Answer: Ungrateful

Question: What do you call it when you get what you want, but still are able to bitch about it?

Had the read through last night. It went well.

The other new people in the cast are all a little "look at me". That bugs me. Then I can't be "look at me". I hate pissing parties.

So, the others kind of bug me. So what!

Plus, the show is really corny. Corny bugs me. I'm corny. I hate that I'm corny. No, I don't. I just wish everyone else didn't hate it when I'm corny.

So, I'm corny. So what!

The pay isn't really that much. That bugs me. I really need more money, not the opportunity to make less. I hate that I can't make my living from this.

So, I can't make my living from just this one acting job. So what!

The schedule is really light. There are only two gigs in September. I get to be in one. It is a Saturday night. I will give up making about $150 to make $100 before taxes. Then, who knows when we go again. That bugs me. I can't afford this life style, and I really wish I could. I hate that I can't make my living from this.

So, I can't make my living from just this one acting job. So what!

Who knows what the future holds? This whole experiment of going for what you want, even if it is not logical, is starting to get out of control. It had better hit that huge return portion of the fun, or I am really going down hard.

I still believe it will. I truly think that in doing this show, either I will get more opportunities from the people I meet during the show, or the satisfaction of it all will be an outer sheen, visible to others, that makes people want me for other things.

Question: What is it going to take to get me to the point of return?

Answer: Hope.

Desperate, scrabbling, insane hope.

Large Chunks of Waste

That title really has a saucy, sophmoric titillation factor to it that will prove to be nonexistent in the following story. Sorry.

The truth is, I'm just bored.

I sit here at 11 whatever in the morn, and my only obligation today is in the evening. Therapy at 6 and the read through at 7:30.

I just finished breakfast and have made a tour of my usual websites for meaningless info, and now I sit. Sit, and ponder. What now? What else?

I find that happens quite a bit to me. Even while married, so it isn't a lonely thing. It mostly is a lack of creativity thing. I could go for a walk, or read, or watch one of the many movies I own. I have reasons why not to do all of those. Not good reasons, but I am not challenging myself to back up my reasons, so I get convinced easily.

I have errands to run, but I am not running. Who likes errands?

I need several items now to fill the wasteland I live in, but I hate to shop when I can't afford the item in question, so poo to that idea.

Would I be more lively if I had the money? Say I was quite flush with dollars, would I be dressed and driving right now, humming along to a song in gleefull anticipation of my soon to be acquisition? I doubt it. Maybe.

The truth is, I guess, I just don't have much drive. That is probably why I am getting my first paid gig at nearly forty. No drive. I am more the chauffered type. Always up for the ride, just you do the driving.

That is really true. If someone came in right now, and said, Let's go, I would. No matter where, or for why. Drive.

Well, with gas prices these days, can you blame me?

Oh, yeah, what a day.

Woke up after only 5 hours of sleep, hung over, and sore from the two hours on the stripper pole. And that ain't even the good part of the story.

My wife stopped by to sort out and seperate. Had some coffee, and talked. It seemed like it would be a friendly day.

Started with the CD's. Thank God you can burn CD's these days. I don't know how people did it when they physically had to give up their music. We just went through and picked out the one's that were singularly ours, and said we would burn the rest.

Then the books.

You can burn books, but it doesn't help in this case.

Got down to the final 20 that both of us wanted, and then we just grabbed one at a time. I got the Hemingway's (except one) and the Salinger's (Franny and Zooey was a duplicate, otherwise their would have been bloodshed). Then I grabbed Miller's Tropic of Cancer.

That's when I broke down crying.

10 years, 9 months ago, I was reading that book. That is when I met my wife, and we sat up all night in a crappy diner eating omelettes and talking Miller. It was so comfortable, the first time in my life, when I asked her out on a date. She actually said no, she was busy, and instead of being rejected, I tried for a different day. I got that one, and the rest is history.

Wham! That hit me hard.

I excused myself, went into the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and cried so hard I couldn't breathe.

When I came out, my wife had partially opened the cursed champagne bottle.

You see, when I moved to LA back in '98, some friends gave me a bottle of champagne and told me to open it when I got my first gig. I took that to mean a paying, speaking role, and subsequently never was able to legitimately open that bottle until now. I came to believe that the bottle was the source of my curse, and hated it. Well, she knew that, and to lighten the mood was having a finally we can open this moment for me.

When the cork popped, we both started to cry. I tell you, sentimentality is for the birds. Or retards.

Anyway, we took one sip, but 7 year old cheap champagne doesn't taste good warm, and I have no ice, so we dumped it, and turned to some chardonnay I have. After one glass, we were a bit lit.

Later, during another emotional "you take that" moment, she started to cry, and I hugged her. Not the first time today, but we were now very emotional, and very much disecting our love, and a glass in. Well, as we hugged, we pulled closer, giving this hug some seriousness. Arms reach around the other tighter. Hips close in on each other. Chins rest into crooks in the others shoulder, or chest. That's when I realized we had stopped breathing. Both of stood there holding the other tight, thinking the same thing. It would be wrong, but damn it, it would feel so right.

Then her phone rang. I hobbled over to a chair, my shorts making sure everyone knew what was on my mind at that moment. A friend was inviting us to lunch. Yeah, we would go. Give us a few minutes.

She hung up, and looked at me. I tried to play it off, but she didn't. She said, I think we should go to lunch before something bad happens.

I agreed.

She then looked at me and said, Do you want something bad to happen?

I looked at her. I said, No, but you sure could talk me into it.

We sparred like that for a bit. Neither wanting to really do this, but both hoping the other would talk them into it.

We managed to keep our heads, and finally left the house. On the walk over to our friend's house, we both agreed that we had done the right thing. That, in the short term, it would have been great, but, in the long term, it would have been damaging.

Adults. That's what we were.

I remember as a kid watching movies, and the adults would tell each other horrible things, and take it calm and cool, and continue talking. I thought to myself, I will never be able to do that! How can they not feel?

Well, I was wrong. Twice.

First, I can do that, and am doing that.

Second, even when it is happening, you do still feel. That is what makes it even more adult. Feeling the pain, or whatever emotion, and still doing the calm, correct thing at the time. Ugh.

Amazing Malaise

What is wrong with me today?

I woke up just feeling so blue.

I shouldn't be blue. Things are kind of great right now.

True, our show bit hard last night. Really awful. But, we only have one more to do, and then it is back to the fun format. So, that shouldn't be the root.

After the show, someone started to ask about life, and I started to tell them. Everyone kind of tuned in, and suddenly everyone was giving me the pity face. I told them I am okay, though, and we even started to joke about it. As I left, someone even said, What no more "my wife is leaving me" stories? I mean, that is the sort of funny I like. Good natured ribbing. Did it get to me though? I don't think so, yet here I am, all blah.

Am I worried about this new gig? Will I be able to afford to actually do this? I could probably work day shifts at work. I think I can do it. I certainly will find out more on Monday night.

So, what's the problem? Why so poopy?

Maybe I am just lonely. Maybe I feel like I am having good news, and no one is there to hug me, and kiss me, and say, I always knew this would happen. No one to go out and get drunk with, or to come home and play "celebrity groupie" with.

Then again, I am a firm believer in the theory that the "universe" provides. If you need something, the forces that be, whatever they are, will make it happen. Somehow. So, maybe this is the start of the road that the "universe" wants me to take. Maybe I will meet the next girl while doing this show. Maybe everything I want is about to happen to me.

Still, today is crap.

The future is brewing.

Life is good.

Just one day after my need coffee slump, life is aromatic again.

Two friends of mine bought me a coffee maker. They obviously didn't care for the slow version of Tony. I had spoken with both while coffeeless, and apparently, wasn't quick enough for their taste.

Ironically, they are the same couple whose wedding gift card purchased my last coffee maker. So, they have provided the stimulous for both the start and end of my marriage.

Swell.

I went and bought a new kind of coffee for the first brew, too. I got Ethiopian coffee, partly because lately I have been getting into Ethiopian soul/jazz from the late sixties/early seventies. In honor of that music, I thought I would also sample their beans. I recommend the music. I will let you know about the brew.

Along with that great advancement, came another last night. A dinner theatre that I auditioned for a few weeks back called and cast me in the show. That would be a paid gig. That's right, I would finally be a working actor. I don't know how often the show runs, or if I can actually do it. I didn't get that info, but I do meet with them on Monday night for a read through. I am going to try and do all in my power to make this happen.

Funny, but a thought had come to me awhile back, and now it seems even weirder.

About 12 years ago, I had my "chart" read. Which is to say that someone, who really believes in astrology, looked at all the placements of the stars from when I was born, and concluded that certain traits were inherent in me from the astrological influence. Being a Libra, I had much balance in my life. One of those was career/relationship. I guess I strive to give equal parts to both. Well, if I don't do that, say I give more to relationship, then the other suffers. Huh.

After my marriage ended, I thought about that, and at the time jokingly thought, Well, at least I will have a lot of career luck now. Huh.

Funny? Weird? Who cares. I might be able to call myself a working actor. Hell, I would sacrifice eight relationships for that.

Kidding. The one will do just fine, thank you.

Must...type...words... and...express...feelings

I really need coffee.

I find that over the past couple of days, my first two hours are me sitting on the couch staring off into space, trying to think of a single topic, but generally losing said topic only to find that I have been thinking of nothing.

That's when I head out of the house, and go get the coffee. Then I can think.

Why don't I just get up right now, and go buy a coffee maker? I know that some day this is exactly what will happen. I need the maker. I want the maker. I will have the maker.

Yet, my weird brain will not let me go purchase it. I think I am too poor. The funny thing is, I really AM too poor, but that doesn't mean I can't buy a coffee maker. It means I shouldn't buy costumes for characters who I may never play. It means rather than tucking away money for a comedy class, I should maybe think about tucking it away for rent.

It means that maybe I should not go to movies, like I did Monday night, and like I plan to do Friday night before my show.

It means that maybe I should not take next weekend off when my friend is in town, a circumstance that will both make me not earn, and at the same time spend. Oh, and I plan to take him to a movie!

You see, all of those I can do with little thought. I saw one movie because I was depressed and wanted escape. I will see another because everyone has told me about it and it is not on video and a revival house is playing it this Friday.

I keep buying costumes because they make me believe in myself, and so does the class I can't afford.

My friend coming to town is a friend I have known since I was 15. That is 22 years, and I want to show him a great silent movie house where a 94 year old man plays accompaniment.

All of those are good reasons, I guess. It would help if I could do all of those good reasoned things, and still make rent, or, say, go buy a simple staple of life, like, oh, I don't know, a coffee maker! That would be nice.

Part of my theory of life though, at least lately, is tied to the whole "do what you love and the money will follow." I am blindly doing things that might not be reasonable to the think things out type of person. Some of the people at work tell me they worry about me. They think I am on a slippery slope. I might be. I might just be writing in a year from debtor's prison.

Even the casual tossing off of my marriage is somehow connected to this do it and the results will follow. Hell, I just decided that life would get better, and chucked it all. Nothing really tells me that that was an educated decision. I have no proof that results like this have happened for others, and that maybe, if I play cards right, they will happen for me.

I just did it. Thanks Nike. You are my corporate muse now.

We'll see if I am enlightened or not.

It's like a little joke I tell customers at work. When I introduce myself, I tell them if they have any questions to please ask me. Some smart ass invariably says, Is that about the menu, or life in general. I then, in all seriousness, turn to said smarty and say, Oh, that can be about life, sir. As you can tell by the fact that I am wearing an apron for a living, I have it ALL figured out. They kind of laugh, and then go uncomfortably silent as the smell of the bitter descends upon them.

Yes, indeed, I have it ALL figured out.

I spent the afternoon...

I spent the afternoon... giving away most of my life.

She took her stuff. Our stuff. Her's now.

All day, I just said, Take that, no I don't want it, go ahead, take it.

What did I keep? What after eleven years do you say, Yes, that is what I want?

Well, I kept a jar of mayo, a squeeze bottle of mustard, some soy milk, six drinking glasses and ten coffe cups. I also retained 3 forks, 4 knives, and 6 spoons. Five cookbooks, three of which I asked for, are now mine. A few pots and pans, more than I thought I would have. Some spices that for some reason or another were assumed to be mine. Several hand towels I couldn't give a damn about. The liquor.

I lost the coffee maker, the grinder, the fridge, the microwave, the rest of the kitchen appliances. All of my papers are on my dining table.

I look around, and it looks like I am moving. Hopefully, I am moving forward, but all night tonight I feel caught in the past. I have been drinking and smoking on the patio, listening to the new iPod I have. One song, Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb, came on and it reminded me of the time I broke up with my other long relationship. I used to listen to that song all the time then. It spoke to me. The line, This is not how I am, still seemed to resinate with my life now.

The friends who helped her move always turned to me in quiet alone moments and asked how I was doing. I told them, and I think I thought this, that even though we as modern men look for women who can be our equal, we still subconciously believe our women to be our possesion. We are responsible for them. We need to provide, and make them happy. Well, let me tell you, that sense of responsibility doesn't stop with divorce. I felt a shred of relief knowing that I had set her up with her new life, and that now she might be happy.

Relief.

Now, it is done.

Now, I turn towards me. Now, I look at all the blank around me in this cement box, and I think, Ok, what do you want. What do you want to be, how do you express that?

I saw Jarmusch's Broken Flowers tonight. The whole movie is about a sad life being transformed into a life of unidentifiable purpose. The person I saw it with didn't like it. They couldn't understand why I liked it. They wouldn't understand.

When I wake up in the morning, it is mine. It isn't much, but now, it is mine.

Relief?

We'll see.

The Only Thing To Fear

Well, tomorrow will be a day of change. My wife is coming by to take away furniture so that she can officially move into her place.

I am losing a futon(don't care), a refrigerator(that'll be awkward), a cabinet(it holds all the paperwork, and I can't seem to get myself to organize it), the coffemaker(Oh, God, what will I do!!!), and several other kitchen items(most likely the only knife I use).

All of that really doesn't matter. It can all be replaced. Not that I have money, but theoretically, it can be replaced.

Yet, I seem to be overcome with a pervading sense of fear. My therapist always tells me that fear and excitement physically are the same thing in the body, and the only difference is which label we attach mentally to the experience.

So, maybe I can't wait!

I usually try to buy into that theory, because it works well for auditions and performing, but I feel very small today, and it doesn't remind me in any way of a thrilling anticipation.

Also, I just can't seem to stop thinking about sex lately.

I guess it is normal after eleven years of the ability to just look at someone and say, You wanna, and then be naked in less than five minutes, to suddenly going months without, and looking at women and saying, Hi nice to meet you, and they don't take their clothes off!

I always fancied myself a much more enlightened man, as opposed to the others out there, but I guess that was because I was getting laid. It is like that Seinfeld episode where George gives up sex, and suddenly becomes a great intellectual. Once you don't bother with the when, and with who, and what do I say to get it, you can actually put your mind to more weighty matters.

Like, is it funnier if he burps or farts here.

No wonder I'm afraid of the future. I don't know which of those is funnier!

Hollywood Nights

Great day yesterday.

Started out with lunch with a friend, and he bought. He has been on Unemployment for six months, but still felt the need to buy ME lunch. I told him that some time when he is seventy, he is going to get hungry and be all like, Damn that curly haired fuck.

Afterwards, I did laundry, and normally while washing, I read a magazine or book, but this time I took my new iPod mini. I absolutely love that thing. My other friend put a number of songs on it, it holds 260, and I just tuned in and tuned out. Really, listening to the Stones and Shins and Handsome Family put me in the mood to move, so I left the laundry and went walking. I really hate walking by myself, but if you have music, it is like you are walking with someone who won't shut-up, but they are so cool, you don't mind. I'm pretty certain a couple of girls smiled at me while I walked, but it could be they wanted to steal my iPod, or maybe they thought that my singing along out loud was humorous.

A girl I work with was having a show at the IO (Improv Olympics, but they can't call it that anymore), so I went to see it with one of my castmates. He is 22 years old, and gorgeous. I'm not saying that like some big queen, he really turns womens heads. It is like being in a diet soda commercial. Strutting down Hollywood Blvd. with him needs a disco soundtrack. That is, if there is a close-up on him, then the camera pulls back to reveal me with him and the record scratches to a halt.

When we were walking, this little brunette came walking past us, and I pointed her out to him. Not smart. Don't find someone interesting, and then tell someone better looking about them. Especially when he is also young and funny. Then I have no tools, no power.

As we were approaching the building my old improv teacher was there and she was looking right at us, but didn't see us. My friend said, How can she not recognize you, you have the most identifiable hair of anyone on the street. And on Hollywood Blvd. that is saying something!

Then some girl in a maroon low cut top with swinging big boobs came out to say hi. She brought us inside and, sure enough, she is sitting with the little brunette! Introductions went around, and the brunette says to me...

HER: My name is Angie, but I just met you, so you can call me Angela.

ME: Well, I just met you, so you can call me Mr. Tony.

HER: I only call men Mr. when I sleep with them.

ME: Well, then you can call me Mr. Tony.

I thought it was funny and flirty, but she stopped talking to me. Too much?

My friend's show was solid, very funny. She was doing the same format as we are doing now, and I didn't want to go do our show after seeing that.

One of her castmates talked to my friend right before the show, and I tried to introduce myself, but she totally walked away. I waved her off, and she realized what happened and tried to come back, but I told her to just go on, that I was busy now trying to find a new ego, because my old one broke.

After the show that girl came and talked to me and my young friend. I thought, rightly so, that she was interested in him, but after a bit, she started grilling me about myself. She wanted to know how old I was. I told her old enough to know better, but young enough not to give a damn. She persisted.

I hate that part. I don't want to be the guy who lies about his age, but people really see you differently when they perceive you as old.

I told her 29. She bought it. Then I told her 24. She actually started to buy that, but was put off by my huge smile at her buying 29. Finally, I said 30. She said she just wanted to know some info about me in case she wanted to set me up with a friend. She just needed to know things like age and sexual preference. That stopped me.

I said, You need to know my sexual preference? It isn't obvious!? My young friend could not stop laughing. He finally managed the word women, and she got nervous and said, I thought so, but you never know.

I left that conversation and made my way over to my teacher. She was sitting at the bar, and I sat down next to her. I had never told her that I was getting divorced, and she was always kind enough to inquire after my wife. As I sat, she made a frown and looked at me and said, How are you doing?

I knew right then that someone had told her. I said, So, what do you know about my personal life? Then launched into the routine, I'm fine, and you are going to be fine too, so don't worry about me. She kept the frown on the whole time we talked about it, and finally I asked her why she was frowning. She said it was sad. I asked if it was sad that a marriage was ending, or did she believe I was the one left. That actually threw her. I jumped on it.

You think I was the one left! What? I couldn't be the one who left!? I'm not good enough to leave a marriage!?

She stammered and laughed, but I think that is what she was thinking.

When we left the place, my young friend said that the girl asking me all the age questions wanted to know if she could set me up with swinging boobs. She wanted me to make out with her, because she is dating a guy, but isn't sure she likes him, and the question girl figures if she makes out with a different guy, that will help her decide. The real pathetic part of the story was, I considered it.

We went and did our show, and it actually went well. When the show ended, we all stood backstage for a bit before moving. I think we were all so shocked at having done a good show, we didn't know what to do next. Finally, we just left.

Went and drank with my friends, and went back to one of their apartments and got high like a seventeen year old. The supreme giggles descended on me. All night, I laughed with my friend's giggly wife. That was fun. Stayed out until 4.

Old enough to know better, but young enough not to give a damn!

A Night in Amnesia

Well, I spent yesterday prepping my first character for last night's auditions for the next run of the improv show, Scandal.

My second character gets up next week. As well as my first. Yes, that's right, I have to do my guy again.

Last night, I introduced Nat Templeton, a be-bop loving, jazz playing loser. I had a beard on my chin, and sharp glasses, and a cig, and a pork pie with a black suit. I was bad, and that is good.

My only problem was they thought he was too high energy and that his voice was too much like the last character I played. I disagree with the voice. After all, when I was done, one of my cast mates said it sounded like I was doing Bill Cosby with a sore throat. I showed him my sheet, which I wrote before the audition that has all of the made up history for the character on it, and under the heading vocal traits, I had written gravely Bill Cosby.

The high energy I can understand. I am high energy, and maybe a cool jazz man would be low key, but do they know be-bop! That aint low energy. Hello, he wasn't called Dizzy because he was a bore! Still, I will try and give them what they want. It is just I have to do it next week, when I introduce my second character.

I don't know his name yet. In fact, I don't think I will know his name. He is going to be a guy who woke up in a motel with total amnesia, and blood on his hands! No ID, and the blood isn't his! Also, the register has listed a name as the room's occupant, but we don't know if that is him, or the dead person!

All very exciting. I don't know who I love more. I really love Nat, but that is because I just did him last night, and he got a bad reception. I am protecting him, like a concerned mother would.

Anyway, we will find out after next Thursday who is going to be who. Stay tuned....

And Now It Begins

My wife found an apartment today. Signed the lease, and can start moving in tomorrow.

I have been waiting for this, both for her to be happy and secure and landing on her feet, as well as for her to get her stuff out so that I can start to move forward.

I went with her to help with financial stuff, as well as to get a look at the place and determine what we own that can go in there. (Not much) I was really happy for her, and I thought it was great.

Now, an hour later, I just don't feel like even moving. I have so much to do today, and I have absolutely no energy or desire to get up from this chair. If this is the day I have been waiting for, then I am letting slip by slowly and unawares.

Why? Am I depressed? Well, yeah, but that never stopped me before! So, why the new depression today? Obviously, the finality of the seperation is crappy. Ok, so feel the crap, but get out and do the things you have to do! I don't know. I don't even feel all that thrilled about having to create characters, something I normally love to do. I think this is affecting me down deep.

Maybe I'll just watch a Woody. Too bad I don't own Husbands and Wives.

I'm so smart, I'm stupid...

So, I had the "practice" date last night. Or so I thought.

I was smooth. I put together a really great dinner, and had it just about done when she arrived. All I had to do was stir fry the veggies, and that gave me the opportunity to "discover" the sauce, and look like a real chef. I set the table, had jazz playing. I was the shit.

All for practice, right? I remember thinking as it was being set up, Boy, this is good, I got to remember all of this.

Then she arrived. Now, I normally see her at work where we all wear the same uniform. So, it was a bit shocking to see her arrive and be all "made up". She looked good!

I first noticed her jeans, and how long and lean she looked. Then as we were heading up the stairs, I noticed her ass, and Damn! She had on a pretty top, and cleavage which I don't see at work. I was finding myself looking at her, and thinking, Wow, she is really pretty.

Then she loved the meal. Couldn't stop telling me how great it was. I don't really come off in public as the domestic type, so I had an easy time impressing, and it was really good. I thought through dinner, Man, this is going great. I was charming, and witty, and cool. She was talking about the guy she is dating and saying maybe they aren't right, and she was thinking of breaking it off. The whole time, I was like, What is going on here?

We then went to see a band play, and my friends were in the band, so all the members were like, Hey, Tony! Which just makes me look cool. I don't think I have ever had a date that was this good when I was actually dating. We got up and danced, and were laughing. I started to forget it was not for real.

Then, afterwards we met another band at the bar. We had seen them play and they were from Chicago, so I struck up conversation. Later, when we went to sit alone, she said the Elvis looking one was cute. I agreed and, jokingly encouraged her to take him home and do him. I say jokingly, because part of me wanted her to do me, and I was playing it like a joke in the conversation cuz, technically, she is dating someone else.

Soon, as I was talking to a friend, she went to the bar, and got some water. The Elvis type was there and she struck up another conversation. And kept talking. My friend left, and I sat at the table alone, and thinking, shit, I was just left on a date by a girl who doesn't relize I think it is a date now, for a rock-n-roller!

My false high had brought me to a deep low crash.

Later, I drove her home and thought well last time I do that.

In Turnaround

Busy weekend.

The show last Friday was better, but not great. Many of the muckity-mucks at the theatre came and saw it, and for my part, I had a respectable turn. Not great, but I got some good laughs at the start and a couple near the end. A friend who saw it said that I stood out. He is one of the muckity-mucks, and wouldn't say that if he didn't mean it. So, that's cool.

Then on Saturday, our director sent out an email saying that he was dropping this new format, in a couple of weeks, because now that it is part of the main troupes ticket show, he feels it is an odd combo, so he is bringing back Scandal!, and asked us all to create new characters.

Funny, at the end of the last run of Scandal!, we all wanted it to continue, and as a show, it is much stronger than what we are doing, but when the announcement went out, I must admit that I wanted to keep doing the tough show. As a performer, I will be better at Scandal! in the short term, but for the over all picture, it would have been a better skill to learn how to do the other format, and get good at it. Oh well. I do enjoy me some Scandal!

Saturday I went to a jazz club that I had been hearing about for years, and just thought that LA people didn't know what they were talking about. Then, as soon as I walked in, I knew I had made a mistake. That place is the bomb. Righty-o. Such great music and what a perfect scene. Made me feel like Chicago. I am going back soon, let me tell you that, Jack.

Had a strange dream last night where I was on a date with a woman, and I kept apologizing to her for having to go out with me, and putting myself down. Even as I dreamt of it, I remember thinking, What are you doing? Stop doing this, it isn't true.

I really got to lighten up on myself. I think ultimately, I don't really love myself. That, or maybe it is that, from an early time in my life, I felt I was destined for great things, and that hasn't really happened yet, so maybe I blame myself for not actualizing it, rather than tell myself maybe I had unrealistic impressions of my future as a child, and it is time to rethink that.

Whatever the case, I am a little nervous today. I am making dinner for a girl I work with. She covered a shift I desperately needed to get off, and as an inticement to work when she didn't want to, I offered to make her dinner. Nothing is going to happen, she is dating some guy, but there were sparks between us, ironically when I was married. I am viewing this as a practice date, with out the pressure of what happens at the end of the night. Still, I am nervous. God, when I actually have a real date, and there will actually be chances for something at the end, I am going to be SO nervous, that I am sure I will make myself sick. I already feel a bit nauseous now. Imagine trying to get it on, and the whole time feeling like it could all come up at any moment. No wonder dating is primarily meant for the young. I think we get much more adapt at making ourselves wrecks as we go through life.

Yep, that enough Woody Allen films for awhile.

Amidst the strains of Cole Porter

I have watched two Woody Allen films in the last 12 hours.

Normally, for someone with my creative aspirations in acting, film, and writing, not to mention comedy, that would seem like a positive immersion into the study of craft.

However, for a lonely, depressive man on the verge of marital ruin, you should know better that it is a desperate cry for help.

Annie Hall and Hannah and Her Sisters. Alvy and Mickey. Two of my favorite Woody Allen characters. Of course, I would have to add to that my other two favorites, Isaac of Manhatten and Cliff from Crimes and Misdemeanors. Give me a little more time and those will be viewed too.

Watching Annie Hall, with my current perspective, just highlighted the polymorphous ( Woody uses that word in both movies, so I thought it appropriate) confusion of The End. By that, I mean, The End of love. That whole movie is about the end of love. That and the frequent doubt that comes with it. Love doesn't die. More like it gets buried. Usually under hate due to betrayal or rejection. When there aren't those in The End, love always remains very near the surface and always rises at the most unfortunate times.

I just took a call from my wife. She was calling to apologize for the fourth time. The other night we had a huge fight. Some of that was that surface love bubbling up. Many awful things were said. After, the worst feeling in the world came over me. As much as I want to move on, I still love her and want the best for her and hope that she is happy. It is difficult to try and strive for what is best for you, if what is best for you hurts someone that you hope can be happy.

Which brings me to Hannah and Her Sisters. The whole movie is about people's needs and how we bounce off of one another trying to get what we need, and trying to give what they need, but ultimately, neither of us being altogether successful.

Again, the needs of my life are now solely my objective and no one else's. That is how it should be. The needs of my wife are now hers alone. Not mine. Sure, we care for the one's we love and always want to help them achieve what they need and desire, but in truth, we can't really do it. As my wife talks to me of the hell of finding an apartment, and the high cost of pieces of shit, and the amount that life is going to cost her, and the amount of compromise she is now going to be forced to take, my heart breaks. Every man, as society has always taught us, wants to provide and "take care of" their woman. Modern man looks for an independant, strong woman that can be more of an equal, but it doesn't stop their underlying desire to be the provider. Even in the throes of divorce, I want to set up shop for her.

Love.

All I know is, I better be careful after watching Crimes and Misdemeanors. What I may do then!

addendum

Well, as it turned out, my dentist appointment became only a preliminary meeting. My tooth doesn't get fixed until Sept. 15th. Then I didn't have to rush across town for my audition, and once there, it turned out they didn't want me to play a lion. In fact, the scene will be two lions, but they wanted us to talk like to dudes sitting on a couch. So, I did. I mean dude. I mean, duuuuuude.

Improv rehearsal tonight was okay. The format that I had suggested to my director to try out didn't work. Not that it totally failed, but he won't use it any time soon. He said we need to work on it much more. Too bad. The rest of our rehearsal was fine, but each time he would get up to give notes, he had an ever increasing look of frustration. I fear our show tomorrow, especially because we are missing two members, and one of them is our funniest guy.

So, that is the that.

I was thinking that lately this blog is turning into a bitch or whine session, and that maybe I ought to cheer the fuck up a bit. I think that naturally I am a depressive. All of my relationships have had that moment where the girl gets frustrated with me because I am never happy.

Odd. I am one of the most optimistic and gregarious people I know, and yet, alone or in my "private" moments, I am so down on everything. You people are going to get real sick of this, just you wait. I actually have to mentally make a concious effort to be positive, and when you have to do it like that, it gets tiring trying all the time. So, I lapse and start to bitch, piss, and moan.

So, the fuck stops here.



Possible story ideas for future movies made in the Woody Allen vain:

1) Man gets divorced and meets a much younger woman who connects with him intellectually at first, making him giddy with the attention and vitality, but over time he comes to realize the tremendous differences in both of their outlooks. Reluctant to let go of this, he continous the relationship with disastrous results.

2) Former married couple meet after many years of not seeing each other. Both reminisce about the positive aspects of their former relationship, and decide that they have grown and try again. Eventually, all of the old patterns start to re-emerge and their new relationship is again destroyed.

3) A type A personality struggling to have the perfect life takes in their sibling, whose life is falling apart. The type A looks down on the failure of the sibling, but all of the associates and friends of the type A person come to love the failed sibling, and this makes the type A furious, because they are trying to do the right thing in life, but that it isn't working for them.

Faster than I can live

I feel lately like I'm living in a whirlpool.

I don't seem to have a handle on my life. Partly due to the swirl of emotion I am constantly feeling or receiving. Partly due to the purgatory-like state of non progression that I'm caught in until things get figured out and completed. Also, partly due to the fresh new start that I am feeling with my career, and to a lesser extent, my future.

I had intended to write here every day. Lately, I haven't. I find myself feeling not very funny, and that doesn't motivate me to write. Not that my past posts have been all that hysterical, but each time I sit, I try to reach the wry in me. Sometimes I accidentally reach the rye. See, not funny.

Also, it seems the answers are getting harder. The divorce is getting harder. The future and where to go into it is getting harder. Some days I have no idea what to say about what I feel. I would rather put a post up with some sort of structure and, if not resolution, at least insight.

This post will not have that.

I have to leave soon for the dentist, where I will get my tooth fixed. Then I have to rush across town and audition for a commercial for Taco Bell by playing the part of a patient, hungry lion. After that, I have the single rehearsal to try and fix and save the improv troupe show we are doing, which right now is the shining force in my life.

What do you say about a day like that?

Plus, I started the day off watching the two hour, unbroken by commercials, broadcast on ABC of the life of Peter Jennings. I always respected him, and would always watch him, and feel a great loss now that he is gone. The show was incredible and he was a very great man. What a huge impact, what a generous soul, what a humble man, and what an inspiration.

Now I have to go be a mouth-numb, hungry lion who has all of his happiness lying on the line.

Whoosh, swirl, whoosh, gurgle.

Swimming in dangerous waters

Last night, or actually Sunday night, I went to a final party for the improv show that I loved. We met at a girl's house who used to be in the show; she had been coming to ours and had missed our last show. After watching the tape, we went down to her heated pool and Jacuzzi. Oh, yeah. Great time.

After the bulk of our cast left, it got down to a couple of guys who were on the make, and a couple of girls who were looking to be made. And me. I just floated around in the pool, thinking I was way too old, and way too mature, for all of this. I also thought, Oh my God, is this what being an aged actor in Hollywood is like? Swimming around a girl's pool who is much too young for you, and much too drunk to feel like it was a connection. No, not for me. I just floated. Floating is a good metaphor, right now.

As I drifted (also good), one of the girls from my cast swam over, and asked if I was all right. She asked how life was going; knowing all the circumstances, I think she was concerned I might be depressed. I told her that I was feeling the strongest about my life choices as I have in a long time. She was happy.

Then she said, "I was talking to another girl at ACME, and we agreed that now that you are single, you are dangerous. You used to be safe when you were married, but now you are dangerous."

I must confess, I was a bit perturbed by that comment. She is dating a friend of mine, and I have known this girl for over a year, and NOW I am dangerous. I felt like she was saying that now I always had ulterior motives. That's not true. I will tell you if I want you! And I won't tell you I want you if I don't!

When I asked a girl at work tonight about this interchange, she said that she agreed with my cast mate. She said that most girls operate with either guard up, or guard down. She said that it wasn't that she felt like I could seduce her, it was more like how to deflect unwanted advances. Guard up means you are ready for the unwanted attention, and will deflect with ease and subtlety. Guard down is you weren't expecting for this guy to hit on you, and it took you off your game.

I asked the girl at work if she felt like I was dangerous now. She said no. She said that she understood my cast mate feeling that way, but that for her, well, she sees me way too often to ever have her guard up again.

Again, I was offended. What did that mean? You see me so much, that nothing I could do would ever seduce you?! You mean to tell me, as seems to be a pattern in my life, that the more a woman gets to know me, the less attractive I am? Shit.

I think I am very unprepared for what I am about to begin. I realize that I never really understood women, but I had gotten to a point to know when I was in too deep. Now, it is all unfamiliar water.

I'm going to drown!

A creative life of quiet scrutiny

I am reading a semi-auto bio on Woody Allen. Rather than detail his life, though, this goes through each of his movies, one by one in order, and discusses the themes and motivations behind making them.

It is an inspirational read.

This may sound funny coming in the whole post Soon Yi era, but I think he really has his head square on his shoulders. So many of the things he talks about I would love to incorporate into my life.

Primarily, I love his idea that his films are his career, and not huge entertainment events. He doesn't hype his films, because he doesn't care what you think of them. He doesn't even care for them. He never views them after they are done. He starts on his next project. His life is about making films. So, that's what he does.

Now, there have been times, recently, that I thought, why doesn't he just take a year off and combine his ideas into one really funny script rather than two crappy ones. That would probably do it too, because there have been moments in these last few years of truly funny stuff. Sadly, it is usually buffered by drivel.

For him, though, that isn't the point. He wants to spend several months a year filming. Hell, so do I. After filming, he takes a new idea and writes it out. Usually, it only takes him two drafts, and then he considers it done. Then he sets about finding the locales, as his CD Juliet Taylor offers up names of actors for him to consider. He is one of those directors that casts an actor believing they can already do the part and he just lets them act. Minimal direction. He thinks it would be arrogant of him to think he could tell them how to do it better. Then the last important step is editing, which is still, for him, an opportunity for creative inspiration. He is never really locked into the original concept, and always willing to tamper. Some of his greatest non-linear moments were discovered in editing. Once, when he got to editing, he realized he had made a mistake in filming, and reshot the entire film. That was September, and due to some of the original actors having previous conflicts, he even had to recast several roles.

The idea of working out your thoughts and ideas in this fashion, sort of like a blog with film, really appeals to me. He is one of the only working directors with this autonomous deal, and probably one of the last. He made his bed in the late sixties, and the money grubbers would never have let him do that today. He still even has a hard time keeping it this way, but his films are made for such small budgets, and he would be willing to throw it all away if he couldn't do it the way he wants.

Maybe with the increase in digital film, and the access that anyone can have to those tools, the autonomous autuer will be reborn and will be able to have a full career. Starting, of course, with the early funny ones.

Irish Spring, Secret, Right Guard, Sure?

Last night's show was horrible. I think I now know what flop sweat is.

It couldn't have come at a worse time, too. Just the night before, the owner of the theatre sat us down and told us that the improv program was not making enough money, and it was almost eliminated. Instead, they took away our time slot, and will sell it to an outside organization who can make them cash. They then put us on the same ticket as the main improv company, so we are now piggybacking them.

The upside is we still get to perform, and our dues don't get raised, and actually I think that 11PM on a Friday is better than 8:30PM.

The downside is we really need to prove ourselves with this run, and we are running one of the weakest shows ever. Hopefully, we get better. Obviously, we will. Just the mere fact of doing it over time will help, but we really need to make a leap in the improvement category.

Last night's audience was made up of mostly friends and fellow troupe members, people who would laugh at the worst things just because they love you or know what it is like, and we STILL couldn't get a laugh. Worse is, you stand in back while other people on stage are doing their scenes, and you can see all the long faces in the audience. Not really inspirational.

The mega-super worse part is that starting next week, we follow the main company show. Which is to say that all these audience folks are going to sit through one hour of a tight, long running, hilariously unique format, and then, like lambs to the slaughter, come in for the second half... our shit fest.

So, we have one week to really get it right. Which is one night, actually, because we only rehearse on Thursdays. Oh yeah, and the owner of the theatre is going to be there next week! Whoopee!

Now what sort of deodorant prevents flop sweat?

Help us, God.

ruminations

Ok, Mom is gone.

This really was the worst time I have ever had with her. I felt so disconnected from her, and I keep trying to go back and see what my part in the whole thing was, but all I can see is her not listening, stumbling forward on her assumed path of the right thing to do, and just talking for talking sake, even if it made no sense.

I know that she just loves me, and wants me to be ok, but she just couldn't let that go. I really think she had no clue as to what an awful job she was doing. She actually asked me if she should stay longer. Oh, my god, can you imagine?

I think I rebelled at her because I just couldn't tell her that she was using stupid metaphors, or that she was drunk, and pointless statements were coming out of her mouth. How do you tell your mom that stuff? Instead, I just shut down, and wouldn't talk, or I would try to change the subject on her, or find the holes in her logic, and ask her what they meant until she herself gave up. I was a bit cruel.

So, gotta put that behind me. Move forward.

I did get cast in the next improv show, in fact, both runs of it, which means I will be doing improv with them until April of next year. That is a long time. I better be great by then. I wish it was the soap format that we had such great success with, but this will be more of a challenge and learning experience for me, and that is probably better.

Oh, the roomate thing!

I had initially wanted to live with a woman, since I had been use to that standard of clean and domesticity for some time now. I just didn't know any women who needed a place to live, and I thought it would be weird putting an ad out for a woman, and then having them find out I just got divorced, and having to prove to them that I won't rape them. It's almost like dating.

Still, however, I didn't want a big, sloppy guy.

Then, I thought, with the help of a friend, of another friend of mine, who is in need of some financial solvency, and taking on a roomate would be just the thing. He is gay, which means he falls into the in-between category of what I was looking for. Not sloppy, but totally into me raping him.

The only hitch is, he comes with a dog. We will have to see if his dog will get along with my cat, and more important, if my cat will allow his dog to get along with it.

When I think of the financial ease of splitting the cost of this place with him, though, I get giddy with the idea that I will be able to afford so much now. Like lunch. And clothes. Ooh, the luxury of it all. Maybe, just maybe, if I feel indulgent, I could get proper medical treatment for that lesion affecting my liver.

That will be a lot better than chewing on beetle dung, like that Mexican chiclet seller told me to do.

Down and Up

Let's just say that things a day ago could not have been described as worse.

After just 3 hours of sleep, I picked up my mother.

My plan was to take her out to eat, rent a nice economy car with A/C, then turn my Geo in to be fixed. After dinner with just the two of us, things would smooth out, and we would have a great day at the ocean together and then go see a solid comedy show.

Really frickin beautiful. Right?

On the ride back from the airport, she decides that she needs to review all of my decisions and agree or not agree with them. Some how I played right into that hand, until I told her, with a quite unintentional squeak to my "serious" voice, I have made all the right decisions and that is that!

Over breakfast, she continued. I told her that she was not going to make me happy, no matter what she did, and she had better start getting used to that idea. That stopped the talking for awhile. All talking, really. Which was worse?

Then all rental cars were out. No chance. Not til Monday. Shit.

Then the goddamn part wasn't even at the mechanics, so, pissed off at everything, I told him to cancel and just to screw it.

Then she took me for a walk. 30 minutes later, we found ourselves in a book store. She wants to buy a book for me, but doesn't have the money on her, but we will just make sure it is here. I felt flooded with emotion, and thought I might vomit. I told her I needed to leave, which concerned her and we left.

On the walk home, I broke down. She tried to tell me a story about a man with terminal cancer, who is living out his dreams on an Alaskan cruise, but finished the story with the tangent, "he will probably die on the cruise"! Was she trying to cheer me up, and then forgot, or was there a lesson in that tale?

Again, she told me that when we get home I should lie down. I yelled that I was not tired, and that no matter how many times she told me to lie down, it still would not make me tired. I told her to drop it.

Three minutes later, she said that if I just lied on the bed, I would feel better, and I didn't have to sleep, just lie there, and that not to feel like I couldn't use the bed, even though I told her she could use it.

I told her that A) I just wasn't tired yet, and B) when I got tired I would tell her, and C) I had told her to drop it and this is not what I meant.

That stopped the talking for awhile.

We got the car door fixed on the cheap, and put that behind us.

Later she invited the aunt that she hates to dinner with us. They sat on either side of me, and verbally tried to one up each other. My mother, dressed in a bright polka-dotted dress, with a perma-grin for the public plastered onto her face, repeatedly told tales of how emotionally miserable I was all day. My aunt, bitter and angry, dressed all in brown and black, came back with stories of how I was really happy now. I thought that they were the angel and devil sitting on my shoulders, and if I leaned far enough back into my chair, they would get small and rise up in my vision, and it seemed like that was indeed what was happening. I remember thinking I couldn't wait for the next cartoon to start, so that this one would end.

Later that night, I smoked a cigar on the patio, and wished like hell I could tell someone, anyone this story.

The next day, she woke me late (so that I could sleep!), so breakfast by the ocean was actually lunch. Then the car door wouldn't open, and she had to crawl in from the driver's side. Really dignified, great leap from nice A/C, to 50 year old squat-hopping over the emergency brake.

On the beach, as I smoothed out the bumps in the sand, a metaphor that did not go unnoticed by either of us, she told me how life would get better and how regret was something that I should not let get me. Was she telling me, in the same breath, that I would both be okay soon AND hate all of my choices? I didn't know what the lesson was. As her lips moved, I remember thinking to myself, "shut up. Just shut up."

Later, to fill the space, she told me of a boy that was beaten to death with his own bike lock. Then the killer skipped out on bail, a bail his family had put up. What was that supposed to mean?!?! Why are you telling me this?!?!? Just shut up!

That's when I decided that she needed to start spending some serious cash on me, otherwise I was going to look back at this and well with rage.

So, far, she has dropped about $550 on things I didn't even need, and I don't know if they will even dent the pain. I just kept saying yes, hoping something would make me smile and ger her off my back.

Later that night, I chipped off the lower half of my left front tooth trying to bite my own finger nail. She said my teeth were probably bad due to stress. Really?!

Then today. I had no plans. I had given up. Went through most of the day consuming. Jeans, shorts, music, tuna.

Nothing made me smile. Nothing made me want to start a conversation. I just hoped she wouldn't start one herself. I think she felt that. She had her first glass at 12:30.

Then we went to the spa, that she insisted on, and, thank god, we were seperated. I sat, naked, in the jacuzzi, and read GQ, and had Ernesto pour me some more iced citrus water. I had my massage, and actually felt myself relax mentally. I didn't think that was going to happen. After, I returned to the jacuzzi, and pretended I was some very important person who had just completed a big deal, and I sat all pompous and naked, lording over the bubbles.

Then at dinner, my wife stopped by. She needed a check, and had meant to come by while we were out, but had run late. Now, she had smacked into that which she so desperately had wanted to avoid: Mommy, now 5 glasses in.

I must say, Mom did ok. She hugged, and chatted, and made a light snack, and told a joke that actually made my wife burst out laughing. Something I have not seen in months.

But the whole time my wife was there, she was bitter, and dropped hints to the fact often. I caught myself thinking, "Oh, just let it go and be happy, for god's sake!" Then I realized that my reaction to my wife's pain was exactly what my mother's reaction to mine was. Then I softened. I tried to be nice to my wife, knowing where she is at, and when she left, I sat my mom down and told her all from the start.

After, she told me with far too many words, that all she wants for me is to be happy, and that she thinks I am doing the right thing, and that I will always make it work.

I remember thinking, "stop, stop right there. Don't speak anymore. That was it."

That stopped the talking for awhile.