We're nearly finished with our run of shows in Ottawa, and I have to say, I'm feeling a little wistful about it. I really like this city, and I'm kind of digging the life we've set up for ourselves here. I know the other runs will be just as awesome and inviting, but this one will have a special place in my heart as our first official Fringe stop.
On to the recap!
Yesterday was alarmingly hot, as well as thunder-y and lightning-filled. Fortunately, I didn't have to deal with any of it, and spent the majority of the day inside watching "Arrested Development" and trying to make my hair behave in the humidity. It politely declined. Our company spent the afternoon playing (or attempting to play) "Mall Madness," a truly magnificent example of consumerism being bottle-fed to our youth. I'm just bitter because Forrest totally beat all of us. It's not my fault the game's ATM wouldn't give Beth and I sweet, sweet cash.
We performed last night at 11 p.m., to a surprisingly large house of sixteen people. They all did an excellent job of laughing, which kept me going through the faintness brought on by the gigantic Baptista costume. By the end of the performance, we were all drenched in our own sweat. Or maybe that was just due to the Girl Talk dance party we had right before going on stage.
Today's our last full day off in Ottawa, which is a strange thought. We're going to cook dinner for Brenda, our hostess tonight, and a good time is expected all around. This has been a fantastic week, that's for sure.
Before I leave, a note: this is the first day I haven't had to swim through a sea of graduating seniors to get to the library. Ten points to Ottawa. And yes, I almost typed Gryffindor.
Evan, if you're reading this, read "Harry Potter."
Friday, June 27, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Huh
I'm kind of back-and-forth on this whole "Ottawa" thing. The city is beautiful, don't get me wrong. It's just that it's, well, swelteringly hot. Although apparently I'm the only one in the group affected by it. It's not my fault that I'm a delicate northwest rhododendron blossom.
Yesterday we braved aforementioned heat to hand out ads for our show around Parliament Hill. This was actually pretty rockin', as I got to see not only Canadian parliament, but also the parliament cats. There is a colony of stray cats that lives in a little glen in tiny huts, cared for by an elderly gentleman known as the "Catman of Parliament Hill." I am not making this up.
What else to report? Not a lot, come to think of it. We saw "Die Roten Punkte" again the other night. I bought a t-shirt, Kate started a relationship with Otto (nice). I've seen a few more plays, handed out a few more postcards for our show, and had a few more drinks. Also, we finished our romance novel, which turned out to be even more insipid and sexist than I could have anticipated. Tonight we perform at 11 p.m. (gulp) to hopefully an audience of at least one (Lisa). We'll see how that goes.
Before I go, it bears mentioning that every single day I have come to the library, there has been either a prom or a graduation taking place outside. What gives?
Yesterday we braved aforementioned heat to hand out ads for our show around Parliament Hill. This was actually pretty rockin', as I got to see not only Canadian parliament, but also the parliament cats. There is a colony of stray cats that lives in a little glen in tiny huts, cared for by an elderly gentleman known as the "Catman of Parliament Hill." I am not making this up.
What else to report? Not a lot, come to think of it. We saw "Die Roten Punkte" again the other night. I bought a t-shirt, Kate started a relationship with Otto (nice). I've seen a few more plays, handed out a few more postcards for our show, and had a few more drinks. Also, we finished our romance novel, which turned out to be even more insipid and sexist than I could have anticipated. Tonight we perform at 11 p.m. (gulp) to hopefully an audience of at least one (Lisa). We'll see how that goes.
Before I go, it bears mentioning that every single day I have come to the library, there has been either a prom or a graduation taking place outside. What gives?
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
THIS JUST IN
I know I literally just finished a blog, but look what Evan just found on the Ottawa Citizen website:
"Sly Work a Laugh-Fest
Imagine a cast of actors who seem to have just escaped from The Rocky Horror Picture Show and then find themselves trying to perform a totally slapstick version of The Taming of the Shrew. The result is On The Sly by Formerly Witty Productions of Walla Walla, Washington.
The plot is totally ridiculous. But don't be put off. On The Sly is like a misbehaving but lovable child.
The play opens as a drunk man accidentally wanders into the home of a rich, eccentric lady. She decides to have some fun with the uninvited guest and soon manipulates him into starring, alongside a wandering troupe of actors, in a wicked re-imagining of The Taming of the Shrew.
The six actors have more energy than a room full of two-year-olds. Their actions are totally juvenile and downright silly. But only a mean old sourpuss could watch this little comedy and not die laughing.
On The Sly continues at Alumni Auditorium until Sunday."
First. Professional. Review.
AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
"Sly Work a Laugh-Fest
Imagine a cast of actors who seem to have just escaped from The Rocky Horror Picture Show and then find themselves trying to perform a totally slapstick version of The Taming of the Shrew. The result is On The Sly by Formerly Witty Productions of Walla Walla, Washington.
The plot is totally ridiculous. But don't be put off. On The Sly is like a misbehaving but lovable child.
The play opens as a drunk man accidentally wanders into the home of a rich, eccentric lady. She decides to have some fun with the uninvited guest and soon manipulates him into starring, alongside a wandering troupe of actors, in a wicked re-imagining of The Taming of the Shrew.
The six actors have more energy than a room full of two-year-olds. Their actions are totally juvenile and downright silly. But only a mean old sourpuss could watch this little comedy and not die laughing.
On The Sly continues at Alumni Auditorium until Sunday."
First. Professional. Review.
AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
Sweet Honeypie
According to Kate, that is my stripper name. I have to say, I'm flattered, as it not only implies that I am sweet, but also is very close to a Beatles song. If my parents are reading this, don't worry--this is purely a hypothetical title. We're not quite that strapped for cash yet. Actually, apparently the Loony is folding under the mighty George "Rockin'" Washington Sweet Dollar Bill (official name) once more, so that's, you know, cool.
Anyway.
One of the beautiful things about the fringe circuit is that you can see all kinds of theatre, with varying degrees of success. I saw one show the other day that made me so upset I rocked in the fetal position and muttered to myself. It was supposed to be a comedy. But for every crisis of humor, there is a glorious one-man show, like the one I saw last night, entitled "Boatload." This guy was seriously talented. He played the most convincing cat I've ever seen on stage. His show was sweet, funny, fast-paced, and extremely touching. Beth even cried. I think this concerned him a little as he talked to us after the show. We assured him it meant she loved it.
I have been a sadly remiss blogger, adoring public. I have neglected to mention the most important thing to come into my life this summer: the romance novel. Desperate for a way to pass the time through the lonely, wind-whistled plains of Montana (no, I will never stop talking about how weird it is), someone in our group purchased a gem entitled, "Virgin Slave, Barbarian King." Being all unusually gifted in the art of loving to hear our own voices, we started taking turns reading it out loud. And promptly became hooked. The tale of Julia, the sheltered Roman beauty, and Wulfric, the Visigoth warlord with the heart of gold, was not enough for us. Now we've moved onto "Under the Italian's Command" (or maybe "Under the Command of the Italian," it doesn't really matter), a truly masterful concoction of misogyny and mixed metaphors. We all love reading accents. And lest you think that only the women in the group participate, let me assure you, Forrest and Evan love our evening readings as well. Evan in particular gets way into the accents.
It's supposed to be 90 degrees here today. Although I'm not sure if that means celsius or not. Either way, I'll try my best to stay cool.
Well, cooler than I already am. Ha.
Anyway.
One of the beautiful things about the fringe circuit is that you can see all kinds of theatre, with varying degrees of success. I saw one show the other day that made me so upset I rocked in the fetal position and muttered to myself. It was supposed to be a comedy. But for every crisis of humor, there is a glorious one-man show, like the one I saw last night, entitled "Boatload." This guy was seriously talented. He played the most convincing cat I've ever seen on stage. His show was sweet, funny, fast-paced, and extremely touching. Beth even cried. I think this concerned him a little as he talked to us after the show. We assured him it meant she loved it.
I have been a sadly remiss blogger, adoring public. I have neglected to mention the most important thing to come into my life this summer: the romance novel. Desperate for a way to pass the time through the lonely, wind-whistled plains of Montana (no, I will never stop talking about how weird it is), someone in our group purchased a gem entitled, "Virgin Slave, Barbarian King." Being all unusually gifted in the art of loving to hear our own voices, we started taking turns reading it out loud. And promptly became hooked. The tale of Julia, the sheltered Roman beauty, and Wulfric, the Visigoth warlord with the heart of gold, was not enough for us. Now we've moved onto "Under the Italian's Command" (or maybe "Under the Command of the Italian," it doesn't really matter), a truly masterful concoction of misogyny and mixed metaphors. We all love reading accents. And lest you think that only the women in the group participate, let me assure you, Forrest and Evan love our evening readings as well. Evan in particular gets way into the accents.
It's supposed to be 90 degrees here today. Although I'm not sure if that means celsius or not. Either way, I'll try my best to stay cool.
Well, cooler than I already am. Ha.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Whoa
It's been one full week since I have blogged, and all I can say is, hold on to your hats, adoring public. I have got some serious ground to cover (not an exaggeration--I crossed the United States by car this week) and about half-an-hour on my library internet card to do it. REVIEW SESSION GO!
On Tuesday we set out, intrepid reverse-pioneers, to drive from Walla Walla (in the south-eastern corner of Washington state) to Ottawa (the capital of Canda, way the heck up near the Detroit-ish area) in three days. I am not in any way, shape, or form joking about this. We were all business. Here's how the week went down:
Tuesday: we covered Washington, Idaho, Montana (SO HUGE), Wyoming and South Dakota. Montana in particular sapped my will to live. Once you pass the continental divide, it's all downhill. We're making jokes in this blog...We stopped in Rapid (Rapids?) City for the night, by which I mean six hours, and tried to sleep as much as we could despite the road-induced hallucinations.
Wednesday: somehow we all dragged ourselves out of bed and back into the car, to go through more of South Dakota (bison!), Minnesota, Wisconsin and Illinois. Evan discovered the weirdest food in the world at a rest-stop: nacho flavored Slim Jims. We stayed in Becca's apartment in Chicago for the night, which felt a little surreal. Well, more surreal than the rest of the trip felt.
Thursday: I found myself blinking up at Wrigley Field in the early morning sunshine, dazed, confused, and somewhat unaware of my surroundings, as we cruised out of Illinois, through Indiana, and into Michigan. I have now seen two (TWO) great lakes, which is kind of awesome. They're the sort of thing that my mind stops being able to comprehend after awhile. Then, after sitting on a hecka high suspension bridge over the middle of Lake Huron for about an hour (Mom would've loved it) we got through customs. Or, we kind of did. We had to go present ourselves at Canadian immigrations to get visitors passes, since we are (hopefully) making money in their fair country.
The road trip was actually really fun, considering. No one got hurt, no one really even got mad at each other, and we only went slightly crazy that first night (I blame Montana's vast, untamed plains). We were, however, slightly disappointed that Canada looked exactly like the boring part of the U.S. we had just left. It got a little more exciting, in the bad sense of the word, when we rolled through Toronto at rush hour. I can only hope that that was rush hour, otherwise Toronto traffic just full-out sucks. People were driving on the shoulder, cutting each other off, swerving dangerously...all at generally high speeds, but who can tell? They use "kilometers" here.
After surviving Toronto, we breezed into Ottawa with relatively little difficulty. We're actually staying in Nepear, a nearby suburb. Our hostess, Brenda, is amazing--she is essentially giving us the run of her house, and seems to think we're pretty cool. Ottawa itself is really, really pretty. It feels very European, only without quite the health hazards of crossing the street. I'm getting some pretty good review on my French as well.
The Ottawa Fringe...where to even begin? I had no idea any one community could be this supportive of artists. Everyone here gets really into the festival, and with surprisingly little effort on our part, we have had large crowds to our three performances thus far. We've gotten really great feedback from audience members and other performers, and it's been a great experience. We're seeing lots of other theatre too, some of it more successful than others. My personal favorite thus far is definitely "Die Roten Punkte--Super Musikant," a hilarious punk-rock parody concert about a German brother-and-sister rock band. Forrest, Abby, Evan and I stayed up way past our bedtime last night to catch their 11 p.m. performance, and it was totally worth it. The whole crowd was made up of other fringe performers, and we all went kind of nuts. Fantastic.
So, on to the next thing. We have three days off (woo!), which means I'm going to spend some time exploring the city and seeing as much theatre as I can. On Thursday night we have an 11 p.m. performance that possibly no one will show up to, but that's okay. We'll at least have Lisa, who is threatening to heckle us if that is the case. We perform once more on Saturday afternoon, and then on Sunday we're driving out to Wakefield for Piggyback Fringe, a new festival.
I probably had a lot more to say, but I think this blog is sufficiently lengthy. That's what she said.
And to Erin, my lovely older sister: congratulations on the new job!
On Tuesday we set out, intrepid reverse-pioneers, to drive from Walla Walla (in the south-eastern corner of Washington state) to Ottawa (the capital of Canda, way the heck up near the Detroit-ish area) in three days. I am not in any way, shape, or form joking about this. We were all business. Here's how the week went down:
Tuesday: we covered Washington, Idaho, Montana (SO HUGE), Wyoming and South Dakota. Montana in particular sapped my will to live. Once you pass the continental divide, it's all downhill. We're making jokes in this blog...We stopped in Rapid (Rapids?) City for the night, by which I mean six hours, and tried to sleep as much as we could despite the road-induced hallucinations.
Wednesday: somehow we all dragged ourselves out of bed and back into the car, to go through more of South Dakota (bison!), Minnesota, Wisconsin and Illinois. Evan discovered the weirdest food in the world at a rest-stop: nacho flavored Slim Jims. We stayed in Becca's apartment in Chicago for the night, which felt a little surreal. Well, more surreal than the rest of the trip felt.
Thursday: I found myself blinking up at Wrigley Field in the early morning sunshine, dazed, confused, and somewhat unaware of my surroundings, as we cruised out of Illinois, through Indiana, and into Michigan. I have now seen two (TWO) great lakes, which is kind of awesome. They're the sort of thing that my mind stops being able to comprehend after awhile. Then, after sitting on a hecka high suspension bridge over the middle of Lake Huron for about an hour (Mom would've loved it) we got through customs. Or, we kind of did. We had to go present ourselves at Canadian immigrations to get visitors passes, since we are (hopefully) making money in their fair country.
The road trip was actually really fun, considering. No one got hurt, no one really even got mad at each other, and we only went slightly crazy that first night (I blame Montana's vast, untamed plains). We were, however, slightly disappointed that Canada looked exactly like the boring part of the U.S. we had just left. It got a little more exciting, in the bad sense of the word, when we rolled through Toronto at rush hour. I can only hope that that was rush hour, otherwise Toronto traffic just full-out sucks. People were driving on the shoulder, cutting each other off, swerving dangerously...all at generally high speeds, but who can tell? They use "kilometers" here.
After surviving Toronto, we breezed into Ottawa with relatively little difficulty. We're actually staying in Nepear, a nearby suburb. Our hostess, Brenda, is amazing--she is essentially giving us the run of her house, and seems to think we're pretty cool. Ottawa itself is really, really pretty. It feels very European, only without quite the health hazards of crossing the street. I'm getting some pretty good review on my French as well.
The Ottawa Fringe...where to even begin? I had no idea any one community could be this supportive of artists. Everyone here gets really into the festival, and with surprisingly little effort on our part, we have had large crowds to our three performances thus far. We've gotten really great feedback from audience members and other performers, and it's been a great experience. We're seeing lots of other theatre too, some of it more successful than others. My personal favorite thus far is definitely "Die Roten Punkte--Super Musikant," a hilarious punk-rock parody concert about a German brother-and-sister rock band. Forrest, Abby, Evan and I stayed up way past our bedtime last night to catch their 11 p.m. performance, and it was totally worth it. The whole crowd was made up of other fringe performers, and we all went kind of nuts. Fantastic.
So, on to the next thing. We have three days off (woo!), which means I'm going to spend some time exploring the city and seeing as much theatre as I can. On Thursday night we have an 11 p.m. performance that possibly no one will show up to, but that's okay. We'll at least have Lisa, who is threatening to heckle us if that is the case. We perform once more on Saturday afternoon, and then on Sunday we're driving out to Wakefield for Piggyback Fringe, a new festival.
I probably had a lot more to say, but I think this blog is sufficiently lengthy. That's what she said.
And to Erin, my lovely older sister: congratulations on the new job!
Monday, June 16, 2008
Home, sweet home...
...by which I mean Walla Walla. We returned to our home (or college) place (not College Place, v. important to note) to do another pay-what-you-can show for the community. It was lovely and perfect in Pioneer Park: the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the people were very, very kind and eager to laugh. Wonderful. We had an extremely successful performance, despite the small patches of mud amidst the grass, and my graceless ripping out of the entire hem of the "Bianca" dress. Oops. I would, however, like to note that I somehow stayed in character when two extremely cute beagles wandered by. Puppies!
Tomorrow morning we set out very early (6 a.m., which as far as I'm concerned doesn't exist) to drive to hopefully somewhere in the Dakotas. I might be out of internet range, so this could be my last posting for awhile. I'll report on all of our road adventures through the rugged wilds of Montana as soon as I can.
Unless, of course, we run out of gas somewhere in the Badlands. Hopefully someone in our group is a deft hand at mustang-ropin', because I'm pretty out of practice.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
U.S./Canada relations
The wonderful thing about this blog is that it almost writes itself. Seriously. I swear I don't make anything up that goes in here, and thus far I haven't even exaggerated for comedic effect. This weekend provided ample fodder, to the extent that I'll probably forget about half of it before this entry is through. Let's see if I can at least hit the high points.
This weekend we made our first of three excursions into Canada to perform in Abbotsford, B.C. Problem number one occurred with the suspicious border control officer figured out we were artists, planning on acting for (hopefully) money. He let us through the border, but only with some stern looks. After some driving around the, quite frankly, confusing streets of the city, we found the auditorium where we were scheduled to perform the next night. We also met up with our hostess for the weekend, Judith--the nicest woman ever, with the coolest family to boot. They also have a cat named Sweet Pea, who handled our pet-starved fascination with her with surprising grace. To everyone: thanks for the hospitality!
Something I tend to forget about acting in real festivals in the real world is that I'm kind of a baby. Actually, our whole troop are kind of babies, when compared to the medium age of performers on the fringe circuit. This is cool, since one of my passions is getting youth inspired to take part in art (rhyme!). I remembered this, though, when we started attracting a lot of attention in the relatively small community of this festival. Comments like, "You put your hair in curlers? Wow!" suddenly seemed sinister (alliteration!). The people talking to us were simply trying to be nice and put us at ease; I'm just suspicious, awkward, and self-conscious--a fantastic triple threat, especially in theatre. Our youth also attracted the attention of Jason, a very kind, very talkative older gentleman who was possibly very slightly unstable. He talked to us for hours, both before and after our show. Actually during, too.
My favorite things about Jason:
-He argued with Abby about United States history
-He has stories about everyone in show business, especially Jason Priestley
-He tried to come into our dressing room while we were changing, causing the girls to all but throw Forrest at him in a panic in order to distract him
-He used to play Benjamin Franklin at Disney World, which is controlled, as he darkly says, by "The Mouse"
The show itself went pretty well, despite the small house. My dad, bless him, laughed throughout the whole thing, much to my relief. I was worried that the small numbers would equal small audience response, but people seemed to dig it. The kids at least thought it was fun. Afterwards we all went to Red Robin and caroused at several different tables (the poor seating hostess turned pale when we said we had sixteen in our party). It was really good to see my family, especially since I'd been feeling rather weepy and out of place lately.
Today we crossed back into the U.S. with ease, and The Hulk started back to Walla Walla well ahead of Eddy the Prius. Along the way, we (Beth, Kate, Lisa and I) started listening to "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" on Lisa's iPod. Twelve chapters into the narrative, we suddenly realized we had no idea where we were. We turned on Mandy (the GPS), only to discover that we were in George, Washington (a real place), and at least two hours outside of Walla Walla. Despite intense wracking of our brains, we have no idea how or when that happened. I blame Jim Dale.
Long story short: we made it safely back to Walla Walla and the sweet comforts of the Danger Zone (my off-campus house). And now, to sleep.
Goodnight.
This weekend we made our first of three excursions into Canada to perform in Abbotsford, B.C. Problem number one occurred with the suspicious border control officer figured out we were artists, planning on acting for (hopefully) money. He let us through the border, but only with some stern looks. After some driving around the, quite frankly, confusing streets of the city, we found the auditorium where we were scheduled to perform the next night. We also met up with our hostess for the weekend, Judith--the nicest woman ever, with the coolest family to boot. They also have a cat named Sweet Pea, who handled our pet-starved fascination with her with surprising grace. To everyone: thanks for the hospitality!
Something I tend to forget about acting in real festivals in the real world is that I'm kind of a baby. Actually, our whole troop are kind of babies, when compared to the medium age of performers on the fringe circuit. This is cool, since one of my passions is getting youth inspired to take part in art (rhyme!). I remembered this, though, when we started attracting a lot of attention in the relatively small community of this festival. Comments like, "You put your hair in curlers? Wow!" suddenly seemed sinister (alliteration!). The people talking to us were simply trying to be nice and put us at ease; I'm just suspicious, awkward, and self-conscious--a fantastic triple threat, especially in theatre. Our youth also attracted the attention of Jason, a very kind, very talkative older gentleman who was possibly very slightly unstable. He talked to us for hours, both before and after our show. Actually during, too.
My favorite things about Jason:
-He argued with Abby about United States history
-He has stories about everyone in show business, especially Jason Priestley
-He tried to come into our dressing room while we were changing, causing the girls to all but throw Forrest at him in a panic in order to distract him
-He used to play Benjamin Franklin at Disney World, which is controlled, as he darkly says, by "The Mouse"
The show itself went pretty well, despite the small house. My dad, bless him, laughed throughout the whole thing, much to my relief. I was worried that the small numbers would equal small audience response, but people seemed to dig it. The kids at least thought it was fun. Afterwards we all went to Red Robin and caroused at several different tables (the poor seating hostess turned pale when we said we had sixteen in our party). It was really good to see my family, especially since I'd been feeling rather weepy and out of place lately.
Today we crossed back into the U.S. with ease, and The Hulk started back to Walla Walla well ahead of Eddy the Prius. Along the way, we (Beth, Kate, Lisa and I) started listening to "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" on Lisa's iPod. Twelve chapters into the narrative, we suddenly realized we had no idea where we were. We turned on Mandy (the GPS), only to discover that we were in George, Washington (a real place), and at least two hours outside of Walla Walla. Despite intense wracking of our brains, we have no idea how or when that happened. I blame Jim Dale.
Long story short: we made it safely back to Walla Walla and the sweet comforts of the Danger Zone (my off-campus house). And now, to sleep.
Goodnight.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Opening Night
Last night, an incredibly lucky audience (and considerably larger than most of us had anticipated) saw the English-language premiere of "On the Sly." There was laughter, there were tears, we hope from laughter, and applause. And some sweet money to fund our crazy road trip across this country and parts of Canada.
There are definitely times when I take a step back from my life, re-evaluate, and think, "What in God's name am I doing?" These moments usually occur when I'm gluing a wig to my head in a dressing room, or thinking too intently about my willing center. Or doing any sort of super-intense vocal warm-up. Fortunately, things come back into focus after performances like the one we had last night. I remembered the simple truth: that actors act simply because they can't help it. It's in their blood. As long as someone is there to watch, they perform.
Also, nothing is more gratifying than getting a laugh. Tcha.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Questing
My friends and I regularly rehearse (or attempt to, depending on the weather) in various parks around Portland. Since the Almighty has deemed it doth rain here, we spend a lot of time driving around in our minivan, or "The Hulk." It's green. During one of these drives the other day, we all began absent-mindedly humming the "Indiana Jones" theme.
Noticing a man jogging by himself on the side of the road, I said, "Hey, let's sing it to him to encourage him!" So we did. And the trend stuck. Somewhere in the past five days we've decided that it's our quest to:
a) Sing the "Indiana Jones" theme to anyone along the side of any road, anywhere, at any time, and
b) Find the person who will respond in ecstasy, crying out, "I AM Indiana Jones! Toss me my hat and bullwhip!" At which point we will.
So far, success has been minimal. Sometimes people look at us in confusion, which isn't quite the same thing. Baby steps. Baby steps.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
A sudden dose of reality
I awoke gently this morning, much in the manner of a Disney princess, if you substitute shoulder pain and nightmares for squirrels and bluebirds attending me, to wonderful sunshine outside my window. Cautiously I ventured outside, convinced that the overwhelming gloom of the past week had turned me into some sort of photo-sensitive creature (vampire?) who would immediately burst into flames. Obviously I didn't. Instead I went and got a muffin and some coffee and pretended I was back in Europe. Watching Austria play Croatia in round one of the Euro Cup helped.
I may actually be able to get through rehearsal today without shivering from cold. Fingers crossed.
Friday, June 6, 2008
June-uary
I stole the title of this blog from one of my fellow actors. Pretty good, right? And, sadly, pretty apt. Portland is freezing cold and windy at the moment, much to my misery, since I definitely didn't pack for this sort of thing. I have been living in the same pair of jeans for approximately one week, which means that I probably smell pretty bad. I shower daily and tell myself I am being bohemian.
As for the play itself, it seems to be progressing nicely. Hopefully people who truly love us (hint, hint) will come see us perform. Getting some sort of financial compensation would be nice, although one must never underestimate the value of solid experience.
I think it would kind of rock to be Holly Golightly. Not the whole married-to-an-old-dude-at-thirteen-and-being-deeply-damaged thing, but the whole look-at-my-awesome-clothes-and-carefree-lifestyle-and-hot-writer-lover thing. In other words, I've been wanting my life to be a movie lately. At least then I'd have a soundtrack to tell me what to do next.
That seems like an appropriately moody note to end on.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Some people shouldn't drive
The first thing to know when reading this post: I'm currently living a nomadic existence with a theatre group, going to fringe festivals around the country (and in Canada, to boot). The second thing to know: we get from place to place in a large minivan (ironically).
So. We attempted to leave for rehearsal yesterday, only to find that someone had parked diagonally across the end of the driveway. Not only that, but their driver side door was left ajar, and the keys were in the ignition. Since the car was a white Mercedes SUV-type thing, I can only assume they had cash to burn and were just looking for an excuse to buy their next ride. I.E. someone stealing their current one. The owner wasn't completely without a heart or mind, however, as they had left a small space that someone potentially in a golf cart could get through. We attempted several strange moves, my favorite being completely turning the van around in the driveway, before giving up. We left a mean note on the windshield of the car and took our other friend's that was parked across the street instead.
Also, my friends and I had a dildo waved at us from a moving car the other night. I thought it was funny more than anything else. The others were not so amused. Maybe something even odder will be waved at me tonight. One can only hope.
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