Two Dreams

Dream #1
I had a date with Rufus Wainwright, but he was very cute, much cuter than he is in actual, real life. We kept looking for a coffee shop in Duarte and never finding one: just car dealerships, etc. Then we ran into the guy who plays Stanford on Sex and the City and some other gay guy who I knew. Strange. But at least I was dating again. Rufus and I didn't get on as well as I would have thought. He kept talking about the songs he wanted to put on Want Two. He wasn't too crazy about his ballads and anthems. He wanted more upbeat stuff. (Which, of course, I can usually do without.) In the end I had tickets to something at the Orpheum. It was some one-word name Cirque show or something. I don't know how I got the tickets, but we had time to get to the show and Rufus made up some excuse about having to meet his sisters (who was the chick who is the sister of the White Stripes guy--I'm bad with music guys, sorry), and I didn't want to go by myself to the Orpheum show, so I woke up.

Dream #2
There was an enormous snake and I was in this huge room/loft with 2 sides to it really. I had to keep going from side to side like in some video game where they make you keep doing the same thing for a little while to add hours to their "such-and-such hours of play" claim on the front of the game. The only person I can remember in the dream was Anthony from Shrew. Weird. There was this enormous fucking snake in this dream and it kept chasing me and Anthony, who had started to really hate one another being cooped up in this enormous room with a snake the length of a city block. Eventually we realized there were other people--5 or 6--at the top of the room on top of the wall that separated the sides. But I woke up to the sound of my alarm before anything happened of huge import. I was a bit of an action hero in this dream: never scared of the snake, just wary of its presence at all times.

Slimeballs & Hugging Basis

Jeremy: I'll vote for anyone who's a war hero.

Yours Truly: Like... John Kerry.

Jeremy: He's not a war hero.  He's a douche-bag.

In the end, the show wasn't postponed at all.  In fact, what John did was just embarrassing.  He decided that this Friday and Saturday and next Thursday would be considered "Preview" nights instead of "Performance" nights.  "Fine by me," I said.  All he's doing is playing a small game of semantics with himself.  Fine.  By.  Me.  Then when he sort of announced this to the cast he didn't even say this.  What he said to the cast was that the opening night party would be on the second Friday of the run instead of the first Friday and that tickets to the aforementioned "Preview" shows would be the normal $10.  So... all the cast heard was that the party was postponed a week, which means what it looks like is that he couldn't get all the shit together for the gala in time for Friday.  I'm betting that the reason he didn't say the whole "preview" spiel to the cast is that Mike knew all of his lines today except for the very last scene (V.II).  As I predicted.  Ah well.

Jeremy and Aaron C. came to the show tonight too.  They had some helpful tips and some not-so-helpful tips.  Jeremy can be hit or miss about these things.  Normally he's very helpful, but sometimes he can be... um... critical without being... er... constructive.  It's okay.  I'm a director.  I can usually translate this into action on my part. I am, of course, grateful for their input no matter what I say. Theatre needs to be a collaborative form.

Matt and I are not on hugging basis.  I hug Brittney; I hug Jeremy; to Matt I say, "Peace out."  I offer no analysis of this fact, only the fact itself.

I think that soon I shall post a sort-of review of my own work in the show and my opinion of each of the actors in the show while it is still fresh in my mind.  Maybe if Steve is MIA for a lot of the time, I will do it tomorrow.

John Kerry has chosen John Edwards as his running mate.  We heard this news yesterday.  Whatever.  I will feel so icky voting for this slimeball.  I'm going to do it and all, but I will feel gross.

Sigh Together Now.

Woke up at 7:00a to go to my job interview at Act-1 Personnel, where thy loved me.  Went back home and back to sleep.

I've had a conversation with Nick, and one with Mike, and one with John Zamora about postponing the show for a week.  I didn't know this was in anyone's vocabulary.  Who ever heard of postponing a show for a week?  Movies, yes.  Theatre?  They keep asking me what my thoughts are.  My thoughts are that the show will be ready on Friday.  They aren't going to get me to say that I think we should postpone the show.  We shouldn't.

I will be so fucking mad if they postpone this show.  No, what I'll really be is depressed.

Fuck.

I'm off to rehearsal now (at 3:30p.)  I'm driving down there and waiting for Michael to get there so that we can rehearse and open on time.

I think a lot of what I write in this journal might be bullshit.  I was thinking about it today while reading Catcher in the Rye.  I feel like this Holden Caulfield cat is just so depressed all the time.  Down on everything; hating everything.  'My life just isn't like that,' I tell myself.  Is it?  I am so positive in this journal all of the time.  I am all-around positive, I guess, but I think one of the main reasons is that there really isn't anyone who can take my shit.  We really shouldn't dump on our friends anyway (one of the reasons Andrew and I fought as much as we did).  But I don't have anyone to dump on even if I wanted to.

It's times like these (when I feel like people in charge are making decisions that I hate hate hate) that depress me the most.

By the way

Soooo sore from yesterday's volleyball excursion.

They make oranges HERE?

Show, as predicted, is in fine shape.  Manics 3, Depressives 1 (in case you're keeping score).  I was, however, not surprised to see that the set is nowhere near being done, the piano is still onstage, the costumes are only halfway completed, and there is no lighting to speak of.  It doesn't surprise me that the costume designer and the stage manager are angry at me either.  They're so pissed because I'm unhappy with their progress.  Guess what?  You get your shit done; You won't have to be mad at me for expecting more.  Whatevah.

Like I said, the show is in fine shape.  The only real problem now is Anthony the Vincentio, who won't be attending tomorrow's rehearsals as if he has had an overabundance of rehearsal time.  I consider this to be the producers' fault too, because I would never have cast him had I known this.  I fixed a lot today, and Mike knowing his lines fixed a lot all by itself.

Tomorrow I look forward to somewhat smooth sailing.

*

Today I visited Madison and Brantley in Valencia, where they now reside.  Madison and Brantley used to live just off of La Cienega and just north of Melrose in the center of WeHo.  Now they've moved to Magic Mountain?!  Weird.  It was fucking far and I was fucking tired and it was fucking hot.  They always called me a suburbanite for living in La Verne.  Valencia is the very definition of suburbia.  I was stunned.  Their house is cute and sweet and they seem very happy there, but it's suburbia.

They remind me of my parents in a lot of ways, which is probably why I visit them so infrequently.  We never do anything together.  They always want to stay in.  Boo to that.  I can stay in at my house.  If I get off my ass and drive down to West Hollywood or up to Valencia, I expect to go somewhere, not sit and watch TV.  But I love them and I hadn't seen them in ages and they were delighted to see me, so... that's good, I guess.

Sports

I realized why I don't really go for the whole sports thing.
It's not that you get sweaty and gross (which is not so sexy a look, in my opinion). It's not that it's competitive (because it isn't now that I'm out of school). It's not that it's about proving anything (because I have nothing to prove). It's not that it's not fun (because it is). It's that physically, I just can't handle all that running around. I'm not a smoker. I'm not old. I don't have bad knees. I'm just... out of shape.

Independence!

I woke up very late this morning, and when I finally did wake up I had a message from Derek, bugging me to go to the 4th of July celebration at Lisa's parents' house.  Now Jaime had been bugging me to do this all week, and I figured: free food.  Derek also mentioned vollyeball, and I've been having a bit of a craving to play some kind of sport for a while now.  (Remember the almost-played-basketball-with-Jeremy incident?)  So I thought that volleyball sounded like a lot of fun.  I was still in my underwear when D called again around 2:00p, so I decided to get dressed and go.  I am glad I did.  It was really fun.  We played volleyball for, like, four hours.  And I ended up being fairly good at it.  I hadn't seen my friends (except for Jai) in over 2 weeks, so that was good too.

So this is who was there: the Barber clan (Lisa, her mom Maggie, her dad Dave, her brother Brian, and his girlfriend Fabby (?)), the Schroeder clan (Anna, her dad Bob, her mom Sue, her brother Paul, her sister Betsy (who we all call Butts), and Betsy's husband Kevin), the Evangelista clan (Julie, Julie's mom whose name I can't remember, Julie's dad Bob, Chris, Scott, and Anita), there were also some other random family people who I didn't know and me, Jaime, and John.  Derek also brought his brother and sister.  Big schindig.  Everyone was very nice; we played a lot of volleyball, and there was a lot of food.  There was also karaoke.  Downer of the night was Kevin, Betsy's husband, who is a homophobe (I guess) picking a fight with Betsy over whatever it was.  Dick.  Seriously.  You don't do that at parties: especially family functions.  Be a dick when you get home. 

I wasn't "on," so a lot of people kept asking me what was wrong, but I was just trying to relax.  I didn't drink all day, either.  I only had a couple of Jell-o shots around 6:00 or so.

Also, Anna's sister Sarah had her baby: Kylie.  They're all so glad it's a girl.  Sarah and Joey's son Noah is only about 1, so it sounds like a handful to me.  She looks adorable, though.  (Anz brought pictures.)

Party Downtown

I am getting fat again.  Boo to that.

At some point this evening we discussed Cold Creek Manor vs. Cold Comfort Farm, but I couldn't remember when Cold Creek Manor came out.  I looked it up.  It was 2003.  On last year's film rankings, it scored a whopping 56 out of the 59 movies I saw, worsted only by Matchstick Men, The Matrix: Revolutions, and The Haunted Mansion.  Wow.  I really must've thought it sucked.  I still love Sharon Stone, though. 

Okay, tonight I went to a party for Ashley's boyfriend, Danny.  The party was held at the home of Mike OT, some cat named Brendan, and some other guy who never came home, even though we left around 1:00a.  I went with Elizabeth and Justin, who normally keep to themselves, but tonight we carpooled and ended up spending the evening together because the people at the party just weren't sociable.  That's a lie.  Danny is society himself.  He was easily the nicest, most party-aware, mixer-friendly person there.  And it was his birthday, after all, that we were celebrating.  (It was weeks ago, but who's counting?) 

The other person I knew there was Becca, who is very nice, and who I met at Harry Potter 3.  She's fun times.  Mike OT was nice to us, too, and tried to be sociable.  For the most part, though it was Ultimate Improv people who I didn't know.  (I did try to flirt with Matt Jones, but it just ended up being slightly pathetic and un-memorable.  Let's forget it happened.  Done.  Glad that's over.)

It was a little like being at a company function for a company where you don't work.  Everyone there had history... even Elizabeth and Justin, really.  I felt out of place.  I was telling Justin and Elizabeth on the way home, that normally at functions like this, I am a really good mixer.  I know how to get people to talk, and I put people at ease quickly.  Not this party, man.  Everyone there was a performer.  Sheer madness. 

Still it was fun.

Flesh & Blood

It is funny how things come to us in life.  I can't really remember why I read A Home at the End of the World.   I think, perhaps, that Tony Kushner mentioned the book in an interview I once read.  Then some time later I was in a bookstore and saw it, saw that it was Michael Cunningham's first novel, and knew that Michael Cunningham had written The Hours, which had moved me so much.  I read A Home at the End of the World and loved it.  In this amazing way, it explained so much of my life.  I felt that he knew me so well, and not just me: that he taught me things about my mother that I had never before understood.  In my usual fashion, I looked for other books he had written.  There was only one other: Flesh & Blood.

I came across Flesh & Blood again today because I was getting some books together to loan to Jaime.  I decided to thumb through the pages and see what I had highlighted, and find the parts I remembered loving.  This book fills me with such emotion.  It is so powerful and moving and epic.  There are so many characters that I love so much.  And it fills me with such joy and pain and hope.

If you haven't read this book, or if this is the first you've heard of Michael Cunningham and Flesh & Blood, allow me to recommend it to you.  It's my favorite book in the world.

Saddam in Court

Check this out.  It's called Rock, Paper, Saddam! and I got it from a blog called Tottyland.

Jeremy Day.

So yesterday when I went to work and Steve wasn't there, I decided to look for new employment.  Just looking cursorily around the market, any fool could see that at almost any other accounting firm I would be making twice what I make at American Accounting.  I feel confident about this, and I am pretty strapped for cash nowadays.  I am not going to be leaving for grad school until Aug/Sep 2005, so if I don't get another job now, I'll be at American Accounting for the next year.  That's a whole year, I figure, where I could earn twice as much.  At any rate, the news is that I have an interview with an Employment Agency on Wednesday at 8:00a.  I don't have to be to work until 10:00a, so I figure that gives me enough time.  Their office is in Arcadia.  Wish me luck!

After work, I met Jeremy and Jen at Casa Del Rey in San Dimas and watched them eat, then Jer and I went to go see Spider-Man 2 at Edward's LaVerne 12.  We both hated it a lot.  After this, Jer and I went back to San Dimas to play pool at the Chapparal Lanes.  Ash called me and invited me to Ultimate Improv, but I just can't drive that far anymore after driving to Long Beach every day.  It takes too much out of me, and I was in La Verne... so Westwood seemed like an eternity away.  Sorry, Ash. 

It was a day of Jeremy... which was okay, I guess, but a little weird.  After playing several games of pool, we went to have pizza at Buca di Beppo in Claremont where Brittney works.  Justin and Elizabeth met us there, which was fun, and then we just hung out for an hour or so. And then I decided to go visit my brother Michael, since we were so close to his house.  He seemed happy to see me.  Jer and I were there only around 20 minutes.  I got home around 12:30a or so.  But it was a full day and a nice one.

Vanessa text-messaged me that I should take the weekend off and that they would do everything.  I don't see how that's really possible.  I'll call her today and see what time I can come down on Monday and see the lights.  This scares me.

I feel better about the show, I guess.  I will think about it more today.

I heard Brando might have died last night...

I feel better this morning.  "What a little moonlight can do..."  Thanks Billie.  So much will be fixed with lights, sound, properties and costumes.  It is then that the actors will feel confident about the show.

I have no more coffee in my house.  I brewed the last tablespoon two or three days ago.  It tasted so bad.  I usually brew about 3 scoops, but I only had the one, so I thought "what the Hell."  It came out like coffee-flavored water.  Gross.

I still don't know what Act 4 is about, though.  I need to figure that shit out.

Peace out, friends.

Clears Throat; Looks Forward

I read somewhere that once you figure out how to use them, semicolons are addicting.  This is so true.

Why do I suck at this Taming of the Shrew show?  I can't take all of the blame, but I have to take a good deal of it, don't I?  Why does the show suck so bad and why am I doing so poorly?  Rehearsal today was just sad.  It wan't quite painful; it was more of a dull ache, really.  I would feel so much better if Michael knew his lines.  And I don't dare be mad at him, really, because Michael not knowing his lines is John Zamora's fault and not Michael's.  What is Michael's fault is not doing today the notes I gave him yesterday.  At this point I think I'm just sad about that part of it.  There's no way to fix things like that.

But why do I suck?  Brittney is asking me all sorts of questions about how to be better at what she's doing and I have no way to help her.  None.  I want to tell her that I need her to just be on.  That I have eight million other things to worry about, and I can't be helping her find her character.  But this is what I need to do.  I need to be there to help Brittney if she needs help.  I need to be able to vocalize what I want Michael to do even if he's not listening.  I need to be able to command enough respect from a cast that they actually care when they're not onstage during a scene when they ought to be.

I suck.  And what is Act IV about?  I couldn't tell you.  Really I couldn't.  I will try to figure out what it's about this weekend, but I am having quite a time.

The show will certainly be able to open on Friday.  There is no fear of that.  I have four rehearsals left, and that's plenty of time.  But I think that, for me, the show is a failure.  Perhaps I belong directing plays with smaller casts, or plays that aren't four hundred years old.  Or something.  I feel like shit.

I am so glad that I made this enormous chocolate cake on Monday.  If I hadn't, I would have nothing to console me tonight. 

Lunch hour

The very cute Chinese-American girl who is the manager of Quizno's asks me if I want chips with my Traditional on wheat and I say, "No, chips are bad for you."  She says I don't have to worry about that.  I thank her, but I don't believe her.  I guess this blue shirt hides the fat that spills over the top of my Mexx pants better than I thought.  I sit with Jeremy's notes and try to peruse them and think about how I will tell each of the actors good things and what they need to know to improve.  Things are going to be fine and I know it.  Jeremy's notes are really good.  I start to people-watch after a while.  I am staring at this little girl and wondering if she will ever grow up to be a lady.  It is always a gamble.  Her mother is not a lady, but that doesn't mean this girl won't grow up to be one.  The Quizno's manager is very nice and friendly, and the next time I come to the restaurant I get $5 off of my lunch. 

Linda calls me.  She thinks that my "Language of film" message is the funniest thing she's ever heard.  She is very excited about moving to Palm Springs, she says.  She says that copies of Pterodactyls are now available in Marie's office.  I wonder if I can go pick up my original copy.  I don't ask her this, though.  She won't know the answer.  It's summer all around me.  Linda says that they're gonna do Shakespeare at CSUP next summer.  Would I like to be involved?  I tell her yes, but I am not so sure.  Shakespeare, always Shakespeare.  I'd say he were lucky that his works are still so popular, but he's dead, so he couldn't possibly give a toss about it.  Linda wishes me luck on the show and asks for news of its progress.  She says she will come opening night, but one never knows with her.  I love to talk to her.  She is always so excited and giddy.

I should pick up my dry-cleaning, but instead I go back to work.  I want to finish Ariel.  Perhaps I shall if Steve leaves later this afternoon.

Trailer

Okay, go watch this.