Favorite Spaces: Jonathan Adler

There are certain spots in New York, little hubs of pleasure that boosts spirits, soothe the days worries away, and inspire joy in living.  There are many such places for every individual style and heart, and I keep a growing list of places in this city that helps to chase my bluesies and bring on joy.  My newest addition?  The Jonathan Adler store on the Upper West side.

Forget about those two tired lions "patience and fortitude" who loll about the New York Library.  I love the two little squirrels perkily presenting their nuts to every visitor to Jonathan Adler.  I call them "Pithy and Sparky" and they are the perfect ambassadors for a store that celebrates whimsy and glamor.  Framed just outside the doorway is "The Jonathan Adler Manifesto", and if that doesn't make you want to waltz through the doors, eyes aglow, then I'm pulling you out of my imaginary rolodex and tearing up your card.  Wait, scratch that.  There's room in this world for all varieties of taste and brands of fascination, so ok, imaginary torn up card carefully reassembled, taped and apologetically shoved back into the rolodex.  But if you DO waltz through the doors with eyes aglow and hands flailing as you point at candy colored chotchkies, then we might be destined, as Anne Shirley says, to become bosom friends.  Below you'll see a few of my select favorites:

Our Manifesto

We believe that your home should make you happy. 

We believe that when it comes to decorating, the wife is always right. Unless the husband is gay.

 

We believe in carbohydrates and to hell with the puffy consequences.

 

We believe minimalism is a bummer.

 

We believe handcrafted tchotchkes are life-enhancing.

 

We believe tassels are the earrings of the home.

 

We believe in our muses: David Hicks, Alexander Girard, Bonnie Cashin. Hans Coper, Gio Ponti, Andy Warhol, Leroy Neiman, Yves Saint Laurent, and Madonna.

We believe in the innate chicness of red with brown.

 

We believe in being underdressed or overdressed always.

We believe dogs should be allowed in stores and restaurants.

We believe colors can’t clash. 

We believe in blowing your nest egg on our pots. 

We believe our lamps will make you look younger and thinner.

We believe in irreverent luxury.

 

Stores like this are designed with an eye toward aspirational living.  You think to yourself "I love this person's perspective, their moxie, their way of life, their flair, and I want just a little of this glitz to rub off on me so I can splash around in it and dispense it like Auntie Mame with an outie part".  Ok.  Full disclosure, that's what I think.  You may just think... "Cool chair!"  Please tell me you are thinking something more than "cool chair", but in an effort to cast a wide net of thoughts and desires, let's just go with "cool chair!"

In addition, each piece of furniture, or nicknack has a distinct world view.  It has its own look and identity that somehow meshes with the entire collection, and you can immediately imagine living with these little pieces of whimsical luxury.  Ok, I can imagine living with them.  I can see myself stretching out on this bed and waiting for my man to come home (still taking applications) Or lounging on that divan waiting for my man to come home, as I drink sweet and fizzy drinks and read one of Simon Doonan's books.

Of course, it's not just the things he creates and inspires that make the Jonathan Adler Company so charming.  It's Jonathan Adler himself.  He's handsome, dapper, just a touch snarky, and big hearted as all get-out (or at least he seems big hearted.  As all get out.  We've not actually met)

If the previous passages enticed you at all, now is the perfect time to visit jonathanadler.com to buy me a belated birthday gift.  I'm partial to these pots as I have lots of eyelashes to store in a half hazard manner.

"I Am Grateful!": (The Birthday Edition)

Since it's my birthday, and birthday's are a great time for counting blessings, I figured this would be a perfect time to remember all of the great things happening in my life. I can't lie, this first one in New York was the hardest one I can remember, but I've had lots of love and good wishes from those I care about across the miles, and from those here in the city as well, so who could ask for more?

I am grateful for my friends at The New York Transit Museum. The people I've met there have made the job a joy, and have impacted my life outside of work in a multitude of ways as well.  I'm so happy to have a place to play amongst people who love what they are doing, and to get to call that "work".

I am grateful for A Little Life.  It seems a strange thing to say about a book that is taking me through an emotional roller coaster and making me feel particularly vulnerable on the city's subways, but it has won me over with it's beautifully rendered characters and by its depiction of friendships in New York City.  

I am thankful to be going on auditions.  It's taken some courage to get out there, and thus far, I admittedly haven't gotten up the courage to go for a Broadway show (it's all been for Off-Broadway and Regional) but I am getting some great experience, and putting my face out there, and I trust I'm making waves, even if it's sometimes difficult to see the impact.

I am so grateful to all the friends who have reached out to me in the past week and today, sending thoughts of love both by phone, through gifts, and through Facebook.  It's funny, because every time I see reminders to post on Facebook for a friend's upcoming birthday and think "Oh, they don't care about hearing from me", I forget how great it feels to receive these, and how touching it is to know that people are thinking about me, even for just a moment.

I am grateful for an amazing little cafe about a quarter of a mile from here, by the name of Pel's Pie Co.  It's cozy, with a minty green interior, lovely people behind the counter, and delicious pies.  

                                                     

If you're ever in the neighborhood and feeling like a savory treat, the Tomato Pie is delicious.  It's a wonderful place to tuck up for awhile and do some writing while having a piece of pie and coffee, or a sip of wine.  

I am grateful that my little pooch Stella has an amazing home with my family in Texas and is not having to brave these Winters, or the crowds and noises that would give her the shivers.  

I am also extremely grateful to be in this city with its amazing museums, theaters, citizens, and the myriad of magical little places tucked all around it.  Living here and making the most of it is a job all of its own, but it's worth it (and PS:  I don't own those particular photos above, so if you would rather I remove them, let me know :))

Dear "The Revenent": No thank you.

Dear The Revenent,

I saw a little bit of what you had to offer, and while I appreciate the effort that went into making it, I'm going to politely decline.  Does Leo's character get his revenge on that crazy dude who left him for dead and that I didn't even recognize was Tom Hardy?  Does he live happily ever after?  What does the inside of a horse corpse look like?  I will never know.  I think I made it about an hour in before I realized that I didn't want to suffer through to the end of the film, and it's not that you guys didn't try.  Friends say the cinematography is beautiful, and thinking back on it?  They are right!  There were sweeping pans of hillsides that were worthy of The Sound of Music, and close-up shots that showed just how long it had been since these boys had a hot shower.  And all the brutal action, blood and suffering seemed very real.  Good on you! And I'm glad that Native Americans are getting acting gigs, thankless as those gigs may be.  But when the computerized bear... and it was truly spectacular by the way, there were only a couple of times that the ends of its fur looked like the ends of the branches on the fiber optics Christmas tree we used to plug in and display on top of the filing cabinet in my old HR office...

But when that bear attacked Leo's character, should I have been rooting for the bear?  Or shouldn't I at least have felt something other than terribly sad because in the end Leo left those two bear cubs motherless in what has already been established as an unforgiving country?  Don't get me wrong, I wanted to care about him, but I didn't know who he was!!!   He'd said about three words throughout the whole film and seemed to me just like another schmoe with a gun.  That CGI bear was a mother with two CGI cubs to feed!!!!

And to Leo;s character- yes, Tom Hardy was ruthless and horrible and deserves to get fucked up!!!  But can I completely blame him for thinking that you likely wouldn't live after that attack?  There's a reason #fuckedbyabear is trending right now.  You should have seen yourself!!  It was very bad.   If it had been me dragging you around in the freezing snow and I thought you were going to die any minute, and in the meantime you were being a real Debbie Downer and keeping us from making a speedy exit from the frozen tundra where Native Americans rightfully had it out for us?  Well, truthfully I don't know what I would have done.  There would have been some flailing and crying, that I can say for sure, and I probably wouldn't have buried you alive, but the likely fact is that we would have ALL become Otter Pops.  And yes, he literally buried you alive, and did really awful things to that mean kid from The Chronicles of Narnia, but it just wasn't enough to make me care about you.  I hear that at some point there's a scene with you and your former love, and maybe if that had come a lot sooner, I would have invested more.  At least there's that hope.

As it was, after awhile, I sadly looked into the bottom of my popcorn bag, discovering it empty.  I looked back up at the screen and there you were crawling around on the ground, a dirty mangled mess.  STILL!!  I really wanted to leave the theatre, and yet I knew there was this thing with a horse corpse.  It's all people can talk about.  They say:

"He crawled into a horse corpse!!!  He got really cold, and he looked dirty as fuck!  It is OSCAR TIME!!"

In regards to that, I don't want to negate your work.  It did look very real, but... apparently, a lot of it was real!!!  No offense, but if you were to put my Uncle Frank on-screen, throw him in a freezing river, make him eat guts and crawl into a horse corpse he would look realistically miserable, because he would be miserable!!  That's not acting!

Finally, I saw a horse come on the screen and I thought to myself "Thank God.  Let's get to this legendary horse corpse moment so I can fecking go", and yet, it was all a tease.  It was just more Native Americans.  It was then that I realized I probably didn't want to hang around for who knew how long, waiting for a moment that was just going to make me feel sad for the horse, and haunt my dreams for months to come. It was that point at which I made a speedy exit.

So thanks, truly.  It's not just you.  It's me too.  I think I'm more of a Carol guy.

My kind of movie!

Not my kind of movie.

Subway Tears

New York is sometimes a place where you can sit in a train car, heart in a book, and let yourself cry for the people living in the pages.  You can wipe those tears away with your index finger, turn the page, and then look up to see that you haven't made the spectacle of yourself you thought you had, because of the seven or eight people scattered about the car, not one was looking up.  They had their faces in mirrors as they applied lipstick, or their phones, or like you- in a book.  You exhale and feel an emotion that is equal parts relief and isolation.

Streetwalking In New York

Here's a hard New York truth.  Everyone in New York jaywalks.  They do.  As a visitor to this town, or a resident, far too often you will come to a crosswalk, and see a street completely empty of cars (this happens more often than you would think) and you will either wait, and wait, and later wonder what bliss you could have had with those two minutes you frittered away waiting for the little white walking man to pop up, or you will look both ways and then hustle across the street.  You will face this decision a lot, and so I promise you, then in New York, you will jay walk!

Here's another situation in which you will jaywalk.  You are in a bustling part of the city, it's 7PM or so, and a crowd of you is waiting for the light to change.  HOWEVER, you've got a fucking show to get to and you want to make sure you have enough time to buy a ten dollar glass of wine and get your drink on before the curtain rises on Aladdin or whatever bullshit show you are aching to see.  Suddenly, the crowd, as one begins to surge forward across the street like a living life raft.  You will tuck yourself inside them and walk, knowing that
1.  Surely a car would not hit all these people.
2.  If someone does come plowing through in their metal exoskeleton, heedless of all these living, fragile cantaloupe headed creatures,  they will likely hit someone else first, and there will be lots of bodies to cushion your fall.

So, you will jaywalk.  Believe it.  Unless you are a studious eight year old girl on the corner linked hand in hand with your eight year old cohort.  In that case you will wisely listen to all the things your mother told you, and you will stay still.  As I strut across the street I will pay you silent homage and give you a mental kudos.  Your lives are not worth that two minutes you would save!!!!

But in truth, if you are a grown up, and vigilant, in many instances, it's just efficient to book it across the empty street.  And in case you are worried about a ticket?   They never fucking ticket for it, because, as I have mentioned, EVERYONE does it.  I've seen people jaywalk right in front of a police car without batting an eye, and they are not cited.  However, please be safe about it.  Please!  Because for every quick an careful person, some people are just ridiculous about it.

Just today I saw a group of three girls, and the heftier of the three, the poor girl who had shot up a little taller than her friends and at aged 15 or so was nearing six feet, she obviously had something to prove.  So while the crowd of us waited at the corner and cars whizzed by, she, with a careful pose of nonchalance, walks out into the street.  She sways her head a bit, fake sassiness girding her loins as her pupils dilate.  Her two friends stand a couple steps behind her, giggling, shocked at her audacity.  You can almost hear them think to themselves "you're so brave, Martinique".  In the meantime I'm screaming inside, thinking "DON'T DO IT MARTINIQUE!!!! You are too trusting, and your life is worth more than the five seconds of glory you will have in being able to prove to your friends that you didn't give a fuck!

Another example that happens all too often.  There's a young (are they always young?  Do the young have a monopoly on cockiness and naivety?) person waiting at the corner with you.  They spot a car coming toward them, the sign says "don't walk" and yet, they think they can make it before the car gets to them, so they begin the walk across the street.  But it's less of a walk, more of a stroll.  They saunter, they promenade across the street with major attitude, almost daring the car coming at them not to slow down.  There's a defiance to it, and a swing to the hip or a mild thrusting of the pelvis as they make their way across the street.  There's something sexual about it, believe it or not.

Now I say these things not to judge or cast aspersions.  Like I said, I have been a jaywalker.  In a way, I am sayingg these things to remind myself to be vigilant, and remember to take my eyes off the phone as I 'm walking down the street and arriving at a corner.  To pause and assess.  Because New York is a dangerous city, and you never know if that car, the one coming at you as you defy the laws of traffic, is being driven by someone who values your life, or is piloted by someone who's at their wits end and will give you a hearty flip of the bird as she plows on through the intersection, nearly hitting you because she has a green light.

I guess what I'm really saying has all been said before, much better than I can, and it all boils down to this.  Let's all be careful walking those streets, and if you're feeling vulnerable and alone, find a grown up friend and be safe.

Snowstorm 2016!

We've been receiving news in the city of an incoming snow storm, our first of the season.  About a week ago we had our first snowfall, but it was so slight that it really just dotted the yards and sidewalks for an evening and was gone by the ext morning.  This storm?  This was supposed to be "the one".  Reports varied pretty wildly, from five inches to possible twelve inch snowfalls.  Flights had been changed in anticipation, I got advice to "shop up" before it got here, and be prepared for things to shut down.  Thus far, however, I had not heard mention of "snowpocalypse", which had been bandied about last year, and then turned out in large to be a disappointment (if it can be said to be a disappointment when a storm anticipated to shut down the city and damage businesses doesn't end up doing that).  Reports as to when this storm would arrive also varied, as some said it would begin Friday afternoon, and others believed it would start on Saturday.

I, unfortunately cannot tell you exactly when it arrived.  As of 8PM last night, all was well.  I've been dog sitting for my dear friend in Queens, and after my Yorkie friend and I took a walk around the block, I microwaved a Lean Cuisine, started up Harry Potter and The Sorcerer's Stone and we cuddled up, waiting for the snow to "bring it".

Well, it came.  Our window overlooks the apartment's rooftop, which is at covered with at least three to four inches of snow.

NEWS UPDATE:  I'm streaming WNYC as I type this, and I've been told that we may get 18-20 inches.  Lord.  I didn't take anybody's advice.  I didn't "shop up" as I was told to", and if everything is closed, I will be living off cans of vegetable soup until further notice.  Which isn't the worst news.  Think what it will do to my figure!!??!

An Optimistic Outlook for 2016

This past year was a pretty monumental one as far as life changes go, and no matter what happens now, 2015 willRegardless of what happens in this city, it will forever be the year I got up the courage to move to New York City, a decision I'd been skirting for years.  But a lot of tiny events came together to make it happen, and I am so grateful to those events and those people who were a part of that, and to those who make it a place I still want to be.

I'm grateful to Kirk and Heather, who provided a place for me to get my bearings and were my ambassadors to this real life Emerald City.  I'm thankful for my dear friend Leslie Carrara Rudolph, who is a constant source of mirth and heartfelt support.  I'm thankful to my family most of all, who have given my little dog a perfect second home and told me to "go for it", in spite of the fact they worried for me, and probably continue to worry for me.  I'm grateful to my dear friends in Austin, who have been such a lifeline when I'm roaming the streets of New York feeling a little untethered.  I'm grateful to my new friends here, especially those at The New York Transit Museum, for showing me what amazing things are here.  And, I'm grateful to whatever it is in me that decided to do this after fearing it so long.

For years, every time I hear or read or otherwise encounter that quote about your heart's desire being found in the thing you fear most, I would think "yep, that's probably true".  I also knew without giving it much thought, what I feared most and wanted most.  And then I would go about planning a future that did not include my coming face to face with that deep desire and deepest fear.  Chicago?  Possibly.  Seattle??  It's a thought.  New York??  Not possible.

It's safe to say that if Kirk and Heather hadn't come here first I may never have gotten up the guts to do this.  My idea of what's possible for me has been limited by fear and doubt.   It's a daily struggle to stretch those limitations, and sometimes t's easier to give in to television or sleep or donuts than it is to move forward, but it is happening.   When these efforts feel pointless I'm often reminded of a quote from the book From Beast To Blonde, one I read more than fifteen years ago and that I've spent a lot of time trying to relocate (it's a behemoth of a book).  It's probably the most inspiring and comforting quote I've ever read, and I can't begin to paraphrase it aptly, but it spoke about fairy tales, specifically Russian fairy tales, and how the most common theme in them is that if you declare your intentions and have faith to step out into the world, the world will come to your aid in unimaginable ways.  It's seen again and again when the young boy or girl, underestimated by a world that favors brute strength, ventures on a quest, shows kindness on his or her journey, and is aided by those she helps along the way.  Every time in the past when I had a tough decision to make, and asked myself "should I?" I've thought of that quote, and whether or not I had the courage to follow its advice, it shaped so many of my decisions.  I know there's a much simpler quote (a bible quote?) but for me, it was never said better than in that book that I happened upon back then.

So, I'm grateful to be here, feeling the feelings, and I'm attempting to be grateful even for those experiences that have been far from pleasant.  But what now?  Well, for one, I'm committed to making further advances in my creative journey.

A few days ago I had my first session with a pianist that was so encouraging.  There have been times in the past few years when came to doubt that I had any vocal chops, or that I could make my way through this crowd of talent.  To feel somewhat championed by a talented, new to me face who has heard a lot of singers, gave me a much needed boost as well as some terrific advice on the crafting of my "book" (the book of sheet music that goes with me to each audition) and how to tailor it to what I have to offer.

My next step will be an audition for a straight play coming up on the 22nd of this month, followed by a musical audition for agents.  It's an ongoing climb, but I'm keeping the faith that the climb is worth it, no matter what.

Rainbow's World

On my way home to Texas I was somewhat desperately looking for a book to tide me over on the airplane trip home, as I'd just finished my last one, and I've never been one who listens to podcasts or music on a plane ride, because it's such a perfect time to catch up on reading.  I had plenty of time in the Newark Airport, as I'd arrive three hours prior to my flights departure, and it was delayed even further by weather issues in Colorado (go figure).  I'd pretty much covered the entire store, but hadn't made it to YA.  There's a reason.  I always feel like a creepy old man in the "Young Adult" section.  Like I'm A- someone who refuses to grow up and thinks I still AM a teen, or B-  I want to spy on the teens of America like some kind of a peeping Tom.  And it's not that I haven't read Young Adult fiction, it's just not my number one or number two choice, and any time I do it feels like a guilty pleasure (a term I'm not a huge fan of, as I usually think we should like what we like and be proud of all our pleasures unless there really is something harmful to others in them).

This is the long way of explaining what guided me to Rainbow Rowell's take on the world of magic and schools of sorcery, Carry On.  I'd heard a lot of wonderful things about Rowell's work, mostly of her award winning novel Eleanor and Park, and I'm so glad that I decided to plunge into her world.

It's not her plotting that makes her stand out, but her style, and the intense amount of warmth and optimism that she infuses these characters with.  There's a sense of optimism in her, a sense that made the loneliness of being a new person in the big city seem to evaporate for a while.   I loved these people in her fictional world and I wanted to make them my friends.  Pathetic as it may seem, that feeling of escape, that sense of not being alone for awhile, that's one of the great big giant reasons I read.  I read in the hope of getting lost in something other than myself.

If I think about it, it's one of the reasons I got into acting, and singing, and writing (although writing sometimes seems to have the opposite affect while I'm in the process, placing me in direct confrontation with myself)... but I digress.

Once I finished the book, as the days passed, the more I wanted to go back to her world, to steep in her ideas.  But mostly I wanted more Simon and Baz, the central characters in Carry On.  Luckily, there was a place to go for exactly that thing.  Because here's the somewhat unique origin story of The World of Mages.  It was created as a fictional Potter universe for Cath, the main character in Rowell's novel Fangirl, to obsess over, and stories of Simon and Baz are sprinkled throughout.

In fact, Rowell loved the characters so much that she decided to expand their lives and give them a book of their own.  I loved this book nearly as much as the first, and will definitely read everything she writes until I've sopped up every bit of her writing.

If you are thinking of reading her, there are a few different entry points.  If you don't want to read YA, she has also written a couple of adult novels, and if you aren't into fantasy, you could start with Eleanor and Park.

That said, if you are thinking of reading about Simon Snow, I would highly recommend reading Carry On before reading Fangirl, as it will give you a purer perspective to be introduced to the story. But regardless of what book you start with, I encourage you to start.

Severus Snape In Chronological Order

We lost Alan Rickman on Thursday, days after the passing of David Bowie, and while I feel enough people are speaking about both of their contributions to culture both in film and music, I did want to share a clip I found of Alan Rickman's important scenes from the Harry Potter films.  The link promised me it would have me feeling all the feelings, and it did.  I would give a small warning.  If you have any pride, don't watch it in a Starbucks, but in the privacy of your own home.

Having watched this, it reminds me how emotional and evocative those films were in bringing Hogwarts and it's universe to life.  I'll always be a fan of the fiction first, but a revisitation of the movies is definitely in order.

New York At Christmas Time

It's true what they say about New York at the holiday season.  It really is a joyous time and place to be.  Especially if you are in the heart of the city and wandering through Rockefeller Center, or eyeing the famous holiday window displays.

A great new friend of mine from the Transit Museum suggested we go do this very New York activity and I'm so glad we followed through on our plans.  I couldn't have asked for a better traveling companion.

The Peninsula

The historic French Building

The theme at Saks 5th Avenue was "A Winter Palace"

The entire wall of Saks displayed an incredible light show

This was by far my favorite window, from Bergdorf's

As we wandered about, taking in the sights, I couldn't help but think how much my mom would love this, and how great it would be to be able to show the windows to her next year.

In between shops, Polly and I stepped into St Patrick's Cathedral and lit a candle. It was awe inspiring, the grandeur and sheer size of it. It's impossible to convey it through photos.

Rockefeller Center was a fitting final stop.

All I Got Out of This Audition Was A Lousy Peppermint Candle And A Small Sense Of Accomplishment

I had a major breakthrough this week, and while I'm not exactly blushing with pride, I do feel a good bit of accomplishment.  Drum roll please... (knowing that after the drumroll you will be thoroughly underwhelmed) Thursday I auditioned for my first musical in New York!

I had two that I was interested in, both of them for possible replacement spots on currently running Broadway (Chicago) and Off-Broadway (Avenue Q) shows.  I had plenty of notice to prepare, and yet... postponed that preparation.  My mind said I needed to get ahold of a pianist and go over my 16-32 bar audition pieces.  My wallet told me I didn't have enough funds, and my chorus of ever present demons chimed in that I didn't really know an available pianist (forget about the fact that I have friends who audition and know pianists and that if I put in some effort I could get ahold of one).  

 A few of their favorite ditties were (are):

• The "What if it comes out in cracks and croaks, you've had a sore throat lately" Blues
• The "Are you prepared enough" Samba
• The "You're Too Fat" Polka.  
• The "Where the Fuck Are You Going To Practice, You Have Roommates and Thin Walls" Rag

I had a bit of a crisis the night before the first audition, as buried in sheet music, I tried to pull myself together.  I called a couple friends for support, floundered in pages of music, and ultimately let my demons win that particular battle.  At the end of the night I resolved to skip the first audition and focus all my efforts on the second.

Of course, two nights later I was again covered in sheet music.  I wanted to be as prepared as I possibly could be at that short of a time frame, so I pulled out a book entitled The Enraged Accompanist's Guide To The Perfect Audition.  This was not helpful reading material at that particular moment.  It did help me to see that:

1. My "book" (the book of sheet music one carries to every audition in case they are asked to sing another selection) wasn't big enough
2. I didn't have an index of songs- fuck, I didn't really even have a book!  I had four songs, many of which have been over sung and over heard
3. I didn't have tabs to clearly separate the songs.
4. I didn't have separate copies of each song in 16 and 32 bar versions.

What was the fucking point?  If you can't do it right...?

I nearly dumped the whole thought of auditioning, and yet, in spite of my nerves, I plugged on.  In these circumstances it helps that I am relatively self-aware and know that I always get these kinds of crazy nerves right before a show opens or an audition, or a first date, or a job interview, and I knew that these would pass and they didn't mean the end of my personal world.  It also helped that my dear friend and roommate was there to coax me through.

As a result of my perseverance, I was up the next morning, book in hand, and out the door bright and early.  I was about thirtieth in the line to audition, which ain't bad, and I remained pretty positive and up-beat for quite a while.  Admittedly, this became a little more difficult as time went on.    Why?  Because an audition room, overflowing with distressed "musical theatre people" and all the over the top antics that term implies, is essentially a theatrical war zone.

The first of us there line up around the perimeter of the room and sit in the seats.  Everyone else has to line up behind us in a kind of snaky indecipherable line.  God help you if you unknowingly enter the room and sit in what you think is a crowd of haphazardly arranged people.  You will undoubtedly be told in no uncertain terms, by a girl with false eyelashes, ankle boots and a panda bear hat, that you are "fucking up the line".  A nasal voiced gay man will then tell you where to go.  He tells you this not because he has any skin in the game, but because he has been jumping into the middle of everyone's conversation and giving "advice" on how to behave.  Amongst the other catty and awful things I hear him say, he freely admits that he is "that guy" at the audition.  I don't disagree.

Of course, there were plenty of sweet people, open faced and slightly hesitant, and had I not been in survival mode myself, I would have taken comfort in them.  Perhaps I would have remembered that everyone was feeling a little insecure and deep down we were all afraid that we did not belong in that room.  But I couldn't think about that because I was too concerned about the red head who came in squealing and knew EVERYONE in the room.  Watching her make the rounds was a bit like watching a playlet entitled I Know All The People In This Audition Room and I Deserve To Be Here by Bitsy Rothschild.  It didn't help that the play she was performing for us all was a musical.  No joke.  She literally sang everything she said.  "I'm so happy to come to auditions so I can see all my frieeeeeeeeeeeends!"  

Eventually it came time to sign up and I signed up for a spot early enough so that I wouldn't have to leave and come back later in the afternoon.  Before I headed out the door for a while, the monitor reminded us all that we had to be back at least ten minutes before our call time or our spot would be given away.  I'd been to other auditions and seen people go home in tears because they came into the room three minutes after their name had been called.  These Equity Monitors mean business.

I headed out to the city, wondered around, had breakfast, and wondered into A Whole Foods Store.  It was my first time in one in six months, as they don't litter the streets in NYC like they do in Austin.  Being there felt like coming into contact with a very welcome piece of home, and I found the perfect holiday candle, on sale, in a mason jar with a silver top and a red bow.   Peppermint Vanilla.  I hadn't been able to decorate my apartment for Christmas and it had left me a little blue.  I had decorated for Christmas every year since I moved out of my folks house.  This year there wasn't a stick of Christmas in our apartment, and I at least wanted it to smell like Christmas in the apartment, even if it wouldn't look like Christmas.  I went away with a little paper bag full of peppermint dreams and headed back up to the audition.  

At this moment my issues with space and directions nearly undid me.   I couldn't remember where the holding room was for the audition, and by now the hallway was abuzz with other auditions.  I finally found what seemed like my room, and yet it turns out that one big wood floored room with a bunch of folding chairs lining the mirrored wall looks a lot like another. As a result I spent ten minutes waiting in the holding room for Shuffle Along before I realized my mistake and raced to the right one just a minute before my spot would have been given away.

After all of that, the audition itself was pretty uneventful.  I wasn't amazing, but I didn't shame myself either.  The pianist and the auditioned were very nice, seemed pleased enough, and before I knew it, it was over.  I was not asked to sing something else, and I don't know if that's a blanket dismissal, and yet, I was proud.  I had broken the seal.  I had tested the waters of musical auditions and not been scalded.  

The realization on the way back to my apartment that I had left my precious Peppermint candle on the 2 Train soured my outlook a little.  But over all, I'm claiming it as a victory against the demons within.  

Can I Get A V?

I!

C!

...You know the rest.