Q: How do you know I'm really tired and hate my job all at the same time?
A: Two co-workers were just talking about our (now) ex-boss (who got transfered to another department) and one of them said, "I called her and told her that she'll always be our boss." I, walking by at that moment, almost said, "Boss of my nuts."
It made sense to say it in my head. It got past the first set of internal censors. It got far enough for me to get "Bo--" out of my mouth. Definitely need to get some sleep. Some weird, internal justification going on right now.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Monday, November 24, 2008
We're all friends here, right?
Well then, here's some self-indulgent crap I wrote.
Helped write a show awhile back called “On the Road with Jack”. The premise of it was stories inspired by Jack Kerouac’s ‘On the Road’. I came into it a little late in the process but I wrote a few pieces for it and was happy with the results. The great thing about the show was that that’s a pretty large canvas to paint on, things that are inspired by that book and travel in general. My downfall was that I didn’t think about it enough and am still coming up with ideas for it 2+ years later.
One of the untapped niches in it, for my taste, was the Beat style. There was a couple of Beat pieces in it and some poetry stuff. I wrote a Beat-ish piece called Postcards, which was postcards to different towns I’ve visited, referring to the towns as if they were people. However, I would have liked to experiment with multiple voices going simultaneously. I wrote this today, thinking along those lines.
It’s made for four voices, male and female. Once one person completes their ‘beat’, they begin repeating the last words (think “Row, row, row your boat”) until the end of the cycle comes with everyone repeating their last line forming the sentence “Walking after midnight whistling a tune about my baby, trying to get home before the sun comes up.”
It’ll probably never be performed or used so I figured I’d throw it out there. It’s poetry, but it’s Beat poetry which is sort of forgivable, right?
"Walking after midnight whistling a tune about my baby, trying to get home before the sun comes up."
VOICE 1:
Stole a pack of cigarettes from out my mom’s brown purse,
Crept out through the window like a President’s black hearse.
Wind colder than vinyl seats in a pick-up out December,
Twisted my ankle on a dirt road path; I swore I would’ve remembered.
Only myself, the moon and air and no other care there in sight,
And the cherry warms my face up, when I’m out walking after midnight.
VOICE 2:
Runny plate of eggs, abetted by a stringy black hair,
Worked morning until evening and after dark still didn’t care.
And the diner is all quiet, just the clink from plates being washed,
Then Sally took off her hairnet, cleared her face off with a toss.
She asked if Derrick’s coming, and he answers, “I may be,”
I’m sitting by myself, whistling a tune about my baby.
VOICE 3:
He staggered out the backdoor, and fell off into the ditch.
It was afternoon when he went in, but now it’s strictly pitch.
And he went in with a longing, and left without it filled,
If there’d been oncoming traffic, he’s likely to be killed.
No job or name or no ID, a relative unknown,
Armed only with some sadness, just trying to get home.
VOICE 4:
Smelling sweeter than some honeysuckles, doused in Parisian perfume,
Decked out in my red dress, probably why he came too soon.
Check myself in a mannequin window, breath left where I had stood.
Can’t bring myself to use my jacket, even though I know I should.
I suppose I should be true to my lover, I feel like I’ve had enough,But I guess I’ll do this forever, if I’m back before the sun comes up.
Helped write a show awhile back called “On the Road with Jack”. The premise of it was stories inspired by Jack Kerouac’s ‘On the Road’. I came into it a little late in the process but I wrote a few pieces for it and was happy with the results. The great thing about the show was that that’s a pretty large canvas to paint on, things that are inspired by that book and travel in general. My downfall was that I didn’t think about it enough and am still coming up with ideas for it 2+ years later.
One of the untapped niches in it, for my taste, was the Beat style. There was a couple of Beat pieces in it and some poetry stuff. I wrote a Beat-ish piece called Postcards, which was postcards to different towns I’ve visited, referring to the towns as if they were people. However, I would have liked to experiment with multiple voices going simultaneously. I wrote this today, thinking along those lines.
It’s made for four voices, male and female. Once one person completes their ‘beat’, they begin repeating the last words (think “Row, row, row your boat”) until the end of the cycle comes with everyone repeating their last line forming the sentence “Walking after midnight whistling a tune about my baby, trying to get home before the sun comes up.”
It’ll probably never be performed or used so I figured I’d throw it out there. It’s poetry, but it’s Beat poetry which is sort of forgivable, right?
"Walking after midnight whistling a tune about my baby, trying to get home before the sun comes up."
VOICE 1:
Stole a pack of cigarettes from out my mom’s brown purse,
Crept out through the window like a President’s black hearse.
Wind colder than vinyl seats in a pick-up out December,
Twisted my ankle on a dirt road path; I swore I would’ve remembered.
Only myself, the moon and air and no other care there in sight,
And the cherry warms my face up, when I’m out walking after midnight.
VOICE 2:
Runny plate of eggs, abetted by a stringy black hair,
Worked morning until evening and after dark still didn’t care.
And the diner is all quiet, just the clink from plates being washed,
Then Sally took off her hairnet, cleared her face off with a toss.
She asked if Derrick’s coming, and he answers, “I may be,”
I’m sitting by myself, whistling a tune about my baby.
VOICE 3:
He staggered out the backdoor, and fell off into the ditch.
It was afternoon when he went in, but now it’s strictly pitch.
And he went in with a longing, and left without it filled,
If there’d been oncoming traffic, he’s likely to be killed.
No job or name or no ID, a relative unknown,
Armed only with some sadness, just trying to get home.
VOICE 4:
Smelling sweeter than some honeysuckles, doused in Parisian perfume,
Decked out in my red dress, probably why he came too soon.
Check myself in a mannequin window, breath left where I had stood.
Can’t bring myself to use my jacket, even though I know I should.
I suppose I should be true to my lover, I feel like I’ve had enough,But I guess I’ll do this forever, if I’m back before the sun comes up.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Thursday wrap-up
-Saw a little kid driving yesterday who looked like he was about 12 years old and maybe going through chemo. I felt a little bad for him but then I dug that he was out driving and then I got a little scared: was this his ‘make a wish’ dream? To drive a car in heavy traffic? Again, I’m totally cool with the ‘make a wish’ folks, but Atlanta traffic isn’t the place to have that wish fore-filled, unless you are looking for a death or near-death experience. Eep!
-Gave up on the novel for Nanowrimo. I couldn’t keep up and memorize a gajillion lines for Christmas Carol at the same time. Too much and I’m spread too thin as it is. Christmas Carol is fun, especially since it’s a three person version with me and another actor playing everyone but Scrooge. Having a conversation with yourself while operating a puppet that has a third voice is a bit, um, confusing. But fun. Bytheby, the director called me crazy the other day. And not like that Martin Lawrence “You so crazy” but like, “You are an unbalanced person” crazy. This because I was able to carry on a credible conversation with a puppet that I was also speaking for. Some call it crazy but I call it commitment.
-I’m auditioning a lot lately which is great, but I’m getting turned down a lot which is not so great. I have an audition this weekend that I thought I wouldn’t have time to do but turns out I will. It’s for the Buddy Holly story. Now I’m not auditioning for Buddy Holly, or Richie Valenze (sp?) or even the Big Bopper. By the way, how bad ass is it that his name is the Big Bopper? No one EVER calls him by his real name, Biggle Bopperwitz.
Anyway, originally when we spoke, they were like, “Oh you’ll audition for the radio dj or the manager guy” which are both non-singing roles. I’m cool with that. However last night they emailed and said, “You’ll be auditioning for the bassist of the Crickets.” OK, now I’m a little worried. Yep, I played bass for a few years and yep, it’s on my resume. However, I was thinking I’d just come there and read some stuff and that’d be it, but now I have to come in, sing, play guitar and play bass. Le sigh. And I’m auditioning for Julius Caesar and trying to get my lines and accents down for Christmas Carol. Oh yeah, and I’m still working my shitty job.
FYI, auditioners for the Big Bopper do have to do the “Hello ba-bay!”
-Favorite person’s name I’ve seen recently: Margarita Colon. I think the only way to cure Margarita Colon is to put salt on the rim.
-In an effort to sabotage myself, I’ve begun hiding my keys. Not sure why my subconscious is doing this to me but I’m hiding them all over the house and causing myself to be in a panic before I have to be somewhere. My wife suggested it might be a devious pixie that was hiding them instead. I’m not sure if that’s supposed to make me feel better, though: my lighthouse for rational thought telling me I’m either going crazy or that pixies are real. Addendum: had an audition yesterday morning and wrote down the wrong time for it. Definitely working against myself for some reason.
-All in the same week at my job: a bunch of folks got laid off, I was restructured under a new management team who aren’t quite certain what I do, I got a 6 month review (3 months late) from a person who doesn’t know what I do or have done, had to attend sexual harassment training (watch out, ladies…and gentlemen), and have had to attend multiple meetings with people who aren’t quite sure what’s going on. I’m hesitant to write this out loud but here goes: as 2009 rolls around, I won’t be working in a cube anymore. This could mean several things.
-I go to work somewhere like a grocery store or work security.
-I work as an actor in any capacity I can.
-I never work again and my wife, dogs, birds and I end up homeless.
I’m rooting for the second option. My wife is fearful of the third option. Somewhere between the first and second option seems most reasonable. But we’ll see. But I have moments of complete exhilaration thinking about it and then moments of complete horror. You know that moment in Pearl Jam’s “Even flow” video where Eddie Vedder falls off the balcony? Some say he jumped but it was more of a ‘let go’ than an actual ‘leap’. Anyway, that’s how I feel. Come January, or December maybe, I’ll let go and hope 1000 grunge kids in flannel shirts and Converse All-Stars will catch me.
-Oh yeah, we got another bird to keep Mr. Bram company. Her name is Angelou. She likes to sing. Get it?
-Gave up on the novel for Nanowrimo. I couldn’t keep up and memorize a gajillion lines for Christmas Carol at the same time. Too much and I’m spread too thin as it is. Christmas Carol is fun, especially since it’s a three person version with me and another actor playing everyone but Scrooge. Having a conversation with yourself while operating a puppet that has a third voice is a bit, um, confusing. But fun. Bytheby, the director called me crazy the other day. And not like that Martin Lawrence “You so crazy” but like, “You are an unbalanced person” crazy. This because I was able to carry on a credible conversation with a puppet that I was also speaking for. Some call it crazy but I call it commitment.
-I’m auditioning a lot lately which is great, but I’m getting turned down a lot which is not so great. I have an audition this weekend that I thought I wouldn’t have time to do but turns out I will. It’s for the Buddy Holly story. Now I’m not auditioning for Buddy Holly, or Richie Valenze (sp?) or even the Big Bopper. By the way, how bad ass is it that his name is the Big Bopper? No one EVER calls him by his real name, Biggle Bopperwitz.
Anyway, originally when we spoke, they were like, “Oh you’ll audition for the radio dj or the manager guy” which are both non-singing roles. I’m cool with that. However last night they emailed and said, “You’ll be auditioning for the bassist of the Crickets.” OK, now I’m a little worried. Yep, I played bass for a few years and yep, it’s on my resume. However, I was thinking I’d just come there and read some stuff and that’d be it, but now I have to come in, sing, play guitar and play bass. Le sigh. And I’m auditioning for Julius Caesar and trying to get my lines and accents down for Christmas Carol. Oh yeah, and I’m still working my shitty job.
FYI, auditioners for the Big Bopper do have to do the “Hello ba-bay!”
-Favorite person’s name I’ve seen recently: Margarita Colon. I think the only way to cure Margarita Colon is to put salt on the rim.
-In an effort to sabotage myself, I’ve begun hiding my keys. Not sure why my subconscious is doing this to me but I’m hiding them all over the house and causing myself to be in a panic before I have to be somewhere. My wife suggested it might be a devious pixie that was hiding them instead. I’m not sure if that’s supposed to make me feel better, though: my lighthouse for rational thought telling me I’m either going crazy or that pixies are real. Addendum: had an audition yesterday morning and wrote down the wrong time for it. Definitely working against myself for some reason.
-All in the same week at my job: a bunch of folks got laid off, I was restructured under a new management team who aren’t quite certain what I do, I got a 6 month review (3 months late) from a person who doesn’t know what I do or have done, had to attend sexual harassment training (watch out, ladies…and gentlemen), and have had to attend multiple meetings with people who aren’t quite sure what’s going on. I’m hesitant to write this out loud but here goes: as 2009 rolls around, I won’t be working in a cube anymore. This could mean several things.
-I go to work somewhere like a grocery store or work security.
-I work as an actor in any capacity I can.
-I never work again and my wife, dogs, birds and I end up homeless.
I’m rooting for the second option. My wife is fearful of the third option. Somewhere between the first and second option seems most reasonable. But we’ll see. But I have moments of complete exhilaration thinking about it and then moments of complete horror. You know that moment in Pearl Jam’s “Even flow” video where Eddie Vedder falls off the balcony? Some say he jumped but it was more of a ‘let go’ than an actual ‘leap’. Anyway, that’s how I feel. Come January, or December maybe, I’ll let go and hope 1000 grunge kids in flannel shirts and Converse All-Stars will catch me.
-Oh yeah, we got another bird to keep Mr. Bram company. Her name is Angelou. She likes to sing. Get it?
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Friday, November 7, 2008
More Spam
I'm busy as crap with Christmas Carol rehearsals, work, line memorizing and trying to stay on top of Nanowrimo. But I saw a bit of spam I couldn't resist. If you're not familiar with spamusement (I think it's dead now but still there and great), he drew little cartoons based on spam titles. That's pretty much it. So the title of the spam I got was "Horny girl gets fucked." This is my cartoon interpretation.
Have a good weekend,
mmyers
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
7 things about me you may not know
Evel said I should do this and so I have, 7 little known facts about me.
-I was on my way to Boston when I stopped in Atlanta. I planned on being here a year then going to graduate school for playwriting at BU. None of these things ended up happening and 10 years later, here I am.
-I was in a band called SuperZero for two years during college. We sucked. I played bass and sang. After that I was in a two person folk band called Don’t Fuck with the BabySitter (any nerds know what that’s from?) playing a chord organ and guitar and singing. And I played some solo acoustic shows too. My hands would shake so badly that I’d shoot guitar pics all over the place.
-I never wanted to get married. I had every intention of being with my wife forever but never having a ceremony or being husband and wife. Marriages don’t really work well in my family and I always thought it was a crock of shit anyway, not ever being worried about ‘living in sin’. Anyway, while in NY doing a show I realized that Anna-Claire would always have a lingering doubt that I wasn’t committed to our relationship and loving big parties (and my wife to be), we got married. I’ve never regretted it.
-I’m not blown away by Barrack Obama. I know I’m supposed to be but I’m not. I have a ‘wait and see’ attitude toward him. Still, things couldn’t get any worse than the way they’ve been for the last few years so that’s liberating. I do think he could do a good job of reversing the recession because optimistic people spend money and scared people do not, and believe me, in my office, folks are Opt-O-Mistic. It's been awhile since folks have been optimistic.
-My grandfather is my hero. I wear his coats and his hats and when I’m in a jam, I think about what he would do or say. He’s a retired farmer, paper mill worker, and military officer and he’s one of the level headed/funniest people I know.
-I applied for a job in a mailroom but was not qualified to sort mail. This led to temp jobs which led me to a permanent job as a file clerk which lead to small promotions in that company which led to a job as a collections auditor which led to complete misery for me. All because I wasn’t qualified to sort mail.
-I’m terrified of public speaking. My voice breaks and my hands sweat, I hear my pulse in my ears and I’m in complete panic the whole time, which causes me to look down and literally shuffle my feet like that shy dog from Bugs Bunny when he says, “Nope, nope, nope, nope.” I assume I’d be over that, having to perform in front of people semi-regularly, but I’m not and am getting even more uneasy about it as I get older. This is also starting to infiltrate my psyche in regular social situations. No idea what is changing for me.
Now I'm supposed to also peg 7 folks to do this as well, but I don't want to lay that trip on you. If you wanna do this, I'm all for it though.
-I was on my way to Boston when I stopped in Atlanta. I planned on being here a year then going to graduate school for playwriting at BU. None of these things ended up happening and 10 years later, here I am.
-I was in a band called SuperZero for two years during college. We sucked. I played bass and sang. After that I was in a two person folk band called Don’t Fuck with the BabySitter (any nerds know what that’s from?) playing a chord organ and guitar and singing. And I played some solo acoustic shows too. My hands would shake so badly that I’d shoot guitar pics all over the place.
-I never wanted to get married. I had every intention of being with my wife forever but never having a ceremony or being husband and wife. Marriages don’t really work well in my family and I always thought it was a crock of shit anyway, not ever being worried about ‘living in sin’. Anyway, while in NY doing a show I realized that Anna-Claire would always have a lingering doubt that I wasn’t committed to our relationship and loving big parties (and my wife to be), we got married. I’ve never regretted it.
-I’m not blown away by Barrack Obama. I know I’m supposed to be but I’m not. I have a ‘wait and see’ attitude toward him. Still, things couldn’t get any worse than the way they’ve been for the last few years so that’s liberating. I do think he could do a good job of reversing the recession because optimistic people spend money and scared people do not, and believe me, in my office, folks are Opt-O-Mistic. It's been awhile since folks have been optimistic.
-My grandfather is my hero. I wear his coats and his hats and when I’m in a jam, I think about what he would do or say. He’s a retired farmer, paper mill worker, and military officer and he’s one of the level headed/funniest people I know.
-I applied for a job in a mailroom but was not qualified to sort mail. This led to temp jobs which led me to a permanent job as a file clerk which lead to small promotions in that company which led to a job as a collections auditor which led to complete misery for me. All because I wasn’t qualified to sort mail.
-I’m terrified of public speaking. My voice breaks and my hands sweat, I hear my pulse in my ears and I’m in complete panic the whole time, which causes me to look down and literally shuffle my feet like that shy dog from Bugs Bunny when he says, “Nope, nope, nope, nope.” I assume I’d be over that, having to perform in front of people semi-regularly, but I’m not and am getting even more uneasy about it as I get older. This is also starting to infiltrate my psyche in regular social situations. No idea what is changing for me.
Now I'm supposed to also peg 7 folks to do this as well, but I don't want to lay that trip on you. If you wanna do this, I'm all for it though.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Dracula ends...
-Got a review at the very last second. It seemed OK. Can't say I disagree with what he says.
While digging up the link, I noticed that there was a comment from a reader. A nice shout out from whomever, although it does make me a tad uncomfortable.
-I also am now the proud owner of the bird from the sh
ow. I named him Mr. Bram and threatened to eat him (on stage) on a nightly basis. Anyway, he's mine now. Last night, while returning emails, he threw bird seed at me.
ow. I named him Mr. Bram and threatened to eat him (on stage) on a nightly basis. Anyway, he's mine now. Last night, while returning emails, he threw bird seed at me.This is him riding home in my car. My wife says he needs a friend.
-I'll throw up some more show photos as I'm able to weed through them.
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