Model Minority

Many people are familiar with Murphy’s Law… here’s the definition on Wikipedia:

“Murphy’s law (also known as Finagle’s law or Sod’s law) is a popular adage in Western culture, which broadly states that things will go wrong in any given situation. It is most commonly formulated as "Anything that can go wrong will go wrong." The law was named after Major Edward A. Murphy, Jr., a development engineer working for a brief time on rocket sled experiments done by the United States Air Force in 1949.”

So it’s with no surprise that theater is breeding ground for cautionary tales of people who have failed to heed Murphy’s Law.  I am no exception.  In fact, you’d think I’d learn to have more respect and fear about Murphy but alas… I too have been caught with my pants down when Murphy comes a calling.  Next thing you know, there’s $20 on my dresser drawer and the stink of shame.

Last week was a mess. Morale was down. Energy was down.  Confidence was down.  And my little troop of actors and production members suddenly forgot that they were a team and little bits of mutiny, and insurgency raised its ugly head.  I guess I should count myself fortunate that this occurred now instead of later.  I should also look on the bright side that we’ve had 4 weeks of continuous high momentum so one slight derailment should be taken into context.

I should but it ain’t easy.  Here’s a chronology of my internal monlogue in a given rehearsal period last week.  Some bits are exaggerated for comic effect.  Some are sadly too tru for words:

6:35PM – Yeah!  I’m directing!

6:40PM – F*ck.  I’m directing.

7:01PM – What the f*ck was that?

7:02PM – Okay. I hope someone finds that funny.

7:03PM – Wow. I didn’t write the line that way.

7:10PM – Hmm.  Apparently people are going to think I’m a rascist.

7:11PM – Maybe I am a rascist.

7:12PM – What’s that on my shoe?

7:35PM – Crap. I’ve been staring at my shoe…what just happened?  Don’t panic.  Say something non-commital and affirming.

7:37PM – Sh*t. Was I staring at his calves?  What’s wrong with me?  I mean they are nice calves but still… focus Sang… focus.

8:01PM – Okay.  It’s one line.  One line.  It’s not that hard to remember.

8:03PM – Wow. I didn’t know you could mis-prononce a word that way.

8:08PM – Same line.  You just said it 7 minutes ago.  Let’s try to remember it.

8:10PM – I wonder if he works out.  F*ck.  I did it again.  Eye contact Sang. Eye contact.

8:15PM – Okay give them some direction.

8:16PM – Or you can just ignore it.  That’s fine.  I’m just sitting here to pass the time.  Thanks guys.

8:20PM – Maybe it’s not too late to start a coke habit.

8:25PM – I need a cigarette.  I actually need a loaded weapon but I’ll settle for a cigarette.  Call a break.

8:40PM – Okay. Okay. Gut check time. Time to motivate!

8:41PM – F*ck motivation.  I need to hit someone.

8:50PM – What country is that accent suppose to be from?

9:00PM – Note to self.  Confirm our insurance coverage.

9:30PM – I’m taking my name off this thing.

10:00PM – Well. At least I’m a lawyer.  God I can’t believe I just said that.

10:30PM – Go home everybody.  I more than likely kill you in the morning.

A local theater production company here in San Francisco, put on a night of short one acts (15 min or less).  For some reason, one of my submissions was accepted.  Thankfully, a talented director friend of mine and three equally talented actors performed this piece.  I wrote this sucker in an hour and it’s actually an idea my partner in NYC came up with.  Although I enjoyed his version, I went ahead and gave my spin on the premise of pre-nups.  Any resemblance to people and events are purely coincidental otherwise I’d be an a-hole for putting it in a sketch for public consumption.

Open on a LAWYER sitting behind a desk while a young couple, KEVIN and AMANDA sit in front of them. They appear to be comfortable and just beginning their conversation as we join them.

 

LAWYER: First off congratulations.

 

KEVIN: Thanks.

 

AMANDA: Thank you so much.

 

LAWYER: When’s the date set for?

 

AMANDA: The spring. Sometime in April. We’re still confirming the date with the hall.

 

KEVIN: They’re holding us hostage is what they’re doing.

 

AMANDA: Oh don’t mind him. He’s being grumpy.

 

KEVIN: I am grumpy.

 

LAWYER: I’m sure everything will work out.

 

AMANDA: Absolutely.

 

KEVIN: I’m not worried.

 

AMANDA: He’s not. He’s really not.

 

LAWYER: So let me put you at ease. You’re good friends of Eric and Linda and I don’t want to let them down.

 

KEVIN: They spoke very highly of you.

 

AMANDA: They were very happy with the work you did for them.

 

LAWYER: I’m glad. I’m even more glad that the papers I drew up for them are still just sitting in a drawer here.

 

KEVIN: Ha ha ha.

 

AMANDA: Oh we’re very openminded about the idea of pre-nups.

 

KEVIN: It’s not like it’s omen of things to come.

 

LAWYER: Exactly but there is a misconception that a prenuptial agreement signals a weakness in the marriage.

 

AMANDA: God. We don’t think that.

 

KEVIN: I have car insurance. That doesn’t mean I’m necessarily a bad driver.

 

AMANDA: Well that’s a bad example honey.

 

KEVIN: Oh ha ha.

 

LAWYER: So let me outline what we’re going to do today. We’re not actually going to put anything on paper. Rather I just want you to feel comfortable with the process.

 

KEVIN: Fine.

 

AMANDA: That’s great.

 

LAWYER: What you have to see is that this isn’t preparing for any worse case scenario or implying the inevitable. Rather, we’re reinforcing a sense of equity and fairness. When you know where each of you stand, it makes it easier for you to stand together.

 

AMANDA: Oh that’s sweet.

 

KEVIN: Slick. Very slick.

 

LAWYER: Thank you. So. What do the two of you do for a living?

 

KEVIN: I’m an actor and Linda is a dentist.

 

AMANDA: Eric is a very good actor.

 

KEVIN: Thanks honey.

 

LAWYER: Great. So can I assume that Linda is currently making more…

 

AMANDA: We don’t like to think about that.

 

KEVIN: No. No. It’s okay. I’m cool babe. Equity and fairness right?

 

LAWYER: Atta boy Kevin. This is a perfect example. Both of you are aware that there is a…difference…between your incomes so lets come to terms with that.

 

AMANDA: I am at terms. I want Kevin to have half of whatever I make.

 

KEVIN: Oh Amanda.

 

LAWYER: That’s wonderful. But just so we understand. Amanda you’re okay with Kevin taking half the assets under any circumstances.

 

AMANDA: Of course.

 

KEVIN: Oh Amanada.

 

LAWYER: Wow. Even if say Kevin were to have an extra-marital affair?

 

KEVIN: Oh god.

 

AMANDA: Kevin would never have an affair.

 

KEVIN: Exactly.

 

LAWYER: I know you say that now in the flush of love. But what about 3 years down the line and your career begins keeping you late at work. And Kevin begins to feel under-appreciated.

 

AMANDA: I would never do that to Kevin.

 

KEVIN: Yeah. I mean she’s driven. Obsessed sometime but she knows her priorities.

 

AMANDA: What do you mean I’m obsessed?

 

KEVIN: No no. I just meant you get caught up in what you do.

 

AMANDA: Oh. Well there’s nothing wrong with that.

 

KEVIN: Absolutely. I certainly won’t mind that.

 

LAWYER: This is true. Kevin has a life of his own.

 

KEVIN: That’s right.

 

LAWYER: A lot of friends to keep him company. Like Josefina.

 

KEVIN: Yeah. [confused] Who?

 

AMANDA: Who’s Josefina?

 

LAWYER: That new executive assistant they’re gonna hire at his temp job 4 years from now.

 

AMANDA: What?

 

KEVIN: I don’t know what he’s talking about. It’s a hypothetical Amanda.

 

AMANDA: Yeah but why are you cheating on me in this hypothetical.

 

KEVIN: I’m not cheating on you! God. It’s just coffee. Josefina and I are just having coffee.

 

LAWYER: This is true. They just have coffee at that café around the corner.

 

AMANDA: You take her to our café?

 

KEVIN: No. NO. It’s not like that. They have good coffee.

 

AMANDA: Does Lou know?

 

KEVIN: Who’s Lou?

 

LAWYER: Lou who owns the café. Keep up Kevin.

 

AMANDA: God! I can’t believe you forgot Lou’s name.

 

KEVIN: I just found out we’ve been going to a non-existent café a second ago. Give me a break.

 

AMANDA: It would be just like you to cheat on me with someone like Josefina.

 

KEVIN: I’m not cheating on you. And what do you mean, someone like Josefina.

 

AMANDA: You know. She’s exotic.

 

KEVIN: She’s from

Cupertino

!

 

AMANDA: You know what I mean! Why have sex with your vanilla wife when you can heat things up with a fiery latina.

 

KEVIN: Ah god. That is so unfair. And narrow-minded. There’s nothing different about Latinos. Man. They’re going to be the new majority of white people 20 years from now. It’s not like Josefina is Philipino or Burmese.

 

LAWYER: Uh oh. Bad move Kevin.

 

AMANDA: I knew it.

 

KEVIN: Knew what?

 

AMANDA: All those massages.

 

KEVIN: They’re legitimate!

 

AMANDA: I bet.

 

KEVIN: My masseuse is a guy named Sammy.

 

AMANDA: More lies.

 

KEVIN: It’s the truth. You know what else is the truth. Sammy has touched me more than you have in the last year of our marriage.

 

AMANDA: I’m tired Kevin.

 

LAWYER: That’s right. Expanding a practice is emotionally and physically exhaustive.

 

AMANDA: Thank you.

 

LAWYER: Even if she has help from that young new assistant Roy, Amanda still has to shoulder most of the burden.

 

KEVIN: Assistant?

 

AMANDA: It’s nothing.

 

KEVIN: Oh it’s nothing when it comes to your boy toy of an assistant but god forbid I have a conversation with Josefina.

 

AMANDA: That’s not the same.

 

KEVIN: Of course not. Just like it’s not the same that I’m supportive of your career but you’ve never taken my acting seriously.

 

LAWYER: That’s unfair Kevin. Amanda has supported you emotionally and financially.

 

AMANDA: Yeah.

 

LAWYER: So she missed your last two shows. No big deal.

 

KEVIN: They were two important shows Amanda.

 

AMANDA: I’m sorry if I missed you’re weird absurdist plays Kevin.

 

KEVIN: They were Beckett.

 

AMANDA: It was you on stage speaking gibberish wearing a clown outfit.

 

LAWYER: Don’t blame Kevin. He had a bad director.

 

AMANDA: He’s always blaming the director or playwright or even the sound guy. Sometimes it’s you Kevin.

 

KEVIN: I can’t believe you just said that!

 

AMANDA: Calm down Kevin. There will be others. What do you care? I’m sure Josefina gave you a standing ovation.

 

KEVIN: Josefina supports my craft in a way you never did.

 

AMANDA: Say that again when Josefina is paying the mortgage on our new house.

 

KEVIN: When did we get a house?

 

LAWYER: A couple of months after the wedding. Keep up Kevin.

 

KEVIN: What was wrong with our two bedroom?

 

AMANDA: You expect us to raise the twins in a two bedroom.

 

KEVIN: Twins? I thought you were on birth control.

 

AMANDA: I told you wanted I wanted to start trying.

 

KEVIN: No. We discussed about trying. You just went ahead and made a unilateral decision. Like you always do.

 

LAWYER: Maybe because you let her Kevin.

 

KEVIN: You stay out of this!

 

AMANDA: Don’t yell at him. He’s protecting my interests.

 

KEVIN: It’s supposed to be a dual representation.

 

LAWYER: It is Kevin. It is. You’re doing okay aren’t you?

 

KEVIN: Okay? I was supposed to have half.

 

AMANDA: Well that sure changed after Josefina.

 

KEVIN: Ohmygod. Why are you still obsessed with her? She got transferred to Seattle.  Besides. Why was Roy your assistant at our house when I came to pick up the kids for the weekend?

 

AMANDA: Roy was just dropping some things off.

 

KEVIN: I bet. 

 

AMANDA: I don’t like your accusations.

 

LAWYER: Now now. I thought you’d be happy with the settlement. It’s not like you’re the one paying spousal support or child support.

 

KEVIN: Yeah but she got the house and the kids.

 

AMANDA: You never wanted the kids to begin with.

 

KEVIN: I was surprised. But god. You know I love them Amanda. Joey. And poor little Julian. It’s so hard on him especially. You know he’s so sensitive at that age.

 

AMANDA: I don’t like upsetting them either Kevin.

 

KEVIN: I need more time with them.

 

AMANDA: I don’t know if I can trust you.

 

KEVIN: Yes you can. Think about what we used to be. What we were. When we were happy. Remember? The man I was before all this…stuff…happened. Remember the man I was…10 minutes ago.

 

AMANDA: It was so long ago.

 

KEVIN: Not for me Amanda. Not for me.

 

AMANDA: Are you…are you asking…that maybe…we…try again?

 

KEVIN: We could take it slow.

 

AMANDA: Slow would be good.

 

KEVIN: A couple of dates.

 

AMANDA: I’d like that.

 

KEVIN: Maybe I could stay the weekends.

 

AMANDA: It could be good for the kids.

 

KEVIN: Good for us.

 

AMANDA: Us. Like a family.

 

KEVIN: Like we used to be.

 

AMANDA: Oh Kevin.

 

KEVIN: Oh Amanda. I don’t know how I ever lost you.

 

AMANDA: I don’t ever want to lose you again Kevin.

 

KEVIN: Let’s get married again.

 

AMANDA: Oh my god. [surprised but giddy] You’re crazy.

 

KEVIN: I know. I promised we’d take it slow but don’t you feel it.

 

AMANDA: I do. I do feel it. It’s…It’s like…

 

KEVIN: …destiny. I love you Amanda. Be my wife again.

 

AMANDA: Yes. Oh god yes. A small wedding this time.

 

KEVIN: Just a few friends and family.

 

AMANDA: [playfully chiding] No latin ex- co workers.

 

KEVIN: [playfully chiding] No pretty boy assistants.

 

AMANDA: Oh I’m so excited.

 

KEVIN: Me too. Me too. But. I feel we should be prepared this time.

 

AMANDA: How?

 

KEVIN: I don’t want the same mistakes to happen again like last time.

 

AMANDA: In case things…turn difficult.

 

KEVIN: Yes. We should talk to…a professional.

 

AMANDA: You know Eric and Linda used someone for their third marriage.

 

KEVIN: Is he good?

 

AMANDA: He comes highly recommended.

 

KEVIN: Let’s see him. What’s the harm?

 

AMANDA: Okay.

 

KEVIN and AMANDA turn to the LAWYER.

 

LAWYER: Hello. So first. Let me first say congratulations.

 

KEVIN: Thank you.

 

AMANDA: Thank you so much.

 

End.

Last Sunday, I flew to NY to take my character interview in front of the NY Appellate Court’s Board of Character & Fitness.  The following day, I was sworn in formally as a fully licensed attorney before the State of New York.  I have now joined rank and file to what is in my opinion one of the most truly morally bankrupt and prickish professions out there.  Sigh.

And no…that’s not my firm.  That’s a pic I got off a random lawyer website.  Look at them.  What the f*ck do they have any business posing before a lake.  Bet they threw refuse and toxic waste as soon as the picture was taken.

Sigh.  Forgive my bitterness.  I got dragged to NY in the middle of my show production.  In addition, it was almost 100 degrees in NYC last week.  And I had to wear a wool suit and look like a zombie prick much like my other 50 colleagues.

Colleagues. *SCOFF* These practitioners of law…these torch bearers of the fire of justice… these overpaid and sanctimonious asses couldn’t remember to bring a pen.  I ended up sharing my pen with 40 people who remember to bring their iPods and digital cameras and palm pilots but forgot a pen.

At the end of the ceremony, we had to sign our names in a large law ledger.  It took these 60 idiots an hour and half to sign in the book because they couldn’t figure out the simple dirction of "sign your name here…here…sign your name here…yes here…here…right next to your name…your name…sign right there…your name…YOUR NAME…SIGN YOUR NAME…YES… YES…RIGHT THERE…FOR F*CKS SAKE JUST SIGN IT!"

Thankfully the previous day’s character interview was quite pleasant.  My interviewer was a solo practitioner on Long Island.  Apparently she had my records from college and law school including my admission essays.  When she said that I panicked because I couldn’t remember what I wrote.  Apparently she was very moved by my immigrant story of how I came to America and our family struggled. Hmm. My memory must be faulty but I don’t remember killing a man in China and escaping to America and founding Jeet Kun Do.  Go figure.

Previously on War Journal…

-Sang held auditions…Sang got drunk at a wedding…Sang casted his show…Sang held the first cast readthrough.

So what happened at the first cast readthrough?  Well all 11 of them (minus two who couldn’t make it) gathered at my favorite hosts and neighbors’ apartment across the street.  Traditionally, this thing is held in the same restaurant we held our first table read (see War Journal #2) BUT the idea of having a waitress pop in and out during the reading was an anathema to me so I compromised and got to have in a relaxed but controlled environment.  Relaxed because there was booze present. Controlled because it was only beer. 

Within an hour into the reading, the most gratifying thing that could happen to a writer happened…

…spontaneous fellatio…

…no just kidding but thanks anyway Mr. Stage Manager.  But in reality, the best part of hearing my works read aloud is when people get it.  And everyone got it.  And what’s better is that some of the cast got the joke better than I could…and I wrote some of them.  When you spent an hour trying to perfect a 30 second exchange of dialogue or one punchline and the reader nails it on the first try, you can’t help feel that all that time that could have been spent free-basing was not wasted.  Don’t worry Mr. Cocaine… I haven’t forgotten about you.

But that was the easy part.  Sure something might be funny the first time…but can it be funny if you say it over and over and over again? Welcome to rehearsals.

First off, let me say that scheduling a rehearsal outline for a show is an agonizing nightmarish ordeal.  I feel as if it’s similar to being gang-banged by a pack of unruly Australian marsupials (see entry: Science is FUN)…sure it’s all…wow…this is fuzzy…and I can put my pocket change in their pouches…how convenient.  But then after 3 hours, your like…WHOA…time for a break fellas. Anyway, you’ve got 13 cast members…all who have lives…and each of those lives are intricately woven into other lives…so it’s birthdays, and weekend trips, and evening jobs, and significant others and quality time with the aforementioned Australian marsupials. WHATEVER.  Anyway, it got done.  Thankfully, that wonderful art gallery owner I mentioned in a previous entry was more than hospitable so I was able to get the most of my quality time with the actors that I needed.

There’s a saying that no matter how much time you have, you will never have enough time for rehearsals.  I can’t say if this is true because I’ve never had that much time to begin with.  Despite everyone’s best efforts, I always walk into rehearsals feeling as if this should have started a month or two earlier. Spurn in NYC was notorious for that. Five different shows and each time, we’d all promise we start sooner than later… but oh the lies we weave before eyes like a blindfold over all our eyes.  Like that imagery?  Nice huh?  It’s actually stolen from Natalie Merchant.  But that’s Natalie.  You won’t get that kind of imagery from me.  All you get with me are animals getting fisted, rampant drug use and horny marsupials.  Deal with it.

So you may be asking, “Sang! If you feel as if you don’t have enough time in rehearsals…how do you get anything done?”

To which I reply,”Shut the f*ck up crazy voice in my head!  Go away!  Haven’t I killed enough people in your name!  When will it be enough?  WHEN. WILL. IT. BE. ENOUGH!”

Ahem. You get through rehearsals just fine if you have a ready script, a fantastic cast who brings their “A” game, and a good director.  Thank god we got the first two.

Note that I said “ready script” not good script.  September will tell if this is a "good" script.  I’m an arrogant vain prick with delusions of grandeur but I keep it all inside and it only pops up with the occasional eye roll when I watch someone else’s work.  Most of the time I manage to be polite and diplomatic.  Then I go home and rant about the inferiority of others and the superiority of myself to my army of honey bear containers.

A ready script just means that even if it’s not funny, even if it’s not good, even if it’s not fit to wipe the fecal matter off a homeless drug addict, it is still ready to be read. I know, the logic escapes you…welcome to theater. I have seen potentially really great plays that are still being written and re-written causing fits because people have to memorize these lines and sound,light,props and fx have to be created and blah blah.  Then you have ready plays that suck but at least you know what you’re getting into… in other words…it’s shit, but at least it’s warm shit.

And then you have actors.  Actors (including actresses but I’ve misplaced the memo specifying the etiquette on whether to denote an actor from male and female…and by misplace, I mean I honestly don’t give a fuck).  They breathe life into a work and can find new and wonderful things that are not readily apparent on paper.  They also get all the credit and fun and know where all the good drugs are.  But if they’re good (and these puppies & kittens are), you’re constantly entertained by their ability to try different things and find a gesture here or a facial expression there.  I often get envious that I don’t get to be on stage more often but when I see my cast in action, I remember why I’m better off it.  Like I said, I’m a vain bastard but I know where my place is.

Okay so, we’re halfway through.  Progress report…rehearsals are proceeding nicely and the cast have managed to be off-book most of the time.  I met our lighting designer who seems quite good, I’ve wrangled another friend to help out on and off-stage, meeting with a musician next week to see if I can salvage my much desired musical number, our fight choreographer is doing a great job so I’m in a pretty good place right now.

PLUG TIME: I wasn’t aware that Friendster was sending updates of my blog to everyone on my Friends list instead of the 4 or 5 I felt safe advertising this too BUT in case some of you have been lurking…our show has a fundraiser. Check out the link.  If you have some time or pocket change, go to paypal and pony up or better yet show up. 

Random Sang Trivia: Sang almost got his ass kicked once by a Russian mail order bride and her grandmother.

This BLOG was brought to you by: The National’s “Secret Meeting”.

Someone pissed me off recently… pissed me off to such an extent that I’ll plan meticulous god fearing horrible retribution after I’m done directing my show in September.  This person doesn’t know how pissed off I am but that person will.  In the mean time… enjoy this email I wrote but never sent.  Good weekend all.

Last weekend, my very good friend and I jumped in a car and rolled over the nearest Target… the mission?

We were requested by a rather scary red headed woman (his fiancee) to go buy bathing suits for her two seven year old twin daughters.

Yes. Two men. Young Girl Section.  Buying Bathing suits.

It’s a good thing I love her and the two girls otherwise I wouldn’t subject myself to that kind of discomfort.

Once again. Two men. Young Girl Section.  Buying Bathing suits.

And if that wasn’t bad enough… apparently Target has started selling bathing suits for little girls who are ho-yays.  We men, were desperately looking for an hour for a simple one piece that covered as much of the skin as possible… something a Quaker would wear.  But no.  Only shimmering fabric two pieces and bikinis.

Two men. Young Girl Section.  Buying Scantily Clad Bathing suits.

We tried the children’s sport section.  There I found a bathing suit made by Speedo (the sport’s company…not the scary man bottom bathing suit) that was not only a one piece but had a flotation device sewn into it.  It was perfect.  But my friend thought differently…

FRIEND: "It looks like they have a beer belly.  And it’s ugly.  The girls want something pretty.  I’ll get in trouble if we don’t get something pretty."

ME: "You’re shitting me."

Two men (one with no testicles). Young Girl Section.  Buying Scantily Clad Bathing suits.

So there I am… holding bathing suits as my friend is on the phone trying to figure out the right size when I hear a little voice below me.

RANDOM LITTLE GIRL: Hi!

ME: Oh. Hi.

RANDOM LITTLE GIRL: That’s a pretty bathing suit.

ME: Thanks.  It’s not mine.

RANDOM LITTLE GIRL: Who’s is it then?

ME: My friend’s daughters.

RANDOM LITTLE GIRL: Then why are you holding it?

ME: [sigh] I don’t know.

RANDOM LITTLE GIRL: Why are you here?

ME: [louder sigh] I… I… just don’t know anymore.

LONG PAUSE

RANDOM LITTLE GIRL: Where’s my mommy?

MOMMY: [Screaming] I’m over here.  I’m over here.  Get over here as quick as you can.

RANDOM LITTLE GIRL: Bye.

ME: Bye.

Two men (one with no testicles). Young Girl Section. Young Inquisitive Girl.  Bathing Scantily Clad suits. Frightened Mother.

I can only imagine I looked like this guy to that poor mom.

Oh well. Epilogue is the girls liked their bathing suits and had fun swimming.  I spent the afternoon inside wondering when I made that Right turn at Alberqurque.

This BLOG was brought to you by Dizzy Gillepsie’s "Bebop"

On June 25th, on a windy and chilly Saturday morning, working on only 4 hours sleep, Sang Kim stepped into the Francis Drake Hotel overlooking San Francisco’s Union Square Park and began his first active day as Stage Director.The task at hand being conducting auditions to cast our 13 cast members.

[…ooooooohhh… sounds so terribly impressive doesn’t it?  It’s like the opening narration of a really bad movie trailer. Let’s go with that shall we]

But then something went wrong…

ME: Ohmygod!  Something’s gone wrong!

It was the last thing he expected…

ME: Shit.  That was totally the last thing I expected.

And now the ones he loves the most will have to pay the price…

ME: Hey you… you’re gonna have to pay for this because I forgot my wallet.

From Director Michael Bay

ME: Why the hell did that script just explode like that?

And Producer Jerry Bruckheimer…

ME: Excuse me scantily clad lady.  Could you stop dancing on my table and get off my day planner?  You’re creasing July.

Casting Call

ME: Seriously?  We’re going with that title?
June 2005

So today being July 15th, things worked out in the end but since I’ve neglected this web log of mine, I’ve decided to recap my experience for that very long day.

Lotsa coffee… whew.  That about sums it up.

We had about 60 or so actors show up and I saw them at hour long intervals.  I had them perform pages from the play… and from pages I wrote up a few days earlier to give some characters some more meatier audition material. 

But lets get to the good stuff… how were the actors?  Well. I got the cast I needed.  And they’re going to do great… but note that this is said in hindsight.  At the time there was a lot of doubt whether I was going to find the people I needed.

Some of the auditioners were truly bad.  I’m not talking about those who didn’t get the material, or don’t audition well, or made odd character choices.  I’m talking about the truly damned.  If I there was a large paper bag, there would have been a lot of people unable to get out of it… causing a panic and then they would have to eat each other for sustenance.

Then there were the ones who would never be cast but damn if they didn’t make me laugh & smile.  I will never hear “I wanna be sedated” and “like a virgin” the same way again.

Explanation: As part of the audition and to create a fun atmosphere, I had each actor read from a selection of popular songs and re-intepret it into a jazzy lounge act number… something popularized by Saturday Night Live (Bill Murray singing Star Wars for instance). 

Well I certainly got more than I wanted… women old enough to be my grandmother (if my grandmother was white) crooned “Like a Virgin” and touched themselves provocatively, men pushing 60, ran around the room screaming the Ramones, and one surly actress in a wheelchair put special emphasis on the lyrics, “I can’t control my fingers. I can’t control my toes.  Put me in a wheelchair. Before I have to go.”

These special auditioners along with my cast (13 all accounted for) made it fun and worthwhile especially during the abyss of death during two particularly painful hours.  There’s no shame in being a bad actor… there is shame for not being able recognize that.

After 5PM, auditions drew to a close, I ran home, had to go to a wedding with my co-workers where I drank more than I should to the point where I woke my next door neighbors at 3AM to get my spare keys because I forgot them, passed out and proceeded to spend the next few days offering parts, and calling people to turn them down.

Telling actors that they didn’t get a part is not hard…telling a friend who happens to be an actor that you didn’t get a part is just an awful place to be.  Luckily, if any of them are mad then they’re not saying which is fine by me.

Next War Journal – The First Cast Reading…

This BLOG was brought to you by Brian Eno’s “This”
Random Sang Trivia: At age 17, a now convicted sex offender once tried to hypnotize Sang.  Luckily, the hypnotism didn’t work but Sang continues to have a strong distrust of hypnotists and magicians

It was discovered recently that another Bay Area theater group will be conducting its run around the same time as our show.  Competition among artists is one of the those funny things that end up showing that despite all the pomp and pretension that the arts should be embraced without the moral dead weight of, “I’m better than you,” the truth is that theater is no exception.  And that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

This train of thought is going to de-rail and re-rail so hold on…

My parents never encouraged my artistic side.  Don’t get me wrong, they didn’t try to beat it out of me like I was some rotting tree infested with rabid feral squirrels, but they never took me out to great movies, theater or concerts.  They were too busy trying to put food on the table and learn enough English so they could avoid getting bamboozled so you’ll understand if nurturing my creative vision was low on their to do list.

Which is why I both envy and despise the concept of parents trying to force their kids to become celebrities or artistic prodigies.  Sour grapes on my part?  Maybe.  Morally grey area?  You betcha.  You’ve seen them at malls, churches, school functions… violently being berated and violently throwing tantrum or emotional conniptions…I’m talking parents and children both.  Yes.  Sometimes children are gifted.  Sometimes you have a young Bobby Fischer or Mozart…or sometimes you get an untalented retarded meat puppet who will grow up, do some drugs, and deny and then confirm and then deny that he ever got his tally whacked by a famous pop star.

 

Let’s look at Suzuki. 

If you ever played a string instrument, you know who this Japanese cocksucker is.  Suzuki basically invented a method of teaching the deceptively complicated 4 string instrument family chord structure (violins, viola, cello and sometime bass) into a child like easy number structure enabling tone deaf children everywhere to think they could play Beethoven’s 9^th or Eine Kline Nacthmusik when in fact it sounds like a cat being sexually assaulted by a large ham.

So because of Suzuki and any other second rate dramatic or music teacher, your kid, that kid, or some kid grow up thinking they have talent when they don’t.

I have friends who are all involved in their own projects to varying degrees of success.  I’ve also seen some pretty great shows from companies I have no ties to.   So in a sense, theater is a mostly friendly rivalry.  Watch the waiting area after a show…it’s full of smiles, hand shakes, hugs and “great job” and “I really liked it”.  Unfortunately, they ought to have some recording devices a few blocks away where more honest commentary like “what the fuck was that” and “I will never get those 2 hours of my life again” sometimes raises its ugly head.  Is it disingenuous?  Sure.  But very few people can get away with being brutally honest all the time in theater and I’m no exception even though I’ve tried.

Alexander the Great used to have some guy walk beside him during victory parades to remind him that he was human.  I don’t have enough money to pay for that kind of employee especially in California where the employee taxes are just…wow.  So all I have are my neurosis, anxiety, and the memory of the first bad screenplay I wrote…whew…it’s still pretty awful.

So I try to keep things in perspective and understand objectively my place amongst the clamoring theater artisans seeking validation but I’m not immune to my inner ego’s reassurances that, “yes sang…you are indeed better than everyone else.” So until my fragile world comes crashing down my ears revealing me to be merely a lawyer with delusions of literature, I’m looking forward to tossing the gauntlet and respectfully challenging any other group to do better than me.

So we hold our auditions this Saturday for Las Vega-Nauts.  Hubris called and said I’m out of toilet paper.

Some quotes from my two favorite shows (at the moment).  I motivate you to indulge your inner couch tuber by watching them…

"House"

"Hello, sick people and their loved ones! In the interest of saving time and avoiding a lot of boring chitchat later, I’m Doctor Gregory House; you can call me "Greg." I’m one of three doctors staffing this clinic this morning. This ray of sunshine is Doctor Lisa Cuddy. Doctor Cuddy runs this whole hospital, so unfortunately she’s much too busy to deal with you. I am a bored… certified diagnostician with a double specialty of infectious disease and nephrology. I am also the only doctor currently employed at this hospital who is forced to be here against his will. That is true, isn’t it? But not to worry, because for most of you, this job could be done by a monkey with a bottle of Motrin. Speaking of which, if you’re particularly annoying, you may see me reach for this: this is Vicodin. It’s mine! You can’t have any! And no, I do not have a pain management problem, I have a pain problem… but who knows? Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m too stoned to tell. So, who wants me?"

And HBO’s "Deadwood" with enough profanity to make David Mamet blush:

"Announcing your plans is a good way to hear god laugh."

"I begrudge that pervert his happiness …"

"I may have fucked my life up flatter than hammered shit, but I stand here before you today beholden to no human cocksucker."

So in the past few weeks, friends of mine have utilized or thought of utilizing email as a way of bearing bad or unpleasant news.  For example, my good friend in NY is trying to find a diplomatic way of ending a casual dating relationship she’s been involved in. 

How should I end this, she asked?

I replied, how about an email?

What should I write?

The following is my suggestion:

Dear _____,

This is a hard letter to write so I’m not going to disrespect you by trying to avoid the issue.  I think at this point, I would be more comfortable if we could just be friends in this relationship.  Although I enjoy our time together and would love to continue to do so, I find the idea of embracing you passionately as appealing as warm lettuce.

I’m not saying your wholly unattractive because I’m sure many people have found your [describe feet, hands, eyes, hair or other nuetral body part] appealing but for me, I would rather sleep with a burlap bag full of rabid mongooses then to spend a night with you.  And I say this with the deepest amount respect.

Please accept my apologies for writing to you via email.  I know it’s impersonal but I’m being selfish in avoiding a personal face to face conversation where it would be inevitable that my stark revelation would be greeted by weeping and bawling from you.

I hope we still hang out but I understand if I am too much raw carnal temptation for you to be able to maintain a platonic friendship.  Hopefully I will talk to you soon but take comfort that I will treasure our time and always think of you fondly as a warm pleasant surrogate younger brother.

Best regards,

[Insert your name here]