I don't think I've ever been this happy and sad to be done with something.
I've been lucky in that most of the stuff I've done has been somewhat successful... for me. Maybe gratifying is a better word, but I count success as something that's gratifying. If I was making 1/2 a million bucks a year doing staged readings of Miracle Beach, I wouldn't call that successful. Money is not what defines it. If I accomplish something... grow... learn... become a better person... become better at something.. those are things that are part of my definition of success.
So this has not been a success. In numbers, too. It's been extremely not a success... but for me, personally, I haven't gotten better. I've only "gotten by" and that sucks Borat's sweaty ballsac.
It has been my experience that there is usually some sort of payoff for the heavy lifting one does. It's not a spiritual thing, it's just that if you focus and concentrate on something, it's noticed, etc.
When I was miserable in Edinburgh the first time, I knew that there was going to be some payoff from the work we were doing there; we had a run scheduled in L.A. right afterwards and we were getting good reviews and larger audiences and the notice of the people you want to notice those things and it was going to pay off into the L.A. run.
Love Tapes requires a lot of heavy emotional lifting and, during the first production of it, the success of the show was what Julie and I got for the work. It was gratifying and having folks come and see it and tell others that they should come and see it was a good thing. We even extended, I think, though that may have been a bit premature. I think the last week the show sorta fizzled... but... there was a recognition of the work.
I literally feel now that I don't know how to act. I think we baffled the audience. I think I baffled them.
I've noticed, though, that many people here are mean. I think living in cold makes people mean. Passive/aggressive. I notice it because I am certainly passive/aggressive. Perhaps people don't like seeing love stories. Or, maybe we sucked. Maybe the show sucks. I do not know. I just know that I have never felt this at sea doing something. It's depressing. I mean, it always is; finishing a show.
I talked to some people after a show once and they were a little drunk and they slowly started getting mean to me. In this weird way that I didn't notice until we were just about finished talking. I think some people like being mean to people who have been in movies. It might be a personal victory. I don't even think they know why or that they're even doing it, but it sure gets obvious really fast. And, disappointing. Obvious is disappointing.
This is a weird thing to reveal: This used to happen much more when I was younger, but it's been pointed out to me by more than a couple of friends that heterosexual men get attracted to me. Then, because they have these weird feelings, they start getting really, really, really mean to me. In a way that they think is jokey, but if you're receiving it, or if you're watching it, it is astounding.
So, that happens to me also sometimes with people who have seen me in movies, of know that I used to be in movies. They start insulting the stuff I've done. Making "funny comments" about the crappy movies I've been in. As if I wasn't aware that Ski School might suck. But the thing I always try to remember is that I got paid a bunch of money to be in Ski School and they wasted their precious lives watching it. Or thinking about it. Or trying to make a funny comment to me about it. I can't help it if they haven't seen the good movies I've been in. Most people haven't, because Ski School does well on the cable channels or something. I don't know how they rate that stuff. Maybe HBO got those movies for free and they can show 'em. It seems silly to me, when there are so many great movies, that someone would show Ski School or Summer School on their channel.
Other people like them. I'm with 'em. I enjoyed Beerfest. It was probably better than All The King's Men. I could probably guarantee that. I bet ski school was better than All The King's Men. So, if you're watching Ski School and you like it, good for you. I had a fine time making it, it was the work that I could get and I did the best I could with it.
So, someone has these new feelings they don't know how to deal with so they get mean... hostile... snippy.
Oh... another tangent, this is really funny: I loathe myspace. And my profile on myspace has a long angry rant about why. (I am, of course, in the minority as myspace is extremely popular and tightcircle well...) So... Every couple of weeks when I want to "test the bruise", I check myspace to see who is stalking me, sending friend requests, etc.. I often get very nice notes. Sometimes people try to be "funny" and ironic and it's just that obvious thing I mentioned earlier... If I mean so little to you, why did you then look me up on myspace, read my essay and then write me a note? So... A death metal band found me and did a friend request thingy. A DEATH METAL band, people... and the guy wrote something like "Dude, your rant is so bitter. Never mind. Delete the request." If it's a joke, the guy is a genius.
I think it might not be a joke.
A death metal band. Too bitter for them.
Back to the matter at hand... So... people pull that shit. Which, you know, is better than being in a position where people say "Could I see a dessert menu?" to me.
There.. I'm back.
Tonight, it smelled like someone crapped in the audience. Literally. It smelled of shit. Maybe it was my work come to life, finally. Or maybe someone let off a prank stink bomb. Or maybe it was that show in the theater underneath us wafting up. There was an area cleared out; maybe someone did poo. It really smelled awful. I was actually looking forward to bringing out the air freshener at the end of my 2nd scene.
It didn't help.
I had so much hope for this.
Hi diddly dee... the actor's life for me.
In 24 hours, my plane will be in the air and I'll probably be crying.
What would you call a movie about a young guy who makes his best friend do his homework, goes around indiscriminately beating the shit out of people under the guise of family honor, ignores his parents's'ss wishes, ignores his daugher, is a drunken asshole who doesn't pay his bills and, as a young man makes his hardworking best friend buy his thug buddies drinks and food, then wrongly kills a man which in turn becomes responsible for his mother and daughter's death?
But wait... there's more.
What would you call a movie where, instead of facing up to what he's done, asswipe leaves the country and becomes a burden on a group of farmers whose days are spent in the fields doing literal backbreaking work; their only respite being the occasional BREEZE. They feed, clothe and house him for free for at least a YEAR, designating an "honorable" blind chick to tend to his every need. She even replants his share of the crop in the middle of the night after he does a shitty job.
Just as she's falling in love with asshole, he decides to go back to his home town where he discovers that "foreigners" have "invaded" his country. His version of invade means that they've taken down the boxing ring in the middle of town where the bully from each family used to beat the shit out of each other for entertainment and turned it into a peaceful market.
In a fit of ego, he goes to the daughter and widow of the man he killed and, instead of asking how they are and taking care of them, he demands to be taken to a picture of the man he wrongly killed and weeps as the confused daughter and widow watch.
Then, asshole decides that foreigners are ruining his country and starts a club for kids of his race to be strong so they can fight the foreigners who are making his race impure by "interbreeding" and bringing business to his country.
What would you call a movie where this asshole then proceeds to tell wise people that he prefers not to learn about anything; because feelings are more important than information someone might have? He doesn't take the time to listen to the information and then dismiss it, no... he just outright says "I don't care about the knowledge you've acquired over time... I know what I feel is right."?
What would you call a movie this movie, which glorifies tribalism and racism at its most backwards and ugly, makes the contemptible lead character into a hero.
You would call it: JET LI'S: FEARLESS I would call it: JET LI'S: RACIST JERK
If it was about a white guy, the movie would have a completely different tone; it wouldn't glorify him. Understand, I don't think making it about a white guy is a good thing... AT ALL. I don't want equal time for my ancestral stupid idiots. A tribal, backward thinking, bully, racist, murdering shithead is just that... it doesn't matter what color his skin is.
Also... didn't they remake the Texas Chainsaw Massacre a few years ago? I saw a preview for TCM: the beginning which looks exactly like the remake of a few years ago. I think it has the same people in it. I'm so confused.
Plus, all previews are the same now. Oh, the horror.
One of the podcasts I subscribe to is the kcrw today's top tune. I don't know. It seemed like a good idea. It's free, legal music. Unfortunately, it's usually shitty.
Topping the list of shitty ditties (hey, I’m a writer!!) is this gem of a turd by someone calling herself ani difranco.
Is there a more obvious, crappy, pandering, grouping of lyrics? You can feel the right side of everything withering away. It's like a 14 year old was forced to write a song at gunpoint.
It's everything I hate about the left. It's hamfisted, cynical and smug. And offers no solutions. (very much like me!) I can see (and smell) the dreadlocked couples gripping their hands that much more tightly together and nodding knowingly at each other when they hear: pulling coat tails out from under that little v.p. before he has a chance to get in the driver's seat
Dude, that's so poetic. Get it? She's talking about al fucking gore, dude!!! Dude.
It is wondrous how bad this song is.
Right after 9/11, a bunch of people wrote songs and I remember listening to them in horror.
Perhaps this is a better example:
Back before you were born, on the first night of the l.a. Riots, we didn't know that they were going to stop burning their own places down and come for us, so people were still out doing stuff and I’m pretty sure it was a Monday night because I used to go to the Central (now the Viper Room) and play in pick up bands (it's where I met Russ... Christ a whole other fucking story... The point, asshole, the point!) And we were playing something and I took the opportunity to address everyone and said "I KNOW THERE'S A RIOT GOING ON RIGHT NOW, BUT I BEG YOU SONGWRITERS OUT THERE TO PLEASE NOT WRITE A SONG CALLED 'ANGELS ON FIRE'!!! PLEASE. CONTROL YOURSELVES!!! IT IS A SUCKY TITLE AND A SUCKY LYRIC. DON'T FUCKING DO IT!"
Then a couple years later, when I was playing with Milk, a guy (I’m protecting the guilty here; a first) who used to do some keyboards on recordings for us had us sing backup on a song he wrote. You know what lyric was included, don't you? I don't have to say it, do I? I thought not. Thank you.
So here are the lyrics to the piece of shit from the kcrw podcast, reprinted without permission. Dude, music wants to be free, dude. And that's the only way this music can be heard. They have to give it away for free.
millennium theater get out there and buy that water and gas ramadan orange alert everybody put on your gas mask
first leak it out about the president then stand up and shout "impeachment" pulling coat tails out from under that little v.p. before he has a chance to get in the driver's seat
millennium spectacle everybody put on a show slip a little prince in the back door 21st century here we go
digital whiplash so many formats so little time while out in tv nation under darkening skies the resistance is just waiting to be organized
halliburton, enron chief justice is for sale yucca mountain goddesses their tears they form a trail
trickle down israel patriarchies realign the ice caps melt and new orleans bides her time new orleans bides her time
ladies and gentlemen welcome to tonight's show the millennium theater asks that you not smoke please turn off your cell phones and forget what you think you know
There. It's over. Now go take a shower. I had to share it with you. I'm sorry. I have to release some of the hate inside of me. I'm sorry. But I mean, really... You understand, right?
Here’s the thing: I LISTEN TO THIS SONG EVERY DAY. No shit.
It's similar to my ingrown toenail. I've had an ingrown toenail for, oh, three months now. And it hurts like fuck. First it was just annoying. Then I picked at it, hoping that the nail would grow over the skin, but no, it just made the nail sharper and it grew deeper under the skin. Then it got infected and between that and walking on it, working out, kickboxing, etc. It started to really hurt. Then. It grew through the skin on the front of my toe and the skin fell off (with some help). And it didn't hurt as much. That was two months ago; (right about the time we got to this hellhole some refer to as "Minneapolis"). But. I had to keep fucking with it, to see how much it hurt. And because I couldn't leave it alone, it kept hurting.
It's like when you're in your 20's and that girl leaves you and you think about all the fun she's having with all those other guys. You know, the gangbangs and bukkake experiences you try to imagine she's exploring with the basketball teams and rock stars? You try to come up with the situations that will cause you the most heartache.
I used to call it testing the bruise.
Now I call it "listening to ani difranco's piece of shit song I downloaded for free from public radio".
the movie with dane cook or the movie with jack black?
this is what's funny now.
tenacious d. get it? they "rock". get it? it's funny but it really "rocks". because they liked bands like iron maiden. no, man, they really liked them. they know better now... get it? but really... they totally rock. and they're like, fat. but. they "rock". get it? man, it's funny. it's so funny. wanna play psp?
oh... dane cook. right.
yeah, he's funny. see. he's good looking. and he's funny. and jessica simpson. she's pretty. i mean. *i* don't like her. no, but dane cook probably got some of that stuff. that's good stuff.
oh. and he's funny. he said that funny thing. yeah... when those people were talking and he said. yeah. he's funny.
if dane cook and tenacious d. did a movie together... oh man. tenacious dane! hooaaa
At some point, I will be in some institution with pastel painted cinderblock walls and it will smell like urine and I'll be so zonked on anti-depressants because of the many suicide attempts in the bathroom... so many, they won't let me lock the door to poop, much to the consternation of my roommate who, coincidentally, was the fey boy on that show with the robot daughter that I hated so much.
I'll be lying there, at 94, cursing medical science for being so fucking good and keeping me alive for so long, and cursing myself for buying into the libertarian ideal for so long and trying to take care of myself and voting for me taking care of myself and not the state.
I'll be there... Feeling the warmth of yet another badger bursting open... Or was that me pissing the bed again and that will spark a memory of the tool song where he says "god damn. Shit the bed!" and I will tell my poor blind, diabetic foot amputated fey former child star also ran pathetic fuck that I was in a band that played on the same bill with tool and he'll scream "you told me that story 8 minutes ago, asshole. Is that why you're still bleaching your hair? you only have that one patch, dumbass!!! you gonna get a record deal on myspace records? Let me know when the meet and greet is. I wanna bang some of those myspace sluts"
And i'll scream that the SAG appointed shrink Dr. Tam, said that if it makes me happy, I should bleach it. it will remind me of when i was married to that beautiful academy award winning director, Jessie Hawkins.
And when i turn away, eyes brimming with tears, all I will be able to think about is how I would go to Gameworks in Minneapolis when I was doing some bomb show in 2006 and play the Nascar Pinball machine for 2-4 hours with one swipe of my Gameworks card. I will remember that instead of exploring the museums and art, I spent hours upon hours upon hours upon hours wasting my precious life playing god damned Nascar Pinball at Gameworks as the gangbangers shouted around me in their star trek uniforms.
"whatsyerface... did I ever tell you about that comedian who said that wearing a sports jersey of your favorite player is the same thing as..."
"shut up, you loser. you pissed your fucking bed. you bed pissing fucker. you fucking pissed the fucking bed. fuck you. why don't you die already, bed pisser?"
i'll look at the pattern in the annually painted cinder blocks and wonder the same thing. "he's got a point: why don't I die already? I got the high score but wrote ASS instead of my real initials DCE which i did for the #2 position. Why did I think that was funny? Was it funny? I can't feel my left foot. Oh. Yes I can. It itches. But... didn't they amputate it two months ago?" i'll look down at the sticky, bandaged foot. it itches. But it's not there. The feeling is present, but the actual thing isn't.
on the gauze, someone has scrawled "METAPHOR".
"Jessie... At least Jessie's not seeing me like this."
Four days later, he will have his own room for two days, until they find him a new roommate; the guy who wrote "Defending The Caveman" and then lost the millions he made when he opened "Defending the Racist" at the Eugene O'Neill Theater (now the Angelou Performance & Art Center) in New York City, July 8, 2009.
It had played quite well at it's 3 day run in Pittsburg and 2 week run in Princeton.
after the second show in the run that went smoothly (except for the t.v. that fell over during the scene change... but really... That's really nothing. Seriously) I decided to treat myself to jackass number two.
when I was doing mister sterling, the first jackass movie was the #1 movie one week. And everyone had that awful, knowing, showbiz, pessimistic attitude of "we're doing something really special, not just trying to get better ratings than America's funniest home videos" and I remember how heartbreaking that was, as that first jackass movie revealed so much truth about being an American teenaged boy.jackass number two may be less focused.
I don't know. I felt scared. I felt that unease that I felt when I first heard NWA. I walk by all these people in downtown Minneapolis who act tough. They have their star trek uniforms on (a comedian once pointed out that wearing a basketball jersey is the same as wearing a star trek uniform) and swagger and they're in groups and they intimidate middle aged white guys like me.
I defy anyone who thinks they are tough to spend 1/2 an hour with the guys from jackass. Even the biggest pussy in the jackass "crew" is tougher than anyone I've ever known.and, they are magnetic people.
I've been around Steve-o at Metal Skool and he is the #1 person in the room. Always. He is the Alpha Male. He gets all the women. You get to talk when he's finished. And it's just how he is. There's no desperate grab for attention. He just talks and you listen to him because he's the toughest, coolest, sexiest person you've ever seen.
I cannot fathom what being in a room with Johnny Knoxville must be like. It must be breathtaking. Steve-o's face is not really attractive like Knoxville. Knoxville looks like a movie star. Steve-o looks like a crazy person. But the body... I digress...I don't want to hang out with the jackass guys. I don't enjoy pain. I don't enjoy hurting people I love but I am so glad they do because I can go see them do shit in movies.
Bam cries. He gets scared and hurt and frustrated and cries. (he must be doing a show in Minneapolis) and he deserves it. He's trapped in a horse trailer with a fucking cobra. I'd cry, too.
There seems to be a lot of alcohol involved and that's a bit of a bummer and that's one of the reasons I don't think I'd want to hang out with them. Understand, I'm probably the last person they want to hang out with (though Steve-o *owns* summer school) because I'm such a ginormous puss, but they are what freedom is all about.freedom to hurt yourself. Freedom to make really bad decisions. Freedom to get your best friend to shit his pants.
The movie is pure testosterone and is everything art probably isn't and I felt less joy afterwards than I did after seeing the first one, but it makes me think about living and what it's about and all that crap. I don't know if they think about those things when they're freezing a scrotum to a block of ice... "By doing this, it will illustrate several things: youth, passion, mortality, fear, and the audience will examine their individual internal struggles with boundaries..." No.
My favorite things are the segments done with old-age makeup and unsuspecting "civilians". Behavioral tests. The section with the old man and the kid is beautiful. Getting a thug to get "PC" is lovely.the sex pistols used to be terrifying. "I am an animal..." Sounded like a voice from hell. It was the end of music. The end of the world. "what happens when they come to America? First the killer bees... Now this!!!!"
I thought about P&T and the bullet catch and how it's possible that Steve-o could try to catch a bullet. And it would be a personal victory for him perhaps the same way that the bullet catch is for P&T; but... Is it art? They're certainly getting away with something, mister Warhol.
And... how can anyone think David Blaine is anything? Let's see David Blaine get his dick chewed on by a snake. Let's see that, mister mind over matter. Asswipe. The jackass guys should just beat up David Blaine.
finally a good show. a show where shit wasn't missing. where the audience wasn't out of their minds. where it was just dangerous enough to stay fun and nutty for everyone; the way the show is supposed to be.
they were quiet. listening. taking in the show. they got it. they oohed and aaahhed at all the right places. the people we brought up weren't there to get their pictures taken by their drunken loser friends. it was a nice show. there was only one technical problem and that's a fine amount of technical problems. like i said, just enough danger to keep it interesting and fun.
i've packed up just about everything i can pack up.
monday, carr is taking me to mailboxes etc. or some such place so i can ship all my shit back. then i'm staying with them until the show on thursday. they have dogs and a home and it's not a depressing shithole. they have wifi and that is, obviously, the most important thing.
the good news is that we're doing a Corey-oke gig on Rocktober 17th. that is extremely exciting and i'm looking forward to that.
i wish i still took vicodin recreationally. this next ten days is the perfect time for recreational drug use.
why on earth would you get shitfaced, show up for the second act of a show and then talk to the actors while they're onstage for the next hour?
because you're a loser drunk cunt who lives somewhere around minneapolis and you feel that chill in the air that means that you've wasted another year of your pathetic life watching t.v., drinking and eating and you hate yourself so much that you can't take it anymore and have to let that self hatred spill out in public where it is then reflected right back at you when one of the actors on stage says "do you hear that? that's one of my neighbors. they're drunks who lead miserable lives and yell random bullshit all night."
but, because you are a drunk, you are self-centered so you think "hey, that actor just talked about ME! that means everyone loves me, i'll talk even more loudly and even more!!!"
by the middle of my second scene i had completely lost control of the audience and especially my rob/renee who decided that they would write their own god damned script. the renee couldn't hear when i was singing, so what was i supposed to do? stop and signal to the sound booth that this stupid cunt with the camera couldn't hear? no. i kept going. so she starts making cut signals and shit. my shirt, which is always pre-set for me, had been buttoned wrong. i keep barrelling through the love tapes song. again, the bass had been set so it was way the fuck out of tune. i had to stop during the song. then the cunt keeps distracting me with "cut cut cut cut cut" signals. you know, once i'm on stage, i can stay fairly focused. it takes a lot to distract me. i mean, i notice shit... i may stumble a bit, but i can pull shit off. but... with everything that had happened up to this point... you know... it was like the perfect storm of shitty theater experiences.
finally, when it's time for me to pull my cock out, i pull it all the way out, grab her head and push her head and the camera right into my cock. i was so close to spreading my ass as far apart as i could and have her shoot that but there was about 1/10th of sanity left and i thought "might not be a good idea".
i don't know what this theater is. i want to give the money back and go home. the people who come to this theater are used to bullshit like tony and tina's italian back waxing and forever plaid and awesome 80's prom and want to come and get shitfaced and throw up or something.
i finally broke the arms off my couch tonight in the shithole "apartment". it's been a slow go over the past couple of days. they were hanging by a couple of nails but now... rubble. i've never lived in a place this small. even when i was making $3.65/hr as an usher at the chinese theater. i've never lived in a shithole like this.
this entire experience sucks my ass in the worst way possible.
here's the thing: i will never blame an audience for their behavior. drunks are like retards and children. they can spot bullshit a mile away. so. it's obvious that she was seeing bullshit in my performance and decided that it was like t.v. where she could talk and drink. i will not blame her for having a miserable life and getting shitfaced and staggering in to the same theater where she and her loser friends got to get shitfaced and talk to the probably equally shitfaced actors who had been doing the same show for a year or something.
to them, it's theater. if they had staggered in to a good show, this wouldn't have happened.
by the last scene, jen and i had given up. and because there was real shit going on (disillusion, rage, sadness, self-loathing) the drunk cunt in the audience shut up. all people want is to see something real.
i'm going to start shipping stuff back home tomorrow. when it's time to go, i want to walk on to the plane with my computer and never look back at this fucking hole.
fuck this fucking shit.
"i hear dean cameron is pretty honest on his blog. maybe i'll take a gander at it."
carr took me to a friends's'ss house to see a bunch of old vaudeville shorts wot have not seen the light of day since they were made. apparantly, his friend, bob something or other is a bit of a buff and a restoration genius who people call upon for old footage, etc., and he collects it and shows it to friends.
we saw crazy old shit; the four somethings... fuck, i forgot their names; they were acrobat/contortionists whose act consisted of them kicking each other in the but.
a tall guy dancing with a dwarf lady and making jokes like "it's better than nothin'. " yow!
a guy who was sorta carrot top who had this prop box that changed and morphed and an outfit that did the same thing. he went from a tux into womans clothing and back into a tux in one outfit. then he grabbed his box and left.
another guy whose act was beating up the orchestra conducter, making asides about it, then going to a piano that fell apart and turned into a keg.
the really amazing one was a guy who drank a bunch of water. then spit it on people. then he drank water. then kerosene. then.... okay... then... he regurgitated the kerosene and made a huge fire. then regurgitated the water and put the fire out. the other cool part of THAT clip was it was made for spain/mexico and it had Oliver Hardy speaking spanish. they'd do the shorts for different countries. really cool.
there were a bunch of old timers; folks who do renfairs, variety acts, etc. what a world. amazing world.
one of the magicians in the vaudeville clips from the early 30's was doing tricks that are still being done. horrible.
after that, jeff siegel had arranged tickets for me to see starsailor at the varsity theater. they're quite good. i just downloaded their stuff a couple of days ago.
they're coldplay without the pretense and the willingess to rock out a bit more. the lead singer seemed affable and kept saying "cheers" between songs to make sure we knew he's from the u.k.
the good news is that they're going to cut a wednesday and a sunday show. "our audience is a bit more selective".
the other good news is that skilljam.com has decided that they need to show a profit to their shareholders and have laid off, well, just about everyone. including me.
maybe that's not good news. oh. right. it's not. damn.
dunno why, but it sometimes takes blogger 4+ hours to post. i come home and it's still posting.
after spending time at dunn bros coffee, i'm walking around the freezing street and i see a group of guys and i think 'they look like they're from l.a.' and one of them says "dean?"
ray luzier, who is, among being the original drummer for metal school, a stunning drummer... i mean jawdropping good is playing in a band with the two brothers from STP, robert and dean. so we stopped on the street and traded pleasantries. they're playing tomorrow at 8pm. if our shoe is cancelled, then i'll go and see 'em. if not, it will have been a serendipitious occurrence.
starting to see stuff with the blinders of being a nice guy off. i'm in this depressing little room with no furniture. it's deserted here. more to come. why would you put an actor in a cell like this? stupid.
there's this cool pub around the corner where the waitress is actually nice and they have free wi-fi and pinball. i finally got to take another kickboxing class tonight and then went to the pub and drank diet coke, ate a pizza, and did computer stuff. securityedition.com got blogged so i had about 20 orders to enter. tomorrow i have to hand write all the envelopes because we have no printer. i'm slowly redesigning deancameron.com.
i'm thinking of just shipping everything i have here and keeping a couple of shirts and a pair of pants so i can just get on the airplane and be done with it.
i don't know what the FUCK is up with blogger, but it takes 2 days to post an entry. stupid fucking piece of shit.
apparently, some critics take the obvious route and think that actors who do movies can't do or haven't done theater. an obvious actor would point out that those critics usually write for papers in minnesota.
I hope this works. It seems much easier posting from email than the site.
I got nailed by some sort of cold/flu thing yesterday. Just in time for audiences. Man, it's been amazing. My nose full of the stuff ones nose gets full of and my throat scratchy and powerless. I slammed myself with over the counter cold stuff (no, not that holistic crap, you stupid hippies!) and that got me through thursday's preview.
Woke up this morning (blues riff!) and felt better. Walked around a balmy Minneapolis... sat at Dunn Bros coffee and read the Onion, went to GameWorks and played pinball. Took it easy. Got to the theater, dosed myself (Gatorade, sudafed, DayQuil, 600mg Ibuprofen and fresca) and listened to Jen kill them in the first act. She did great and had a great audience. They are rowdy here. It's not like L.A. where it's a "show me" attitude... (L.A. is the Show Me State... hmm.), they really get into it and want the show to be good.
I had a good show, ass well. My rob didn't follow instructions so well and the bass got untuned between when I had it in the dressing room and when i strapped it on onstage. Ah well. The show is built in a way so that stuff can work. And it did. The audience seemed to enjoy the show. They whoop and holler at the end and they gasp and say "nooooo" under their breath at the appropriate times.
Banks came and seemed to enjoy it.
Jessie, like me, feels so naked after opening night. She knows she has to hear notes from people but it's so difficult. If that stuff can wait one day... but, it can't. It's showbiz. Strap in.
Had a very sedate opening night "party". Carr y Marion were there. When Marion gets bored she starts massaging, so it's good to sit next to her.
Anyhoo... my wife scores again and makes me look good in the process. Now, she abandons me, goes to L.A. and picks up the shattered pieces of my split from Bukowsical. Okay, that was dramatic. She's taking over. Well... somewhere between that.
It's raining now. It's supposed to get around 40 next week.
You motherfuckers... can't wait three more weeks, can you. You have to ruin my life as soon as the wife leaves. Be that way.
had a terrific meal with carr and marian hagermann, a libertarian atheist couple who live here.
carr produced michael moore hates america for a bit and then moved on when it began "going republican" or something. i enjoyed the movie quite a bit... anyway...
it was really nice having a dinner with people who don't believe in ANY hippie shit, either political or spiritual and just jawboning about work and life and friends and all that good stuff.
we're all of the mind that carr should run for office somewhere. he'd be an asset to libertarians.
we both talked about the sense of shame we have when we tell people that we're libertarians because of all of the yahoos who have fucked the party up. it's so weird because the green party basically says "give me your flakes, your yahoos, your dumbshits" and have evil ideas and get all sorts of press. the libertarians have great ideas and the flakes, yahoos and dumbshits line up and fuck everything up. the real hardcore libertarians are even moving away from identifying themselves as libertarians. sad. very sad.
and yet, you four people reading this probably lean libertarian. the ideas of freedom, helping peaceful people live the way they want, searching for efficient and dynamic methods to solve problems... these are things we want. we want the world to be the best it can be. we want to guide those who want guidance and be guided by those we want to be guided by. it's pretty simple. but people focus on the edge issues like drugs and guns and the sexy stuff that makes headlines not the simple things like "a nursing home run by charities, financed privately, will take better care of the sick than one that must follow rules set by politicians."
it's late. we have audiences wednesday. some on the crew believe these aren't real people or something. trying to figure that out. maybe they'll explain.