Tag Archives: opening

Open

9 Sep

Awake at 3am. I think asleep again by 5-something. Then again at 6. Then 8. 

…Haven’t slept well in ages. Several reasons, primary of last night being total body and mental exhaustion. 

…You know when you see a toddler, waaay past their nap time, have a total and complete meltdown in the grocery aisle, giving zero shits who the present audience is, or that this is unacceptable behavior–their limbs go limp, they’re sobbing like a family member died right in front of them, and it’s all because they don’t like the “orange kind”? I’m right there. I have no ability to appropriately designate my feelings and trauma. 

…And, my body hurts. Their are muscles that feel shredded, so many ever-changing colors of bruises, that I have no count. I keep stressing my formerly broken finger every night in the fight sequence, so what usually is a dull ache when weather changes, is shooting pains up to my elbow…(last night’s particular pain of choice to wake me.) My back is so tight across the shoulders: you could use it for a helipad.

If one person in the next five weeks, says they think its cute that I have an acting hobby, I’m going to punch them in the face. And in my current mental place: I can’t guarantee it would stop there. 

Of course, I DID sign up for this. And so: it is what it is. Boxers wear *their* sport badges with pride: split lips, broken noses, et al. So, in moments and shows like this, I do too. I do it to remind myself of the gallons of sweat and tears that have hours ago dissipated and been showered off. I do it because each one was earned in commitment to something I love, like the birth pains of a labor. I do it because not every role or show is a frivolous exercise, or a beauty contest…certainly not the ones *I* participate in. I do it because I carry that role with me at least as long as those bruises will show…and sometimes, well after. In an ephemeral artform, it’s the reminder I can look back on, and instantly trigger back to this time and place.

…And in the meantime, before starting rehearsals for “Blithe Spirit,” on Monday, I will use today to nest on the couch. I will stay in pajamas until prep for call. I will watch other people gaining *their* bruises and show-badges on TV. 

…I will self-care, and order delivery. I will cry when I need to, and not if I don’t, and leave my severely overworked contacts, soaking in their case.

I will take a day.

…And then, tonight, I will stretch and fight-call, and suit up again, adding to my growing badge collection.

Cuz, Theatre ain’t for fucking sissies.

~D

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This Time, In NA…

5 May

Studied up and ready to open “Water By The Spoonful” tonight, with an energized and eager company. Fantastic post-preview talks, last night, with some of the production-family, reinvigorated my brains within Odessa’s headspace. 

…I love nothing better than spinning those connecting webs of collaboration…from the AD to the Costume Designer to the Actor, and how each take and builds from the others’ contribution, making this art-from-art kind of Celtic knot of seamless (we hope) common goal-reaching.
Am proud of this team, and honored to be a part of it.

…And honored to portray those who struggle with substance abuse issues…to tell their story as truthfully as we can, as raw and naked and serving the fact of that moment to moment struggle. Am very thankful at how much research I needed to do on the NA side of things…in that I have been fortunate to not have the first-hand knowledge of its world. The devastation it leaves in its wake is such an astonishing payment with ripple effect. After living in that headspace even only as an actor, the empathy for its victims is another study on the frailty in our humanity…but also the stubborness of our strength, the frustration in our circumstance, the fate of our birth, the pomposity and arrogance of our gambles with death, and the fight and fight and fight we can put up, when life throws fists in our faces, time and time again.

It’s a hell of a piece of theatre.

…And a pretty damn good production. (If I do say so myself.)

And: I do.

Happy Opening, team!

~D

The Blog That Wasn’t

14 Jun

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I’m nearly to my year of blog-a-days, and last night (for only the second time) posted naught.

It was Opening, guys…

…I was having fun…

…Marty came for catch ups…

…Post cast hang time at the Mexi-bar…

…Multiple house guests talking of Dr. Who and theatre in general until all hours…

…Passed out humans in various rooms, soon to follow.

In short: It didn’t happen, and I was having too much fun to regret it.

Here is its placeholder. 

“The Blog That Wasn’t”

A joyous cast killed over 5 minutes off the show time in pace, wound up all the one-liners neatly, tied up the ending with a bow, and got its first (stellar) review already on the internet, making the FB and other PR rounds as we speak.

…We are happy peeps.

…And now for a bit of a nap, before the end-of-year theatre patio BBQ and auction, (special entertainment by The Fella), with our (hopefully) sold-out second performance of Earnest to follow.

Huzzah and things!

~D

Free Liquor, Love Amsterdam

12 Apr

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Sitting in horrifying Friday 5:00 traffic, northbound.

…Face in ten pounds of stage makeup, hair set in curlers, with a hanky wrapped round to seal in the heat, and sitting in my PT Cruiser…from the neck up, I look like a period prostitute…which is all the car occupants beside me can see.

The double-takes are priceless.

…I may look like a stripper, mister so-and-so, but remember, I’m a Lady.

(Wink, wink)

***

(Later)

Early to theatre for passing out Opening Night tokens.

…I like to give shots, for small casts.

First: because I have expensive taste, and second: because after living through Hell Week, everyone deserves a slug of something good.

…And I like to theme them, per character, based on what mine would give them. For this reason it can take me an hour rambling through a liquor store talking to myself. A highly attractive sight, ‘specially as undertaken today, in no makeup and sweats.

…But the inside joke giggle I give myself, is totally worth it:

For Putti (Mr. VD): A Bushmill and a decent stogie…his finest desires now seen to.

Mr Frank: Hennessey, as brought as a present and presented on stage in act 1.

Mrs. Frank: Grey Goose. For the neat, quiet, near absence of any kick.

Margot (actual age, mid-20’s): Cake vodka, for her youth.

Mr. Kraler: 1800 Gold…and Meip: 1800 Silver…for all it costs to keep us there.

Our kilt-wearing Director: Glenfiddich, 12 year….and our SM: Chives Regal, 12 year…for all the years of time it feels like we’ve been rehearsing to get here tonight.

Mr. Dussel: Queens own Bombay Sapphire…cuz all he needs is a strong woman to straighten him out.

…For the minors in cast and crew, I scored unbelievably, with cookies and candies from Amsterdam…thanks to World Market.

***
(Later, later)

Marty and I, post show, drinkin’ vino, eatin’ chips, talkin’ shit, and wachin’ Vicar of Dibley.

…Sheer…Joy 🙂

…Missed the hell outta her.

…Tomorrow: greasey breakfast of champions.

Hooray for Openings, and friends 🙂

~D

Night Off

15 Mar

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Climbing Mt. Laundry tonight, after trying to walk off the half-a-burger I tried to shove down my throat. 

…Lost the battle. 

The smell made me want to cry…all forlorn and partially eaten, after all that lust I’ve been batting away for the past six days.  There it sat…next to it’s little bed of left-over fries…quite possibly the saddest thing I’d seen all week. 

So I threw it away, and bundled up for some air. 

…45 minutes later, managed to get home just as it started to dump on me.  That was like half an hour ago. 

…Now am listening to the Julie London Pandora station, up to my armpits in sorted laundry, making dirty little islands of color all through my hallway into the living room.  Ten pounds of quarters are set in pre-piles on the stove, with the detergent…and the timer is set for my first two loads to get transferred into the industrial dryers.

God, I hate not having a washer and dryer in my own house.

…Granted, the facility in only in the basement on the other end of the building…but still…it’s “over there,” and I’m “here,” and “public” means having to put pants on and everything.

…So much work, you guys.

Meanwhile: Marty is nearly ready to get curled and wigged for her performance…having just Opened last night.  And I am recouping from a wicked bout of huge contract influx at work, followed by last night’s first run of the show.

…Not bad.

…The show, that is.

…The “office” is just the fucking “office.” And always will be.

Tomorrow: I’ll be traveling down to Marty, who will be teaching me to knit, for purposes of the show.  Which means when this is all said and done, I’ll have a most ugly, misshapen, worn-torn-Europe, black-market-yarn blanket as a souvenir.

Only I would be excited about this.

…And I am.  

(Sips at first can of Coke in a week, and burps loudly.)

Man.  That’s beautiful.  Do you have ANY idea how totally satisfying it is to get that deep, baritone, Coke burp again?  Lots.  It’s lots, satisfying. 

…Especially after 47 million cups of tea, black coffee and Talking Rain.

(Buzzer starts shrieking.)

…Whelp, that’s m’cue.

Off to wrestle the reds and whites.

Happy Friday, all.

~D

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