Not Mandatory

04:58 pm - Monologue exercise: Brandi Nikolas

It has to be Maggie’s idea, because it never changes from year to year, and nobody apparently has the guts to tell her how awful it looks. It’s like this: you get to work at call time, some night in mid-November, and it’s already dark out, of course, and you see the trees. God, the trees.

There’s a stand of them in front of the theatre, I don’t know, young lindens, maybe? They look like every other deciduous tree by that time, stripped skeletal. What would make them creepier? Oh, I know! Those chaser lights, the kind that, I guess, you program the circuit to make them look like they’re running a loop. And they’re red, because of Christmas, or because of the U of U, or because the upholstery in the auditorium is red, just like every other theatre in the world. Or Maggie just likes red. Whatever. Normal people use all-white or all-teal or even rainbow lights, but whoever heard of all-red?

The effect is bleeding, bony hands, all of them reaching upward like “Hey, help me, I’ve been degloved!”( Read more... )

11:29 am - Character study: Lucy Rasmussen monologue

When I was a kid, Dad always took me along to the grocery store, and we always stopped at the candy machines on the way out. I would buy a fistful of Runts candy and eat them in ascending order of preference: I started with the unremarkable banana pieces, and then worked my way up through the cough-syrupy cherries and vague citrus fruits to finish with the pink, heart-shaped strawberries.

Before I left for Costa Rica, Elliott made a mix CD for me to listen to on the plane. I hid it from Toby until he dropped me off, and then I saved it for the last leg of my flight. Twelve tracks, Elliott has this…thing with twelve. It was like a dozen pink heart strawberries, the confectioner’s glaze melting off in my eager little palm.( Read more... )

12:44 am - Ought to mention

The play I'm writing has bought out this journal, pretty much.

Major news will roll in from time to time about my day-to-day, but I'm on facebook and twitter, and...you know, I've never been the full-disclosure type. Really. Some thoughts and feelings don't need to go public, especially, as seems to be the case with getting older, when they're the same ones over and over again. Like...I did that years ago on Di-Land, and it just made for a weird-ass time capsule, really.

So, yeah. Mainly now when something goes live here, it'll be another character sketch, draft of a scene, dialogue bite, or other writing exercise while I work on this play. Maybe other plays. Maybe whatever other "creative" (guh) writing.

I'm letting you know. I plan to continue my (I think) judicious use of cut tags, because I understand some things might be more interesting to you than Julia's nebulizer or Maggie's sordid past or whatever. And I'm not attempting to appear mysterious and cryptic by saying personal stuff won't really headline anymore; just announcing that I don't feel like chronicling it.

Defriending based on this news will not be taken personally, and I am still reading you guys. But I just figured, major life events aside...I'm not as much a diarist as I used to be.

See you all on the microblogging train to hell!

Current Mood: blank

11:04 am

Character sketch exercise: Toby Carnahan

~~

Preparation always began with the spin of two dials: volume on the radio (tuned permanently to the country oldies station), and the oven temperature knob set to preheat 350. Today, the numbers climbed quickly, and the DJ seemed especially fixated on murder ballads. All that suited Toby just fine. ( Read more... )

04:18 pm - Plays within the play

MOTHER’S HEROES. Closing show of season; regional debut of a locally-popular musical, chock full of child actors and their attendant narm. Press copy says: heartwarming; magical; uplifting. Di’s typo in the ticket system: “Mother’s Herpes.” (The P is right next to the O; Di is neurotic about sex.)

A HIGHLY REGARDED MAN. Pretentious restoration comedy. Lackluster attendance. Press copy says: delightful; hilarious; comedy of manners. Elliott’s typo in the ticket system: “A Highly Retarded Man.” (The T is right above the G. Elliott is neurotic about his learning disability.)

SEAN TAKES A SHOT. New, independent play about angsty gay guys. The January show; ergo, quiet sales. Press copy says: critically-acclaimed; riveting; thought-provoking. Walter’s typo in the ticket system: “Sean Takes a Shit.” (The O and I are adjacent keys. Walter’s neurotic about his gay and his butt.)

~~

I'd been kind of wistful and melancholy all day when the DJ or robot-DJ at KYLZ played my since-forgotten e-request of Cheap Trick's "Surrender."

The song ended just before the battery in my Sansa gave out.

Big boost. Took it as a sign. Thanks, dude.

Current Mood: content

01:18 pm

Happy anniversary, hiphorrific!

Current Mood: creative

11:24 pm

Back in SLC.

Current Mood: listless

08:33 pm

NEED:

airplane
wine
Atlantic Ocean

STAT.

Just have to hang on a little longer...

Current Mood: crisis

04:27 pm

Dad played an acoustic set of Hendrix tunes by Frisky's grave just a little while ago.

Bisk had an unusual, almost psychedelic reaction to Jimi Hendrix. One time, we were watching something on vh1 and the opening strains of "Purple Haze" came on. Frisky's pupils quintupled in size just at the sound of it, and he started staggering around like he was on some kind of trip. If I remember right, he started spraying, too.

I think wherever he is now, he can hear Jimi play live, and nobody tells him he's not allowed to spray.

Current Mood: crushed

11:01 pm

Nobody else die for a while, ok? Elsewise I will kick your ass. Seriously.

12:39 pm - 1989-2009

Frisky died at 11:44 this morning.

12:17 pm

Tech week marches on. My legs and feet are covered in cuts and bruises appropriate to the occasion. Need I tell any actor out there what mislaid set-pieces and other people’s character shoes can do?

Once opening weekend’s over, I’ll actually have a couple nights a week that belong to me again. It can’t come soon enough, for a reason that I’ve put off talking about here for a while now:

The Bisk.

He’s slowing down. No, he’s been slowing down for a long time; hell, the name "Frisky" has been ironic since he was about two.

But he’s now at the stage of CRF where he doesn’t have much of an appetite, and he hides under my parents’ bed most of the day. Pix spent almost a whole summer this way at the end of her battle with kidney failure.

We caught Frisky’s illness earlier in its progression than we did Pixie’s, but he was much older at onset. He’s now outlived her by almost six years. With so many variables in play, the prognosis is elusive; we know he is in his twilight now, but we don’t know how long it will be.

In fairness, he’s almost 20 now. He was born in 1989, y’all. That’s kind of a thing, too: I want, for purely irrational reasons, him to reach that ambiguous, late-September birthday. I also want him to hang on until we’re back from Jersey next month; I don’t want him to go when my mother would have to deal with it alone. I want to be with him when the time comes. I don’t want him to go at all, of course.

This is when I have to remind myself of the mantra I cobbled together in the wake of the other big deaths of the last 9 months or so:

To hell with what I want. May he have whatever ending it is he wants.

Current Mood: contemplative

02:44 pm - Char. devpmt. exc.

Attempted a few questions from Proust questionnaire as posed to each of my characters.

Walter Burnaby returned his survey first. Leonard and Christina Rocelli completed their surveys together. Julia Gomez was medicated at the time of completion. Lucy Rasmussen used Papyrus font and an unnecessary decorative background. Toby Carnahan returned his survey late. Diana Selby corrected spelling errors in the original. Elliott Bailey completed his survey at 1:49 AM Mountain Time.

Brandi Nikolas did not return the survey. Other characters' answers are ( inside. )

10:07 am

Reposting a missing person notice here:

Heather Sharpton

ETA. Apparently they found her. Whew.

08:10 am

[SCREAM.]

eom

Current Mood: stressed

12:16 pm

LIE CREDIT, noun.

Google indicates the specific term may have originated with me (and the castmates with whom I’ve discussed it), but I’m sure the concept is an old one.

We thought of this: sometimes, when it’s obvious that someone close to you is BSing you, it’s a good idea to let it go. This creates a “lie credit” on your account with the other person, absolving you of guilt later on when you need to BS him or her.

Also works in reverse; if you’ve been laying it on thick with someone lately, you might cut that person some slack when you find yourself on the business end of same.

Example from a couple of weeks ago:

CODY. So why wasn’t Elise at rehearsal today?
ERIN. She said she just wasn’t feeling well. Wound up sleeping through it.
CODY. Okay, I think she’s lying.
ERIN. Maybe. But I’ll give her a lie credit on this one.

Current Mood: moving

09:47 am

Things continue.

Tonight and tomorrow, the cast of Utahoma! takes its show on the road to Kamas Valley Fiesta Days in beautiful (I've heard) Kamas, Utah. If you're in the 'hood, come on by. It's only like $3.00 to see us, which is a steal compared to what SLC crowds paid.

Pirates rehearsals keep moving in spite of the worst cast attrition I've ever seen. It would be unprofessional (erm, un-semiprofessional) of me to elaborate on what I suspect is the cause. For my part, I'm hanging in there and I'm having a ball with the other actors who've bothered to stick around.

Hal has been limping and we're not sure why. He seems otherwise OK.

I have a print job to retrieve, the work of three people to do, and I promised myself a coffee, so...later.

07:51 am

Happy birthday, westwardairways!

11:19 am - Writer's Block: My Ideal Life Ten Years from Now…

08:02 am

Here we go! (You'll have to sit through a brief, cheesy local commercial.)