STELLLLAAAAAAAAHHH!

Dress rehearsal, backstage. 11-2-2005

A STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE went up last night, to rousing success, I would have to say. I heard mostly very good things about the production, mostly things I knew all along. Before the show, I was pretty tired. I paced about in the green room (shown above) yawning and a little tired, wondering if I was hungry or not, if I should eat the 2nd steak and cheese sandwich I had gotten at Doozy's earlier. But the anticipation of being on stage soon quieted my appetite. I guess I mostly live for the few seconds rush I feel before going on stage; that moment when all your energies suddenly hone on giving a great performance. And then, what to say? It happens. It just comes together for me. All the objectives and blocking seem to fade away, and it's just you, on stage, and nothing else seems to matter. I think David Mamet said once, in a nutshell, that when it comes to acting and characterization, (and I'm paraphrasing here) "Don't think...Just do it." That pretty well summarizes my attitude towards acting. I try less to think, and try more to concentrate on the performance and style rather than analysis, beat, or objective. That should come instinctively.

After the show, there was a post-party in the art gallery at the Playhouse. The Green Gateau, one of those somewhat upscale restaurants catered the food. While I fucking hate BREE CHEESE in any form, since it tastes like ass wax smells, they had these little bite sized EGGROLLS that were to die for, and the best sweet and sour sauce I'd had in a long time to go with it. I must have eaten several dozen of those. Hot shit. Those were tasty. I had given my two comp tickets to Olivia and her beau John Mark (atleast I think he is). Anyway, they are two of my best friends. [I drew a Paint picture of them, but it wouldn't upload to my blog here.] John Mark likes hugs, and Olivia entered her name and phone number into my new cell phone as OBLIVIA. I had to laugh. I just had to. You don't understand. I had to laugh. So I did. Does that seem suprising to you? Which reminds me...In second grade, there was a teacher (I didn't have her as a teacher) but her name was Mrs. Tacha (pron. TAH-ha.) She was a unusually chipper woman, and her name reminded me of laughter (Mrs. TA-HA-HA-HA-HAAA!).

After the post-party in the gallery, a post-post party followed at Jeremy's house (the director). It was fun, and the eggrolls were there, and I ate more of them. While curousing and hobknobbing, bumping elbows, lifting eyebrows, and in between general party gesticulations and amusements, not to mention sweet imbibements (I drank 1 Pepsi, 2 Budwiesers, 1 tiny nip of Moonshine, and a swig of Keppler's whiskey (egads!), I met Mr. Buddy Miller, a gifted and extremely talented character actor best known at the Playhouse for playing anything from the Big Bopper to the Baker in Into the Woods and the lead in A Funny Thing...Forum. A year older than me, I'd seen him in such productions so it was a pleasure to meet him, from one character actor to another. We drunkedly discussed technique, and I think we had a clear agreement on what exactly makes us each tick onstage. He works at various Culver's Restaurant locations in town, and while I think Culver's is only good for their custard, I complained about the time two weeks ago when I paid $4.13 for a single chicken sandwhich, and waited 10 minutes for it. I've said too much already.

This morning, groggy and dizzy, I arrived at work, snatched up the newspaper, and read the review write-up about STREETCAR. Seems like the reviewer liked it very much, likening its tumultuous scenes and raging emotions to hurricane force winds whipping and breaking the levees in New Orleans, a proper metaphor. I was a little disappointed she only had something to say about Stanley, Blanche, and Stella, and the set and lighting. Nothing about me, or anyone else. But I think that's okay. Streetcar is really about those three characters anyway. It's a heavy piece of drama, and like I've always said Miller, Williams, and the like, did not write easy pieces of theatre. They're hard, and they challenge both actors and audiences alike to think about these characters and what it says about that facet of humanity and our own characters. But if I had to write a review of last night's production, I would have cited the performances, set, and lighting, which I felt were very strong all around. Everyone across the board owned up to the material and brought it to life. And that was good enough for me. I didn't do this show for press anyway. I did it enrich myself amongst good, experienced actors. I wanted to end 2005 with a classic piece of drama. I did it because I wanted to prove to myself and everyone else that I'm a little more than Lefou or Rafreaky in Forbidden Broadway.

I can do it motherfuckahs.

And I did.

Westside. WW

AND MAHALO!

SALVADOR DALI! (ALIVE AND WELL)

(Headset not a part of attire.)

HAPPY HALLOWEENIE!

Hey chismos, HAPPY HALLOWEENIE!

I'm off a weekend of rousing success. Next to the Radio-head Man a few years back, this has got to be one of the greatest costumes I've ever conjured (see previous posts). While I attended two lackluster parties Saturday night (being not even half as drunk as the dozens of other people there doesn't help), I arrived at work today in full regalia, and I think I pretty much stole the show. I probably had the best costume at work, although Bruce Ubben's Headless Horseman costume was pretty sweet. I bested them all with a twitch of my mustache. I can't believe I've been wearing this all afternoon. I'll take it off when I get to rehearsal.

GOOD NEWs is this: I did get some pictures taken, at work, and Friday night with Greta dressed as Gala. Didn't get any shots of my 2nd Dali costume with the black suit and blue floral print tie, but maybe do it one more time for posterity. I will get some pictures posted here SOON.

I think the fact that Halloween is on a Monday is a little offsetting to people, and so most people have chosen to celebrate modestly. I say nay, Halloween is just as important a holiday as Christmas or Easter. I have chosen to pay tribute and honor the pagan spirits of olde by carving two pumpkins this weekend, one fashioned like Jack Pumpkinhead from the second OZ book "The Land of OZ," and the other with the Radiohead 'two men shaking hands' insignia.

Tonight, after rehearsal, I will swill beer and watch the Exorcist.

MAHALO, bitches.