Break a Leg

A couple blogs ago, I wrote about my experiences with a certain company and a workshop I attended therein.  My blog was largely negative, and slighting on a personal level to the proprietors of this company.

I would like to formally apologize for that blog.

It was angry and short-sighted.

Not all theater methods, or even ways of life are for everyone, but it is not for any individual to slight the life philosophies of any other member of society.  I was judgemental where I had no call to be.

The blog that I wrote was degrading and insulting...two things which I try never to be, but as a human being, occasionally find myself resorting to just to make myself feel better.

I feel that each person's opinions are, in fact, their own, but how we voice those opinions should be taken with care, because A) opnions are like assholes, and B) not all opinions are sound because, hey, somebody was of the opinion that being a Nazi was a pretty good idea.

So, to Conrad of the Independant Eye: I apologize for the slander, and I wish you luck and fortune in all your endeavors.

And I post under a seudonym because people on this sight know me as such, not because I'm trying to hide my identity.

Chad

First of all, let me offer my humblest apologies for last week's post. It was peurile and juvenile, a complete waste of your time.

I would like to make it up to you now by classing up this joint with some footnotes from history. Let's talk today about Woodward and Bernstein's famous inside source, Deep Throat!

I'm sorry, I just can't help myself. Christmas is just around the corner and I am giddy with excitement. We decorated the house a few days ago and just yesterday went to the tree lot and bought a nice big Christmas tree.

It's great having a child because you get to re-live Christmas all over again. I have a list as long as my... arm, of all of the toys we're planning on getting him, and I'm pretty sure the Batcave is at the top of it. That and Lincoln Logs.

When you think about it, the Christmas tree tradition is really pretty wild. You cut down a tree and put it in your livingroom? Far out stuff, would aliens think we worship the trees and build altars in their honor? Probably not, since we kill the tree in the process.

There are a lot of things we do to the environment that make no sense at all, and are simply testaments to our mastery of our domain. We are environmental douchebags, why else we would kill a tree for Christmas then put it in a bowl of water to prolong its torture?

Now don't get me wrong, I love Christmas trees. I thinking eating steak is weird too but I sure do loves me some tenderloin.

Side note here: our son asks us where stuff comes from, or where we got something. When he asks where steak, or burgers, or turkey, or bacon (mmmmmmm, bacon) comes from, we tell him (for instance, with steak) that the cow lets us use his meat when he's done with it. Boy I'll say! I laugh inside every time I think about it.

Me: Hey cow, can I have some steak?

Cow: Well... I'm still using all my steak.

Me: Oh no, I mean when you're done with it.

Cow: Oh, OK... no problem!

Me: Thank you! <kills cow>

There must have been a time in man's history when he just ate any fucking thing that moved or grew out of the ground. Basically anything he could fit in his mouth that didn't break teeth while chewing on it. Think about coconuts: do you know how much effort it takes to get inside one of those fuckers? How did the first guy to eat a coconut know there was something even inside there worth eating?

I have to get back to work now, since we're still all working for a living and waiting for some Patron Saint of Internet Shows to come along and buy our lives from us. Yuri said we would all be rich and famous by now.

So, things have been pretty crazy around here.

I just got done doing my annual performance of The Nutcracker with the Stapleton School of Ballet.  And you might find yourself thinking: "Jennifer does ballet? Shocker."  It not really dancing, though: it's just choreographed movement mixed in with some snazzy magic tricks.  It's a lot of fun.  And it pays well.  So yay + yay = hooray.

Then, last night I had an audition for The Greatest Books (Abridged) and I got a call back from the theater today saying that they want me in the show, jthey just haven't decided which part they want to give me.  Now, I think this is pretty sweet.  It's like they're saying I'm so amzaingly versitile that I could fit any role and only when they find somebody less versitile than me will they decide where they need my expertise and skill.  Boo-yah.  So I'll be gettin gready for that.  The show doesn't actually go up until next summer, but it will be nice to get a head-start on the script.

And, of course, there's all this holiday stuff going on: all the family and friends gathering at various times, so much to do and cook and prepare and buys and eat and drink and stuff.  Good times.

The holidays are also a time to visit home...which brings me to my topic for the day.

I have a roommate name Sophia who is from Taiwan.  She left last night to fly home for a month.  Behind her she left a miniature doberman pincher...a NEEDY mini doberman pincher.  A SQUEAKY mini doberman pincher. 

As I have already mentioned, and as I'm sure you already know what with the hectic schedules of your own, that this is a pretty busy time of year.  I work all day and I have things to do in the evening.  Things that become very difficult to do if I am constantly chasing after this psychotic rat that thinks my sofa is just one big chew toy.  So, I put the dog in Sophia's room and close the door.  The dog proceeds to hurl itself at the door.  This is getting on my nerves.  So I put the dog in it's cage  It proceeds to whine and whine and whine until I let it out.  Then it runs around the house, chewing on everything, lifting used tampons out of the bathroom garbage, and being generally fucking annoying.  The cycle repeats itself.

The alternative to this was Sophia giving some guy who thinks he's her boyfriend a key to my house so that he could come hang out with the dog for a couple hours a day and think that Sophia had indentured herself to him for doing so.  Bugger that.  So I agreed to watch over the dog. 

Today is the 10th of December.  Sophia returns on the 15th of January.  I'm really beginning to wonder if the little weasel fodder is going to make it.  I DO know that as an early Christmas present, it's getting a shock collar.

On a final note, this year on December 16th, we will celebrate the anniversary of the death of Gregori Rasputin (according to the Gregorian Calendar).  This means you wear red, drink vodka, and listen to gypsy music.  My friends and I will actually be observing International Rasputin Day on Saturday the 13th, and I invite you all to take part and spread the word of this new and exciting celebration, if not with me, then with your own friends wherever you are.

Happy Jenday!

As an actor, father, raconteur, and all-around superhero type I find that my life is sometimes like living on a roller coaster. There are some ups, some downs, but above all everyday is a new adventure.

This was illustrated most recently when I was presented with a wonderful opportunity for a hand job.

Now hand jobs are not my specialty, I typically gravitate towards your more "traditional" jobs. This particular hand job came about quite by accident, and I was honestly quite surprised that it was offered to me in the first place.

Those of you who know me know what I'm talking about.

Anyway, after being a bit apprehensive I quickly warmed up to the idea. This hand job sounded like just the thing I needed to mix things up a bit. You know, "stir the pot" as they say? I realized that if you don't know what you're doing hand jobs can get a bit messy, but I was confident that I could "grope around in the dark" as it were and muddle through just fine.

It's just a matter of being confident in yourself and your ability to get a grip on things.

My excitement grew when I found out that I was potentially in line for another hand job on Friday. Things were really falling into place for me this week!

Then I got the call that I knew in the back of my mind was coming: they wanted to see pictures.

With hand jobs in general appearance is everything, and I am sorry to report that mine was not up to par. I took the pictures that they needed but I knew in my heart of hearts that I was removing myself from consideration for this and future hand jobs. I just hadn't been taking good care of myself!

I suppose I could have tweaked things a bit, used creative lighting, done something to hide my less-than-stellar appearance in the photo, but as a professional I also didn't want to jerk the client around. I'm very careful about safeguarding my reputation.

So I lost this hand job, which is doubly painful because I had even been asked what women I would like to be considered as a partner for this project! My wife didn't qualify for technical reasons, so I had a lot of fun thinking about all of the women that I had worked with in the past, and imagining what working on this hand job with them might be like.

Ah well, that's the way the cookie crumbles I guess. On to the next job! Maybe we can work some hand jobs into Lurker?

So, because it's Thanksgiving, because Break a Leg is over and we're slowly putting the pieces of Lurker together, because I have the power to post blogs and because I think this is an important one, I'm going to take today to write a quick story about my old college drama teacher.

I'll start like this.

In college, I wasn't quite sure what I wanted to do. I was metaphysically shoved into writing when, in my first year and in my first class called, "Theater Workshop" the teacher asked if any of us had any scripts. It so happened that the summer prior, Dashiell and I had decided, after overdosing on Monty Python videos, that we should write and film some silly sketches.

And we did do that, by the way. And you will never, ever see them.

But I digress. I suggested I could theoretically do these sketches and do a sketch comedy show. He said okay. I said okay. I gathered Dashiell, Mint, that guy who hates Mimes in Episode 1 and a couple of other close acting friends and we performed the silliest, haphazard sketch comedy show ever. There were five of us and we were called the Overpopulated Quartet -- still the best name I've ever come up with. After we did it, the strangest thing happened -- everyone loved the hell out of it.

And then, all of a sudden, I became a writer. It started slowly, I decided to try and write a one-act, called Courting 101, and I did, and we performed it (Dustin, Daniela and I) -- and that also, was a big hit. Then, my most successful play as a writer -- I wrote a show called 11 Variations on Friar John's Failure -- a satire of Romeo and Juliet. We performed it  and yes, it too was a big hit. 

Where does Carla come into this?

Carla was the head of the drama department but was gone the first year I showed up. When she returned, she -- well, it's fairly easy to describe her. She's an ultra-liberal red-headed hyper-intelligent super-contrarian who takes devilish joy in riling up anyone who she thinks needs riling up. And, by the way, to Carla, that's everyone.

When she showed up to College of Marin, I think -- and I could be wrong -- I think she decided to make me her project. I had written and people considered me a writer then but I didn't really consider myself one, even with 11 Variations getting published, I just wasn't convinced I was ready to make the jump into such a risky endeavor.

I was Carla's project. That meant that she gave me unprecedented powers in the drama department -- two full weekends to run my own play, having the school actually do 11 Variations with a professional director as part of their full season run, and much, much more. It also meant that she would do her best to slowly drive me crazy. She would teach me, give me writers to read, give me pages full of notes on my acting, on my writing, on my directing -- and she would give me huge compliments and then tear me to shreds.

In retrospect, it was pretty enjoyable. It was also the first time that a teacher had ever taken such a direct approach with me. Carla did that with a lot of students but, and again, I could be wrong, but I think there was a moment she decided that she'd either make me famous or send me into a mental asylum.

She was also, by the way, my improv teacher. So, if you think I'm funny when I go off the cuff, which in Break a Leg I do quite a bit, you can thank her.

You can also thank her for making me a writer. Aside from her personal stakes in me, Carla also did a one-woman show in San Francisco called Wedding Singer Blues. Carla, by the way, is an amazing Jazz singer along with being a great actress. The show was about her basically diving headfirst into a career that everyone tried to tell her not to pursue. The lesson of the play, in short, was -- doing what you love and failing is much better than never trying at all.

It's a simple lesson but when I saw it, at that age, in a very indecisive time of my life, I decided, I think, almost at that moment, that I'd officially be a writer.

So here I am.

That's a very long intro to a very short conclusion. What's the conclusion? The conclusion is that Carla was, roughly a year ago, been diagnosed with ALS or Lou Gherig's Disease. It's a terrible, fatal degenerative disease that basically shuts down your muscles one by one. It especially sucks for Carla because, as she likes to point out, she "hates Baseball."

Carla is young, in her forties. Carla was spry and energetic and had a domineering, loud personality. And now, even in a wheelchair, she still does. Except now, the way she is living her life is so utterly inspiring that everyone around her has trouble putting it into words. It's inspiring because she's not trying to be inspiring, it's inspiring because through her blog and through her every day interactions, she talks about what she's going through in the most honest and hilarious way. It's inspiring because she's kept everything that makes her Carla -- aside, of course, from her legs.

Those don't work very well anymore.

Did I mention that Carla has the most wicked sense of humor ever? Her current music tour is titled, The Grateful Not Yet Dead Redhead Tour. Her jokes on stage are so dark that even when you know her, there's a quick moment after she says something, like, say, "The good thing is, global warming is your problem now, bitches!" -- you feel like someone just slapped you across the face while grinning wildly and staring you in the eye.

So, in long, it's Thanksgiving and I don't really celebrate it because I'm not from this country and I never personally killed any Indians. It's Thanksgiving and you're supposed to give thanks and I've given thanks to many other people over the years that Break a Leg has been around so, I want to, today, give thanks to Carla for mentoring me, for pushing me to be where I am and for being inspiring in every moment of her life. If I succeed, a large part of that is because of her.

Last night, during her potentially last show, she ended the set by saying, "This is the truest song ever written" -- and then sang, What a Wonderful World.

It's cheesy, right? Even she'll admit it. It's cheesy. But, damn -- it was a beautiful, inspiring, yes, wonderful moment. Maybe Louis Armstrong shoulda written her in the song.

So, that's about it. Thanks, Carla. We all love you. Happy Thanksgiving.

-Yuri

P.S. Everyone should read Carla's blog and buy her CDs (I'm going to come back and link to her CD-buying when she gives me the link.) READ THE BLOG HERE!