A list...

Just of things. A list of things that have nothing to do with anything coming up in 5 weeks or so. This is.. just a list of stuff. (listening to: PA D&D Podcast #7)

• Alexi Casilla Minnesota Twins Home Jersey, #25


• Ratchet and Clank PSP Bundle


• Scoundrel's Holster


• Battlefield: Bad Company


• In-car GPS Unit


• New second premolar


• Twins Season Tickets


• New computer


• iPhone 3G


• Complete Armadeaddon Bundle

Just a thought.

END TRANSMISSION...

Monthly Update

I thought I was going to be better about this. Ho hum. (listening to "As Lovers Go" by Dashboard Confessional)

Things that have happened since last we met:

- WENT TO VEGAS

This was a lot of fun. Spent 4 days in mid-June in the hot, hot *dry* Vegas heat. Spent time with Brother and Wife, and enjoyed some excellent food courtesy of Das Kapital. Also enjoyed The Best Burgers in the World. Gambling was a cruel mistress, robbing most of our party of their beloved funds, but we all had a great time playing Keno and Poker, so overall, the trip was a success. Side note- We saw a show called "Bite," and it changed my life forever. It deserves its own blog post by itself, so maybe someday, if you're all really good, I'll tell you about it. Until then, though...

- BECAME AN UNCLE

Yes, Brother and Wife had a baby. Camri Marie came and turned "Mom and Dad" into "Grandma and Grandpa," and turned "Actor Brother Madjai" into "Uncle Madjai." Little Camri will be spoiled and turned into a gamer, mark my words. Prepare yourself, young one. Pictures available on the link above.

- GOT CAST IN BAREFOOT IN THE PARK

I spoke in my last post about auditions for Barefoot in the Park. I got called back, and then offered the role of Paul Bratter. For those of you familiar with the film version, this is the role played by Robert Redford. Perhaps you've heard of him? Performance dates are on the website.

- BECAME AN INTERNATIONALLY KNOWN MOVIE STAR

Ok... still working on this one...

END TRANSMISSION...

Think We'll Get There By Midnight?

Baby, we're gonna be up five-hunny by midnight. Vegas, Baby! VEGAS! (listening to: "King of the Road")

3 days and counting until the Great Vegas Vacation of '08. Work is crawling along at an unacceptably slow pace, all things considered. I will be in America's Playground for 3 days, all told, so please sacrifice something to the gambling gods in my honor. Thank you.

Busy, Busy weekend. Played a CSz show in St. Michael at 3:30AM on Saturday morning, followed by a 10:30am callback for Barefoot in the Park. And that was just the beginning of that day. Plus, this vacation has been on the horizon since December of last year, so... it weighs heavily on my mind. On the bright side, the callback went well, and you all will be able to see me take on Robert Redford in November at the Mounds Theatre in St. Paul. Also, if you live in the St. Cloud area, you can see me in the winter of '09 in that city. Stay tuned for more dates.

If anyone wants any Vegas souvenirs, speak now. Otherwise, you will all have to bask in my riches upon my return.

END TRANSMISSION...

Covered In Bees!

So, um... yes. This is all true. (listening to: "Company" from the Company Broadway Soundtrack)

Eddie Izzard graced humble Minneapolis last night with a two-hour show. Casey and Dana joined Natalie and I for dinner at Das Kapital prior to the festivities for a meal of epic proportions. I'll try not to harp on this too much, but you really can't beat 14 oz of steak with a side serving of lobster mac and cheese with a couple drinks when friends are at the table. Even if it does cost $265 before tip. True.

Mr. Izzard himself was in rare form, sans dress, but still retaining his quick wit and long-distance memory. I personally think that his style of stand up is the best, because you couldn't steal his jokes even if you wanted to. It's all in the delivery, and his incessant, nigh-on murderous dedication to a bit. Elephants, Giraffes and Squirrels all were given their proper dues last night, and a nod was even given to several of his past routines, though he strayed far shy of going back to the well. If you have the means, I highly recommend catching him in a town near you.

This weekend going into early next week is audition-central, so keep good thoughts aimed toward the midwest, all you non-Minnesotans. One of these is for a new TV show looking for a host- which would be awfully nice, I don't mind saying.

In any event, may all good things come to your plates.

END TRANSMISSION...

5 Year Reunion, Done Our Way

Last night was some-beer-larious. (listening to: "But It's Better If You Do" by Panic! At the Disco)

Ahh, wonderful Sioux Falls. So nice to go back. Five years have passed since The Family(tm) has broken apart and scattered themselves across the country and last weekend we were reunited for the first time as a whole since... well, probably since graduation. (Biggy's wedding was close, but Zoltan's wife was not there...)

Gemini and his wife RedTeacher were there with their new baby, and every other member of The Family(tm) took a moment to soak that in. It was actually very comical to see everyone notice that one of our crew was now a Daddy, and while no one could be happier for him, I think we all started to feel our age a bit.

The world got smaller as apparently Gemini and Twink had e-mailed back and forth a few years ago, about something MySpace related that would take far too much time and effort to explain here. Suffice it to say, minds were blown.

Also, Friday night saw the Great Blackout of 2008, as Twink, Orion, Biggy and Kid all squared off to see how much they could get the Madjai to drink. A daunting task, I'd say they managed to pull it off with surprising alacrity. Their diabolical plan included such tactics as "I'm buying this round!" (which everyone knows is nigh-unresistable) and also "I'll name an animal, you drink like it!" (which I'm told was performed admirably, though I'll leave it to the tape to prove that) The latter showcased fan-favorites "Cheetah" and "Aborigine." I guess you had to be there.

Interesting to note is that the Alma Mater has begun celebrating its Sesquicentennial... keep in mind that the school was founded in 1860. Apparently, time passes much faster on campus. Which would explain a lot of my Senior year.

I'm told more people read this than was previously expected, so expect more updates as I am guilted into sharing exploits of a Minneapolis Actor.

Stay tuned.

END TRANSMISSION...

Call My Agent. I'll Be In My Trailer

Seriously, I'm not cut out for this. (listening to: "Movin' Out" by Billy Joel)

So, I had a commercial shoot yesterday evening for a training video. I'm playing Mr. Obsessed. He's obsessed with the latest technology, and has to have it all. In his own words:

Gotta love my gadgets! I don't know where I'd be without them. I need the lastest technology to help me stay connected. I have it all. I just can't get enough.

I arrive on location, and there's no one there. I call the contact, and get no answer. So, I call the agency. My agent assures me I'm where I need to be, and the crew is across the street filming in a different location. So, I go over there, and some guy (Mr. Uninformed) is stumbling through his line: "Paying off a debt adds 50 points to your credit score!" (yes, we know this isn't true) It takes him over a half-dozen takes to nail the line, and I'm thinking, "Wow... this guy's having a rough day."

A few minutes later, we're moving across the street to the location I was told to meet them at. Another actress arrives, playing "Ms. Competitive." She's very charming, and knocks out all of her takes in about 30 minutes after everything is set up. Very nice.

Now, an hour has gone by, and I haven't read a single line yet. I go over and over my lines, making sure I've got them down. Don't want to be Mr. Uninformed. The director announces that we're going to shoot my scene outside. It's about 42 degrees outside, and I'm in a zip-up sweater. Fantastic. But, I'm a trooper, and it's not really all that bad in the sun, so we head out. The crew sets up the shot: I come around a corner and nearly collide with the camera guy. I say my bit, and then pretend to answer my phone and walk off. Simple enough. The first problem I notice is that the camera guy is set up right between me and the sun. I can't really look into the camera without squinting, and the light is making my eyes water like Niagara Falls in the rainy season. Director says action.

Take One: "Oh, Sorry. I love my Gadgets. I love... shit."
Take Two: "Oh, Sorry. Gadgets are... fuck."
Take Three: "Oh, Sorry. Gotta love my gadgets. I don't know where I'd be without my gadge-- dammit."
Take Four: "Oh, Sorry. ... Son of a bitch!"

After what seems like an eternity of this, the director sighs, looks at his crew and says, "Ok. Let's shoot the other lines now."

We set up and I shoot the rest of my scene in about 3 total takes. It's great, and it's in the can with no problems. Then, we go back to the gadgets scene. This time, I hit my mark, say my line, and it's spotless. At the end of the day, the director seems pleased, but I never felt worse in my life than I did for those first 8 takes.

I'm just not cut out for this.

UPDATE: The production company has sent me the raw tape of my many, many takes. You can watch them here.

END TRANSMISSION...

Shameless Self-Promotion

Buy Now! Don't Wait! (listening to: 2/15/08 Penny Arcade Podcast)

So, I finally finished up my most recent project, and am ready to share it with the world!!



If YOU want to sport (heh heh.. get it?) the latest in unofficial merchandise from one of the greatest TV Shows of all time, now's your chance!

E-Mail me for prices and more info!

(note: the lighting in this picture kind of washes out the text, but it is actually very sharp and clear on the shirt)

END TRANSMISSION...

11 x 11

= 121. (listening to: "Let Go" by Frou Frou)

121st post. I love squares.

Couple of housekeeping things.
1) Come see After Ashley. I'm in it, and I may have mentioned this before, but this cast is one of the most talented as a whole that I've ever worked with. It's a joy to work with these people, and I think it shows on stage. It Runs Feb 8 - 23 at the Bedlam (link above). Let me know if you're coming. There is a short talkback after each show, so if you want to stay for that, we can get all intellectual about art. Neat, huh?

2) My friend Hall is getting married. August 30, I think. I wish him and his fiancee Cathy all the best. I'm really happy for them.

Alright, moving on now. Fair warning: I'm going to hide layered meaning in my following passage, which is seemingly about politics. It is, and it isn't. That's all.

There's a video circulating about the interwebs of a music video made from Barack Obama's "Yes We Can" speech. It's pretty moving; if you haven't seen it it yet, I recommend it. There's a passage in particular that I think holds true for us as a country.

We know the battle ahead will be long, but always remember that no matter what obstacles stand in our way, nothing can withstand the power of ... voices calling for change.

We have been told we cannot do this by a chorus of cynics who will only grow louder and more dissonant in the weeks to come. We've been asked to pause for a reality check. We've been warned against offering the people of this nation false hope. But in the unlikely story that is America, there has never been anything false about hope.

For when we have faced down impossible odds; when we've been told that we're not ready, or that we shouldn't try, or that we can't, generations of Americans have responded with a simple creed that sums up the spirit of a people: Yes we can. Yes we can. Yes we can.

It has been suggested in recent times that those who seek to further the mission, and therefore the cause, of Sen. Obama are doing so because it is "in fashion" or "popular." That is not the case. There comes a time in every person's life when they look back on the mistakes they've made, the life they thought they wanted, and seek change. They bear their arms and show the scars they've earned and they beg those who will listen not to have earned these scars in an effortless pursuit of a dream deferred. Yes, we've made mistakes. We've done things we shouldn't have, and we've borne losses that were too painful to mention. But every day that passes that an attempt isn't made to rectify that, to show the lengths we're willing to go to in order to make things better the second time around, is a wasted day.

Yes. We. Can. Sen Obama speaks of a fractured nation. A divided nation, roiled in the two-party system so heavily, so desperately, that it begins to look like two different countries pressed together. It's not so. It is our differences that make us who we are as one. We feed off of them, breathe easier because of them, knowing we are not all the same person. Our individuality is the very cause of our great union.

To those who would say that the differences are too much, too great, and cannot be overcome, I say Yes We Can. To those who would say that we've gone too far to come back, broken too many bridges and opened too many wounds and cannot heal, I say Yes We Can. To those who would say that this union, this country cannot stand together and say that no matter what happens we are One, I say Yes We Can.

We're not perfect. We're not even close. But we are mighty. And we are compassionate. And we are willing to show that to anyone willing to listen. We are Ready. Don't give up on us.

END TRANSMISSION...

What Happens?

I know the answer. (listening to: TL5Y)

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

END TRANSMISSION...

Well.

(listening to: "Fight Test" by The Flaming Lips)

That was not what I imagined.

END TRANSMISSION...

The Coffee Shop

A short story. (listening to: "The Next Ten Minutes" from The Last 5 Years Soundtrack)

He stood outside the door staring at his reflection in the glass. He willed his hand to the handle, but it remained stubbornly at his side. A clutch gathered at his throat, and he swallowed it down. He could feel his heart beating slow and hard at every extremity in his body. He inhaled sharply and held it, gathering every fiber of his being to chill the fuck out. As he began to slowly exhale, a woman came up from behind him, opened the door and held it open for Him to enter. He stared at her, hating her more than anything else in his world at that moment. He forced a small smile and walked inside, legs numb to any feeling of motion.

Cruelly, the small shop was nearly empty. No place to hide, no crowd to get lost in. He spotted Her right away, of course. She sat near a far window, hair lit up by the cold sunlight pouring in, God's follow spot focused tightly on His star performer. He immediately thought to turn and run, to claim car trouble, or some other emergency. His mind was willing, but His body was weak and didn't heed the call. It was too late anyway, She had looked up and seen Him.

A weak smile came forcibly to Her face and He nodded slightly to Her. She wasn't more than a few dozen feet away, but every step felt like a mile. Like opposing magnets, the closer He got, the harder it was to continue. Her gaze never faltered from Him, and it seemed to freeze on Her face as though a great effort of will was being made to maintain the upward turn of Her lips. Finally, mercifully, His journey was over and He pulled a chair out to sit down on. Gingerly He placed himself down, and set an envelope on the table between them. A moment of silence that was just a breath too long passed between them.

"Hi." She said.
"Hi." Again, a too-long pause.
"How are you?"
"Fine."
"Good."
"You?"
"Fine."
"Good."

His eyes screamed at her. Don't do this. Say something important. Tell me to stay. Tell me you're sad. Angry. Feel Something. Please. Please. Please. But nothing. He sighed heavily and pushed the envelope across the table. The flap fell open revealing papers folded back upon themselves, and a few bursts of color- pictures of better times.

"I figured you would want these." He had to concentrate very hard to pull His hand away.
"Oh. Thank you." She took it off the table and placed it without even so much as a glance to its contents into her bag. As the envelope gained distance from Him, He felt a tearing sensation. Hundreds of tiny threads were being pulled and broken, their tails whipping Him in the face, arms, chest, belly, groin, legs, feet...
"Did you want something?" Her question slammed Him in the center of His trunk. Yes, God, I want something. I want you. I want to go back to when-- He looked up at her and she was gazing towards the counter. Oh.
"No. I'm... I'm fine."
"Ok."

Another too-long pause. She made a motion. No...

"Well, I have to go."
"Already? I just-"
"I know, but I can't.. I have to be somewhere."
"Oh. Alright. Well, when will I see you again."
A look. An opportunity. Too late. Gone.
"I don't know. I'll call you."
"Ok."
Another look. Another opportunity. Too late. Gone. She stepped past Him, hesitated and turned around. She stepped close to Him and looked up in His eyes.

[goodbye]
[pleasedontgo]
[ihaveto]
[youdonthaveto]
[ineedto]
[iloveyou]
[pleasedontsaythat]
[imeanitiloveyou]
[youdontyoucantyoudontknowwhatthatmeans]
[ifeelithereandnow]
[youonlythinkyoudo]
[no]
[goodbye]

The look fell away and she turned and left. Her steps quick and unsure, like a run, but lost in the motion. He didn't know how, but He was sitting again. Within a moment, His world clouded up like He was looking through thick glass. Shapes became only vague colors around Him, and He felt the drops on His hands.

"Goodbye."

END TRANSMISSION...

A New Year, A New Team

Go Swarm! (listening to: "Thunderstruck" by AC/DC)

Saturday saw my favorite professional sports team extend their season to a dominant 2-0. I'm talking, of course, about the Minnesota Swarm, part of the National Lacrosse League. Joined by my fellow Season Ticket holders, we took the Xcel by storm as we finished off the Toronto Rock 11-4. Nick Patterson had an unbelievable 40 saves, fully half of which were what I would humbly denote as "Completely Awesome." If you live anywhere in the Twin Cities Metro Area, you owe it to yourself to catch a Swarm game this season. There's only 7 left, so... do it. Even if you don't like sports, there's not much to not like about this game. That is all.

After Ashley rehearsals are in full swing now, and I'm not far off when I say that this is likely the most talented cast I've worked with in... well, probably ever. Rehearsals go very well, and we're constantly pushing the bounds of the script and finding new things to play with. It's a real joy to share the stage with these folks, and I urge you to come see this show. It promises to be quite the evening. You can find showtimes and dates on my website.

Sabrina Fair rehearsals have not yet begun, but I'm looking forward to that show with nearly as much fervor. 2008 is starting well artistically for me, and I can only hope that continues through the spring and all the way through.

In other news, it's somewhat overwhelming to me how so much and so little can happen all at once. And how draining it can be to wait.

END TRANSMISSION...

To Everything, There is a Season

Turn, turn, turn. (listening to: Really? You can't guess?)

Listen, let me preface this by saying that I'm fully aware that it's people's job to try and cheer their friends up when they go through tough times. It's part of the job description, and I get that. But dammit, sometimes it's just time to feel shitty.

I don't want to sound ungrateful, or.. mean, but saying "You'll get over it," or "It'll all work out for the best" is surprisingly not helpful at this exact moment in time. In fact, it only serves to show me just how ludicrous I'm being. What some people need is just a validation that the pain they're going through is OK, and that to return to (or, perhaps just start being) the happy, shiny people that they once were is not doing the circumstance that caused the pain in the first place any justice at all.

We're marked by the pain we endure. We display scars, we show injuries, we take pride in the righteous battles we've fought. These are not things we are ashamed of, or take lightly. Allow me to draw an analogy.

Would you, given the opportunity, go to a solider fighting on the front lines and say, "Why are you so sad? Things will get better!" Would you find a terminally ill patient with 6 months left to live and console them with, "It could have been three!" I hope you are shaking your head.

There's no "socially acceptable mourning time." If you start to get sick of someone being sad about something, go find something else to do. Make a pie, shovel snow, do some long division. But don't try and make the person feel better by showing them a future colored with rosy hues and lollipops. Odds are, all they see is a future without the thing they've lost.

END TRANSMISSION...

Eli's Coming

Hide your heart, girl. (listening to: Nothing)

DAN
Eli's coming.

CASEY
Eli?

DAN
From the Three Dog Night song.

CASEY
Yes.

DAN
Eli's something bad. A darkness.

CASEY
"Eli's coming, hide your heart girl."
Eli's an inveterate womanizer. I think
you're getting the song wrong.

DAN
I know I'm getting the song wrong, but
when I first heard it, that's what I
always thought it meant, and things
stick with you that way.

They say it's always calmest before
the storm. That's not true. I'm a
serious sailor. It isn't calm before
the storm. Stuff happens.

Eli's coming.

She walked, but she never got away.

END TRANSMISSION...

Syncopated Hextrameter

Or, you know, not. (listening to: "As Is" by Ani DiFranco)

In much the way
That an old man
Both loves and fears
A small child
So too a painful
Heart feeds and shrinks
On both the thought
Of its former bounty
And the reality
Of its loss

I heard tell of a man long ago
Who wandered from place to place.
Through heat of winter and cutting snow,
For a town to hide his face.

Many years he walked and rode,
Never finding what he lost.
For you cannot find on any road
Reprieve from such high cost.

He died alone and no one came
To lay lilies 'round his urn.
If only he'd known he'd die the same:
A stranger 'round every turn.
- Sean Williams


END TRANSMISSION...

I Hate My Job

I may have mentioned this before, but it's true. (listening to: my own breathing)

Seriously. I work with some of the most incompetent, lazy, mindless bunch of pass-the-buck douchesacks I've ever had the dubious honor of coming across. I'm filling out my employee self-evaluation, and It's really hard not to put down "Because no one else does their job" for every category.

I've decided that I'm asking for a 10% raise and a title change along with a change of responsibilities here by my review in March. If that doesn't happen, I'm out the door.

I'm sick of the sight of this place, to be honest. Some days I'm afraid I'll go berserk, throw the Country A-through-K rack out in the street and go work in a Virgin Megastore.

Amen, Rob.

I wish she'd call.

END TRANSMISSION...

Oh, Epimethius, I Get It Now

You're just like us. Your brother is the odd one. (listening to: "A Part of That" from the Original Cast Recording of The Last 5 Years)

Some of you may not know this story. Allow me to entertain you.

Long ago, Zeus entrusted the creation of all living things to a pair of brothers. Epimethius and Prometheus. When Epimethius finally got around to creating mankind, he found that he had used up all the good stuff and didn't have anything left from the box of "Good" to give. Prometheus climbed up Mount Olympus in the cover of darkness and stole fire from the Gods and gave it to Man.

The next morning when Zeus saw what had happened, he ordered that Prometheus be bound to a rock and a crow would come and eat out his liver every day until eternity, forcing him to be under eternal pain. To Epimethius, he gave a beautiful woman. Some of you may have heard of her. Pandora.

You see, the interesting thing about this story is that Epimethius ran out of good qualities to give to man, so Hesiod has us inheriting intelligence (fire). The meaning is clear. Humans, on the whole, are not good creatures. We're just intelligent. Aware.

Sometimes I wonder if maybe we weren't better off without that gift. And maybe that Prometheus got what he deserved.

END TRANSMISSION...

The Transient, Impermanent Nature of Things

10 CLEAR
20 PRINT "HELLO WORLD!"
30 PRINT ""
40 PRINT ""
50 PRINT "... OR WHOEVER."
60 END
(listening to: "Natalie Portman" by Ozma)

A new year, and new beginnings. I suppose that I, like most people around this time of year, begin to get all nostalgic and contemplative on the nature of the world around us when confronted with the reality of another year of existence. Why such importance placed on a single day? Why do people from hundreds and thousands of miles around gather in Gotham to watch a giant crystal ball slowly descend on a rail to a lit sign with a number on it that means no more or less than the number that was there 365 days ago?

Is it hope? Do people associate a new year with a clean slate? 'Cause there isn't one. You don't get to start over, you don't get reprieve from the things you've done or the people you've hurt. It's just another day. Like yesterday. And tomorrow. Today is New Year's Day, and while I'm sitting here at work waiting for the nobody to call in, the post office that has my package that I've been awaiting for over a week now is closed. No mail today. Before the internet, before the modem and the FAX machine, this was a day of NO communication from the outside world. Why? What's the point? Why is today so special? Tomorrow, everything starts again, and the people in jail stay there, the bills you need to pay will show up, and the rent is due. Life. Moves. On. Go with it.

What's interesting about that, though? Is that nothing stays. The people you counted on the most will one day become "that person you once knew." You'll look back on pictures and stories and think about those times, and everything will always be rosy. Life's always better in the past. (And in the future, if you ask those huddled, freezing masses in front of the giant neon Cola sign.) But time catches up to us all. Your pain, your frustration and anger are as real to you as the love and peace you feel. But in a week? a year? 10 years? You'll only remember how great things used to be, and not your pain. Because you'll have new pain.

So what do we do? Are we doomed to live this doublethink for the rest of our lives? Stomping out our Orwellian existence until we shed gin-soaked tears and love Big Brother? How do you reconcile the overwhelming hope and trust in the future with the fact that according to you as an observer, things are always getting worse?

What do we do? At the moment, no one wants to know more than I do.

END TRANSMISSION...