Amphibious Endeavors Through the Swamp

One of my New Year's resolutions was NOT to blog more.  But I realize this would be a good goal to adopt.

SO MUCH IS HAPPENING!!!

Thus far, I've been horribly sick (second time in a row and no, it was not the dreaded F to the L to the U, though it came dangerously close - I'd like to thank pure blueberry juice and also carrot/orange juice for their support.  Not to mention the countless gas stations which provided me with their largest water bottle available.  Oh, and gummy vitamins............which are NOT for toddlers).  In the midst of sickness, however, TWO theatrical auditions came my way. One for a sweet sexy little role in a black and white indie noir flick and the other for (doot, doot, doot, DOOT, doot, doot, doot, DOOT) DAYS of Our Lives.  Yes, like sand through the hourglass, so were the beautiful actresses pouring through the door to compete for two series regular roles on this enduring soap.

I also had three commercial auditions - Toms Eyewear, Miralax (no, I am not above a commercial suggesting constipation problems. Come on, you can't go your whole life and be regular), and a callback for Sudafed where I hop around in a bikini in a room full of people with laptops pretending to jump off a dock or a cliff. Hilarious and fun.

Of course, when it rains, it pours. I was successful at keeping my temperature down around 100 even, but just walking to my car and back was exhausting.  So in between rest periods, it was of dire importance that I somehow break slightly - JUST SLIGHTLY - the solid wall of mucous holding my vocal chords hostage. Otherwise, I was sounding like Gollum's ugly sister upon opening my mouth.  The key to this?  Water.  No, not just to consume, I'm talking about steaming in it, sitting in it when bubbling hot, rinsing off with it, breathing it, dousing myself over and over and over.  Yes, that's right. I am talking about Korean bathhouses. Perhaps "spa" is a more appropriate term - or less scary - but I went downtown for three days in a row to STEAM this bile out of my system and get my voice back. Like Ariel from Ursula - I had to earn it with great effort.

You don't understand, though.  I have stumbled into a fascinating new world by going to these bathhouses.  Women - naked, uncaring, beautifying, scrubbing, soaking, steaming, talking, relaxing, RESTORING - um, it's amazing.  It's totally liberating.  And FYI, steaming is TOUGH to do for a long period of time.  I got light headed every time and had to take breaks. But these other ladies - these hardcore spa-divers - they flit around from room to room like it's a sampler platter and it's their duty to their bodies to enjoy water in every form.  These ladies were amphibious and the environment infectious. 

Enough about that. What's ahead for me? I have my voice back. I am still coughing up unwanted goo - at least for a couple more days.  I am waiting to hear back about auditions.  I have a pilot my friend wants me to shoot on Thursday.  I am shooting three new scenes for my reel next weekend.  Workshops are out there waiting for me to sign up and I have a gift certificate so what am I waiting for?!

I will leave you with this fun bit for now: I saw a certain big celebrity recently at a party.  Have I ever been attracted to him? Um, yes, but not in the "he's my celebrity crush sort of way".  As he was leaving, he turned to lock eyes with me and gave me that special twinkle in his eyes, tight little cat-ate-the-canary smile, and the most elegant little wave of his fingers, a hidden message of flirtation. Now, I don't swoon.  But I do relish.  I will take a secret exhange of energy like that any day.  So as I fell into the arms of sickness the next day, I didn't have to forget that I am wanted.

You are too, my friends.  And in La La, that's all that matters.

Let the Levy Break

BACK from some marvelously relaxing holidays. A little TOO relaxing if you are flying back to the home you left at 16.  No, no, no, I LOVE my family you guys - but I am just ready to GO here. Audition, audition and audition, please.  January is a busy month with many self-motivated projects to better the ol' career, so here we go.

Took a workshop today at AA Studio - the one and only John Levy.  He cast ER, now he casts Southland and Shameless.  I just watched the second season of Shameless (missed the first), but an interesting ensemble show.  Emmy Rossum is the most interesting to me. I like and admire her character. William H. Macy is a scoundrel to the Nth degree, so it's hard to love him. He's a bit obvious at times, but love his animation.

I prepared a scene as Ann from SEX, LIES & VIDEOTAPE (1989, people) - she just found out her sleazebag husband is sleeping with her sister, so she runs over to Graham's house. This is after being really freaked out about his "hobby" and his filming her sister (or her sister ASKING to be filmed) and not really wanting to get in touch with him despite completely being intrigued by him.

John wasn't giving feedback. He really just said "Great. Very nice work, Where are you from?"  I assume he was fine in his watching the scene.  I am trying not to listen to myself, but oh its hard. I hate that I do that. As an actor, I need to feel it naturally and be aware again of the beautiful impulses that come along.  When will I get to act with someone real who is not a reader?!  Not to put down the reader, he was great. I mean to have someone off of which to REALLY play. I should be approaching him like I want to illicit a reaction from him, huh? Yeah, that would be helpful.

Anyway, we'll see.  John Levy is casting Southland, but he made it clear that not many of us pretty people get on that show. Unfortunately, my headshots are glam glam but my reel is gritty and nitty.  How often do they look at your reel though? Not often.

Actually the old reel is getting revamped this month.  Hooray!  Part of my strategy of the new year.  Very excited and been working on the material for awhile. More posts to come and Happy New Year!

Alas! this is not what I thought life was

Lately, I am distracted - and it is not a focused distraction like the consistent back and forth of a ping pong game - rather, I am the ball being pinged and ponged in my schedule, my priorities, my emotions and general life.

This means that Eva has not completed her homework for acting class and she walks in with tail meekly tucked between her legs, face buried in a play or poem to do SOMEthing, work on SOMEthing. But nothing speaks to me the way I want it to and I am not allowing myself to resonate either.  My judgement of the text is off - or / also - I question whether my judgement of the text is off.  I read Night of the Iguana - and I adored it. What an incredible, quirky, intense play by Tennessee Williams. It takes place in Mexico, coincidentally, and Bette Davis originated the role of Maxine: the horny, overbearing widow forcing all patrons to delight in her rum-cocos. I don't even know what a rum-coco is, but I want one. There is a zany cast of central characters (Maxine previously mentioned): Shannon, the defrocked Irish priest-turned-tour guide who cracks up more deeply than a coconut about once a year. Then Hannah and her Nonno - a spinster/hustler who sells her watercolors and sketches while toting her 97-year-old grandfather around seeking new shelter and new resources.  Nonno is in on the hustling as well as he recites poems as if from a mountain top, always stopping as abruptly as he started, but sparking the scenes with hilarity every time.  Then there are the tourists - a busload of ladies mutinously debating with Shannon about their unchosen "stay" at Maxine's. The 17-year-old tourist with whom Shannon slept and whose youthful heart is swept away too much like Juliet.  And then there are the already willing guests: a brazen, tromping group of unquenchable Germans.

Tennessee, ya old dog. You're so interesting. Where did you pull this little rabbit from? Well, of course, it's HIM.  But I have not read a play of his like this before. It's wonderfully "outside the box".  I might do a scene from it. Let's see.

Anyway, I didn't have a THING prepared today. Luckily, my reasons for not preparing for class beforehand usually have to do with auditions (commercials and callbacks and nationals oh my!), but I have to get it together!  So I dug out a poem that I liked before, then decided no, then decided yes, then no, then JUST DO IT ALREADY!

Below is the text, by Shelley.

Alas! this is not what I thought life was.
I knew that there were crimes and evil men,
Misery and hate; nor did I hope to pass
Untouched by suffering, through the rugged glen.
In mine own heart I saw as in a glass
The hearts of others ... And when
I went among my kind, with triple brass
Of calm endurance my weak breast I armed,
To bear scorn, fear, and hate, a woeful mass!

I read it.  Then Janet asked me to read it down again. I felt deeply stirred by the first line as it translates so wonderfully to the present. After "misery and hate" I began to lose it, oh did the tears fall steadily.  It was nearly embarrassing, but hey, it's acting class. Tears happen. I am more pleased by the thought that my emotional access is greater each time I perform, and that the text is a gateway to that. Once one ingests the text and it resurges from the heart and the stomach, the emotion and meaning resonate richly through the voice. It's astounding to me how often I do not speak ON my voice. How can it be so consistently disconnected all the time? I know the answer and am working on it.

I was skeptical about this performance poetry stuff, but ultimately glad that I have an excuse to jump back into the Romantics. So many beautiful words, so many sadly beautiful thoughts and feelings, so many years ago yet so relevant today.

Okay, back to finding more texts, more plays and more work.

Rick Millikan Casting...

Workshop alert with Christine Ciraolo of Rick Millikan Casting at Actors Advantage Studio.

And why is Ashton Kutcher the face of Nikon? Wierd. Sorry, a commercial distraction.

Christine Ciraolo is super laid back and super cool. She obviously doesn't want to waste anyone's time. She is upfront and highly opposed to actors wasting their money.  (No postcards, Actors. Do you really think that CDs give those priority? Maybe 1 out of 50 put them on their lists for their assistant to read.)

Christine casts BONES and MELISSA & JOEY.  Rick casts pilots come January and Ms. Ciraolo takes over the brunt of the regular casting work. Now, I don't watch Bones regularly, but I know MANY people that do. Hilariously, even my friend Nate, who was a gamer/stoner/political activist in the 22 year old male demographic LOVED Bones when it began.  "REALLY?!", I thought, back then. Well, to me it proves the point that BONES draws a very diverse audience. Christine even mentioned that their audience is growing EVERY season. WTF? It's in its 8th season!  She did say the show has a "weird" edge - and if the writing is decent, I can see that happening quite easily.

I was given a scene from an episode called "The Bikini in the Soup" where a woman is pulled from her home the day of her wedding (thus in curlers and a robe) to enter interrogation about her former wedding planner - who was murdered!!!! (dun dun duuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn).   Shock! Surprise!

Anyway, I had all the lines and my poor scene partner had hardly ANY, but...when in Rome. My character was a real bitch, bridezilla tendencies and NO worries about anyone but herself on her wedding day.  I gave her a country dialect because it felt natural to do so. That's my happy risk via Jack Plotnick.  Well, it paid off. Christine had no adjustments whatsoever and said (verbatim) "Wow, I loved how you really went for it.  You made her the bitch that she is, no apologies, and no concern for a murder, this is her day and you owned it", etc etc. "You completely got the BONES vibe". 

Oh good, I landed the BONES vibe.  Well, MAYBE she'll call me in. I have yet to get called in for any workshops, despite excellent feedback from most, but it's just a question of persistence plus timing. I love to do workshops when I can, but will the wallet allow it? Not always...

So have fun if you take Christine Ciraolo workshop. She is a no bullshit kind of gal. Little feedback, probably a bit more internal with her critiques. She seems that way.

Viva la Bookings!

Mexico, here I come.

What's that? Oh, WHERE in Mexico? Uuuuuh, no se! No se!

That's about the extent of my two years of high school Spanish with Senora Cunningham, who unfortunately "perdio a su marido" one semester.

Anyway, after weeks of non-auditioning, I suddenly went on three in one day - bam bam bam. I got a callback for the third, booking.com, and wal-lah! I booked booking.com! This is my first official job as a SAG member, THUS I get SAG scale and per diem and a trip to Mexico! Que emocionante!

To top it all off, the one cool chick I met and conversed with at the callback booked it with me.  So we're going to take over Cancun, or whatever sub-town, together.  Luckily the girl is from Miami so she has a bit of espanol already engrained. Thank goodness.

PS - my LA TIMES "Join the Conversation" commercial spot is playing now!  Probably until the Oscars. You can barely see my face because the editing is so whip-fast but that is good - because I look like a Russian mail-order bride in it. Thanks make-up and hair girls! You did a spectacularly Euro job. (big insincere smile!)

Meet Wendell

I take workshops at Actors Advantage Studio sometimes. It's a very nice facility with good casting directors coming through (I've taken about four or five workshops there) located round Robertson somewheres in the B-Hills.

They are also affiliated with dog adoption programs and often ask for volunteers. Strangely enough, lots of casting directors and acting facilities are involved in some sort of animal rescue org. But AA Studio says that in exchange for a four hour shift on a Saturday, an impoverished actor like myself can get a free workshop! Whee!  (But you have to be on their mailing list.) ANYway, I said "yes yes yes!" when I got an email. And one may think I did this only for the free workshop, but NO.  That ain't true. Like a stoner pulling into a Trader Joe's parking lot, I have been majorly feining... for some volunteer work - specifically with animals; sweet, sweet little animals that I can cuddle, walk or feed treats. My mother volunteers with wild birds (owls, eagles, vultures, etc) in Kentucky and I hear AMAZING stories.

Last Saturday at the West Hollywood PETCO, I volunteered for Ace of Hearts - a dog rescue organization (one of MANY) located in Beverly Hills.  Surprisingly, a billion people showed up and we were overstaffed, but not surprisingly, none of them wanted to shake a jar full of change and one dollar bills while holding a sign in the cold at the corner of Doheny and Santa Monica.  So I did that with their most faithful volunteer, ol' Barbara. She's a master of the donation process, approaching cars like a sweet little old lady and then thrusting a jar full of guilt in their faces. Haha, I'm kidding. She gets major kudos for taking the most unpleasant job and performing it with persistance and gusto. I tried to do the same, but I kept getting yelling at cars as they approached knowing full well that they can't hear a damn word I'm saying. It made me feel bolder though to vocalize the needs of the organization, so I rolled with it for awhile, momentarily spinning in circles from the madly whizzing sports cars and taking full advantage of cracked windows and red stoplights, heh heh.

Purposefully avoiding animal shelters while hardcore craving a pet (my animalogical clock has been ticking for about 4 years), I was quite astonished to see that ALL the dogs were fully grown. Well?! I didn't know! In fact, half the dogs (out of 15 or so) were old boys, one nearly blind from cataracts and constantly slipping around in his own slobbery crate, barking at nothing and everything. It was a little maddening. I teared up almost instantly while staring at a fat sweetheart of a bitch named Thelma. Oh, these dogs they all had so much LOVE to give.

Anyway, in the duration of my volunteer work - aka jar-shaking, name tag making - I found out that people can foster dogs while the dogs wait for a permanent adoption. YyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyES!!!!!! I will do that! I can do that! Ace of Hearts desperately needed foster people for their dogs. Not only do you get a cool dog to hang out with for a month (perhaps longer if you choose), not only does Ace of Hearts provide you with food and doggy supplies, not only are you making a sweet pooch feel love until someone is ready to love him forEVER, but each time you take a dog into your home, you have opened up a slot in the kennel for a new dog to move in that is typically saved from being euthanised. I signed the Foster form, and BOOM Monday morning I get a call that they have an emergency dog named Wendell that they need me to take, so can I take him?

Nervous! Um, uh, well, yes, I guess, what is this dog like? Will he chew my shoes up? Is he housebroken? Had he had a traumatic life? How big is he? How do I do this? Do I really wanna do this? Do I really wanna commit to a month of being responsible for this animal?!?!

Yes, yes is the answer. I saw Wendell, actually, the day of the pet adoption, but I didn't get a good look at him. He is the only dog I didn't see properly.  All I remember is that he looked like a fox and seemed rather crafty inside of that cage. It turns out that Wendell is SO new to Ace of Hearts that they really don't have any info on him. They don't know what breed he is, they know he was a stray and found on the streets somewhere, they don't know of any trauma and they need me, the Foster Parent, to do the research.

It's been one day thus far with ol' Wendell. Three walks, two poos, and 75,478 tail wags later, I do not regret this decision at ALL.  If you are interested in fostering a dog, please go to this site which explains the process thoroughly: Be A Foster Pet Owner 

Also, consider adopting Wendell. He was obviously owned by someone before because he has a very domestic demeanor.  He has coloring like a border collie, looks proportionally like the dragon in The Neverending Story, and an adorable snaggletooth juts delicately from the end of his snout. He sleeps upside down and he has difficulty with separation anxiety (which I hope to research and help him heal from).  He is also the perfect size, 20 plus pounds. If you are interested, let me know. Below is a pic of WENDELL! Updates as the month goes on.

Mostly - ACE of HEARTS is in need of DONATIONS, not just adoption. Please visit their site and give $5 or more so that the dogs can get medical expenses covered, boarding covered, nice doggie beds and good food. I had no idea a surgery for a dog could cost so much, but one particular dog named Bob has a neurogical disorder. It costs $3000 to identify the problem and another $5-6000 for the surgery. What? That's frickin' crazy! A doggy doesn't have a wallet! They don't even know why they are here on this earth! They just wag their tails and slobber, lick, and love!  Donate, adopt or foster. One, or all three. Do it!

Spoon River

I, like many, many misled others, once thought I was a possible poet. Yeah yeah, laugh, laugh at me. Then laugh at yourself because you went through that phase also and even NOW you probably have those poetic tendencies. The problem is, those who are excellent poets are truly excellent and most words we come up with are crap. I think this every time I read T.S. Eliot. His deeply rooted meandering. His purposefully structured wanderlust. Oh, I love him.

In Alhanti's class, we have been attacking the Spoon River Anthology.  Meisner did this with his students. I watched a segment of Frances Sternhagen (a much younger version, but who later plays "Bunny", Trey McDougal's mother on Sex & The City ....What? Yeah I watched every episode.) reciting Amos Sibley.  Meisner takes Frances through a process that brings purpose and point of view to the poem/monologue.  Essentially, Janet has instructed us to do the same thing - find a character in Spoon River, really GRASP the material (break down the cryptic nature so that there are no ?s left for the actor then you will KNOW and OWN what you are talking about), and find a specific point of view from which to deliver the words. We have easy guidelines here - all of the poems in Spoon River are by deceased people of the town. They are dead and gone and each monologue/poem is exactly what each person has chosen to say after death - now, to WHOM is the question, and WHY is another. Janet always asks "What is this about?", in her echoing Bronx tone.

What's hilarious is that most of us have NO CLUE what it's really about. The poems are not that hard to decode, but some are more cryptic than others - and despite an emotional and human through line that has lasted 100 years past Edgar Lee Masters's initial publishing, there are some differences that may be defined and unlocked by the period.  I will say what is said in Yoga that also applies here and many other countless places: Repetition leads to freedom. Spending actual TIME with our material/words/scripts can lead to levels of creativity and understanding that patience has not allowed us to find before. Is it our generation's doom - and others behind us - to be flagbearers of A.D.D. and let that excuse us from our disciplinary intentions, or - dare I say it - disciplinary necessities?!?

God, I hope not. A violin player is out there rehearsing 10 hours a day. An opera singer, 6. Where are the exercises and the time slots and the practice rooms that are being occupied by today's actors, specifically in La La?  Yikes.

Anyway, Spoon River is something that should be learned in high school, but if you had a Kentucky education like myself, I didn't get to it. Or maybe I skipped it and still got an A.  I don't remember. It is regardless a pleasure to visit this wonderful book of poems, this work that sticks like a deliciously dark film to your brain if you let it sink in, like the bodies that have sunk six feet under or more.

Thus far, I have performed Nellie Clark, Pauline Barrett, and today I added Mabel Osbourne. I've read others but felt less clear. Dora Williams was my first attempt and it is a wonderful doozy. I should revisit it on Wednesday with the sprightly verve that Dora deserves. I already promised to attack Pauline Barrett again - oy, she was a cryptic one. Pauline is a woman who committed suicide and wants to make sure her husband knows that he had no part in it whatsoever; that this was completely her decision due to the pitfalls and unfortunate events of her life. Here's the poem of Pauline Barrett. Tell me if you figure out what kind of operation she had. And don't cheat by looking it up online!

So these are the things I've been doing in acting class - Spoon River - and a recent scene from DINNER WITH FRIENDS with Rick Malambrai.  It went very well - he's a fun actor to react with. Hopefully he'll replace Channing Tatum one day.

Next up on the list: romantic poets. Byron, Shelly, Blake, St. Vincent Millay. Mucho, mucho excited to delve.