Monkey no like

So I have VERY quietly decided today was the day to quit smoking. It was the last day of my current job and the 27th. I always liked the number 27. I meant to buy some patches, but work has kept me running pretty hard as of late. I made it 6hrs today before a friend innocently enough asked if I wanted to go have a smoke. I said,"sure, if I can bum one." That was it.

I have been fighting a crippled fight since. There was some momentum in knowing I had not had one all day. I came home and bought a pack as my last one went down in a wattery ceremony last night (see on the left). I have not carried the pack but have gone to it now 4 times. In comparison to the pack and half I will easily pollish off of a set day, we are talking major improvement here. None the less, I am frustrated.

I hate that I feel I need to do it. That has me yearning to quit more than any scare tactic of financial or health consequence. After all I have been talking a great game on them for years and defiantly doing what smokers should not be able to do with ease. I proudly boasted "making this shit look good."HoweverI want them gone. It is the monkey on my back. A friend said something last Sun that seemed so oddly applicable. My interprettation of it was that I have to keep smoking to remember why I like to smoke. When I get enough distance they start to lose the almighty grip. I know I will probably always like them in some way or another. That is fine. I just am tired of them owning my ass. All bravado aside, I really am tired of them. Maybe tonight I can get those patches.

Priorities

Decent jobs have been hard to come by this year so far. It has been a lot like change jar savings. A day here a couple there. They help, to be sure. But these jobs have been slim though. When I caught wind that a job may be coming through the end of this month for a nice fat 6 days, I got a little excited. That excitement doubled when not one but two jobs fell through for the week before.

On day one though I found out that the Fri. schedule was actually a night shoot. Where I thought I would have no conflict with the last two days of my show, suddenly I was going to lose one of them. This show and this cast has actually become prety fucking important to me. It may not be the finest theatre in the world, but for me it has felt like an oasis of brave art in a plastic city.

All this aside, I found I was given a choice by my boss that does not always come for a PA. She said that because I was unaware of the night shoot, I could opt to be covered for that night. I tossed and turned all night trying to decide what to do. On one hand it was money, sorely needed. On the other hand, a priority list exsists for just such an occassion. I have survived as a performer by remembering what is most important. Often times (4-5 times a week), the quest for money seems paramount. However, by remembering what is ultimately my goal I can make the tough choices.

This time it did not seem so simple. I have a host of bills coming in after way too many change jar jobs and way too many fallen-through jobs. It sucks to acknowledge that my new line of work, while lucrative, is no more reliable than waiting tables or hoping for hours at the Buck. I chose to work. This time I could do it because I would have my closing night. This time I could do it beacuse it was just once. None the less, this rationel seems all too familiar...

The outcome was positive though. I retained my 6th day when it was questionable and because I gave up a performance I got a 7th day too. I also had a smashing closing night. It was the most fun I've had on stage in a while.

Hip and trendy?

So I was cast recently on a TV show called Minor Accomplishments. I was paid to come in and interview for the role of "poser." For the life of me I could not find the original submission and could learn very little about the show online. Much to my suprise and chagrin, I was cast. At that time I was just told I would be the "construct guy." Again I knew very little. Plus life was sort of raging away on other fronts so I didn't really think much about it.

My shoot day was yesterday. I got called at 9pm on Wed by the costumer. She began telling me the sort of looks they wanted me to bring in. I was suposed to be at the height of fashion and the scene. Ok, so here I had some trouble. In my ideal universe, I will only be cast in things I will then be costumed by. However, there are shows with smaller budgets and I do need a couple looks alone for auditioning. "Fashionable," "trendy," and "hip" are terms that I see often posted as character descriptions. I usually laugh and hit submit regradless. I can pull a couple things together most of the time. After all, isn't The Gap telling us through their most recent ad campaign that "individuality" is wearing plain white t-shirts and nondescript hoodies?

I attempted to purchase a couple trendy things that morning, having no luck after 9 on a Wed night. I bought my $16 American Apparel v-neck t-shirt and was seriously considering some Pumas at DSW before opting to chance my Chuck Taylors. After all, what good is it booking a job only to pay your entire wage on the clothes you need for it?

My sellection was modest, but the costumer liked what I had. We were warned they would have nothing for us on set. She told me she may have something for me to try on later. After lunch I was asked to head up to the suite in the hotel the costumers were using. There I was transformed in short order. My Chucks and white t-shirt were all I kept on. I was given a tight pair of Levi E jeans, a funky scarf, a black cardigan, and a black, straw Fadora. If I ever get a picture, I will gladly add it to this post. What was shocking to me was how interesting (and good) it felt to be decked out so thoroughly.

I had a blast, but doubt I could keep up full time with the raging needs of the fashionably obsessed. I usually am permitted a ton of fashion loop holes most do not get. I enjoy it. I need though, to tip my overpriced hat though to those lovely ladies on set yesterday. It was a great experience to feel that hip. Plus, I was a non-speaking role so my jack-assery never blew my cool candy shell cover!

A sober tribute to DuoTeam!

Feast your eyes, my friends, on a bottle of Biota Colorado Pure Spring Water. "What?!" you may say, "how does that work?" Well, the Denver Myspace page has a good writeup about the water and the process that makes it unique - basically they use 4 kinds of water in the "Northern Rockies" and bottle their water at the Ouray plant. (Sort of the reverse process for the terrible water we had in Jersey - they use the water from a grade school) The water is put in a holding tank (aka bottle) at Ouray’s and they pour on average three bottles per minute in their unique combination pour/ cap. The water is then aged for a minimum of two minutes (CO (or US?), law says it can’t leave the distillery until its on a truck) on new charred American white oak pallets.

So basically we’re talking about an all-spring American water made just an hour or two from my hometown using delicious Rocky Mountain water and a biodegradable bottles from a totally kick-ass Earth! It’s different from other American waters in that it’s all-water, no vitamins or electrolites, and different from Coffee in that there’s no peat caffine. I’m intrigued. The Mmm, Water(e)y blog has some tasting notes that make me very, very excited to try this.

(love ya duoteam! http://duoteam.com/blog/)

Smoking kills

It's late and I am exhausted but not tired. Make any sense? Chances are the rest will only get more obscure. I am trying to piece together the elements of the last week and they do not fit. The Jeep. The police report. The departure. The confusion... It all seems like a surreal dream.

Here I sit in Hollywood. I have a job coming up and a couple auditions. I have 2 PA jobs booked. Shit is working, kinda. I miss the city though. I am desparately homesick. When I first got to Chicago, I was certain I was staying my lease year and leaving as quickly as I could. Something unexpected happened though.
I kept getting more rooted. Second City. Good friends coming every week it seemed. Work and show friends coming fast and furious. One year led to two. I began touring with my close friend and roomate, Scott. I reasoned my way into year 3 by explaining that Chicago was tollerable because I kept leaving it. I think for that entire third year I spent more time in Minneapolis rehearsing than I did in Chi. By year 4 I had a pretty good circle of friends in the Windy City. I belonged to a theatre company, worked often with another I loved, secured an agent and was living on my own. I had come to terms with my sexuality and no longer sweated it. Bigger promises were coming through the wire as well. My sights were raising.

I still thought of Chicago as "the town I loved to hate" though. I understood something though. I was not finished there and still could not move back to my beloved home even if I was. Then something wholey unexpected happened. Amidst a a year of constant theatre work, I met a girl.

This girl was a reckless, bohemian artist... best I could tell. She spoke in poetry and had a "fuck yes" sort of approach to the city and life. I found someone that seemed confident that we were each all that we needed to take the world. It was magical.

I discovered to my amazement that the unfinished business in Chicago was figuring out why so many people loved it. This girl finished that lesson. I loved my city at long last. It was home, or at least worthy of that term to me now. Unfortunately, I knew that and Secnd City were my final hurddles. It was time to go. Am I just that masochistic that I have to leave something I finally liked?


Well perhaps. It is in my nature to subject myself to the unplesantry repeatedly. Despite knowing it s not good for me, may even kill me. There is a warning not just for pregnant women on those little boxes.

I also got a little bit of a push. What suprised the fuck out of me was that I headed West, all the way West. It is so far West that we past the West to get here. This place is only defined as the West Coast. I find myself in Hollywood Land. I never imagined being here beyond a short stay. But hell, let's be honest. I never expected I was going to try moving to London either.


So here I am. I again have that sense there is something to be done here. I just don't know if that is to keep gunning for it or pack and consider myself lucky for not having taken the Kool-aid. I have met some extrordinary people here. The circle isn't as large as I had in Chicago, but no one here has to gather for warmth on a train platform after the bar/dance club closed at 4am. None the less there are a few sellect individuals I am very proud to call friends here.

Yet here I sit in Hollywood alone tonight. My choice. I didn't have it in me to be social this time. It's been a long time since a day went by without her voice. I can't fake comradery tonight. Just not happening. It is a town about faking it though...

All the same, is this a time I can ignore that sense of need still in me and go? Can I finally snub it out and crush the pack? It's frustrating. Will there be "trouble" or will there be "double?"

LA welcomes me home

From the top of the world (I believe that is the Statosphere's motto) back to the depths of LA. It has been a tumultuous return, to say the least. On the plus side, I auditioned for a TV show, Minor Accomplishments and was cast as a featured background on Mon. That part is awsome. Everything else has been... changing.

The latest installment of LA wonderful came last night. I was helping a friend, covering her House Manager shift at IO West. All in all, I truly had much more on my mind and didn't feel a damn bit like being in a comedy club. I parked my Jeep just outside IO and actually felt grateful I had a spot I could see often while working. When the last group finally left after midnight, I went back to my Jeep to join my life already in progress.

At first all I noticed was that the cards I kept in my Jeep for my show were strewn about. I thought someone had just gotten in to steal the 35 cents I had in my tray. Then it hit me, how did they get in? Did they unzip a door? I circled around and that's when I saw the passenger window had been slashed. I jumped in to check my glove box, which I had locked. That's why there's a lock on it, right? It had been opened, and by all accounts not that forcefully. My new Oakley's and iPod were gone. Thinking this was my financial hit and being plenty bummed I hopped in and began to drive home. Then it hit me I had thrown my backpack behind my seat, satisfied that a black backpack would attract no attention at night so out of sight. I reach back and it was gone. It was essentially my PA kit. Included in it was my Thomas guide, 3 rachet straps, a Victorinox jacket, my leather set-gloves whith strap, and my surveilence ear-piece. Oh and it happened to have my journal also. The last year of my life, in my words and the words quoted of others. Gone.

I followed directions and went to the police station to fill out a report. I have never done this before, let alone in LA. I didn't know what to expect. As it turns out there was nothing to expect. I walked into a Police station here in Hollywood and there was no one there except one officer behind the desk. He looked curious to see me and then mildly imposed on when I told him why I was there. 10 Minutes later I walked out with my receipt and the comforting words that my "valuables" were probably sold quickly for drugs. The itemized list of lost posessions were: iPod= $200, earpiece= $125, Sunglasses= $150

I discovered getting back to the Jeep my trunk had been unhit (the theif would now be typing on this very keyboard), hankfully. However, the center compartment which was also LOCKED was opened. They nabbed my CD book and emergency CB radio. By that point the only thought that still haunted me was my bag had been tossed in a trash can in Hollywood and that if I could find it, the book would still be there. I circled a couple blocks peeking in every trash can I could find and was proceing down an alley of dumpsters when reason returned and I realized I still had more I could lose in Hollywood at 1am.


By the light of day now, I am getting ok with knowing it's just stuff. The journal was tremendously important, but it is not the life it chronicled. I am still here. I have that violated feeling of those that have had their space and property invaded. I doubt I will be able to replace everything right now, but I will someday. The final insult came when I went down to take a picture of the rip and see the inside to check for anything else. Amongst the cigarette ash all over the passenger seat, there was a burn. I have not so much as taken a drag in that vehicle in the now 1800 miles I have driven it. It's a no smoking ride in hopes of more of that to come for me. A cigarette burn. Ironic.

love you LA... you bitch

by the by, if any of you have security experience with a Jeep, I could use some pointers, obviously


miss you tink

Vegas Baby, Vegas!

This last weekend, the afore mentioned group of friends convered on Sin City to cellebrate Scott's big birthday. It was the first time since Sept. for some of us to get together and longer still for others. The play by play accounts are not as interesting perhaps to share as the highlights. I mean it is Vegas, play by play is pretty much: we gambled, we lost, we walked, they drank, I smoked, we gambled... I do have to interject though as I began writing this my iTune wizzard found a remote track I picked up from my brother's library. If you can read this with the main overture to "The Rock," it is epic-awsome.

I set out for Vegas by Jeep at 6am on Fri, being the only one close enough to drive. I arrived plenty early to drive about a little and see what was close. Tanya was also in town but visiting her sister Jess. I finally got the first airport call from Melissa and headed over to the airport. She was 30 min late and no sooner did I have her scooped up and on the way to Tanya's rendex vu point at the Fashion Show Mall, but the boys (Rick, Scott, and Cody) called telling me they were early. My Jeep is awsome, but not 6 people awsome. Sitting in the strip gridloc, they opted to take a cab to the hotel. An hour or so later we met them at a bar in the Stratosphere that would then become our regular meeting spot. Walking up to a bar where I saw Cody, Scott and Rick felt so familiar it was as if no time had passed at all. It might as well have been Avo's.

Cody took me up and I dropped my bag off. By the time I made it back down Tanya had taken MJ up to the "girl's room." Our band was now checked in to our two base camps of operation and were at 6 strong. Fingers were being crossed for our friends still to arrive as the Windy and Twin Cities were being slammed with snow. At this point we bagan the walking, gambling, drinking/smoking adventure. To say spirits were high would be like saying an orgasim is ok. There was a happy factor that could have lit a casino on kinetic energy alone there!

We went to a restaurant Scott had chosen later that evening. For the life of me I will never remember the name, but the last part is_____ Hole in the Wall. Super fun! Nate arrived as we were finishing up and the gang was well into their second included caraf of white and red. Now we were at 7. At Bally's Casino we held up to wait for Allison, Cory's sister, who joined our festivities. When we had her, our group was near complete at 8 and we procede with her and bags to get Cory. At this point we tested our abilities to separate and refind each other. How groups did Vegas before cell phones is beyond me. Cody, MJ and I wandered to an ATM that wouldn't charge us $5 to get our money. When we got back we had lost our groups big Roulet fund (aka excess from paying the dinner bill) and our birthday boy. He went across the street to the Bellagio and no word had been had since he wandered off. Slightly concerned at the fact that he had pretty much finished off both carafs of white himself and was now let loose and alone on a casino. We dually tried to find him and meet Cory, who for graphic reasons had to abandon his shuttle from the airport. We caught him on the bridge accross the street (the perfect 9 were now assembled) and continued on the find Scott as well as his search party. Our info on Scotts whereabouts were sketchy, but it didn't sound good. Finally we were successful. All 9 of us made our way back to the Stratosphere, happy and wobbling.

After we eventually called it quits for the day around 3 (some had flown in from Central and Eastern), our day officially was over. It seemed natural to have all of us in 2 rooms. I was thinking about it though. At what point do people start trying to get their own rooms? This was more fun, like the sort of camping we have always done. Giggles and shit giving were rampent in the guy's room at least.
The next day some of us got down the The Golden Nugget for breakfast at Scott's chosing. It was fun to see "old" Vegas with Rick and Nate as they had never been to Vegas. The rest of the group met us at the pool later back at the hotel. There was a cry to go play Bingo and we were off to see what that was all about. We went to Frontier and quickly got schooled on Bingo.
It was fun, but our bingo hosts were task masters and out wise-cracks and jack-assery got quieter and quieter. No bingo love for us but we had a great time. We wandered and gambled and wandered and gambled. Our big find was a $2 Craps table for Scott. Yours truly got schooled in table rules but walked with a mighty $3 profit for it!

We returned to one of our favortie casinos at this point, The Sahara, where there were some serious video games played and fun-ass Blackjack done. At one point the dealer asked where we were from. At that particular table we had Los Angeles, Minneapolis, Salt Lake City, Chicago, and New York. Damn! MJ and I walked with a nice profit frm our tie-dyed table. A monorail later and we were at MGM. We opted for food court there as fast and cheap were the requests. Never the less plastic trays brimming with pizza, bread sticks, fries, and big sodas were enjoyed. Tanya, Scott and I got nice cigars and walked over to NY, NY. That began or pilgrimage North. We hit Caesars, Bellagio, Treasure Island and then got to the Wynn. MJ had friends working on a show there so we ducked up to say hi. I actually knew a guy in the show as well from my Defiant theatre days. Small friggin' world. At that point, all our feet were dead so we caught the Deuce (double decker-bus) back to the Stratosphere. We went to a club near our elevator and some of us danced and some of us drank. It was great.

Our morning started again earlier than I would have thought. We met up at the pool with coffee and sat in the hot tub for a bit. We decided to check out the resaurant at Sahara and had some breakfast. Another spell at the Blackjack table proved to be once too many for me, but it was nice to see Rick give it a shot successfully. Double Down. We enjoyed our last hour as a the mighty 9 at our own hotel. MJ left us frst followed within a couple hours later by Nate, Ali, Scott, Rick and Cody. Tanya and Cory were staying an extra day and I was feeling pretty fuckin' sad already so I left soon thereafter. By the way, NEVER drive back to LA from Vegas on a Sun. night (7hrs).

It was too fast. Too over-due, and so fucking good! Several times I forgot we didn't all walk around together everyday still, it was that natural. These are friendships that are spannin 12 - 13 years now. I am grateful as hell to have this group in my life. It reminds me of so many parts of life that I may otherwise not notice. It was just what I needed.

Plus, I got rid of the scary clown! Heh!