Oh, the holidaze are upon us!!
I'm back in New York, and life is good. As always, a visit home proves to be a mad rush to see and do and taste and be a part of EVERYTHING!! I got into town Wednesday evening, dropped my stuff at my girlfriend Anna's place, then we headed downtown to see "The Uncanny Appearance of Sherlock Holmes," starring the fantabulously cool Liz Eckert, one of our Columbia classmates. We were joined by 5 other friends, so Liz got to see our silly smiling mugs right in the front row as she made her entrance. The show was good, Liz was GREAT, and we celebrated her by going to a pub for some food. It was like a mini-reunion, and there was a lot of laughing (and bad picture-taking on my part, trying to capture the evening). After eating, 5 of us ladies headed over to the McLynn-family pub, Angels & Kings, www.angelsandkings.com, to meet a couple of our favorite boys. I got to visit with my brother, Dennis, who manages the bar and lives above it, and his 2 15-year-old cats, Cat 1 and Cat 2 (or Thelma & Louise, as my mom has named them). Dennis and I are like night and day in many regards. His very small apartment is made smaller by the huge fishtank with one fish, which gets a daily dose of crickets (always fun for the guests) and a goldfish to play with, and the huge deer-head above the tank, which Dennis shot while bow-hunting. Me, I cry every time I watch the scene in Bambi where he's looking for his mother, whimpering out, "Mo--ther, mo--ther," and then his daddy comes along, the "king of the forest," to tell Bambi, "You're mother can't be with you...any longer." I like my cute & fuzzy things alive and un-mounted. But I enjoy visiting Dennis, and being reminded of the odd family dynamics of the McLynn household. Anyway, back in the bar, we had many free drinks (a plus of being the baby sister of both the manager and owner, my other brother Bob). I get all the club soda I can drink, and my friends get drunk. We hung out with Jesse the barkeep until about 3, then the 5 of us who remained headed back to Anna's to eat soup and continue laughing. Oh, I love my friends!! At 5, the boys left, and us 3 ladies slept a few hours, until alarms went off and the other 2 chicas had to head out to auditions (I admire their youthful ability to hold off a hangover until after the audition). We then headed out to brunch, where lots more laughing happened and hangovers were tapered off with some Good food. There were 4 of us, 3 ladies and a gay man, and it felt very "Sex in the City." I love New York.
Later that evening, I went to see a screening of my friend Vanita's short film at NYU, starring her husband and my classmate, Maury. It was a sweet, sad tale of a boy who forgets his beloved guitar in the back of a cab. And it was rather true to life, as Vanita's original film (starring Me!) was forgotten in the back of a cab just weeks earlier. Poor girl was devastated, but her class rallied round her and helped her do a rush-job on a second film. She ended up with a lovely little look at what she had been experiencing as a result of her loss, and I felt very proud of her. And I felt very tired. My lack of sleep was catching up on me. But I wanted to see my cousin, so I headed to her place after she got out of work at Barney's at 10 (damned holiday hours!) and we ordered Thai and chatted and I got to play with her Boston Terrier, Raja, who seems to really like hand lotion, as she licked my hand raw for about 5 minutes. Weird dog, but kind of awesome. I made it back to Anna's before 1, and she and I chatted for a couple of hours before crashing. I was reminded of how noisy New York City can be, when the hammering started up at 8am and the outside voices carried right in through the bedroom window. I love New York.
I'm not feeling terribly inspired this morning, hence the retelling of my visit to NYC...
Friday came the snow. Oh, so lovely to watch falling from the window. Such a bitch to have to maneuver in on the streets. I was meeting Liz for brunch, and first wanted to run some errands. Since I got to town, I'd been going to bookstores looking for American Theatre magazine, which I'd been told had a picture of me (2 actually: 1 in this year's Columbia ad, and 1 in an interview with playwrights who write about religion). This is the closest thing I've had to being an actor in months, so obviously I wanted to find a copy to remind myself of the good ol' days when I got to perform. But bookstore after bookstore, no luck. So I finally got to the Union Square Barnes & Nobles, which carries everything, and sure enough, there I was. I ran a few more errands, my toes getting damper block-by-block, my umbrella shielding my face from the ice pellets being shot at me, then made it to French Roast on West 11th. Liz and I were meeting, not only to share the love, but to discuss my one-woman show, which Liz wants to help me produce. I'd sent her a rough draft a few weeks ago and we were going to discuss it and see what needs to happen next. And we decided that what needs to happen next is we need to get Liz out to Vegas to help me get on my feet and DO something, as I am not getting very far on my own. We're gonna take a look at airfare in January, and if there's a reasonable flight, she's gonna come and work with me for a few days. And I am so HAPPY!! For one thing, I'm desperately in need of some outside creative inspiration, some time to be an artist with someone other than myself. But also, I get to have a girlfriend visit! And I've been lacking female companionship in a big way. Crossing fingers to make this a reality...We sat and chatted for 2 hours, then Liz had to leave for her show and I had to head back to Anna's to shower and get gussied up for the holiday soiree at my brother's penthouse! I showed up early, to spend a little time with my parents and Bob & Sarah, his super-cool fiancee. Plus, there was no way I was putting on a little black dress and heels before walking through the freezing rain. I got dressed and made up, then had a lovely evening with my family and friends of Bob & Sarah's and the whole of my brother's office at Crush Management http://www.crushmm.com/. I knew very few people there, but it was a good time and I felt so very happy for Bob. I mean, he's got a job he loves, and the people who work for and with him think he's a rockstar, and Sarah is seriously one of the coolest women I know, with her ability to bake awesome cookies and decorate with flair on a budget and her wicked sense of humor and did I mention that she's gorgeous? My brother is so very happy with her, and that's a beautiful thing. I had a warm & fuzzy feeling in my belly when I left at 12:30, heading back to get some more love from Anna, who is also one of the coolest women I know. I love New York.
And today, after my 5-hour nap, I'm heading off into my last day of NYC for 2008. I begin with brunch in Astoria with my friend Nick, who's visiting from the Catskills and may have to head back there tonite, as the wife called and they ran out of heating oil due to the snowstorm yesterday and the delivery truck's inability to get to them before Monday. Yikes. Post-brunch is a matinee of "Dust" starring the uber-talented Laura E Campbell, another of the coolest women I know. http://www.playbill.com/events/event_detail/16700.html
Then dinner with Laura and Anna, then back to Astoria to see my boys, Petey and Arya (and Nick, if the wife and baby aren't freezing to death). I don't plan on sleeping tonite, as I'm taking a 7am train (perhaps) back to Jersey for my mom's choir concert. And then...well, the journey continues. But in the meantime, I love New York.
I don't know that I'll be writing again before the holidays. And after the holidays, Alex & I will be on a cruise to the western Caribbean, courtesy of Harrah's casinos. So if you don't hear from me, happy holidays to all of you. May your new year be your best year yet, and may it bring an opportunity for us to be together. With a lot of money. And perfect health. And bikini-ready bodies. And all that other crap my heart desires for us all. Like world peace. And a really awesome President. And the ability to teleport. And fuzzy puppies for one and all. If you're into that kind of thing...
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Justice shmustice...BLEEP THIS!
Okay. Once again, I'm confused about the way "justice" works in this country.
Yesterday, all the news channels are telling me about the arrest of the Illinois governor on a variety of charges, including the attempted sale of Obama's Senate seat. Whoa! That's some big law-breaking! The more I hear about this guy, the more the term "scumbag" seems to apply. Yeah yeah, innocent until proven guilty, but the transcripts make it pretty clear, this guy will gladly let poor, sick kids fund his campaigns, and he thinks Obama is a mother-bleeper for expecting the Gov to fill his seat for nothing more than appreciation...Innocent, perhaps. Scumbag, abso-bleeping-lutely.
So what gets me is this: the man got out of jail on $4500 bail. WHAT??! Blagojevich has been under investigation for years, he got busted pretty matter-of-factly, the evidence is stunningly clear...and he gets to walk out of jail, after an immediate hearing, for less than the cost of a used KIA?? What the hell is that? 2 months ago, Alex got arrested on literally MADE-UP CHARGES, laws that don't even exist, he's got no criminal record, has never been under investigation for anything, and his bail was set at $24,000! Not only that, but he had to spend a night in jail while his bail was "processed" (whatever that means), then he had to wait 6 weeks for a hearing, at which point the judge confirmed that all the charges against him were bogus, and we STILL haven't gotten the bail money back. What. The. BLEEP!!!
We hear a lot in this country about how the law favors the wealthy and screws the poor. It seems the law also favors the bigwigs and screws the nobodies. (I bet if I shot myself in the thigh in a nightclub, I'd be released straight to the slammer post-surgery.) I've never been in trouble with the law (lucky for me). Heck, I haven't even been in the back of a police car since I was 19 (they were just giving me a ride home, Mom, I swear). And I've got law enforcement in the family. My uncle, my cousin, my grandfather. These are all good men. And yet, I do have a mistrust of law enforcement. The face of law enforcement is, of course, the police, and I get nervous when cops are nearby. Even though I'm not speeding or jaywalking or soliciting money for sex, I get this nervous flutter in my belly, like they'll find something I'm doing that's questionable. It's similar to how dogs sense fear and then go on the attack; I get the same feeling around cops, like they can sniff out my nervousness and therefore assume that I've done something wrong. Whatever, I've never been in trouble with the law. And now that I'm older and breaking fewer laws (I didn't say I shouldn't have been in trouble with the law), I'm starting to think it's not the cops I should be afraid of but the lawmakers. The cops are there to enforce the laws, but the laws....well, the laws don't make any sense! To know that I can be arrested, at any time, for any reason, whether I've broken a law or not, and that the arresting officer will suffer no penalty if it's proven that I broke no laws, well, that's some serious bull bleep. (I found the reading of the bleeped-out Blago transcripts to be highly amusing and wanted to bleeping share the humor.) And in order to have it proven that no laws were broken, I'd need to hire a lawyer, which costs a whole lot of bleeping money, a good 3-4 months salary for the average American worker, none of which will be reimbursed if the charges are found to be bogus. Again, what the bleeping BLEEP??! One of the first questions Alex asked his lawyer was, "If it turns out that I got arrested on made-up charges, can I counter-sue to get my lawyer fees paid off?" Nope. Not even a little bit. The law is there to protect the law, not the innocent.
I'm pissed off. I've been angry about this whole legal ordeal Alex & I have found ourselves in for 2 months now, but to see this bleeping scumbag Governor (who had a 13% approval rating BEFORE he got arrested) get in and out of jail, with hearing, with bail set at what I'd imagine his yearly haircare comes out to, all within a matter of hours... well, now I'm pissed. Where are the laws that give me the benefit of the doubt? Where are the laws that let poor people be reimbursed for wrongful imprisonment? Where the bleep is the bleeping godbleeped JUSTICE??
And while we're at it, WHERE THE BLEEP IS MY BAILOUT?
Yesterday, all the news channels are telling me about the arrest of the Illinois governor on a variety of charges, including the attempted sale of Obama's Senate seat. Whoa! That's some big law-breaking! The more I hear about this guy, the more the term "scumbag" seems to apply. Yeah yeah, innocent until proven guilty, but the transcripts make it pretty clear, this guy will gladly let poor, sick kids fund his campaigns, and he thinks Obama is a mother-bleeper for expecting the Gov to fill his seat for nothing more than appreciation...Innocent, perhaps. Scumbag, abso-bleeping-lutely.
So what gets me is this: the man got out of jail on $4500 bail. WHAT??! Blagojevich has been under investigation for years, he got busted pretty matter-of-factly, the evidence is stunningly clear...and he gets to walk out of jail, after an immediate hearing, for less than the cost of a used KIA?? What the hell is that? 2 months ago, Alex got arrested on literally MADE-UP CHARGES, laws that don't even exist, he's got no criminal record, has never been under investigation for anything, and his bail was set at $24,000! Not only that, but he had to spend a night in jail while his bail was "processed" (whatever that means), then he had to wait 6 weeks for a hearing, at which point the judge confirmed that all the charges against him were bogus, and we STILL haven't gotten the bail money back. What. The. BLEEP!!!
We hear a lot in this country about how the law favors the wealthy and screws the poor. It seems the law also favors the bigwigs and screws the nobodies. (I bet if I shot myself in the thigh in a nightclub, I'd be released straight to the slammer post-surgery.) I've never been in trouble with the law (lucky for me). Heck, I haven't even been in the back of a police car since I was 19 (they were just giving me a ride home, Mom, I swear). And I've got law enforcement in the family. My uncle, my cousin, my grandfather. These are all good men. And yet, I do have a mistrust of law enforcement. The face of law enforcement is, of course, the police, and I get nervous when cops are nearby. Even though I'm not speeding or jaywalking or soliciting money for sex, I get this nervous flutter in my belly, like they'll find something I'm doing that's questionable. It's similar to how dogs sense fear and then go on the attack; I get the same feeling around cops, like they can sniff out my nervousness and therefore assume that I've done something wrong. Whatever, I've never been in trouble with the law. And now that I'm older and breaking fewer laws (I didn't say I shouldn't have been in trouble with the law), I'm starting to think it's not the cops I should be afraid of but the lawmakers. The cops are there to enforce the laws, but the laws....well, the laws don't make any sense! To know that I can be arrested, at any time, for any reason, whether I've broken a law or not, and that the arresting officer will suffer no penalty if it's proven that I broke no laws, well, that's some serious bull bleep. (I found the reading of the bleeped-out Blago transcripts to be highly amusing and wanted to bleeping share the humor.) And in order to have it proven that no laws were broken, I'd need to hire a lawyer, which costs a whole lot of bleeping money, a good 3-4 months salary for the average American worker, none of which will be reimbursed if the charges are found to be bogus. Again, what the bleeping BLEEP??! One of the first questions Alex asked his lawyer was, "If it turns out that I got arrested on made-up charges, can I counter-sue to get my lawyer fees paid off?" Nope. Not even a little bit. The law is there to protect the law, not the innocent.
I'm pissed off. I've been angry about this whole legal ordeal Alex & I have found ourselves in for 2 months now, but to see this bleeping scumbag Governor (who had a 13% approval rating BEFORE he got arrested) get in and out of jail, with hearing, with bail set at what I'd imagine his yearly haircare comes out to, all within a matter of hours... well, now I'm pissed. Where are the laws that give me the benefit of the doubt? Where are the laws that let poor people be reimbursed for wrongful imprisonment? Where the bleep is the bleeping godbleeped JUSTICE??
And while we're at it, WHERE THE BLEEP IS MY BAILOUT?
Monday, December 8, 2008
I'm special, damnit!
Another disappointing NFL weekend for me. No need to go there.
I was feeling pretty down last week. On Thursday, I went to a chorus call for the Vegas production of "Jersey Boys," a show that totally rocked my world when I saw it here last May. I was lucky enough to get free tickets to the opening night production at The Venetian, thanks to the perks of my quasi-husband's crazy job. We were out here for a few days to pick up our car so we could drive out to LA for an agent's showcase I was doing with my MFA class, and the tickets were for that very weekend we were in town, zowee! The show, as I said, totally rocked, and at the curtain call, who should take the stage but Frankie Valli, Bob Gaudio and Tommy DeVito! Holy wow! And then, we headed to the VIP party with all the other VIPs (I like to pretend that I belong in their numbers), and sang Happy Birthday to Frankie Valli, then we danced like mad until my feet were throbbing, me and Alex and my girlfriend Caroline, who'd come from Seattle to visit, along with our college roommate and best bud, Zoe (who unfortunately had to leave town before the party)...It was a great night. And the dessert bar was to die for! Anyway, 6 months later, there's an Equity chorus call, and this Jersey girl was determined to get in line and get seen. And I did get seen. After 3 hours of sitting on my ass, talking with lots of other girls who want a job that requires clothes to be worn (so anti-Vegas), I got seen for all of 20 seconds, followed by a half-hearted, "Thank you. NEXT." Sigh.
Don't get me wrong, I understand that this is the way most of these calls work out. I didn't really think I'd get cast, or even get a callback (though I sure as shit am good enough for it). What really got me down is that, in my 3 months in Vegas, this was only my 3rd audition. And I have no clue when the next one is gonna happen. This may be an entertainment town, but most of the entertaining is of the go-go variety, and I didn't get an MFA to shake my jugs for strangers. I'm learning that Vegas is a city of extremes: for theatre, you've got the big payday Strip shows, like Jersey Boys, and then you've got the non-paying community theatre, which there isn't much of. In between, there's nothing. There's no ladder for me to work my way up, there's either the dream job or the non-job. And those Strip shows are mostly cast in LA and NYC. I was talking to a woman at the audition the other day, who'd spent 11 years as a Radio City Rockette. She finally left that job, as the Christmas season of 5 shows a day was grueling and she'd had her fill. But here in Vegas, she can't get anyone to take her seriously, even with her rather impressive resume (and killer legs). She gets convention work here and there, but that's it. I'm not a dancer, at least not of the "give me a time-step" variety, so those convention jobs don't exist for me. So, what got me down the other day was, What the hell am I doing here? I mean, I actually like Vegas, I am blown away by how friendly the people are, and I feel like there could be a place for me...but I have no clue how to find it. And 1 audition a month is not going to get me anywhere.
I was feeling down on Thursday. And then I went to my voice lesson on Friday. Jessica was SO psyched for me to go to this audition, she's seen Jersey Boys 3 times, once in New York and twice in Vegas, absolutely loves the show and thinks I'd be perfect for it. "How'd it go??" she asked. And I told her: no callback. Her partner, Andy (AKA The CEO of Soul) asked me how I thought I did. I said I did fine, but it was one of those things, as soon as I walked in the room, I could see them look away. This often happens to me on chorus calls. I sit in a holding room full of smooth-haired women who look like they just came off the dairy farm, I look like no one else, and I sound like no one else. Which you'd think might give me a leg up, but not in a chorus call. Always, I walk into the audition room and get looks of dissappointment. Andy said, "They hear what they see." And it's true. So, I thought I did fine, I presented myself well, I looked great (if I do say so myself), I played nice with the accompanist, I had my shit together, very professional, and I sang my 16 bars well. What more could I do? Anyway, Jess and I started my lesson, and I felt a bit better, just being able to sing. I love to sing, it's something I'm clearly meant to do. And by the end of the lesson, my spirits were raised. Then, Jess gave me a whole box of sheet music. She'd been going through her things, looking over the music and press clippings and pictures from the decades of her career (she's been performing professionally since she was 12), and realizing that she's had an amazing career. And she really wants to help her students get their own careers. Well, not all of her students, but the 3 or 4 that she thinks have really "got it." And I'm one of them. So, she's giving me all these charts and sheet music and songbooks that she won't be needing anymore (because she says, "Who wants to see a 50-ish girl rock singer?" to which I say, "I DO!"). And I'm thinking, man, how lucky am I to have met this woman? Not only because she's giving me all this music, but because she actually gives a crap about what happens to me, she really wants me to succeed, and she really wants to help me do it. I left her thinking, "I don't know what I'm doing here in Vegas, but something about it feels right."
And then I went to visit Van, my mailman. As soon as I walked in, he smiled and handed me two boxes. He'd been going through some things and thought of me. He gave me two lamps (I had complained to him about the pineapple-shaped lamps in my rental, which go along with the pineapple-themed everything in this place). He also gave me 4 prints, all with an Asian theme, to bring a little life into my home. And once again, I felt so lucky to be in this place. I mean, I met this wonderful, transgendered, 6'3" without-the-heels, African-American beauty who calls himself my fan, just by renting a mailbox in his store. And each week, I look forward to our visits, because I always feel special when I walk out, like I've shared a bit of time with a truly unique, uniquely talented individual, who sees something unique in me. And I need that. I need to feel special, not just for my ego's sake, but to remind me of why I want to be a performer, of why I can sing a song to people and know that they're hearing not only the song but the soul behind the singer. Because I am special, in my own way. Every one of us is special, every one of us is talented and every one of us has something that is uniquely ours. And when I don't get an opportunity to perform, the things that are special about me start to grow distant and fuzzy, I forget who I am and turn into a housewife, which I'm good at but clearly not meant to be (just ask Alex, he can tell you). I know myself well enough to know that I am meant for the stage. And my months in Vegas have been discouraging, because I know what I'm supposed to do but don't know how to make it happen.
But after being gifted by my friendships with Jess & Van, I felt a bit of creative fire. And I did some writing. And I put together a kind of crappy cabaret. Crappy, but at least it's a beginning. I finally managed to string my thoughts together well enough to come up with a beginning-middle-and-end. I don't really know what I'll do with it, if it's worth doing anything with. I have this fantasy of spending a few months in Seattle, workshopping it with my friends up there, seeing if it has a life beyond the page. Who knows. But at least I'm getting a better sense of what the hell I'm doing in Vegas. Perhaps this place will not get me any work, perhaps this place is just a stop along the way, or perhaps it will be a homebase, a place for me to write for myself before hitting the road to look for a stage to call my own. Because I feel like that's what my artistic soul is looking for: a solo stage for a one-woman show (with musicians, of course). I don't think I'll find that stage in Vegas, but the material is all here with me. And as much as the opportunities are lacking, I'm certainly not short on support. I've only met a couple of people here, but they think I'm pretty special. And that's like working capital.
I was feeling pretty down last week. On Thursday, I went to a chorus call for the Vegas production of "Jersey Boys," a show that totally rocked my world when I saw it here last May. I was lucky enough to get free tickets to the opening night production at The Venetian, thanks to the perks of my quasi-husband's crazy job. We were out here for a few days to pick up our car so we could drive out to LA for an agent's showcase I was doing with my MFA class, and the tickets were for that very weekend we were in town, zowee! The show, as I said, totally rocked, and at the curtain call, who should take the stage but Frankie Valli, Bob Gaudio and Tommy DeVito! Holy wow! And then, we headed to the VIP party with all the other VIPs (I like to pretend that I belong in their numbers), and sang Happy Birthday to Frankie Valli, then we danced like mad until my feet were throbbing, me and Alex and my girlfriend Caroline, who'd come from Seattle to visit, along with our college roommate and best bud, Zoe (who unfortunately had to leave town before the party)...It was a great night. And the dessert bar was to die for! Anyway, 6 months later, there's an Equity chorus call, and this Jersey girl was determined to get in line and get seen. And I did get seen. After 3 hours of sitting on my ass, talking with lots of other girls who want a job that requires clothes to be worn (so anti-Vegas), I got seen for all of 20 seconds, followed by a half-hearted, "Thank you. NEXT." Sigh.
Don't get me wrong, I understand that this is the way most of these calls work out. I didn't really think I'd get cast, or even get a callback (though I sure as shit am good enough for it). What really got me down is that, in my 3 months in Vegas, this was only my 3rd audition. And I have no clue when the next one is gonna happen. This may be an entertainment town, but most of the entertaining is of the go-go variety, and I didn't get an MFA to shake my jugs for strangers. I'm learning that Vegas is a city of extremes: for theatre, you've got the big payday Strip shows, like Jersey Boys, and then you've got the non-paying community theatre, which there isn't much of. In between, there's nothing. There's no ladder for me to work my way up, there's either the dream job or the non-job. And those Strip shows are mostly cast in LA and NYC. I was talking to a woman at the audition the other day, who'd spent 11 years as a Radio City Rockette. She finally left that job, as the Christmas season of 5 shows a day was grueling and she'd had her fill. But here in Vegas, she can't get anyone to take her seriously, even with her rather impressive resume (and killer legs). She gets convention work here and there, but that's it. I'm not a dancer, at least not of the "give me a time-step" variety, so those convention jobs don't exist for me. So, what got me down the other day was, What the hell am I doing here? I mean, I actually like Vegas, I am blown away by how friendly the people are, and I feel like there could be a place for me...but I have no clue how to find it. And 1 audition a month is not going to get me anywhere.
I was feeling down on Thursday. And then I went to my voice lesson on Friday. Jessica was SO psyched for me to go to this audition, she's seen Jersey Boys 3 times, once in New York and twice in Vegas, absolutely loves the show and thinks I'd be perfect for it. "How'd it go??" she asked. And I told her: no callback. Her partner, Andy (AKA The CEO of Soul) asked me how I thought I did. I said I did fine, but it was one of those things, as soon as I walked in the room, I could see them look away. This often happens to me on chorus calls. I sit in a holding room full of smooth-haired women who look like they just came off the dairy farm, I look like no one else, and I sound like no one else. Which you'd think might give me a leg up, but not in a chorus call. Always, I walk into the audition room and get looks of dissappointment. Andy said, "They hear what they see." And it's true. So, I thought I did fine, I presented myself well, I looked great (if I do say so myself), I played nice with the accompanist, I had my shit together, very professional, and I sang my 16 bars well. What more could I do? Anyway, Jess and I started my lesson, and I felt a bit better, just being able to sing. I love to sing, it's something I'm clearly meant to do. And by the end of the lesson, my spirits were raised. Then, Jess gave me a whole box of sheet music. She'd been going through her things, looking over the music and press clippings and pictures from the decades of her career (she's been performing professionally since she was 12), and realizing that she's had an amazing career. And she really wants to help her students get their own careers. Well, not all of her students, but the 3 or 4 that she thinks have really "got it." And I'm one of them. So, she's giving me all these charts and sheet music and songbooks that she won't be needing anymore (because she says, "Who wants to see a 50-ish girl rock singer?" to which I say, "I DO!"). And I'm thinking, man, how lucky am I to have met this woman? Not only because she's giving me all this music, but because she actually gives a crap about what happens to me, she really wants me to succeed, and she really wants to help me do it. I left her thinking, "I don't know what I'm doing here in Vegas, but something about it feels right."
And then I went to visit Van, my mailman. As soon as I walked in, he smiled and handed me two boxes. He'd been going through some things and thought of me. He gave me two lamps (I had complained to him about the pineapple-shaped lamps in my rental, which go along with the pineapple-themed everything in this place). He also gave me 4 prints, all with an Asian theme, to bring a little life into my home. And once again, I felt so lucky to be in this place. I mean, I met this wonderful, transgendered, 6'3" without-the-heels, African-American beauty who calls himself my fan, just by renting a mailbox in his store. And each week, I look forward to our visits, because I always feel special when I walk out, like I've shared a bit of time with a truly unique, uniquely talented individual, who sees something unique in me. And I need that. I need to feel special, not just for my ego's sake, but to remind me of why I want to be a performer, of why I can sing a song to people and know that they're hearing not only the song but the soul behind the singer. Because I am special, in my own way. Every one of us is special, every one of us is talented and every one of us has something that is uniquely ours. And when I don't get an opportunity to perform, the things that are special about me start to grow distant and fuzzy, I forget who I am and turn into a housewife, which I'm good at but clearly not meant to be (just ask Alex, he can tell you). I know myself well enough to know that I am meant for the stage. And my months in Vegas have been discouraging, because I know what I'm supposed to do but don't know how to make it happen.
But after being gifted by my friendships with Jess & Van, I felt a bit of creative fire. And I did some writing. And I put together a kind of crappy cabaret. Crappy, but at least it's a beginning. I finally managed to string my thoughts together well enough to come up with a beginning-middle-and-end. I don't really know what I'll do with it, if it's worth doing anything with. I have this fantasy of spending a few months in Seattle, workshopping it with my friends up there, seeing if it has a life beyond the page. Who knows. But at least I'm getting a better sense of what the hell I'm doing in Vegas. Perhaps this place will not get me any work, perhaps this place is just a stop along the way, or perhaps it will be a homebase, a place for me to write for myself before hitting the road to look for a stage to call my own. Because I feel like that's what my artistic soul is looking for: a solo stage for a one-woman show (with musicians, of course). I don't think I'll find that stage in Vegas, but the material is all here with me. And as much as the opportunities are lacking, I'm certainly not short on support. I've only met a couple of people here, but they think I'm pretty special. And that's like working capital.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Go Wranglers!
For those of you who've been following this blog for the past few months, you know that I like sports. You know that I am an ever-disappointed fan of the Cleveland Browns, who disappointed yet again last weekend, not only losing their 8th game of the season but also losing their 2nd quarterback of the season. Sigh. You know that I am a huge fan of Brett Favre, who lost his 4th game of the season last weekend but still won my heart. Oh, Brett. You know that I am quasi-married to a professional sports bettor, so sports are a big part of my Vegas life. Except, there are no professional teams in Vegas. This is due to the many concerns about games being thrown by players/coaches/owners/towelboys, in order to win big at the sports books. This is the first city I've lived in that I haven't had a game to go to.
Until last night. Last night, I found my hometown team: The Las Vegas Wranglers.
The Wranglers are a minor league hockey team, now in their 6th season. The last couple of years we lived in Seattle, Alex and I discovered the Seattle Thunderbirds, another minor league team. The T-Birds games were the best sporting events I'd ever been to! First off, tickets were cheap ($20 on the glass!!). The fans were devoted. And the players were playing for their lives. These were kids, 18--22 years old, all looking to go pro. There were often scouts in the stands, so the games were played full-out. I'd been to some NHL games before, in Boston and Philly, and the T-Birds games were as competitive as any pro game I'd seen. So, when I discovered that Vegas had a team, I was psyched! I was told that this particular league was nowhere near the caliber of the T-Birds league, but it's live hockey, so who cares? A friend of Alex's got us tickets to last night's game, and all day I kept saying, "Hey baby, you wanna go see some HOCKEY?" HELLS YEAH!! I told Van my mailman that I was going, and he was jealous. You never know where you might find a hockey fan.
We walked into the arena just as the national anthem was being sung (by an elementary school chorus, which made me think, How can I get a chance to sing the national anthem at a game?), and then the lights came back up and it was time to play some hockey. Right away, I was in fan-mode. When I'm at a game, I'm on the edge of my seat, taking in all the action. I didn't even know which team I was rooting for until a minute had gone by and I could tell from the crowd response which jerseys were Wrangler jerseys. Last night's foe was the Fresno Falcons, and according to Alex's buddy, the night before was a bloody battle between these teams. The Wranglers won, but not without a fight. At one point, one of the Falcons actually threw a punch into the Wranglers bench. The gloves got dropped numerous times, it was a hard-hitting battle, but our team was victorious. At least, that was the report from Monday night. What we saw last night was a whole different scene. Maybe it was because of all the elementary school kids (after the first period, at least 100 kids got on the ice to sing Christmas carols), maybe the guys were just worn out from the night before. There was one Wrangler, #37, Watt, who was doing a lot of hitting, but the other Wranglers were putting on the brakes most of the time, and there were only 2 occasions where a fight could have broken out, but didn't. (For those of you who don't follow hockey, it's important to understand that fights are a part of the game. I don't get it, and it bothers me to hear a stadium full of people screaming, "Rip his f*%^ing head off!" But it's all part of the event.) The game ended with Fresno winning, 1-0. And as a sporting event, it wasn't the most exciting display of athleticism. But it was a live game, and I loved being a part of the crowd. I loved listening to the belligerent screams from the guys 2 rows behind me (though I kept hoping they'd lose their voices), I loved singing along with the pipe organ tunes (why is "Havah Nagilah" played at hockey games??), I loved the collective inhales when it looked like a scoring shot was with us and the collective moans when a bad pass lost an opportunity. I just loved being a part of the crowd, having a team to cheer for. Even if this particular minor league division is less-than spectacular, it's still exciting. And I'm looking forward to my next game! The team is on the road until the 15th, when they've got a midnight game. Don't know if I can make that one, as we'll be flying back to New York early the next morning. Perhaps we'll pull a hockey-fueled all-nighter...
Until last night. Last night, I found my hometown team: The Las Vegas Wranglers.
The Wranglers are a minor league hockey team, now in their 6th season. The last couple of years we lived in Seattle, Alex and I discovered the Seattle Thunderbirds, another minor league team. The T-Birds games were the best sporting events I'd ever been to! First off, tickets were cheap ($20 on the glass!!). The fans were devoted. And the players were playing for their lives. These were kids, 18--22 years old, all looking to go pro. There were often scouts in the stands, so the games were played full-out. I'd been to some NHL games before, in Boston and Philly, and the T-Birds games were as competitive as any pro game I'd seen. So, when I discovered that Vegas had a team, I was psyched! I was told that this particular league was nowhere near the caliber of the T-Birds league, but it's live hockey, so who cares? A friend of Alex's got us tickets to last night's game, and all day I kept saying, "Hey baby, you wanna go see some HOCKEY?" HELLS YEAH!! I told Van my mailman that I was going, and he was jealous. You never know where you might find a hockey fan.
We walked into the arena just as the national anthem was being sung (by an elementary school chorus, which made me think, How can I get a chance to sing the national anthem at a game?), and then the lights came back up and it was time to play some hockey. Right away, I was in fan-mode. When I'm at a game, I'm on the edge of my seat, taking in all the action. I didn't even know which team I was rooting for until a minute had gone by and I could tell from the crowd response which jerseys were Wrangler jerseys. Last night's foe was the Fresno Falcons, and according to Alex's buddy, the night before was a bloody battle between these teams. The Wranglers won, but not without a fight. At one point, one of the Falcons actually threw a punch into the Wranglers bench. The gloves got dropped numerous times, it was a hard-hitting battle, but our team was victorious. At least, that was the report from Monday night. What we saw last night was a whole different scene. Maybe it was because of all the elementary school kids (after the first period, at least 100 kids got on the ice to sing Christmas carols), maybe the guys were just worn out from the night before. There was one Wrangler, #37, Watt, who was doing a lot of hitting, but the other Wranglers were putting on the brakes most of the time, and there were only 2 occasions where a fight could have broken out, but didn't. (For those of you who don't follow hockey, it's important to understand that fights are a part of the game. I don't get it, and it bothers me to hear a stadium full of people screaming, "Rip his f*%^ing head off!" But it's all part of the event.) The game ended with Fresno winning, 1-0. And as a sporting event, it wasn't the most exciting display of athleticism. But it was a live game, and I loved being a part of the crowd. I loved listening to the belligerent screams from the guys 2 rows behind me (though I kept hoping they'd lose their voices), I loved singing along with the pipe organ tunes (why is "Havah Nagilah" played at hockey games??), I loved the collective inhales when it looked like a scoring shot was with us and the collective moans when a bad pass lost an opportunity. I just loved being a part of the crowd, having a team to cheer for. Even if this particular minor league division is less-than spectacular, it's still exciting. And I'm looking forward to my next game! The team is on the road until the 15th, when they've got a midnight game. Don't know if I can make that one, as we'll be flying back to New York early the next morning. Perhaps we'll pull a hockey-fueled all-nighter...
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