Yet Again

My date has been once again pushed back.

Ridiculous really.

The thing is... she sounds so genuine when she apologizes that I can't seem to give up on her.

I got out of acting class today, and had a message from her. She said her boss has instructed her that Friday is a very busy day, and she won't be able to leave early.

She said over and over again that she is not blowing me off.

So, of course, I figured she was blowing me off.

Then, I couldn't get that cute little lilt of her voice out of my head, so I called her. At 11PM.

That's about when things get going for me, so I figured she would be up.

The phone rang until right before the voicemail kicks in. I was telling myself not to leave a message when a tiny little hello came my way.

Were you sleeping? I was hoping she would say no. She said no.

No. I had only just got into bed, and I did have the sleep mask over my eyes, but I hadn't fallen asleep yet.

You gotta be kidding!? You put on a sleep mask, and get into bed, and THEN YOU ANSWER THE PHONE?!

I tried to make a joke about why would you answer the phone, but she told me it was her bad because she doesn't have an alarm clock and has to use the phone as one, so it was on.

I joked and said, Thank goodness you have so many jobs, you might be able to afford an alarm clock soon.

She mildly laughed and said yeah. She said she probably shouldn't have answered the phone, but she did want to talk to me, and not play more phone tag.

I thought that was sweet. Then she said:

Plus, the sleeping pill hasn't kicked in yet.

I thought that this couldn't go worse.

I have now called a girl who I have been trying to date for three weeks now, with no success, to reschedule and not only did I wake her up, but she is drugged! What more could go wrong.

You'll probably tell me you just came from a funeral today, now.

No, she said, that was last month.

First of all, if you have any familiarity with Murphy's Law, as someone who has lived my life should, you would learn to never, EVER, make a funeral joke. ESPECIALLY WHEN TRYING TO GET THE FIRST DATE!

I smacked myself in the head, and stood there shaking back and forth. No joke in the entire world of language could save anything right now.

She said, My grandfather would have laughed at that.

That is an out. She was giving me an out. So, what do I say?

Your grandfather, is that the person who died?

I'm continuing the conversation!!!! Why am I continuing to talk about the dead grandfather????

Somehow, we were able to get off her perished ancestors. I think I asked for a moment to unlodge my shoe from my esophagus.

She actually segued into when we could possibly meet. So far, we have decided on next Wednesday. I need to call her early next week to confirm, or I should say, to find out what goes wrong then.

We joked a bit after. She did seem eager to try and talk to me. Even said she hates to talk on the phone because she feels like she says stupid things. I wanted to say, sister, I have you beat in that category tonight.

Instead I said, That might be the result of the sleeping pills.

She said goodnight, and I wished her a good time at the play she is seeing tomorrow night.

I heard her catch her breath. She came back with, Good memory. Wow. Thanks.

Can you believe after a phone call like that, I can actually say I was smooth. Me neither.

Pain pill

So, I am in excruciating pain.

Yesterday was the worst. From the moment I awoke, actually even before, I was screaming out at every move and turn.

I was also exhausted. Having had a party til dawn on Sat. Then, waking early Sunday and going to the four hour event, and the two hours of drinking afterwards.

By the way, I lost at the awards show, but had a GREAT time. Really touching, and funny, and just like a big family. I'm loving it.

The comedy show after was great. Sitting with friends, watching friends be funny, and then drinking afterwards with TO. Yes, she was there. We are in a good place now. We still both hopelessly(on my part) flirt with each other, but we both know that is where it will stay.

After hanging out, I actually gave her a hug goodbye, and at the same time we both said, This was great, we should do this more often.

We laughed about that.

The next morning, one of my friends new to the theatre, emailed me asking if she was single. That made me laugh. I don't think I had ever told him about the crush I had, so I didn't want to get into a whole story. I simply wrote back "taken", but never did a single word hold so much emotion.

Sunday into Monday was real bad. Pain at every turn in bed. Constantly being woken up. I finally outfitted the bed to sleep in a sitting up position, and that got me a few hours.

All day Monday was hell. Work Monday night was worse. I'm broke, so I had to do it, but carrying stacks of empty dishes was torture. All my co workers tried to help. I love them.

Last night I popped a special pill that a friend gave me, and sat to bed. The pill didn't really take away the pain, but made me so tired that I didn't care.

It actually turned out to be an ok night. Not many stabbing incidents. I woke up this morning actually wondering if the pain was gone. Trying to get out of bed made me remember the pain was still there, but it seems less today somehow.

Just moving super slow, and trying not to do anything strenuous.

God, imagine my date on Friday. Charming is tough to achieve when you are wincing. That, and how do you explain to someone that your eleven years on them is not such a wide gap when you walk like Ratzo Rizzo from Midnight Cowboy.

I personify old right now. Old and feeble. That's sexy!

Ouchie-wowa

I may have bruised, or even cracked, my ribs.

Terrible, exhausting pain.

Can't cough, or move fast, or deep inhale, or flinch, or rise, or roll over in bed, without pain.

But, I got a huge laugh, so it was worth it.

Yep. Slave to the funny.

Did a great pratfall in the show, which involved me sitting in a chair and, without moving a muscle, tipping the chair on to its side while remaining sitting. When I landed, my elbow smacked into my ribs, causing the injury.

Everyone said it was great. Then hugged me. I wasn't going to let on that I was hurt, but I couldn't take the hugs anymore. Those I have told have said, Well, you got a huge laugh.

The priorities of performers is wonked.

Have the awards show tonight. The theatre where I improv is holding an inclusive awards show, and I am nominated twice.

It really feels great to be nominated. Rewarding, and validating. Mostly because the nominees were chosen by the director of our show and the owner of the theatre.

I would love to win. How cool would that be? Not one year into doing improv, and be chosen best.

However, the two guys I am up against are both seriously good. Better than me, maybe. Plus, they are two of my closest pals. So, it will really be great whatever happens. I hope to sit with them, and just laugh all night long.

My weekly bet is in stagnation.

My buddy lost 0 pounds this week, and I talked to 0 women.

I feel awkward trying to meet women when I have a date this Friday.

I was never a player, and I don't think I will ever be. This date's chances of success are like any, probably the percentage is against it working out. Too many variables to guarantee success. So, trying to meet other women would be totally reasonable. I just feel weird.

So, we will see how the date goes, and then I will either resume, or resign.

I hope the date goes well. She just has the cutest voice. I could listen to that. You know, if she has something to say.

What a prick.

Apples and Going Bananas

So, I had a hot time yesterday.

Played phone tag with the girl all day.

She sure has a cute voice. Sure wish I could put it with a face.

I know what she looks like. Sort of. It was over two weeks ago, and I only saw her for about twenty minutes.

Finally got a hold of her. We tried to find a time, but she is really busy, and I'm mildly busy. We were jokey about it, so that is a good sign.

She said she was going to bring her day planner to prove she is this busy and not just blowing me off.

I said I believed her, that I wasn't going to think of her as malicious right from the start. I told her I would give her a couple of dates to show how malicious she is.

We settled on a coffee date next Friday. She had to work that day, and I have my show at night. I don't know if she will then come see my show. Isn't it funny that I would feel really vulnerable having her see my show. It's like seeing me naked, only less funny.

Then, after rehearsal I called my roomie to see if he and his X were here, and should I join them for drinks.

He said get home. There has been a fire.

Panic isn't quite the word to describe what I felt. Oppressive does it better.

I thought that all I had left was the ripped blazer and shirt and jeans on my body. I thought of rebuilding, and how tough and expensive that would be.

I thought of my cat.

Pulling up to firetrucks spraying down your home is a unique experience. You sort of feel a sense of authority. Hey, that's my home, you feel like saying to them. How dare you spray water all over it.

You feel like you can just walk in the front door, and then you look at the seven to ten hulks who are the firemen, and you realize you have no place here anymore.

Obviously, my home is still here. My cat is alive.

One of the junk cars that this ditzy artist in the building keeps parked caught fire. It blew up. My car is usually parked two away from that one. Had it been there, I would have no car.

The fire burned up into the building. Huge black streaks adorn our exterior. It looks like an Outback ad.

The apartment was filled with smoke. So much, in fact, that you couldn't see across the room.

BGR started throwing open windows, and I searched for my cat. Thank god he is small and, when frightened, hides under the bed. It probably saved his life. Being so low to the ground, he didn't get asphyxiated.

We started up five fans, and within a half hour it was like someone had burnt dinner.

Everything still smells. I guess smoke damage is that you never get the smell out. Yeah!

Still, I felt incredibly lucky. I still have my cat, and my car, and all my stuff.

That momentary future, with nothing, was dark. God bless those that are there.

Another hug your children moment brought to you by the makers of Life!

Live and Die By...

My friend told me that I live and die by my performances, or my feelings about my performances.

It's true. I'm trying to work on that.

Now, I have another thing to live and die by.

Girls.

I went to therapy today. After reading last night's posts, I'm sure that a collective sigh of relief is being had by all.

The great thing about therapy, especially if you have been in it a long time like me, is you can really get to the heart of the matter right away, and, like my favorite sitcoms, solve your problems within a half hour. Maybe forty minutes.

I came out of the session feeling great. I talked all about the girl and the date and the no call, and just realized by the end that none of it was personal towards me, and that I really kind of want this.

So, I called her.

Got a message, and was witty, not desperate.

Just said I was thinking about her, and wondering how she is, and wanted to say hi. Told her if she didn't accidentally delete my message, to call me back and gave my number.

Ten minutes later she wrote me a text. Said she was sorry she hadn't called, that she is really busy this week, and that she will call once she gets away from work.

Zoom. Up shot my feelings. And I was feeling good. So, live and die. How fun.

Now I sit here waiting for the return call.

Well, not sitting here doing nothing. I am going about my day. Trying to figure out the cable. They installed it while I was gone, and technology scares me. Even twenty year old technology.

Calculators are the worst. Ooh, scary.

Is it enough

I've had many drinks tonight.

I just feel lonely.

So much good is happening in my life, and at the same time, what I thought was the only thing that mattered, is slowly and surely dying.

I feel, or should say I think, it is right.

Just, I come home at night, and I feel like enjoying someone's company, and tell them the good things that happened to me, and, just as important, hear the good things that happened to them.

I know that this date wasn't going to supply that.

Maybe I was putting too much onto this date. Maybe this date won't happen and that is best. I really was just trying to be open and just have some fun.

Rejection is something I've had to always deal with. Everybody does, I guess, but acting and love together make for a shit of a tough life. I don't wish this on anybody else ever, but it is what I do. I can't imagine anything else. So...

I would have loved to have failed at this based on it happening rather than not.

I know I can still call. I know there is a chance she might still call.

Hell, I told you I had many drinks. If you can't purge in a blog, then where the hell else can you purge?

Deni always said don't blog drunk.

Deni, from the start, I never took your advice. Sorry.

I might just delete this whole fucking thing. I think I am writing just to do something. I don't even think I actually feel all of the things I am writing. I just need something to do while I drink.

Hey, tomorrow I get cable for the first time in my whole life.

Wow, welcome to the eighties. Huh?

BGR and I decided to do it because the Soprano's is starting up again. Love that show.

Started watching that show at his house actually. He and his wife were out of town, and we were dog sitting. I had a HUGE fight with X that night, so I went to their house alone. I was bored, so I popped in the DVD of the first season, just to see what all the buzz was about.

It hit me. The first episode is all about Tony having his first panic attack. Well, I had just started having panic attacks when I watched that, so, I felt a connection to say the least.

That got me hooked, and there it is.

I'll tell you, never in a million years throughout our whole relationship would I have guessed that BM and I would ever be roomies.

It is going great, don't get me wrong, but, God, I never would have thought.

His X is coming into town this weekend. She is staying here. In his bed.

Creepy.

When X and I started our summary dissolution, I turned to him and said, Look it is so easy.

Hint, hint.

Yeah. Well. OK.

Been a real treat jabbing with you all. Sure wish it amounted to something more than me signing off, and maybe an email later.

Blogs are like tattoos. If you don't do it solely for yourself, than you will most likely be dissappointed at some point.

Yeah. Well. OK.

Everything's Great

Good day.

Really.

Good job as a TA for the first time. I didn't suck.

Good job in acting class. Was told I did the best in a mock audition.

Really. Nothing to complain about.

Well.

Ok. One tiny, insignificant, miniscule thing.

She hasn't called yet.

I know. I know.

No big deal. Nothing to worry about.

Or, why don't you just call her.

Sure. No problem.

We left it at her calling me, because her week was too busy, but I'm sure something explainable happened, or she will call eventually.

Sure. Sure.

No problem.

Doesn't faze me. A relief actually.

No problem.

Uh-hem.

Why doesn't she goddamn, motherfucking, for christ's sake call me?

shit

I got nothin

Nothing really to talk about today.

No phone call from "her" yet.

No great stories from work, or from my neurosis, to relate.

Nothing even to say tomorrow on my first day being a TA. I'm just going to sit and try not to make a fool of myself.

The only thing that was remotely funny that happened to me today was: at work there is this retarded kid who comes in and talks with the staff often.
Tonight he was there, and talking to this one guy. Well, the guy asks the retarded kid if he has seen Brokeback Mountain yet. The kid has no idea what the movie is, so the guy starts to explain the movie.
Well, the retarded kid is repulsed by the idea of gay cowboys, and can't believe this guy, who he idolizes, has seen it, and worse, has asked if he's seen it.
He says, I don't like that movie! I like women. I like their butts.

I swear to god, I spit out my wine I was laughing so hard.

You gotta admit, their butts are nice.

Small gain, small loss

Well, the Sunday check in has arrived.

I have acquired one more notch this week. Bringing my grand total up to 5. Ooh, boy! I'm on a tear!

My friend has lost one more pound. Bringing him down to 235. Careful! Don't waste away!

I would say that waiting to see which of us wins, and even better, which loses and is humiliated, is quite exciting, except that it isn't really.

I think if it wasn't for the Sunday updates, you will have forgotten about this contest by the time it ends. Which is forecasted for some time in 2011.

summary dissolution

Today, Saturday, X and I started the procedure to officially become divorced.

It started out a crappy day.

I had a dream.

I dreamt I lived in a dorm. I awoke in my dorm, and had no idea where my cat was. Looking for him, I found him with a friend of mine. They were sleeping together on a bed, and my friend had brought a plate of food and a bowl of water into the bed with him for my cat.

I thought that was sweet. It looked so cute to see my cat sleeping with my friend, his tiny paw resting on the now empty plate, and the knowledge that my friend cares so much for me, he made sure to feed my cat even while he slept.

Then my other cat climbed over my friend and started to lick my cat in a very familiar and loving way. It didn't register to me in the dream that this was odd. It didn't register to me that my other cat has been dead for a year and a half. I only saw the love that both of my cats felt for each other, and I thought that was so sweet.

It was only when I woke up that I realized my other cat was dead.

Such a pain took over me then, it took several hours to escape.

At first, I started to cry. I can't let go of my guilt, and grief, of my cat's death.

Then, many evil thoughts entered my brain.

I thought of how poorly I did last night. The improv show has one of the best, most vocal followings of any show I've been a part of. The audience is great. We had a great show.

However, my personal performance was less than I would have hoped for.

I got laughs, but for a couple of scenes, I really struggled. I hate to struggle.

I tried not to let it get to me, but I wasn't doing very well. Plus, my friends who had come were long time regulars, and they were happy that the show was a good one.

But that wasn't how I felt. Back to the old live by the performance conundrum. Good show, feel great. Poor show, feel bad.

Also, I am a huge egomaniac. I found myself actually interrupting two people who were conversing to talk about the show they had just seen. They let me know how pathetic I was, but indulged me nevertheless.

Lying in bed this morning, depressed over my cat, I relived all of those thoughts.

Then, I started down an even worse path.

I started to think that the good times were now over. I felt my luck had changed, and now only bad would come. I thought that my date would go terrible. Then, I thought that my date would be fine, but that she would see me for the depressed pathetic person I am and decide that she wanted none of that.

I couldn't decide though if I thought my date would be ruined by her or me. I was 50/50 with who would be more responsible for the failure when I decided to just get the fuck out of bed.

I sat for an hour before I even made coffee.

If you know anything about me, that is the biggest warning sign that things are not right ever.

Finally, X came by.

She had emailed me earlier this week saying that she had something for me, and also that she felt like the time had come. I had told her early in the new year that I thought we should officially get divorced. She was taken aback, but thought I was probably right. Neither of us brought it up again, and that was that.

Now, she felt, the time was right.

So, when she came by, I told her I found a site to do it cheap. It seems that if you don't have kids or property or money, and you don't want to fight, divorce is easy.

It is a summary dissolution.

And it only costs $300!

Filling out the questionnaire, I had a pang of regret. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I thought for a brief second that this was so, so very wrong.

We finished the questions, and charged the bill.

She left.

I felt more alone then than when all of my belongings seemed to be gone.

I had to go to work, and so I got ready and left.

Driving, I tried to shake the malaise. I tried to challenge every bad thought.

Ok, my cat is dead. I have the one still, and he is so very loving. I didn't kill my other cat on purpose. So, don't beat yourself up. At least he still visits in your dreams, and they are pleasant visits.

Look at your show last night. Ok, got a laugh there, and there, and there. That guy called you funny, and that guy. The two bad scenes, well, ok, you should have made this choice, and that. Still, nothing to hide in shame about.

The ego with the friends thing? Well, be a better friend! Listen to them. Feel for them. Talk to them about things they are doing. It doesn't always have to be me, me, me. Learn to accept that because we are alone in this world, even when we are with people, and if you don't get to the point of being easy with yourself, then no one else will either.

Divorce is what you need. It is where you want to go. It is ok. Nothing strange with feeling sad at the end, in fact, it is totally normal and healthy to feel the loss and sadness. Good for you!

As for your date, well, who knows? It is totally open. It could go terrible. It could go great. Who knows? Just be open. Just be you. Just be interested in who you are with. Just let what happens happen. It all happens for a reason. Even the worst possible date scenario would probably be exactly what I need right now. Also, the best possible scenario. Who knows?

I feel better now.

I'm ready for the week.

I want to hear how your day went.

So...

# 5

After rehearsal, I went to IO to see a friend perform. Having drinks before the show, with a male friend, I noticed a girl with a tattoo peeking out from under her half shirt.

I couldn't stop staring at it. The small of her back, the downey hairs trailing along her spine, the creamy skin off set with that hint of black ink playing hide and seek with me every time her shirt would lift and fall.

I pointed it out to my friend, and he said he had noticed, and couldn't stop looking.

So, I walked over to her.

Just as I got to her, she stood. I said, I like your tattoo.

Thanks, she said, a bit curtly.

What is it?

A paisely, she said. She gave me a look like she was thinking go ahead and make fun of it, I dare you.

I smiled, thinking that this was probably the first real hostile girl I had talked to. I wasn't being cheesy, or brutish. So far, I was just talking to her about her tattoo. Sadly, like most girls, they think you are going to jump them if they give you one inch of conversation. Sadly, like most guys, guys do try to jump them if given that inch.

I wasn't trying for that. Maybe I would have asked for her number. Maybe not. I have a date coming up. That is good enough for me. I'm not placing all my eggs in that basket, but I don't need to work so hard with someone else if I don't want to.

I didn't say anything more about her tattoo, and she slid past me and walked out.

Maybe she wasn't angry at me, maybe it was displaced emotion. Who knows.

I told her what I wanted to, and that's all I can do.

As to my date....

I found out from my friend who gave me her number that she is 27. I am relieved at that. I was concerned I would be too old for her, but that isn't too far off. 11 years? Right?

I also found out that she didn't advance in her class. That sucks. She was one of only two people who didn't move forward. That's hard.

I feel concern about that. Not that she is a loser, or anything, but most people I know who didn't advance go through a self defense period where they blame and hate the theatre.

What if she is going through that? I'm associated with the theatre. Will she displace her anger on me? Will she want to tell me how much she hates the place, expecting me to agree?

I know I am neurotic, and that I shouldn't expect her to have feelings I don't know she has, but I can't stop thinking about it.

My friend, the mutual contact, doesn't think it will be a problem. She said that she thinks this girl is busy enough with her other stuff to not get too upset about this. Let's hope.

My fears going into this date were age, being funny, and the divorce issue.

Age is no longer a fear. I know I will be funny, so I'm letting go of that. The divorce issue is something I can't do anything about. I'm divorced. If you have a problem with it, goodnight.

Maybe I am creating fears. Maybe I'm looking for excuses. Am I really ready?

I know I am excited. Not in a am I going to get some way, but in a I hope I meet someone cool and fun way.

If I just focus on being myself, and getting to know her, then whatever happens will be fine. Even if it doesn't go well. That will be fine.

Right?

Mystery woman

Another post featuring my first day at the SS studio.

On that day, I was doing very well in class. SS remarked on how confident I seemed. He also remarked how talented, and knowledgeable of comedy, I was.

An older woman was sitting in the first row, not participating. She had been given a special introduction to SS quietly before the class started, and just seemed to be observing.

At the lunch break, she asked about my background. I told her about my improv, making it seem like more than a month of performance. She was kind, but seemed distant, almost professional.

At the next break, she asked for my info to contact me. I didn't know what she would be contacting me for, so I asked if she wanted my agents info. She said no, just yours. I gave it.

Then, she left. Some of the other students asked who she was, and I said I had no idea.

That was the last I heard of her... or so I thought.

Earlier this week, one of the girls in my acting class asked me if I would help her with a reading. She had written a script, a low budget film, and it had producers, and now a possible distribution deal. She and her co-writer, the director, were going to stage a reading for the other producers to see if the script needed fixing, and how all would flow.

I said I would do it, thinking that if I did my part well, maybe they would offer me the role.

I got the script last night, and read half of it before bed, and the other half over coffee this morning. It was funny, not hilarious, but funny. All about a fake reality TV show. I was assigned a small role, but there really wasn't any other role that suited me.

I arrived at the house, out in the valley. A nice ranch house, well decorated from what I could tell through the picture window. Rang the bell.

An older woman answered. We shook hands and I introduced myself. She stopped me.

Oh, my God. You're from the sitcom thing, she said.

Oh, you saw the sitcom competition?

What, no. I mean that day long class. The intensive!

Suddenly, I knew who she was. She was the mystery woman from that day. The director of this film!

She said she had taken down my info because she wanted me in this film, and now here I was.

We laughed about it. My heart was beating too hard.

She asked what role I was reading, and I told her. Oh, you're funnier than that role.

I told her I didn't think any other role suited me. She thought about it, and said, let's see.

We did the reading. It went well. Many people. Long event. Tiring.

Afterwards, I thanked her, and gave her one of my new resumes.

Huh.

Let's see.

That Light at the End of the Tunnel?

Is it getting brighter? Can you start to see the way?

Acting class was fine. Afterwards, I met with TR who is the person I'm going to assist.

When I started taking class, TR was SS's assistant. They made a great pair, with SS having a long career in the biz, but not always able to find the right words to make his point, and TR always able to zero in on what was being thought but not spoken.

At the studio Christmas party, talking with TR, I found out that he alone would be teaching the basic classes, and that SS was now going to teach only the master class, which I was a part of. I told TR I would miss him, and he joked that maybe I could be his assistant. I said that my unqualified ass would be ready in a minute.

When SS offered me the assistant duty, I thought it was at TR's prompting based off of that Christmas party conversation.

I figured that maybe SS was reluctant, but thought that TR could use the help, what with the new popularity of the studio.

I thought I would get in, and show him I was committed, and talented, and maybe then I could get him to offer me a job doing the assistant work.

Tonight, at our meeting, I found out different. TR didn't remember the Christmas conversation. The idea of an assistant was SS's. He approached TR and suggested they make me an assistant. TR told me tonight that SS is worried that TR might hit some luck in his career outside the studio, and he wants someone groomed to take over the basic teaching classes if that happens.

I am the one they are grooming!

TR said that for a half second he was jealous, but now thinks it a good idea, because he wants to hit some luck in his career. He believes this is the universe opening up his schedule so that he can go. I believe this is the universe providing for me what I really want right now.

I told him so, as well.

He said that is maybe one of the reasons why he is happy having me. We think alike.

He also said that he is happy to have me because I always seem positive. He said that over the last six months, I've always had a genuine smile on my face despite all that has happened.

I didn't think he knew about my divorce, so I asked what he meant.

He said he was talking about how my agent dropped me.

I laughed and said that was nothing. I told him how on the first day of class my wife was moving out of the house, and that when SS said to know comedy one must first know pain, and I thought to myself, I'm the funniest motherfucker in this room right now.

He was floored. He said he had no idea. He said that it makes all of the past that much more amazing on my part, because he would never have suspected.

I thanked him, and said that the studio and my improv show saved my life. That now I'm as happy as I've ever been, and that somehow making this my actual job would only make things that much sweeter.

He said I had nothing to worry about.

Then, he said I should also be a teacher at the improv theatre, and said that it was he who taught the theatre's owner. He told me to drop his name to the owner, and to make sure I also say that I'm teaching with him.

Wow. Life, I think you found me.

How much longer can all of this good fortune go for? Am I damning myself for even asking that?

She Called

So, I have a date.

Not specifically. She is busy this week, but said let's do it next week.

We actually talked. I was calm, and slightly witty. She was flustered. It was great to have her nervous, it gave me more power than I deserved.

She couldn't believe I called her. She thought she had been an ass to me. I told her that I'm sure she was kidding, but if she really felt that way then I was in for a store of hurt.

What I wanted to tell her was being an ass to me is a sure way to make me love you.

The logistics of the date will be tough. She is starting a second job, I don't yet know what her first is, but having a second will give very limited time for superfluous stuff like me. I on the other hand have not one single night free. I will most likely blow off a rehearsal or take a night off of work. Once, sure, but that can't happen every week.

So, the difficult is ahead of me. Where to go? What to talk about? When to possibly see each other again, if we want?

Oh, and the worst and simplest of them all... should I kiss her?

My god, am I really asking myself that question?

Feb. 13th, 1986

Twenty years ago today, my maternal grandmother died.

It was the first serious death in my extended family, and was the start of my mother's family falling to pieces.

I was a freshman in college.

I remember it all so well. I was on the speech team, and having very little success. I was also doing a children's show and had just been promoted to the lead, after the original castmember dropped out.

I came home from rehearsal to find my parents gone, and my brother and sister waiting for me in the living room. They told me, cryptically, to go call mom at grandma's house.

In doing so, I learned that she had died.

It was no big surprise.

My grandmother had been battling emphysema for nearly seven years. She had been in and out of hospitals, and on the brink of death, the entire time.

I knew this was coming for some time.

One of her last forays into the hospital was during my senior year in high school, and after school I bummed a ride from some friends and visited her alone in the hospital. During that visit I steeled myself for the inevitable. She was so weak and bloated, I knew at once she didn't have long.

She was a small woman, but fierce. She could swear like a drunken trucker, and never bat an eyelid. That is a trait, many are surprised to learn, that my mother inherited.

My memories of my grandmother are her sitting at a dining room table, cigarette in her veiny, brittle hand, swearing and bitching about whomever, mostly my drunken grandfather.

She was not my favorite, a truth that even today still pangs me with guilt.

When she died, I was just about to embark on a speech trip for the state finals. She died Thursday, I was to leave Friday morning for my trip, returning Saturday night, and the wake was scheduled for Sunday afternoon.

My mother told me over the phone to go on my trip, but, "I damn well better be back for the wake on Sunday!"

Friday afternoon, sitting in a round of OI, which is a mash-up of prose and poetry and theatre all on a single topic, I felt her loss come upon me suddenly. Quietly, I started to cry. We were sitting in a class room. Me and about six other contestants, and one silent judge, all listening to these mash-ups.

I remember suddenly feeling my grandmother's presence. My grief, I felt, had somehow summoned her.

Just then, too, it was my turn to perform.

My topic was child abuse. Yeah, fun!

I had a prose comedy by Mel Brooks, about a thief father who derides his son for not going into the family business. A theatre piece by Christopher Durang about a seriously fucked up child recounting his upbringing. My third piece, I believe, was Flowers for Algernon. It was very serious, and I played both the son, and an abusive mother. Oddly, for the role of the mother, I would channel my grandmother.

So, that day, performing, with her "presence" there with me was strange.

I also won gold that weekend. My first time making finals, not to mention winning.

As the rest of my team was set to leave Saturday night, some friends who went to school at our host school, invited me and some others to stay and party. I really wanted to do it. I was suddenly a cool person due to my win, and wanted to cash in on that. Plus, the release was warranted, I told myself. Hell, I just lost my fucking grandmother.

My mother bitched me out over the phone, but since I was four hours away downstate, there was little she could do. Just fucking be there tomorrow, or your ass is in serious fucking trouble.

I drank that night. I was not a drinker yet, but had witnessed how to do it "properly" from my family.

I also smoked A LOT of pot. That was my particular vice.

I remember one of the guys who invited us had a walk in closet in his bedroom, and he had turned it into his own private bar. He let me and my friend TM use this stash, and we abused it.

I remember falling onto the floor in that closet, I was so drunk, and TM spilling his drink on me. We both laughed, and fixed ourselves another.

Heading downstairs to the party proper, we ran into our host and another of our teammates. They were smoking up, and offered us some. My teammate flicked his lighter and proffered it to me, reaching up next to my liquor soaked sleeve. Instantly, I was on fire.

I was wearing a thermal undershirt with a yellow Hawaiian short sleeve shirt over it. The thermal lit, giving the Hawaiian images on the over shirt a tribal ceremony look.

I waived my arm about as if I was the scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz. I remember recognizing the comedy in the moment and savoring it above any concern I should have for extinguishing myself. It did, indeed, get a big laugh. I became even cooler.

I did make it back in time for the wake.

My grandmother had been cremated, so at the front of the room was a table surrounded by flowers. On the table was a picture of her, and the urn. It seemed cold and detached.

My grandfather was drunk, and depressed. The siblings were already arguing over who would now watch over him. Not trying to pass the buck, but rather, arguing over who would do it best.

He would be dead in just over a year, and his house would be taken by my uncle. No money ever made its way to my family, a point my mother never got over.

The start of the end of my extended family. Also, the start of me using anything at all for comedy, and the benefits that would result.

So, I Called

Wow.

For the first time in eleven and a half years I've asked a girl out on a date.

I called this afternoon. I got the voicemail, but I did it.

I was smooth. Breezy. Witty.

Now, it is up to fate.

I almost puked after I called. Felt like I wanted a drink. Then, sitting here realizing that I just did it, I felt fine. When MM asked me later if I was worried she might call back and say yes, I said no I wasn't worried. I'm looking forward to it. I fully believe she will call me back and say yes, and I couldn't be happier or more excited.

Of course, she hasn't called yet.

Though my friend at work said it was unlikely she would call back the same day. Is that one of those rules you are supposed to know when dating? Do I have to relearn those rules?

Oh well. I called. That is the most important part. Even if I never hear from her again, I tried!

Sunday update

My co-bettor has weighed in. hee, hee.

He has lost 3 pounds. Not as much as he thought would happen the first week. Still, I think that water weight loss in droves is ahead of him, and next Sunday will be a greater drop.

I am at 4 women. They were easy, starting points. No numbers, but that isn't really the point.

However, I do have a number. The girl who I met with my castmate. I asked my castmate for it, because I haven't seen the girl again, but I have a number. I think I'm going to call her, and either invite her to my show, or see if she wants to hang out some other time.

Ooh, how exciting.

In other news, a girl from my acting class has written a movie, and she found out that they now have a budget and distribution for it. The director wants to do a read through, and I told my class mate I would be happy to help if she needed.

Well, she called me and I'm reading for it this Thursday. That could be cool. If I read really well, it will be an almost sure thing that I could get the part. At the very least, it is a general audition for a now working director and producer.

Ooh, how exciting.

Slow down boy

Ok. That previous post was just a wee bit tinged with anger and loneliness.

I feel really great right now. I feel like I am going through the best time of my life. Naturally, when that happens, you feel like loving and being loved.

Probably more like being loved.

As I write this, I'm realizing that what I want is someone to look me in the eyes, and convince me they are proud of me and love me.

I was watching the Fisher King yesterday as I waited for the clock to get to showtime. After Jeff Bridges sets up Robin Williams and Amanda Plummer on their date, Mercedes Ruehl turns to him and as they are making goo goo eyes in the stairwell, she says, I'm proud of you today.

Well, I just burst out crying when that happened.

Not sobbing, but emotion went forth.

It sounds so narcissistic to want someone to love you, but to really have someone love you, I think, just implies that you are doing the equal amount of loving back.

Of course, my reference proves that wrong. Jeff Bridges certainly isn't giving his equal share.

I know it will come. I actually do look forward to the process. Just sometimes, I sit at the bar and I feel like I could go all night, and everyone is leaving, or sitting close to their dates talking in private, and I just don't know where to put my energy.

Not that love necessarily would fix that, but it's an option.

Anyway, I am having the time of my life. Do you know how long it has been since a girl gave me the come here eye because of seeing me perform on stage? Well, about 12 hours right now, but before that... 12 years.

Damn those kids.

One More, but So What

I got one more girl under my belt.

That makes 4. I noticed her at the bar after my show, and I noticed her giving me the eye, so I started conversation.

It went well, and to make sure I tried, I returned later and continued the conversation. That's when I found out she has kids.

Kids aren't in my game plan right now. Sorry.

So, I got a talk, but it didn't go anywhere. That is what sucks.

I don't really care about racking up the numbers. Don't get me wrong, I think this bet is forcing me to think of this as a game, and thereby making me not care as much. The truth is though, I would rather lose this bet, and meet someone I want to spend time with, than not.

I know that the only way to meet that person is to be "out there" meeting people, so I am going along with this. I'm just impatient.

Everywhere I read about dating says you have to go through some dates before you meet the one that lasts. So, okay, let's get this going so I can get to the part I really give a damn about.

I realize that is putting an unwanted pressure on the whole situation, but sorry, I feel that way.

Still, I'll do my task. I know it is what I should be doing, so I will, but, hear me now as I say, let's go already.

Coffee is for closers only

Last night at work, we held a premiere party for the Geffen Theatre's production of the new David Mamet play, Boston Marriage.

Plenty of celebs, again.

Mamet, his wife Rebecca Pidgeon (who looks much better in real life than on screen), Alicia Silverstone (who had two geeks with Clueless posters waiting outside hoping for autographs), Mary Steenburgen, her hubby Ted Danson, Diane Lane (cutie!), her hubby Josh Brolin (gestures too much when talking, makes him look crazy), Darren Starr, and a couple of Mamet's go to character actors whose names I don't know off hand.

The night was easy, and sponsored by Bacardi, so I was downing mojitos in the slow periods.

Lots of fabulous looking women. I was carrying trays of food and drinks, so I talked with many. Small work chit-chat, but I tried to talk more as practice for my bet.

Two, my co-bettor has decided, actually count.

The first was one of the girls from the theatre who was hosting the party.

We were uncorking wine when the four decorating ladies arrived.

I said, Ladies, I've been expecting you. I just opened the wine, and I thought that might bring you.

One of the girls was confused and answered, No, we are the... people for the event.

I said, I know. I was kidding. I am the... comedian.

Then, one of them stepped forward. Tall, dark, and in a shimmery, clingy blue dress that stopped me for sure.

The dress laid so perfectly on her hips (a very sexy feature) that I couldn't take my eyes off of her. I looked down, and noticed a tattoo of a peach on her ankle.

I thought about my task. I timidly said, I like your tattoo.

She didn't hear me. I thought better of talking to her, and let fate tell me I shouldn't have tried.

Later, though, I told fate to kiss off. She was standing alone, and I walked right up to her and repeated my compliment. She seemed taken aback at first, but smiled and said thank you.

I told her if she needed anything to come to me. I thought that would be charming, but it turned out that everytime somebody spilled something, I was her go to guy.

eh, it's my job.

I felt like talking more to her, but while cleaning up one of the spills, a soap star (I don't know who, and don't care) started to hit on her.

She was polite, but you could tell she didn't care. He asked her if she knew who he was. Seriously. Can you believe that is one of his lines?

She said no, but also said she was pretty stupid when it came to celebrities.

He then said, get this, you should know.

My god. What an ass.

He asked her if she was single, and she said no, she was married. He then pointed at me, cleaning up a spilled drink, and said, What, to him?

Like it would be such an embarrassment to be married to the schlep cleaning. I stood tall and stared him down. She smiled and said no.

I said, You're lucky. I hope they realized I was talking to him as being lucky I didn't kick his ass, and not saying she was lucky for not being married to me.

They stopped talking, and she stopped asking me to clean. At the end of the night, she thanked me. I don't know if it was a general thank you, or specific, but she made her way to me and thanked me.

The second was a girl at the party, who I brought food to. She was a vegetarian, and asked for something she could eat. I told her I would get her something, and then offered her my tray of meatballs.

She laughed, catching the joke, and told me if I got a minute, to hang out with her. I was funny, she said.

I returned several times, bringing food or drinks, and each time she would stop the conversation to talk to me. I would make lame jokes, but she laughed.

At the end of the night, I saw her outside, and, thinking she was leaving, I poked my head out the door, and wished her goodnight. She said, I'm not leaving.

So, not knowing what else to say, I said, Well, see you in the morning then.

She laughed again, but both of us had no idea what that meant. I cut my losses, and left.

I didn't think they should count, because the whole point was for me to try and get numbers or dates, but my co-bettor said the whole point is just to make me talk to women, where as before I might not have.

So, I guess I'm doing that, and it isn't as scary or harmful as you might think.

So, three down.

They were easy ones though. Like dipping your toe in the pool. Now it is time to swim. Got to go for the real deal.

Actually, the rejection isn't what scares me. It's what I do if she likes me that has me sweating.

Comings and goings

To clarify about the great woman chase... I officially have one. The girl I tried to talk to at the bar counts. My first.

Also, I can't stop thinking about her, and hoping I'll see her again.

But that isn't what I'm talking about today.

This week there have been some changes in my social fabric and I thought I should address them.

Two friends moved away. One little guy arrived.

MW and I hardly knew each other. We had just met earlier this past year, and maybe saw each other six times since.

He moved to SF for a great job, and I'm happy for him. Not knowing him so well, I don't feel a loss, but he seemed a caring soul, and he has the most contagious laugh. I would have loved him to see my show. I've certainly paid him enough money to make him come to it. You see, he was a master at poker, and that is the one reason my group is rejoicing his departure.

LP and I have known each other for 11 years. It has been an up and down relationship. We were collaborators in film when we first met, and that was the sweetest time. Our ways parted soon after, when she got in a fight with X. X and I had just moved in with each other, so my loyalties were obvious.

When X and I moved to LA, we ran into LP. She had also just moved here, and was only living a few blocks away. Water under the bridge, our friendship was renewed.

It went well for a few years, and then one by one she started to alienate all in my group. So, I didn't invite her much to social events because of that.

Her and I tried to maintain our individual friendship, but we would always seem to say we never see each other.

Many times during this period, she would piss me off, but I would chalk it up to her insecurities and try to be the bigger man.

Then, a year and a half ago, she proposed that we make a film together. She is one of the few people that can relate to me on my love of old movies, so I proposed we make an homage to old Hollywood. Our dealings went well with each other, and I thought this might just work, but soon into it all, she was questioning my choices, and never compromising.

When X and I split, I used it as an excuse to stop the collaboration. We never resumed, and have only seen each other 4 times since last summer.

Yesterday, she moved to London. She is joining her husband who has a job there, and I wish her all the best. I'm also glad she is gone.

Monday my two dear friends, the D's, had their third baby boy. I got a picture, and he looks cute. Nestled in the bosom of a very exhausted mother. I wish all the best to him and the family.

Good parents, and some of the best names for children you'll ever find.

March on life!

#1 and #2

That's right. I met two women today.

Oh, wait.

I didn't talk to them.

Shit.

I'm a FUCKING COWARD!

The first is a girl I occasionally work with. She works the lunch shifts. I work one lunch shift a week for extra cash.

Today, she joked that she had a crush on me. Then, later in the day, another person told me she had a crush on me. Suddenly, I knew she had a crush on me.

What did I do?

I laughed.

End of story. Sad, huh?

Then, after acting class, I went for dinner over at the bar next to my show. The writing lab had just had there class show, and several of my troupe members were in it. I sat with them talking about there show. Suddenly, this girl comes up to my fellow troupe member. She introduces herself to me, and my troupe member tells her I didn't see the show. She starts to make fun of me, but I recover with wit.

After, my fellow troupe member tells me she is single. I perk up. I keep trying to talk to her, but I am totally lame.

As she is leaving, I said, What, you're leaving? I just got here!

She said, Yeah. And then she left.

Does that count? I don't think so. I was totally lame in both instances.

I'm totally gonna lose.

Get ready folks. You're gonna see my ass, or worse, on this blog photogenically very, very soon.

Law of My Friends: Always Outdo

So.

My friend reads my acceptance, and is horrified.

Not just because he is quoted, but because of the way he described himself.

So, he has decided to make a game.

A game that will give both of us the confidence that other people can't believe we don't have.

I will talk to women (as he suggested), but he will lose weight. The first to reach the goal wins, the loser gets embarrassed in this blog photogenically.

The number is raised. Thirty is the magic number. The reason? Well, I have to approach thirty women before he loses thirty pounds, but since the first 10 or so pounds are water weight, it isn't until the 20 to 30 that things get tough, so he is making the number higher to make it fair.

I will write about my women chronologically, and every Sunday he will post his weight.

He didn't want this to dominate my blog, but seriously, what do I write about anyways, but women.

I think this challenge is good. It scares me, which means I should do it. I'm sure I will be more confident by the end. Plus, it makes rejection seem fun.

For him, it will be one more step in what is well deserved. He is starting to really come into himself. He is writing, and focusing his time to get what has to be done so he can do what he wants. He is also challenging himself in ways that nobody would imagine he would. Improv.

If he could lose the weight, then he will be unstoppable. It will be like creating a monster.

So, we start today. He is at 239 pounds. Sorry, but this is how it works. Can he make it to 209? Can I make it? Who has the easier goal?

To be fair, my approaches have to be true approaches. If I chit chat some girl at work, that doesn't count. Unless, it is after work, and I'm in my civies and I approach her and talk. Like the girl from last night. That would have counted. I'm going for numbers as well as him.

My god. Thinking about that almost paralyzes me. I think I'm foolish for taking this bet.

Yikes.

***************************************************

OK! Confidence boost!

Just as I was typing that yikes, an email came in. I clicked on it to see if it was my friend about the challenge, but it was even better.

I wrote the guy who I would be assisting at the acting studio to tell him that SS asked me to assist him. I wrote him last night saying that I had accepted and did he want to talk ahead of time.

He wrote this back:

I am glad you are interested. You are the first and only choice I have in the studio right now. If you weren't available, I'd opt not to have anyone until another appropriate choice came along. I have a great deal of respect for your abilities and attitude.

Wow. How great is that? If this keeps up...

He Gives Advice To Make The Blog

He says that's why he does it, but I know it's because he likes me.

He believes in me.

He is also a damned fool.

So am I, though. That's why we like each other.

This is what he has to say:

Okay, I have an experiment for you. I’d do it, but I’m already married and overweight.

I want you to go up to at least twenty women. The next time you have that fear of starting a conversation, fuck it. Just do it. You need some good ole fashioned rejection to toughen you up. Don’t take any of it to heart. Realize that if you ARE rejected, it will make a wonderful blog entry. If you’re NOT rejected…it will make a wonderful blog entry. Law of averages, my friend!

Well, who am I to pass up a wonderful blog entry?

So, I accept. Experiment on!

Damn fools.

Primal Fear

My primal man wants woman feelings are still in high gear.

Tonight at work, we were dead, and I got released early. I didn't wait on a single table, so my manager bought me dinner.

As I sat at the bar eating, Grey's Anatomy was on the TV. I don't watch the show, but the bartender does, so we were watching and talking. Mostly watching, as the show was just starting.

On the screen comes Christina Ricci, and her name appears just then too.

I think to myself, Wow, it has been awhile since I've seen her. She looks cute.

Then I realize why I think she looks cute. She looks like TO.

Big baby doe eyes that hide a wicked intelligence. Short bobbed black hair with saucy bangs.

Just as I'm thinking, When did this become my type, from behind me comes a voice.

Does the volume work on that other TV?

I turn around to see what looks like Christina Ricci!

I've had weirder LA moments, so it comes as a surprise and not. As my eyes focus, I realize it isn't her, but a damn close facsimile.

What, I say.

The volume on that other TV? Does it work? I really want to watch this show, but I can't really hear it from here.

I turn to our bartender and yell, K can we get some volume, stat!

You see what I did there? I was being funny. Like it was a hospital. Grey's Anatomy. Sheesh.

I turn to her, smiling, thinking evil thoughts, but smiling. She smiles back.

We've got a woman in desperate need of TV here!

I thought I was pushing it there, but I didn't know what to say, and the first joke seemed to have worked.

K turned up the volume on both TVs, and I returned to my sandwich thinking, Go over there. Go talk to her. Do it. Do it now!

I noticed her move from the high table behind me to the end of the bar. There she sat, all alone. Curving from the stool to the bar, like a warped cello.

I tried to get myself off of my stool, and over to her. I told myself lies.

She's too tiny. I don't have an opening line. I can't compete with the show.

None of that was true. She wasn't too tiny, not to talk to. My opening line was, so tell me why this show is so great. I wouldn't have been competing with the show, in fact, it would have been the perfect thing to fill the awkward silences.

So, I told myself that I was just simply cowardly, and left.

Still, my body is making me do the things my mind is still afraid to contemplate. Very soon here, I guarantee my body will make me talk to a girl. My mind might be yelling no, but I will be there doing it.

I'm coming out. I'm emerging.

Won't those be such great stories.

Club Them Over The Head

The past few days, I've been worried about my secret.

That is, I think I still have my crush on TO.

I know, not so secret, but, I was really trying to stop that. I just love hanging out with her, and she obviously has a thing for me too.

I knew it was bad during my show the other night.

I came out for my character's intro, and I heard her laugh above all else. I mentally made a note to where in the audience it came from, and when I sat down, I peeked for her.

There she was. Damn cute. Damn! Her boyfriend was right next to her.

My first thought was, How dare she bring him here.

That's when I knew I was crazy.

I tried to stop thinking about her.

I just can't.

She left after the show, and I didn't get to talk to her. I have been checking my email inbox waiting for a message. None.

Pathetic.

Then, doing some errands today, I realized it isn't my fault.

You see, the past few days have been very warm. Spring like.

I was noticing, as I drove, the preponderance of tank tops, and miniskirts. Skin, Skin, Skin.

Gassing up the car, a girl pulled up in a convertible, and she was wearing some sort of bustiere that really knew how to boost. She had plenty to boost too.

I felt compelled to go talk to her. I almost walked up twice, but I stopped myself.

I was being primal.

It is built into man to go get woman. You see the skin, and this inner switch goes off, and the next thing you know you are there talking to them. You can't help it. Your primal drive is just saying inseminate, inseminate.

That is why I think my crush is kicking into hard drive again. I am seeing all this skin, and then I see her, and I know there is a chance, and I start to kick into gear.

Spring is upon us, and here's hoping I get upon someone.

The Past Two

The past two days have been unique.

Wed. 12 noon:

I met with TH to help him do some shopping. I had told him that TO thought I dressed cool, and I guess he thinks if a hot chick can reject you and still think you're cool, you are.

He mentioned needing to do some shopping while we were swing not-dancing, and I knew exactly what he needed. I told him too. Also, there was a cool guy there wearing what I thought T should have, and I pointed him out. T agreed.

So, Wed. we found ourselves shopping. It was fun to look at clothes for someone else. Funny even how you look at an item and think, Oh, yeah, but when you think of it on the other person, it doesn't work.

We went to three stores, and got him the items I said he needed. I saw a ton that I wish I could buy. He said someday soon, we were going to have the kind of lives that would allow us to do this shopping spree right.

What girls.

Wed. 3PM

Sitting around his apartment, I told him of my night of comedy, and what some of the feedback was.

He just kept nodding with a wince on his face.

Then he said he hated me.

I laughed. I told him it was about time. I had been the one hating for too long.

That joke goes to Homer Simpson, who said that people feel better around others who fail, and that he (Homer) was tired of making others feel better.

So, I was tired of being the one who hates everyone else. I want to be hated.

I told him how I was offered the TA position at the studio, and he got even worse. He said you are always the TA!

That made me think.

In college, I was the TA to the movement teacher. I would teach his class if he was sick. I also helped him choreograph any fights needed for mainstage shows. He and I would just fuck around in his studio, him making a move and asking me what I would do next. Then, we would get the fight up to speed, and come in and do it for the others, and then teach them it.

TH also pointed out that my director of the improv show offered me the position to be his assistant. That didn't work out because his old assistant, who wasn't doing much, got word that he wanted to replace her, and started to do stuff. I think he would still rather have me, but he isn't the type to fire anyone.

Now, assisting at the acting studio is another step in a long line of doing this already.

TH also said, as we were talking about girls, that I am going to do really well, because I am so confident.

I stopped to think, and realized I was. I am confident. I told him that. He said he had never, ever seen me this confident before.

That felt good. Also, because I knew it. Not just because he told me it.

We bantered some sketch ideas around. He has to start writing for his show, and bounced some ideas off of me, and we talked them out. We were cracking ourselves up. He said we needed some one in the room typing fast as we did this.

I told him it should be KK.

I said that he types fast, and could contribute to the jokes. TH agreed.

I said that I thought the three of us should write something. It would be fucking funny.

TH said he thought it was a great idea. Now I just need to tell KK. Oops. I think I just did.

Wed. 5PM

Looking at my phone, I realize nobody has called.

The word on the street after the last comedy show was four people had calls the next day.

I really need a call. I tell myself not to worry. They will come. However, I do worry. Just a bit.

Wed. 7PM

Acting class. SS talks about the show. He says he has heard from many of the industry types, and they loved it. A friend of his at Paramount thinks it could be its own TV show.

He points out in the class who he thought did well. He tells me I rocked.

Some one makes the point that the scene she did was one she had done before in the show.

He says choosing the scenes are tough. He wants to challenge us, but also wants to highlight out talents, so that we look good to the industry, and in turn his studio looks good.

He said that the scene doesn't matter. It's what you do with it. To make his case, he points to me. He said that after the show, one of the actors came up to him and asked why they couldn't get my scene.

That's when I realize that I should be careful. We are not a family. We are actors in a studio, and one might sabotage the other if they think it will serve them.

SS said though that the scene wasn't what made it so funny. He said he was reluctant to give that scene, because he didn't think there were any jokes in it. He still thinks that the scene itself isn't what was funny about the result. He said it was all me.

Again, that's nice to hear.

Then, during class, we did dramatic improv. He gave us a scenario, and a secret, and we had to act it out. It was intense, and made me realize my drama chops are a bit rusty. I did well, and he liked what I did, but I know I could have dug deeper.

Wed. 12 midnight.

I watch The Constant Gardener.

Great movie. Great acting. Made me realize something.

****Spoiler Alert Spoiler Alert*****

In the movie, when they are married, they hide things from each other. Partly out of protection, and partly out of fear.

This is true of relationships.

When the wife is killed and he discoveries her secrets, he loves her that much more. He also realizes that he might not have responded like that if she were still alive. He would have been scared for her.

The thing is, we find these loves, and we want to keep them forever. So, like a nice suit, or a delicate vase, we treat them with too much care so that we won't break them.

We shouldn't. Relationships should be like your favorite pair of jeans. Always worn with comfort, and taken everywhere you are.

Sure, you could say that eventually everyone buys new jeans, but what if you just think of it as you evolve or grow into new jeans. The way some of us are getting fatter, that is more true than not.

Then, your relationship could be evolving or growing into something unlike what it was at the start, but still be totally serving your needs now, and still be what you would rather be in.

Thurs. 12 noon.

I can't get onto blogger to share all of that, so I decide to wait. I watch the movie Layer Cake.

Great movie. No realizations though.

SS calls. He is serious about me being a TA. He wants to know if I am too. I tell him absolutely. I say with emphasis so he knows I ain't fucking around. He laughs and says I should have said abso-fucking-lutely.

He wants me to start next week. I tell him I have to switch around my work schedule, and can I start the week after. He says yes.

He asks me what I thought of the drama improv class. I tell him. He thinks I could have challenged myself more too, but he liked what I did. He says we will do more of that.

Thurs. 4PM

I have a meeting at the restaurant. All the people there have heard how funny I was, and they start calling me Mr. Comedy. I love them. We all care about each other so much. That is the family feeling I wish my acting studio had.

I tell them about the TA position, and I say that my plan is to slowly move into TA for all classes, and then in a year from now not be at the restaurant anymore.

If thoughts are actions yet to be acted on, then that thought is out there now. Lets make it come true.

Thurs. 7:30 PM

The two improv companies come together for a meeting with the owner of the theatre. He is giving a "state of the union" speech.

He says how ACME had a tough year last year. He tried to make $2000 a week in the box office, because that was standard, and he did. It's just he spent more in ads then any other year, so we lost money.

He said that was one of the reasons for combining our two shows into one.

He said that move paid off. We now are getting a solid audience that comes for both. In fact, our night is the biggest night of the week.

We burst into applause at that. Hell, back in August he was thinking of eliminating us.

He says lots of agents are calling about ACME people, because we are getting a good word on the street.

He says his goal is $3000 a week, and so far this year, we've done that.

He hands out papers. He says they are the ACME awards. He is going to start this, and they will be held the Sunday before the Oscars.

My name is on there.

The categories are best male actor in Yankee, best in Zebra, best female actor in Yankee, best in Zebra, and best quote from Yankee, and best from Zebra.

They are from your status in 2005, so for best male actor in Yankee, I am up against my friends HW and PT. Tough.

I was also nominated for best quote, also against HW and PT. Funny, but my quote comes from my jazz guy, the character I hated.

Early in the run, the jazz guy went out drinking with the virgin airline stewardess, and they got drunk. They were caught at his apartment by his girlfriend,the newspaper lady, and he said:

"It's not what you think! I got her drunk, and she got dizzy, so I thought I would lift her legs and take her clothes off."

So, you never know.

After the meeting, the owner came to me and asked if I was union, and if I had representation. I told him yes, and no. He said he was going to submit my name to some of the agents.

So, even if none call from the comedy show (and none have yet), I'm still looking good.

Thurs. 10PM

I left rehearsal early to go to The Viper Room.

That's right. Johnny Depp's The Viper Room. The place where River Phoenix died.

A friend of mine from the murdermystery was playing there, and I was going to support his band.

I have never been there. Seriously, it is not my scene.

When I got in, I found my other friends and we hung out while waiting for the band to start.

There were hot chicks EVERYWHERE.

One girl in my group said, Do you see any prospects?

From my POV, yes, I said, but from their's, no.

After the band played, the DJ put on music, and three girls came out and danced on the side booths. They had skimpy outfits on, and after three songs, they took their tops off!

Why isn't The Viper Room my scene!?!

One of the girls dancing didn't take her top off, and the girl from my group said it was because she was saving herself for me.

I said, Wrong tactic.

Fri. 11 AM

Can't wait for the show tonight. It's been such a good week. Who would have thought I would be saying that after last weekend.

Life.

Don't Ask, Don't Tell

So, I missed a post yesterday, because I had a long, full day. More about that later, but I want to update how the "talk" went.

It went well.

Update over.

No, really. It went well. It was one of the most healthy talks I ever had.

First, I had made my list of what I was going to say here in the blog, and gosh golly if I didn't walk right in and say exactly that.

Plus, she agreed with what I was saying.

She doesn't want to get back together. She was ashamed she had said the things and tried to do the things she did on that night.

She wants to be friends in the future. She is starting to think that might be impossible. She thinks we are far away from each other, and are not the same anymore.

I said that we tried to do that on purpose, that we needed to separate our lives before we could ever see if we wanted to come back to an independent friendship.

She apologized for getting mad when I started to tell her the story of the girl in the bar the night before we split. I apologized for choosing that moment to tell the story, but she let me finish it and make the point. Which is not that I was hot for a girl, but that suddenly I realized that there was a want in my life that I hadn't been aware of before. Then, the next day when she said I don't think we are anything but roommates, it made sense and I was able to agree.

She also said at one point that she had a very bad week, and particularly a bad Wednesday. I said why. Who wouldn't ask why? She said I didn't want to know. She said I shouldn't have to help her with this.

There it was again. In fairly plain language, but still secretive.

I chose not to ask any questions.

I don't want to know.

It doesn't matter now, anyway. Were through. What good would it do to find out something like that now? No. I don't want to know.

That is, I must say, the first time in my life that I did want to know something, while realizing it would most likely hurt me, yet not asking for it because I really, in the long run, don't want to know.

I was proud of myself.

I wished her a happy birthday, and left.

Speaking of proud.... I had a great day yesterday.

Long, slow day at work. Made some meager coin. Then, I rushed over to the theatre where my acting class was putting on their sitcom game show.

It is really just a neat format to showcase the performers, but done so that the audience has fun too. The studio has done five of these shows, with this one being the first one that I could be in.

It is nerve racking.

One hundred people are sitting there, many of them industry types. You get your scene four minutes before you are on stage reading. If you are lucky, you might have done or seen the scene in class. If not... good luck.

My scene was the last of the night. I hadn't seen it before. Yikes.

Then, I read the intro to the scene. Steve and Diane are out at a Chinese restaurant to tell Steve's parents they are divorcing.

Bing!

I think I know a little sumpin about that.

Reading through the script, it sounded like Jackie Gleason, so I did that.

It went huge.

We got every laugh. We held for every laugh. The crowd went nuts.

The three judges gave us high scores. Almost perfect. 10, 10, and 9. The 9 came from our teacher, but he said I was wonderful, and the girl playing my wife was a bit too bitchy to start.

Slam dunk.

Everyone was coming up to me to say great job. Some guy came up and told me I was fantastic, and then started quoting my resume. His secret way of telling me he was industry and had already checked on me.

My teacher said I stole the show.

My friends said We've lost him.

It went well. I needed it to go well. A lot of agents and managers were there, and I will be shocked if I don't get called in to join one of them.

My friend said his only concern, after watching many, many of my improv shows, is that I tend to live or die by the performance's reception.

That's true.

X used to yell at me about that all the time. She said I shouldn't seek the validation of myself from others. Yeah.

I have to work on that. Of course, it's easy to work on it when all is going well. It's when you suck that remembering you still are great is tough.

I think part of my problem with that is because I haven't received ANY validation in so long, I've become tied to the slightest bit of it now.

I'm sure with time, I will be able to break that.

Just don't start my lesson now. Let me ride this gravy train a wee bit more, please.

Also, before the show last night, my teacher took me aside and offered me a teacher's assistant position. It would be for no pay to start, but he said let's see how it goes. I told him, hell yes!

Knock, knock. My future is finally at the door.