Tag Archives: bonding

Victorian Commando

29 May


The Fella just left from a cheese-eating, line-running, catch-upping date of yay: he over a beer, me over a whiskey.

…He brought me condiments, from the house, as he is in the final process of “move-out,” where he will be soon to join The BFF in the land of New Orleans.

Every theatre (and it’s people) in town will mourn his leaving, on scales: artistic, inventive, technical and in performance.

I frankly don’t even want to think about it.  So stop bringing it up.

…He helped me level out my TV sound system while here.  Cuz he’s a Wizard. 

The WHS Pimp had brought in a kick ass sub woofer et al for office use, to which I said, “Balls to that!  I’m taking this shit HOME!”  And I did.  And set it on the lowest possible level.  And instantly became the kind of asshole apartment neighbor we all hate, with constant booming rumbles through the entire length of a movie. 

I made sure to put in a good action one to really show off.  The explosions were awesome, and the helicopter sounded like it was actually landing in my own living room.  I’m sure the neighbors thought so too.  But then, once The Fella came over, I had him fiddle with it to get a better talking balance versus the constant sound of impending doom that a sub woofer seems able to deliver by instinct.  He of course managed it beautifully, killed the added echo, upped the treble, and has it balanced like a dream.

…Only it’s too late now for ‘splosion movies, so I’ll have to play with it again tomorrow.

In the mean time: a second session of Pilates.

…And tomorrow: laundry and rehearsal, followed by post-cast-bonding…under the express encouragement of Mdm. Director.

Laundry is a total must.

Down to my default underwear again.  And I’m seriously considering going “commando,” over wearing that butt-floss thong bullshit, (which I keep only for such emergency purposes.)

…Only somehow, I don’t think “commando” wears well on Gwendolen.

…Something tells me, Mamma wouldn’t approve.


…Course, what she doesn’t know, couldn’t hurt her…


Tech Begins

5 Jan


Hello civilians, it’s the morning of Boot Camp…aka: Q-to-Q.

Hell Week is now officially upon us once again…turning the entire theatre into a film set.

…Everyone but Tech, does a shit-ton of sitting and standing around waiting while that light gets refocused, this sound cue is timed out, furnishings are set, spiked, re-set, entrances are taken over and over again, and everyone forgets their lines because we do things like jump three pages on a “go” with an instant cue where if you fuck it up, everything has to re-set at their marks with sound, actors and lights, to do it again.  So of course you screw it up, and the tech people try not to be bitchy to you, even though last night at dry tech everything worked out perfectly and the show would obviously be infinitely better if one could figure out how to do it all without the actors.

True story.

…To top it off, the entire cast family that was able, thence motored to eats at the local Applebees, where worlds collided and we bonded…the younger peoples giving far too many “awesome points” to their elders as we talked shop, jewelry, acting, general “life” matters, and bogarting all the nacho cheese sauce.

(The Redhead wins.)

…Meanwhile, the “adults” rapidly lost “coolness” as the evening progressed, whilst prob’ly voicing inappropriate statements at random…which we just tossed up to being, “the same liberal education that we were raised on, and it didn’t hurt us any!”

Welcome to the theatre, kids.

Four Long Islands later, I’m gonna go to bed now.

To our table of lovelies: judge us with compassion. We meant well.

…Also…(no shit)…we are uber proud of you, kicking ass and taking names on that stage, nightly. And we can’t wait for people to see your work in this whole new light.

Shutting up, and going to bed now…


We Three

29 Dec


Marty, our “Joe,” the Rat Pack, Oceans 13 and an a lotta smokes are still occupying mi casa as I speak.  Post a very hit-and-miss rehearsal, a couple bottles of wine, and some killer tofu stuffs hidden behind the mask of many, many good spices. 

…We are bonding hard core right now.  We may be BFF’s  by the end.  I dunno. 

Mostly we are trying to accomplish compare-contrast of our personal relations of the past and why they suck…sorta like an ongoing Oprah episode, minus the baby-daddy moments. This is why theatre families are so valuable. It almost never matters how fucked up you are personally, there is always another person at LEAST equally, if not more screwed up, or codependent than you are or have been. It’s sorta like comparing scars. “Here, I have this one from that one dude that totally fucked with my head.” “oh, yeah, but I have this one from that one chick that la-de-dah’d.”

Always raising the stakes.

…It’s like Improv really…you always say yes, and add on.

It kinda amazes me how totally screwed up actors are. I know we are by “reputation,” but I almost never believe it, really. We are all a hot mess for our own reasons, and part of the joy of what we do is realizing that a ton of other people are equally fucked up…and that’s why they understand what we do when we do it.

Right now they are on the sofa, YouTubeing this ghetto South African group, Die Antword…which is a particular favorite train wreck husband/wife music group that Marty found this one time and is obsessed with. It’s sorta her party trick. And its beautiful.

…Like many things that Marty does.

Dear Lord…they found a new video of them.

…Also, it’s three in the morning.

…But we are at my house, being totally responsible. And cheap. By drinking free booze.

Rehearsal for tomorrow (or today, if you count by sleep) was cancelled again, for reasons that I still don’t understand. Our “Joe” is tending to the tater tots in the oven, I’m posed over the keyboard in responsible notation of events, and Marty is Nicki Minaj-ing. We are a hot mess of ridiculousness.

…Again: its 3 a.m.

It’s what we do, as a race: “actors.”

…And magically: tots are suddenly before us in a bowl, Regina Spektor is hallooing to us, in a Capella, and we are wearing shit-eatin’ grins.

I love us.

A lot.

I feel a giant glass of water and sleep is soon on the horizon. And as the “old lady” in the room (by like 7 years), I call the bed.

…Let it be known.


Running Behind

22 Dec


Just got home, for the first time since 10:15 this morning.

…I’m beat, but the happy kind…the kind that knows I still have three more days off work, and I’m aloud to sleep in for all of them.

Good through-line rehearsal, running the show for the first time, and bonding with the peeps, today.  Delicious little sound-bites, and curious eye twinkles, and naughty grins, and confidential truisms: that is the world we live in.  Terrifying though it can sometimes be. And yet, there is almost nothing greater on earth than kicking back over a drink with casties, chewing over the risks taken throughout the day, the things we appreciated seeing in the others, the choices that sent the run in this whole other level of strength and curiosity, the compliments and admiration of the other person’s work. 

…It’s been a helluva year, being so blessed with this continued streak of great show-families to work with. 

Our young ladies were absolutely dedicated to the classes and history work we did today, which helped immensely in their stage presence…the adults spent huge pockets of time line-running in off scenes, and further soaking the show into the artistic sponge cake of our brains.  The tech departments watching, got a strong and realistic look at the bones and beginning muscle tissue of the show before the final work and push, and suddenly…”angst” and “sex” and “separation” and “stakes” are registering at this whole other level. 

Lots still to be found (obviously), but we’re in a good place.

…I may even say, we are in a GREAT one, as Mr. Director saw fit to give us tomorrow off.

So now, we have a “Holiday,” proper.

…And I have more time for all that running around, and last-minute-purchasing that I have to get done.

…And possibly a blog finished on time before the click over to midnight has passed.

…Which I clearly need to work on.


…But just know: it’s been for a good cause.

Happy dreams, loves.


The Lebanese Question

7 Dec


Good rehearsal last night, and some quality bonding time in after-drinks, directly following.

…Digging in deeper every day, and pinch hitting jokes and hilarity in between to lighten the load.  If we didn’t, we’d be slitting our wrists by hour three. 

The most important point, we all agree, is that we need to “go there” on these journeys with no-holds-bar.  So we do.  And we will.  And it’s difficult and mucus-filled, and then we pause for a break and do it again.  Many inappropriate jokes rash the air as we deal with this subject matter the best way we can…like troops spewing black humor as they pick up body pieces off the war field. 

Sometimes, you just need to make light of a totally tragic moment or you’ll crack under the strain of it.

…Actors get that. So we will use it, and build on it, and that is how you get a straight woman, a jilted fiancee and a Lebanese walking into a bar.

…The “Lebanese” bit is because in all of the script, (nearly completely focusing on accused lesbianism), no one ever actually mentions the word. Forever in implications and spoken of in twelve different ways, but never pointedly named. So in keeping with the edit of it, I’ve just picked a close-sounding relation, and will go with that.

It’s code.

…In fact this whole script is ripe with “code”…and it’s all up to the team involved, to pick and choose which of it to take up and run with. Thankfully, ours has chosen NOT to go the double-endendre-everything-to-hell route. Especially in dealing with the L-word question.

…Even though, (in my opinion), my character is NOT a “Lebanese.” 

In the wise words of someone else, “you can’t fit everyone into a neatly labeled little box.” She doesn’t love a specific gender, she loves a specific person.  Who happens to be a woman.  That’s all.

…Now, some may see that as a cop-out or unwillingness to face her sexuality and really come out.  But this is the way that it makes the most sense to me, and I applaud and embrace it, and will use it as I desire.  So there.

…Which is not meaning to take anything away from the overall commentary of the show. However, that is often misinterpreted in my opinion, as well. It is a play about how the power of rumors and hate can destroy people’s lives with ruthless, and careless certainty. Which, I’m sure you will agree, is just as prevalent (if not more so) today, than it was when first written.

…Yes, world of Social Networking: I’m talking to you.

…The fact that the show uses a story of two women and their personal relationship is more of a shock-factor bonus at the time it was written. Again, based off an 1810 court case…which would have been just mind-blowing in comparison to even the 1930’s treatment of it.

For reasons we now know, the author felt a certain personal kinship to the topic matter, using it to exercise some of her own personal demons, and voice her own personal beliefs and commentaries. Which only helps inform the intensity of the piece really…making it oh so fun to mine for gold in. There’s a lot there, and we still have around five weeks to dig in and find all kinds of goodies.

Yay, us 🙂

…And hooray, to our beautiful poster-girls: our sweetly tragic “Rosalie” and evil spawn incarnate, “Mary.”



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