot.

Drone.

Fuckhead.

Dammit.

Moron.

Fuck.

Well. I don't feel any better -- but that'll come eventually. Once the initial wave crashes and recedes back into the crocodile brain...some form of rational thought can take all of the jumbled mess...and start working them back into a more...pleasing...shape.

It's All The Same Jolly Fakement To Me

The last weekend. Or the first weekend. I start at AmSouth tomorrow. Tonight, I'm beat. I feel like I've been at the beach all day, swimming. That feeling in all your muscles, that feeling of being pulled by the tides.

It's been a great final (or first) weekend. This morning I went to breakfast/brunch with Sarah, Jeff, Matt, Rob, David and Steve.

Had a good rehearsal for Oedipus -- even if it did seem criminal to be in that Heliocol warehouse on such a beautiful day.

Last night I saw Romantic Comedy with Marcie -- then we went to Mark & Lorna's and saw David and Steve and Amanda and John. Afterward, Amanda, John, and I went to Tom & Jerry's - this little dive bar that had all these cool pictures of Bogart and James Dean and The Rat Pack and stuff. What a great table of people to be with.

Firday I saw Arcadia with Steve S. -- Mark & Lorna's afterward (technically, for the first time of the weekend) with Sarah and Jeff and Matt and special guest star Drew Tessier (he was Frank N Furter the first time that we did The Rocky Horror Show, when Jeff directed it).

Busy, busy. Now we'll just see how this next week plays out.

Riding home with Jeff and Tammy today I looked in my datebook to see how much time is left before Oedipus opens --- a little scary.

John gave me his Fringe script to look over -- maybe I'll get to audition for it -- who knows, maybe I'll get to do Fringe this year after all.

The Alamo...In...The Basement!!!

Last night I was so bored. I had spent the whole day curled up on the couch...in pajamas, last week off, no cellmate to pester, nothing on Tivo, no where to go, nothing to eat...bored to a place and point where all decisions and options seem lame...nothing to do, Sarah going to Everyman, gone...so I got up, showered, got dressed...and started driving. The whole time I'm in my car, I'm staring at my cellphone...using my evil will, spider-like, forcing someone to call...finally I call my sister and settle on a trip up to Borders...and in the middle of a sentence with Amber, the call waiting goes off...hold on, Amber...huzzah, it's Marcie...I answer her call (totally leaving Amber on the other line, for which I'm going to say sorry, that was rude)...Marcie wanted to know whether or not I could go see Romantic Comedy at The Studio Theatre...we talk for a bit...and then I do something I've never done before...I start sighing a lot...after every sentence, really dramatic...yeah, I've got nothing to do (sigh)...just thought I'd go to Borders (sigh)...until Marcie (caught in the spider's web) says....Umm, you want to come over here and watch Survivor?....thought you'd never ask...

Seriously, I hope this isn't a personality trait that I'm going to be using a lot...or ever again. But I did have a lot of fun at their house. We hung out, low key, watched Survivor, watched The Episode III Trailer debut on Fox (...ahhh, sweet Episode III, I still have a beautiful throb in my balls from it...can't...wait...until....May 19th)...and then Marcie read my Tarot for me.

And she is (as I've said before) really good at it. The deck that she used with me is not the traditional Tarot deck...but a deck that uses a lot of symbols and characters from Fairy Tales, Novels, and Mythes. Some 'characters' that showed up in my reading last night were: Gandalf, Little Red Riding Hood, Huck Finn, Alice & The Mad Hatter. The reading was mostly positive. The main thing I took away from it was that I need to be -- Bold, Open, Awake, and Aware. And there was something that came up in the cards about someone else I know being in trouble....and Marcie doesn't know this someone....so, when she asked about them, if there was anything wrong with them....I was floored. Since this person wouldn't want their business wallpapered all over blogworld, we'll leave out names.

I'm always half fascinated with how the reading pertains to me...and half fascinated watching Marcie interpret the cards.

But overall, it was positive stuff. Enjoy things. Don't be so down on yourself (or as Marcie put it -- you have more friends that anybody I know -- you can't be as much of a shitbag as you seem to think you are -- so stop it), be Open....cause there's a blink-and-miss-it-chance coming....

Fortune Favors The Bold, as they say...

Bluster

What a wet, morose day. Overcast. Bleak. Not quite raining anymore...more like being sneezed on.

Roll Down The Window, Let Us Feel This Cool Desert Breeze.

I've never been able to properly explain myself in this climate.....

There are times when my pack rat nature defeats me. When I wish I could just burn everything I own, instead of transporting it to the next place. Just start over. Wasn't there a general...a Roman general?...that burned all the ships, so that his troops had no choice but to go forward? Wait, was that Alexander The Great???

Actually, it's not that bad outside today, warm....but unlike bastard months like June through November, there's a wonderful breeze. If only I could transplant Jacksonville's seabreeze to Orlando.

I was just gathering up some of Sarah's stuff from her apartment, bringing it back over here. Feels good to do, if a little hot and sweaty. Like playing a country music song backwards or something. Got the computer, some glasses and dishes....how we're going to get some of the rest of it....pure mystery.

Oedipus went well last night. We are moving through the show pretty quickly. The show itself is only going to end up being an hour (if that).We've done the Opening Ritual (what I like to call The Gungan/Ewok/Penecostal Church Moment)...last night we did the Prologue (Priest puppets)....tonight we're going to work on Episode One (Blind Prophet Sequence)....Wednesday, we'll be in the space at The Studio Theatre. Bring on the mud and the twigs and the berries!!!

David is having a little ITW gathering/movie night at his place on Wednesday....I want to go but with rehearsal....don't know if I'll be able to pull it off. Maybe.

Did I mention yet how happy I am that Avis is our Jocasta? She rules.

I have this urge to have Marcie read my Tarot cards again....it was actually a little freaky how spot on they were last time.

I'm ready to have another party.

Sarah and I have found this cool house in College Park. I won't say anymore, don't want to jinx it.

I want to be in a Fringe show.

I want to see a movie. I want Sarah and I to have a night off together this week -- that's not happening, thanks to Oedipus Monday through Wednesday and Everyman Thursday through Sunday.

Who would know that this morning it was a pissy, messy, rainy day? It is beautiful outside right now. I wouldn't be opposed to eating outside -- and I fucking hate eating outside.

I'm having an affair behind blogspot's back right now....with MySpace....it's nothing serious, just sex.

The Zutons rule. I love their cd. However, their vibe is almost, almost a little country fried....so I'm having a hard time believing Megan when she says that when they opened for The Killers, that they blew The Killers off the stage. They're good....I just don't know that they....rock.

I'm out.

WTF?: Laserbeams. 75 ML Of Urine. Puppy Dogs. Moliere. The Corey Feldman Of Queens. Stolen Ice.

It's been....forever. Since we last spoke I've seen a friend get his cornea sliced open with a razor, seen another friend rule all over the world in Scapin, seen my sister in all her puppy-mother glory, and still had time for ice cream and drag queens....the world sometimes gives us just what we want.

-- if you ever get the chance to watch someone's laser surgery -- do it -- say yes -- it is awesome, it is worth getting up at six am to be ready to be at their house by 7:15 so they can have their eyes cut into by ten past eight. You can check out David's link to see that he's doing well now -- but I felt so sorry for him during our car ride back to his house -- it's been cloudy and overcast for days -- but Friday was crisp and bright and painful for David's eyes -- he had these huge, wet, fat tears rolling down his face and his Tom Cruise Top Gun Wrap Around Shades weren't much use -- man, he was loopy by the time he stumbled off to dreamland.

-- I'm going to ask you all now to try and see Scapin at The Rep this upcoming weekend. I knew nothing about the show going into it -- just that Todd was in it -- and it was great -- Todd does such a good job in this show -- I was so proud of him -- the show was really funny and silly and strange -- and all the characters got to wear these beautiful masks -- everyone should try to catch it -- Todd is going to fucking soar at UCF's program, I believe -- I think he may have been a little unsure to be up there with so many graduate students -- But Amber and I both agreed and told him: undergraduate, graduate, whatever.....he belonged up there and all the hard work he's put into the show paid off -- Please check it out, only one weekend to go.

They only needed 45 ML of urine at LabCore. I gave them 75. What is it about a piss test that you know is no problem and clean....that makes me want to put a bunch of awful shit into my body? Hmm. Moving on...

What's wrong with people? Really. Even though I believe in some form of....karmic (that's not quite the right word but it's close enough for all of you to hop onboard)....karmic....umm....justice. Certain behavior bringing about the eventual dropping of the other shoe (punishment, musical chairs, all fall down). I find myself frustrated and annoyed that too often in my life I can't be the Shoe Dropper....that I have to blindly trust to some invisible, semi-divine, cosmic wheel....that tells me the rude and the unjust will sooner rather than later find their hamstrings cut. Logic would say...a person can only be a rude idiot just sooooooo long.....before forces and energies of a galactic nature can't bear the weight of them and to balance things out they must be taken out of play...or at least down a peg. Odin smiles. Anubis weights. Pan dances. Kali wets her hands. Some Aztec god with a name forty syllables long spreads his feathers. Time up. Pay the man. Or maybe that's, Pay The Man. And maybe it's not for us to be The Shoe Dropper on every evil, idiot fucker that annoys us....maybe those are the rules....but maybe we are given the Shoe Dropping power at other times, to serve and help other people.

Me and Sarah and Jeff are at Parliment House last night. We do a little loop and decide to watch the Drag Show. Sunday. Free. Crowded as a motherfucker with queens out to suck up the last bit of the weekend. The three of us stand in the back, near a table. Territory marked. We all have drinks. That's important. So, these two vaguely spanish, very young little things flit in and land near our table. Desperate Houseflies. One we'll call Corey Feldman and the other well, he doesn't get a name. Okay, it's crowded. no big deal. Yet. We notice that Corey has half a dozen Lance Armstrong (and other colors) type bracelets. Support the troops, tsunami relief, cancer, AIDS....but it turns out that he doesn't know what half of them are for....just trying to make a little rainbow. I know this because Jeff and Sarah ask him about them. He slurs something back. Then....casual and bold as a motherfucker....he REACHES INTO SARAH'S CUP AND TAKES ONE OF HER ICE CUBES AND POPS IT IN HIS MOUTH!!! What the fuck? Hello, Corey Fucking Feldman, do I know you, do I know your Mom? What the fuck? So after a little confused talk between the three of us....we call him on it....and he says, simply enough, with a lot of extra Ssssss, "I like ice." Maybe he's high, I don't give a fuck....who fucking does that? And as is always the case with idiots like this....Corey Feldman and his boy toy kept throwing Jeff, Sarah, and me dirty looks that we were the assholes of the world. Maybe I'm in a weird place right now, maybe I'm being too....male or something....but I wanted to beat the living shit out of both of them, Deadwood style....pummel them until they were choking. Through a swift and over the top act of violence, send the two of them on a trajectory in their lives where, if nothing else, they would know how melt into the background and be invisible at a fucking drag show. Though ice theft was the worst of their crimes, the two little fuckers were rude in other ways as well -- smoking and not just smoking, waiting until the fucking House Queen asked someone else not to smoke before even lighting up -- and constantly coming and going, coming and going (remember, it's crowded and there are people behind us who want to see the show too).

This is my last week of unemployment. Trying to get some stuff done around the house. Cleaning. Throwing some stuff out. Moving Sarah's stuff back over here. Where to put it all?

Tonight is Oedipus rehearsal. No Anna, though. She's opening Arcadia at Mad Cow this week. John finally passed out scripts to us on Saturday, we're going to be blocking each episode this week. By Wednesday we should also be getting the Choral Odes. I think by the end of this week the skeletal structure of the show will be firmly in place. Then it's layer cake....level after level....until we open. Excited. Nervous.

I feel kind of strange that after Oedipus....I don't have anything lined up. I've been involved in a show since last July. MSG. Rocky Horror. 1940s Radio Hour. Into The Woods. Oedipus. Oedipus is only the 13th show i've ever done.

Lysistrata --- Spartan Herald
Private Lives --- Elyot Chase
Musical Comedy Murders Of 1940 --- Eddie McCuen
The Grapes Of Wrath --- Connie Rivers
Stagedoor --- Jimmy Deveroux / Billy The Photographer
The Rocky Horror Show --- Phantom
Wages --- Joey Adams
Noises Off --- Garry/Roger
MSG --- Mozart
The Rocky Horror Show --- Phantom
The 1940s Radio Hour --- Wally Fergusson
Into The Woods --- Milky White
Oedipus --- Greek Chorus

Strange, it feels like I've done more, been doing this longer. And five of these shows have happened in the last nine months.

Watch, As Sarah French Lifts A Big Black Man Over Her Head...

This has to be quick cause I should be taking a shower right now - so that when Sarah comes back from the dentist we can begin our day (her day off, one of my last days off) shopping and drinking coffee and eating lunch and buying shoes and all that good stuff....

Everyman last night was amazing. The cast is so strong and they all just jump right into the story. No weak links. I admire all of them for that and hope that I can take as deep a plunge doing Oedipus. I want to write more about it - but it'll have to wait. Needless to say, I think that everyone is going to enjoy the show. It's avant garde but it draws you in. (This isn't some guy in a black leotard, waiting to drop a marble into a Mason jar on a specific beat of music -- artsy). The cast makes this medieval story....matter....to you. It's interesting and well done. Sarah is amazing. Damany -- who plays Everyman is great -- hardcore.....I could go on.....but I need to go get ready to go....

Factotum

Warehouse grunt, security guard, bookseller, pharmacy tech, courier, file clerk.......bank teller?

AmSouth just called me today to offer me the position. I just need to go take a pee test on Friday, no problem there...and then I can start on the 14th. It's part time (25 hours)....so I still might need to marry this job with another part time job (UrbanThink, why haven't you called me???).....but that's all looking up.

A New Phobia

Quick. We are rehearsing for Oedipus at Heliocol (where most of the rehearsals for Rocky Horror took place). Heliocol is this weird factory/warehouse that produces...something. Something to do with pools. Or pillows? Anyway, it's this weird building in Altamonte Springs. And it is like a wormhole, Rubik's Cube, Chinese Puzzle Box, Escher painting, quantum physics equation all rolled into one. Now this will sound strange -- but this building is bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. Impossible, you say! No -- somehow, whether through a temporal rift in the fabric of space/time or unholy pact with The Devil Himself - the building is vast on the inside and small and nondescript on the outside. There are miles of rooms, even though the building barely takes up a block.

And we aren't the only cast rehearsing there -- the shadow casts for Rocky Horror and Moulin Rouge both rehearse there as well -- some of their props are left out, including Dr. Scott's wheelchair. Now, I have discovered a strange new phobia -- I've always been afraid of being paralyzed (waist down, neck down, any form) -- so I won't sit in this wheelchair -- I will barely look at this wheelchair. Other people sit on, play with, mess around with it -- not me. I know that it's strange but I almost feel like if I sat in the wheelchair -- some...force...some evil malignant force would work it's power over me and make sure I end up sitting in one for real, for good. Silly, stupid, I know. But I can't do it -- you couldn't pay me enough to sit in that thing. Even when we were doing Rocky....I never even touched Ward's automatic wheelchair. No way.

On a different front -- or back -- I have a nice pulled muscle in my back this morning. Good stuff. Middle of my back, just to the right of my spine, and hardcore enough that even moving my neck hurts a little. Time for a hot shower and then some Icy Hot (or as I like to call it, The Balm Of Gilead).

Tonight is the preview of Everyman. Sarah had two comps -- so I'm seeing it tonight with Tyler. Sarah has more comps for Thursday and Friday too -- so, if anybody is interested in going, give me a call (I'm going again on Thursday). Thursday is the whole opening night free champagne thing. I'll give some of you guys a call.

Oh, and this is also Todd's opening weekend as well -- I need to call and give him a "break legs" and a "Go Team Venture" from me -- maybe I'll see his show on Friday, if I can.

And speaking of Friday - it looks like I'll still be able to drive David to and from his Lasik surgery -- maybe I can apply those miles to my own Lasik surgery one day.

I bought my underwear for Oedipus - the underwear that's going under my lioncloth (to make sure nothing, umm, slips out -- that should be our tagline, "Come for the blinding of Oedipus, Stay for the cock!!") And Sarah lost her shit last night as a practiced a little prancing around in my Champion Stretch boxer briefs, or as Wilson (another male Chorus member) calls them 'nut-huggers'. He ain't lying.

What's The Name Of The King's Wife Again...?

Puppetry: ancient, tribal artform or creepy scarecrow fingered demon spawn?

Tonight, we worked with Les and some of the puppets he brought in. We were split into two groups and each group was given a story from the....I can't remember what it's called....ancient Indian legend....The Rama-llama-ding-dong....or something like that. I was having such a hard time moving the puppet around, that I couldn't keep the storylines, and Indian names, and plot points together in my mind. The technique is sort of like chopsticks. Reverse chopsticks. I played The King's Fourth And Youngest Wife. Jenn (who had no time for this exercise) played The King. Tilana (I may have her name wrong - haha - not only can I not remember the names of all these Hindu gods and princes and devils - I can't remember my own cast's names) played The Evil Witch Who Is Also A Maid, and Sarah (easy name to remember) played Prince Rama (also easy to remember).

The puppet is a lot harder to move than I thought it would be - so, I was a little frustrated that I had to perform this Rama legend when my puppet moved like it had some disease.Tilana moved her puppet really well - but she was into her puppet's performance to such a level that she had no time to answer any of my questions about how she was able to be so fluid - she was too busy being Witchy. But it was still interesting -- the other group did a really good job with their legend (something about a Fire God and a Monkey God and Rama again and Rama's Wife and Rama's Brother, and I think Lady Elaine from The Land Of Make Believe)

Good news. No rehearsal tomorrow, so I will be able to go see the preview of Everyman at Mad Cow. I'm very excited about it. We don't rehearse again until Saturday and Sunday.

Back to the fine art of puppetry for a second -- the good news is that Les let John borrow the puppets and we'll get a chance test drive them more this weekend. A lot of people in the cast really took to them fast -- I feel like I need to play catch up.

Josh, You're The First To Die!

Usually, at this point in a production - this early on, I'm nervous and I feel like it's already doomed to failure.

Not with Oedipus.

I think that this show is going to be something special. Jeff and I were joking yesterday that we are not in Oedipus - we're in Aida.

Last night we went over the opening, the annointing of the Creon, Jocasta, and Oedipus, and the wraiths and the plague....

So far, my favorite moment is during the annointing of the three characters -- all of the Chorus is against the walls and we're all -- not singing -- but making these noises, notes of sound, making them louder or softer just by opening or closing our mouths -- and I was just doing it and imagining us all tribal and covered with mud -- the sound is very creepy and, I don't know, very Lord Of The Flies (or maybe those weird children in Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome)...I think that it's going to be this great, evocative moment in the show....

My body is sore. I'm aching, my knees are shredded....my stomach muscles are throbbing right now, I've got bruises on my hands....it's going to be a physically demanding show. No doubt. Walking wounded.

Here are my lines (well, mine and the rest of the chorus too):

Help Us! Save Us! Help Us Oh Oedipus! The Dead! The Dying! Help Us Oh King!
(there's a build up of music during this line that is very Aida to me)

Tonight, we're working with the creepy priest-puppets. With their creepy scarecrow fingers . They disturb me, a bit.