Doubts

Tonight, I am... astir.  Thinking to myself, WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING???!!!??  This New York Experiment could turn out to be just that, an experiment.  In the meantime I am leaving my little dog behind, leaving my friends behind, stable living, my car, my job.  Floof!  Outthefuckingwindow.  Can I come back?  Yes.  But what kind of shambles will my life be, and I will have said goodbye to the only escapist dream I have left, of going to New York and making a living as an artist.  Because if this fails, that dream has suffered a serious blow.  And I don't know how to fucking do anything else.  I'm not saying "I am genius actor!  I know nothing, but the theatre!"  I am saying "what little I do know is in the most airy and unreliable professions.  I'm a pretty good actor, writer, decent singer.  So if I don't make it as a performer I can always fall back on the supremely secure position of SHORT STORY WRITER?!!!?!?!??

The thing I'm having the hardest time with is leaving my dog behind.  My sweet little mutt Stella, whom I adopted 8 months ago.  Now, listen.  My rule has always been never adopt an animal until you are sure you can make a lifetime commitment.  I'd never gotten a dog until now, because I wasn't secure enough.  And for 18 years I had a cat who wouldn't tolerate another animal.  And after his passing, I got Stella.  And now New York???  Before you worry about Stella any more than necessary, she will be staying with my folks in a lovely house where she will be well loved by dog loving people.  My mother is home a lot of the day and very excited to be having her.  She's looking forward to walking her, and Stella has a great yard.  But she won't have me.  And she's a skittish little dog with these sad soulful eyes, who's been at my side since I got her.  I'm worried she'll think I abandoned her.  And these little pound puppies...well, you never know what they've been through.  It's keeping me up nights.

Right now, my plan is to get to NYC and settle myself, looking for a place that will accept dogs.  And yet, would this be the best thing for her?  Who knows how often I would be home?  She'd have to be walked 3 times a day, she doesn't like loud environments...  I'm praying on this one, trying to figure out what's best.  I know she is safe and loved with my folks.  But is it best for her to be with me?  Or in little old Round Rock.  Am I scarring her little dog psyche?

I keep asking myself these questions, running over this in my head, wondering if I'm doing right by her, even though at this point I've already packed, gotten a storage unit, booked a flight, promised to house sit... in 9 days I am outta here!

I'm praying on it, hoping that either answers or comfort will come my way.

Stress...

Three weeks to go, and the voices are growing louder.  Which voices?  Those tiny little whispers that tell me I'm forgetting something, that I haven't planned this out well enough ( I probably haven't) that I still have to pack, choose a storage company, figure out which things to ship, sell the car, make some repairs to the car in order for it to be sold...   I've never loved uncertainty, and naturally it will be by my side for the next few months, if not years.  So, at the risk of seeming like a know-it-all (I'm not, and all three of these techniques come to me from someone else) for anyone else dealing with a stressful situation, I've listed a few ways I've been using to combat feelings of being overwhelmed.

• Entertain the positives.  It's so easy to entertain the negative "what ifs".  It feels like that's my default mode sometimes.  But positive outcomes are just as likely as negative ones.  And which thoughts are more motivating?  Positive begets more positive.  And imagining what if... I go to New York and fall deeper in love with the city than I am now?  What if I meet some great people and form strong friendships?  What if I find classes and opportunities that enrich my creative life?  What if I soak up all the sights and it fuels my writing?  These are the possibilities that I was in touch with when I made the decision to move, and those are the thoughts to keep close as I step out.  

•  Baby Steps.  I have three weeks to do this move, and tackling one question at a time, one day at a time will make the fears smaller bit by bit.  And the longer I wait the bigger they become in my head.  It's funny because the tasks themselves are never that difficult.  For example:  find a nearby storage unit.  However, when tied to all the emotions and worries, a small task like this can feel like ten tasks in one.  It's not.  It's one little task.  

• Remember that old adage, "it will pass".  A friend once told me that "it will all get handled.  It may not be the most comfortable time of your life, and it won't be handled perfectly-- nothing is, but it will be handled, the stress will pass, and make way for better times. That's a certainty"  Good words.  It also reminds me of the Bible passage "yea, though I walk through the shadow of the Valley of Death".  The operative word here is "through".  You aren't walking endlessly in misery, you are walking momentarily through a time of uncertainty.

Of course it's easy to read these and let them soothe momentarily, and then let them float on out of mind.  What's challenging is to use them continually, and make them as habitual as the self destructive patterns sometimes seem.

Chapter Two

Call it "mid-life crisis or  call it "hastening my second act", but after ten years in Austin, I have made a major decision, and taken a leap of faith.  In truth it's something I've always dreamed of doing- and it's also the thing I am most afraid of doing.  As they say, those two things are usually one and the same.

The first, and (up until recently) only time I went to New York, I was twenty years old.  Back then I was touring in a musical (a children's musical in which I wore a giant teddy bear outfit and a little jumper, God help me) and we had a stop just outside Manhattan.  We had limo service to and from town, stayed in a gorgeous hotel, and were pretty much spoiled.  In short, we had it pretty good and I saw the town under the best of circumstances.  And yet, more than anything, I was overwhelmed.  I fought my way through crowds of people moving with deep intent!  I saw a rat in the city!  I paid twenty dollars for a sandwich!  I felt like I spent all my time asking for directions, and while I loved feeling like I was in a movie, it was all too much.  When I left, I heaved a metaphorical sigh of relief and never thought I would go back.  Ever.  I'd been to Ferncliff and placed yellow roses at Judy Garland's grave site.  I.  Was.  Done.  Heart of American culture or not, no thanks.

Fast forward through a few years in L.A., and nearly ten in Austin.  As much as I love it, I miss the urbanity, the creativity, the opportunity of a big city.  Austin is my childhood home, and I couldn't help but feel like I was avoiding my dreams and passing time.  I've been performing here, but making a living?  There aren't many people in my field in this town, who are doing this.  They all have day-jobs.  And me?  Is it that I was never truly able to think of anything else I could do?  Yes.  My skills are not practical, my brain is not practical, and if that's the case, the doubter in me has thought "New York is the last place you should be."  "What if you aren't tough enough?  What if you can't support yourself?  Yes there are tons of opportunities and there are many more people out there pursuing them.  People with drive and guts and nerve.  Have you got that?  Forget about the crime and the crowds and the dirt, could you feed yourself?"

As a consolation prize I considered a move to Chicago, which is not as frightening as New York and is right in the heart of the Mid-West.  And yet...it's also very hard to support yourself as an actor there.  If you are in Chicago, as in Austin, as in Minneapolis, etc.  You will most likely always be supporting yourself through alternative means.  So it was less risk, but less reward.  And even when I thought of doing it, I knew I was taking the easy route.  And hadn't I done that so much in my life?  Not that New York is an easy place for people to make a living from performance, believe me.  I know.  But being a performer ANYWHERE is a struggle.  Pick your poison.  Big pond, little pond, they all have their drawbacks.  This shit ain't for babies.

In the meantime, friends of mine were moving out there.  They were working.  And new little youngies straight out of college moved there all the time.  "Good luck!" I said, all the while wondering how long it would be before they came back with their tails between their legs.  And you know what?  Some came back.  And some didn't.  And did I judge those who returned?  Who tried it and didn't want that dream?  No.  I didn't.  What else is life for?  Did I envy those that went?  That sought out their fortune like those three little pigs in the story?  Regardless of the outcome? Yes.  I did.

In the meantime, here in town, those that didn't head out to NYC were having babies, going into grad school, finishing up their grad programs, and what was I doing?  Where was it leading me? 
Then last year my best friend and his wife (also a good friend) joined those intrepid souls out in NYC.  In February I visited the two of them, and some other dear friends out there.  And what was it like?  I got lost on the subway, I lost my fitbit, at one point I left my keys behind in the apartment.  In those moments I thought to myself, "this city would eat you ALIVE, bitch!!!!  ALIIIVE!"  And yet, I also found my way to several places, became acquainted with the subway systems and the various apps that help you through life there.  I saw six shows, some amazing, some not.  I went to a lot of places on my own, and had a blast.  And I learned some tips on how to save funds and live on a budget, I met a couple of great people...  There was life here!  And so many gays.  The city was teeming with gays of all shapes and sizes.  A lot of them very friendly, and not all shoved into one tiny little part of town.

I learned something else on that visit.  Everyone in New York is humping on through.  The struggle is real.  And there were so many crazy people on subways and in bookstores that I no longer felt like the weirdest one in the room.  Occasionally someone sneered at me, or honked, or was bitchy.  Guess what?  Those people are like that to everyone.  It no longer felt directed at me, and the experiences no longer felt targeted towards me alone.  I didn't worry about having the best shoes, or the best hair, because right next to me there was someone with a busted up pair of flip flops in Winter, and then on the other side there was a man in glossy designer boots.  I was somewhere in-between.  I was myself, and that was somehow all that mattered.   And I wanted to be me...in NYC.  I wanted to be around those iconic statues and landmarks that made you feel like a character in a place you'd read about in a book.   It was as if The Emerald City was real, but it was called "New York".  Life might suck, and believe me, I knew life in New York would have it's horrific days, but at least it would  be sucking in New York.

I came back with a secret intent to move there, and thought to myself "someday".  A month passed, and another.  I stepped back into the real world, and thought several times of letting the dream go.  "New York is a great place to visit," I would hear someone say, "but it's some other fucking thing to LIVE there."  I was sure they were probably right, especially for me.  But the end of my lease came near.  My roommate was moving out farther South for school.  I didn't know where I was going.  I'd said halfheartedly that I was moving, maybe in the Fall, but I said it more to convince myself than I was saying something I believed to be true.  Should I get another six month lease? 

And then, something changed.  Slowly, at first.  I grew stronger in my conviction, started to imagine myself there, to plot out solutions to possible challenges.  A couple of acting gigs here didn't pan out, and my desire to audition for new ones waned.  I got new headshots done by a photographer who knew what the market was like in New York.  My folks offered to love and care for my dog Stella while I figured out living arrangements.  Friends sent links to resources for "gypsy housing" and I allowed myself to dream.  Next, I declared my intention through social media and the response was huge, and so encouraging.  I found out I could pretty easily get my Equity card through my SAG membership.  And then I was offered the opportunity to house sit for about a month, with other possibilities beyond that.

I took a leap.  Saturday I purchased a one-way ticket to New York City departing July 1st.  Yesterday I gave my notice at the Title company where I'm employed.  Over the next month I will pack up my apartment and say goodbye to my friends and embark on a new life.  Not sure how long I will last there, but I'm not intending to give up easily.  I'm staying open to opportunities, and taking small practical steps every day.  It's strange because it feels like there are A LOT of fresh out of school little dumplings heading to New York, and not so many grizzled veterans, but I've always been a little late to the party, metaphorically speaking, and I always get there just the same.

Weathering the Storm

I'm currently tucked up in the corner of my second story apartment, having weathered the pelting rains and seventy mile winds of the past few days.  There are warnings active until 10PM, but as of this moment it feels like everything has subsided, and for that I am grateful.  Of course, we aren't completely out of the woods as the rain is still coming, and continual flooding is likely.  The maintenance man encouraged me to park farther up the hill, as my apartment is right next to the little pond, which could flood up into the lot.

The worst came Saturday night with the phone warnings of a possible tornado, and the alert to "take cover now".  I was with friends, watching Mortdecai (in case you were wondering, this is the Johnny Depp heist film which you can definitely skip) when the alerts came in, so we turned off the television and snuggled up on the floor in the middle of the living room, as far from the windows as we could get.  Eventually the alert was called off, and once the rain had slowed a bit, I headed back to little Stella, certain that she was shivering underneath my bed, where she had taken to hiding off and on lately, storm or no storm.

I was surprised by the carnage in our complex.  It's a very woodsy place, loaded with trees, many of which were uprooted.  There was a downed tree almost completely blocking the passage to my place, and there were loads of trees who's branches had been peeled off, revealing the tender wood beneath.
There were roof tiles and pieces of trees littering the grass, and a couple of cars had been hit by tumbled trees.  It was no tornado, but it was more significant than anything I had experienced lately.

Today brought more rain, though without the winds, and more shivering from Stella.  I'd gone up to Round Rock to visit my folks and gotten caught in the storm on the way back (incidentally cars driving 60 miles an hour during such conditions, the slickness of the road is not the only reason to slow the fuck down.  It's also courteous to the safety of your fellow traveller's because you are pelting them with a lot less torrents of water at fifty miles an hour than you are at sixty-five as you rush to get past us).

Currently, little Stella is curled at my feet, and if I can get her to go outside (she doesn't like getting wet in the best of circumstances) we'll probably pop up some corn and watch a suspense film before returning to work tomorrow.

Standing Next to Greatness

In my artistic pursuits, especially during the seven year run I had in LA, I've ocassionally run into a celebrity or two.  Sometimes, I've consciously sought these experiences out through book signings and the like, as, let's face it, I love me some celebrities (which is how I "met" Phyllis Diller, Lorna Luft, Pat Conroy, Esther Williams, and Mary Tyler Moore). 

A lot of times, I spotted these celebs because I was serving them, in one capacity or another.    Examples?   

I served Shirley Maclaine fish at a banquet (which she later claimed was rather dry to a group of ladies including Olivia Newton-John, Jane Seymour and Ruta Lee)   Tell is like it T-I- is Shirley!!

I've sold books to Martha Plimpton, Alanis Morissette, Gloria Allred, and Mary Kay Place.  I've served hors d'oeuvres to Chloe Sevigny, Mira Sorvino, and Quentin Tarantino.

A couple of them were really brief encounters...

Sometime in the late nineties I was in the LA Airport with an equally celebrity enamored friend who suddenly turned and pointed to a slight, dark haired young woman who had covered herself with a baseball cap, sunglasses and an oversized smock.  She obviously did not want to be recognized.  "THAT'S WINONA RYDER!!" he shouted.  She of course, quickly looked around and ducked her head.  Lucky for her it was a very crowded airport and people were far too busy to pay any attention to one nut job shouting, so Winona, expert in evasion, quickly faded into the crowd.  I'm sure that for her it was just another Tuesday. 

I momentarily saw Gary Coleman at the Westside Pavillion mall, standing in the game store, inspecting (not buying) a furbee.  This was around the time he appeared in the Simpsons episode "Grift of the Magi", which featured Mr. Funzo, a satirical version of the Furbee, so I like to imagine that Mr. Coleman was doing his actorly research.

A few of the stories need a little more attention to detail to convey the truth of the experience, so those I'll be covering in later posts.  First up???  Barbra Streisand.  Stay Tuned.

Cathy Dresden Returns!!! (Part One)

I'm committing to baby steps.  In life and in art.  I have a theatrical project I'm working on for Christmas of 2015 which will bring back Cathy Dresden after a small absence from the Austin scene.  Who's Cathy Dresden?  Glad you asked.

She's a plucky chanteuse/homemaker from 1958 who got her big break on "Steve Polanko's Amateur Hour of Power".  She placed third in the televised competition, and it was enough for her to throw off her apron, put down her dish gloves and  start singing full-time.  She bid adieu to the South, and her refrigerator repairman husband, and trucked on out to Los Angeles. 

I introduced her story in my one-man show "Overwhelming Underdogs", produced in 2007, which charted the ups and downs of her Butter Churn Tour of the Midwest. Since that show I've brought her out for appearances at benefits and fund raisers, including one for the Rude Mechanicals.  I've since gotten a lot of requests to bring her back and some offers of assistance should I ever decide to do so.  I always knew I wasn't finished with her, but I had a few ideas fighting it out for which one would be first to be produced.  The winner?

A show with the working title "Cathy Dresden's Christmas Spectacular". It's a parody/tribute of Holiday specials from the early sixties.  I'm approximately halfway through.  I've got an outline I'm pretty pleased with, and the first thirty pages has gotten to a pretty polished state.  Of course, depending on how it goes with the actual execution of the outline, things will have to change, be rearranged, etc.

I will say I think I've learned an important lesson.  Never send your child out into the world half dressed.  I had someone who was interested in looking at the piece for a possible production, and I rushed a draft and sent it.  The response, while perfectly positive, was not the overwhelming rave and clamor that everyone hopes for, and when I looked over what I'd sent out, I analyzed (over analyzed?) why.  The pacing was off, it was a bit repetitive, certain scenes came too early, characters weren't clearly motivated, etc.  In short, on second glance I found my unformed baby to be ugly, ugly, UGLY!!!  And threw a proverbial sheet over it to hide the disgrace from the cruel world.  And yet... I went back and made some cuts, polished some dialogue, re-worked a character, altered one of the songs, and then hit a snag which has kept me stymied.

Up until yesterday I hadn't worked on the piece in a month.  And for those of you thinking there is no rush?  Finding a performance space in Austin can be brutal so the sooner you look the better, and it helps to have a working script to present and sell to possible producers.  I am determined to go through with the piece, as I think it is one with promise.  I've come to realize that there are many, many artists who ran into obstacles on the way to having something produced and the one thing the successful ones have in common?  They blazed through them. 

My current assignments in bringing Cathy's show to completion?

1.  Finish the script.
2.  Send it to trusted colleagues for feedback and re-writes.
3.  Re-submit it to the producer.
4.  Continue to introduce Cathy to the Austin area (hosting of events, improv, etc.)
5.  Look into the possibility of self-producing and discuss the idea with artists in the area who have done the same.
6.  Organize an informal reading of the piece so I can make another pass at the script.

So, back to the baby steps.  I've been reading Anne LaMotte's "Bird By Bird", and she stresses the importance of small projects.  Because, add up twenty small assignments in support of a project and you have a pretty big chunk of the job completed.  So right now, I am committing to 15 minutes a day on the script until it's completed.  This commitment may change, but at the moment it's enough to keep me coming back to the desk every day.  Because the muse will not show up out of the blue.  I've discovered the only way to get her there is to make an appointment with her, and assume that she will be late.  Just keep plugging along til she arrives, and she almost always will.

One challenge I'm facing in the script writing process-  Cathy's on again off again fiancé Jerome Tolliver.  He's her charming, sexually ambiguous accompanist and up until this point he's been performed beautifully by Dustin Struhall who is, as of this moment heading off to Edinburgh.  I am really excited for him, but not sure what to do about Jerome.  Have someone else play him?  Seems weird.  Trust that I'll find another great pianist who is comfortable acting?  Or...should I write another character?  And if so, should his active role in the piece be toned down to accommodate someone who is not comfortable speaking dialogue onstage?    At this point I am leaving the character as is, being open to the idea that Cathy may have a string of revolving fiancés who's names change as the accompanist does.  And yet, this is not a fully resolved question.  Stay tuned.

Lauren Bacall on "What's My Line"

If you want a real peek at a celebrity's impish side, the way they might have appeared at a cocktail party, AND you're interested in stars of Hollywood's golden age, there is no better way in than through the celebrity guest spots on What's My Line, the game show that aired from 1950-1967 and featured a very erudite and witty panel of columnists and media celebrities who tried to figure out what a person's "line" was through a series of "yes or no" questions.

The "mystery guest" spot required the panel to cover their eyes with face masks (Arlene Francis' is particularly reflective of her personal brand of kooky glamour) and the celebrity would employ tricks to disguise their voices, or if the celebrity's voice was instantly recognizable, as in the case of Judy Garland, the guest would have a bell to ring for "yes" and clicker for "no". 

In watching this particular clip featuring Lauren Bacall just after she finished filming How To Marry A Millionaire, I was surprised by how flirty and coquettish and almost...demure she was.  I've always known and loved Bacall as the sophisticated, confident, and salty lady she was onscreen, and that she relaxed into as she aged.  So to see her in this context was loads of fun.  Hope you enjoy.

 

And if this clip has piqued your interest, there are plenty more What's My Line celebrity spots available on Youtube, including Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz, Kim Novak, Jimmy Stewart, Judy Garland and Eleanore Roosevelt!  I personally recommend the clip with Rosalind Russell.

Uncertainty...

It's been a somewhat tenuous time as of late, as I've been trying to figure out what the future holds.  My job situation is somewhat unstable, my romantic life is undeveloped, and close friends of mine are off on exciting new adventures of one kind or another.

Me???  I'm beginning to realize that if I plan on staying in the Austin area, any hopes of making a larger income based on creativity is...limited.  That's not to say that some people haven't been able to make a go of it, but in my areas of expertise??  Let's just say Chicago has been calling, and has been calling ever since I my exploratory visit about five years ago.  Now I realize I'm not getting any younger, and that it might take some time to establish myself in a new town, and that it's a lot of hard work.  I hear you.  But, it would be exciting as well, and feel like really living, rather than just...coasting. And if the effort is motivated by desire, then it doesn't really feel as much like work, does it?  As far as here?  Austin?  At this moment I don't see the next four or five years as very different from what they have been, and I just don't want to accept a future of drifiing from  one job to another that has very little to do with my passions, true talents, and desires.   

That said, I am currently in a lease which goes to June, so until then, I am here.  In the mean time I am open to finding the perfect position, preferably in an industry focused on creativity and communications.  I can dream, right? 

Obsession: Once Upon A Brothers Grimm

I've loved fairy tales for as long as I can remember.  In kindergarten I had a huge book of them that I checked out from the library multiple times.  And I coveted the illustrated version of Disney's Snow White that my cousins owned, and whenever I visited them always found a time to break away from them and pore over its pages for a few moments.  My Aunt would always tell them to me when she put me to sleep, and the only way my mother could get me to sit still while she cleaned my ears out was to mention a long list of fairy tale and Disney characters that she was pulling out of there.  Disgusting, but true.   

So it stands to reason that a television special entitled Once Upon A Brothers Grimm was little kid eye candy.  So colorful, and exciting, and suspenseful.   When you're a kid you have this magical power to suspend all disbelief, and so I was truly and utterly engrossed.  It's a power I really miss in  my slightly snarky years.  It's available at Amazon, so I can't wait to order it and re watch it...

 

Yes it's campy as shit and unintentionally funny.  Yes, it's got Paul Sand (ugh) and yes Terri Garr is blatantly lip synching and yes Ruth Buzzi is an inappropriate cast as the Miller's daughter in Rumplestilsken, but it's fucking Ruth Buzzi!  In a 1970's fairy tale extravaganza!! 

Others in the cast include Dean Jones, Chita Rivera, Arte Lang, and many more...

Blast From The Past

 

 
Here's a fun little peek at the past that proves the fashion world has been pushing the boundaries in male fashion long before the "makeup for men" and "lingerie for men" trends in the nineties. 
I love that the youtube poster titled the clip "Outrageous Male Fashion Show", ie "GAY AS FUCK"!  And the wienie dog licking his lips?  Hilarious.

I am curious if the designer expected straight males to get into this trend, or if was designed for the "effete" male from the get-go?  Thoughts?

 

NPR Delights

NPR  has become my go to place for news and information, and no that's not me being a shitty pseudo-intellectual liberal (well, maybe it is, you decide).  I legitimately love the features, and how diverse, in-depth and affecting they are.  They often have me sobbing one solitary tear, a bit like Barbra Streisand in "The Way We Were" when she thinks she's about to make sweet sweaty 1940's love to a drunken Robert Redford. 



First Example: 

 This little story about what happens to military dogs when they've finished their service.  Hearing about the people in the military who are fighting to make sure these animals don't get left behind will make you feel great about being a human, but then you might just get mad as hell to think there are people who think it's ok to use them and then just dump them.  And then, like me, you might cry the aforementioned single tear when you hear a veteran who was a handler say that once he got back to the US, all he wanted was his dog back with him.



The Second Example:

This next feature probably won't bring you to tears, but if you're a writer, it might get you thinking, and feeling a little inspired.  I know self publishing seems lame, but if self publishing an e-book can put some of the control in your hands and make your dream seem one step closer, and if there's money to be made...why discount it?