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This is the first Halloween I've worked since...'98, I guess. In '99 I was visiting Maddy in Kansas, '00 was Dana and Costanza's wedding (Happy Anniversary, you two), in '01 I was freshly unemployed, and in '02 I was still unemployed. Oh well. I need the money, and thankfully, nobody is commemorating or really acknowledging the day. Not so much as one decoration, and I'm glad. The Boss said I could leave early in an attempt to beat the inevitable crush of traffic into the City. Yay. The play is closed tonight, and having learned our lesson last year, we're avoiding the Castro. Way way way too many drunk, straight people. Instead, we're going to a party at Tristan's, where there will be a considerably smaller number of drunk queer people. That sounds much better.
2:34pm There was a woman in the audience last night wearing shiny black vinyl pants. They looked damned good on her. I want a pair.
3:30pm I've come to realize that my feelings about Halloween are roughly the same as those of the vampires on Buffy: lay low and let the humans have their fun.
sometime after midnight Halloween was much more enjoyable this year, from the relative safety of Tristan's apartment.
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A slightly lackluster show last night. I think it's because of the three days off since the last performance; we all agreed that it felt longer. The timing of the zombies is still way off, but I'm just about ready to give up on that. Better yet, I'm going to rationalize it as adding to the tension. After all, the characters are agitated by what's going on outside the walls, and so it brings that extra layer of realism. Lauren and Susan were in the audience (Meliza was supposed to be there as well, but didn't show), and afterwards, Lauren discovered her bike had been stolen. Argh. Talk about a buzzkill. So I got a callback on a resume. Haven't gotten one of those in a good long while. They actually called yesterday morning but we didn't discover it until today because, well, we're really really bad about checking messages. Yesterday would have been perfect, since I was alone for a few hours in the morning, and barring that I could have gone into Kelly's office to use her cell. (She's currently on her way to Las Vegas.) (First time going to Vegas, and it's for a comics convention over Halloween. Trying not to think about that one too much.) I had to run some work-related errands, though, so I called them from a pay phone. Yep, I'm clever. Anyway, it seemed to go well. It a general staffing person, and mine was one of inevitable hundreds of responses to her craigslist posting, but between my experience specific to the position (who knew my self-publishing would come in handy in jobhunting?) and my modest pay requirements, I impressed her enough that she'll be sending my resume on to the actual hiring manager type person. It would be in the City, nine to five (presumably) and actually pay a living wage. All very important things. It may require a considerably more square appearance than I prefer, but, well, beggars and choosers. On the other hand, (e) works in what I suspect is a similar environment and has piercings, tattoos and dreads, so it might not be a problem. In any event, my hopes are being kept right down where they belong.
2:03pm If you haven't done so recently, be sure to look at dirty pictures and abuse yourself today—Bush has declared this Protection from Pornography week. The effects of pornography are particularly pernicious with respect to children. The recent enactment of the PROTECT Act of 2003 strengthens child pornography laws, establishes the Federal Government's role in the AMBER Alert System, increases punishment for Federal crimes against children, and authorizes judges to require extended supervision of sex offenders who are released from prison.Normally I would be angry about the direct causal relationship he's implying exists between pr0n and sex offenders (news flash: there isn't one), but I just keep laughing at the thought of him trying to say "The effects of pornography are particularly pernicious" without spitting all over himself. And, just in time, GreenCine has started carrying pr0n. Fuck NetFlix. (No pun intended.)
11:02pm A much better show tonight. We drastically changed the action in the second scene the first in the house, and rehearsed it up until a few minutes before showtime. I banged up my feet quite a bit in the process (I do almost the entire play without shoes), but, hey, it's for a good cause. I also had what could have been, if not a serious accident, then an extremely embarrassing one. As I stepped off the stage, the wooden stepstool tipped forward and sent me flying. But I didn't fall. At least, I didn't hit the ground. My lifelong experience as a tall person came in handy—I'm good at catching myself when I stumble and continuing on like it didn't happen at all. Considering that nobody in the audience laughed, I guess it worked. I'm told that I stayed in character the whole time, which helped. My gay boyfriend Horehound was in the audience, as well as, of all people, our chiropractor. They both said they had a great time. I'm glad. Sadly, Horehound didn't actually did get to see me do my big monologue—the leading man, Sid, was standing right in front of him—but he said that at the time, while he was aware that he couldn't see me, he still felt like he was in the moment and as such didn't truly miss it. Yay. I guess that means we're doing our jobs. Tired. So very tired.
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For as proud as I am of Night of the Living Dead (which begins its second week tonight), I would really love to be involved in this play. Doesn't seem too likely, though.
12:03pm I spent a lot of time on the phone yesterday—much of it with the airlines, usually the worst offenders—and got called "miss" or "ma'am" every time. Might be a fluke, might not. And then there's the Scream. I think I've been managing it pretty well, and there's really only one biggie. Still, I'm convinced that eventually someone will laugh when the hero says in reference to me, "That woman was screaming! Surely you know what a woman screaming sounds like?" Yeah, well, maybe if "she" actually sounded like a woman screaming...
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In the promos for K'vetch, I'm referred to as "Sherilyn Fenn Connelly." I'm not sure how I feel about that. I mean, yes, I named myself after her, but I'm not quite that pathological. Oh well. I can take a joke. Lori has invited me to read at Perverts Put Out! this Saturday. I can't do it because of the play, but she's said she'll book me into a future show. Cool. After talking about with it Erin, I'm leaning away from doing "The Monsters Are Due On Maple Street" at Spanganga. She thinks it might be a little too cast-heavy for my first time directing, and she's probably right. My next choice is something simpler but even more iconic (if memory serves it even gets a shout-out in the opening scene of The Twilight Zone: The Movie), "Time Enough At Last." Everybody already knows how it ends, but that's okay.
4:03pm Sheesh. What is it with me? It's not a joke, it's a compliment. And, boy, I'm horrible at taking those. My "You're making fun of me!" circuitry always kicks in at the wrong time.
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The turnout was kinda light at the Ammiano fundraiser. I have reason to believe it was because of my presence. It's one thing if there's an open mic, but if I'm actually scheduled to be involved in something, it's the kiss of death. I therefore expect a sparse crowd at K'vetch next week. Speaking of K'vetch, it looks like I'm going to start quasi-managing Lynnee. He was talking about how he's often missing gigs because he can't keep track of them, but if he had a manager—everytime he said that word, he leaned towards me—then that wouldn't happen. Taking a hint, I told him to start letting me know whenever he gets a new gig, and I'll do my best to make sure he remembers them. Worth a shot. And why not? I'm his fucking secretary, after all. I'm doing something similar for (e), updating the front page of her website on a mostly daily basis to show her next few gigs while she's on tour. Actually, that's not really very similar at all, since she probably hasn't looked at her site since she left. Forget I mentioned it. The new piece I read, which I'd just finished earlier that day and was still editing up until I went on, didn't get quite the reaction I was hoping for. Not enough laughs in the right places. Maybe it was too esoteric, I don't know. My intro to it did better, oddly enough. That's usually the part that really bombs. Go figure. Hearing Tom Ammiano say "It's a dick thing" in regards to another mayoral candidate is a wonderfully amusing experience. Julia Serrano told me she had a dream in which I won the lottery. Once again, I have better luck other peoples' dreams than my own. Charlie introduced me to the designer of Gorf. That's pretty cool. It's been warm the last few days, so I've been wearing a sarong. I look pretty good in it, if I do say so myself. I was inspired by Ty, the stage manager for the play. She's a butch dyke and normally dresses more in that vein, but she came to rehearsal on Friday wearing a sarong and crop-top, saying she hadn't felt like really getting dressed. I have to agree with her. It's a nice alternative to real clothes, especially if you have the legs for it. Long live the new flesh.
2:40pm Really, really not digging The Boss today. Not at all. Started the day with a lecture in which he essentially said that if I have any time for personal stuff, he's not getting his money's worth. That money which, as has been established, he doesn't think he should have to be paying me in the first place. Indeed, he even alluded to not paying me if my work rate doesn't increase. From almost any other employer I would interpret that as a threat to fire me, but he may actually think that I'd stick around for no pay, like that mythical college student he could have gotten gratis. In any event, if he does sack me, I don't think I'll react quite the way I did last time. I've been accused of being bitter. Yes, perhaps. Or maybe I just have a bad attitude. Both are possible. Note to self: when he opens his office door, alt-tab away from TextPad or SecureCRT if either are up (both programs are set to red text on a black background with to minimize eyestrain), since he associates "that black screen" with me not working. So he shouldn't have to see it anymore.
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I'm not sure this qualifies as progress, but the last night the first zombie didn't keep his arms at his sides. Rather, he was waving them around like he was batting at a cloud of flies—a cloud of files surrounding my head, so I got roughed up a little more than I would have liked. Evidently he'd been told to attack me, but not how to attack me, so decided to go for the spaz approach. Just perfect. After the show (I couldn't have done it beforehand since we don't actually see any of the zombies beforehand) I explained to him that all he really has to do is grab my shoulders, and maybe pull at my clothes some. If he gets it wrong again tonight, I'm going to ask that someone else do it. And, makeupwise, he's too zombified—he needs to be just recently dead, odd-looking yet not especially gory—but there are so many battles I can wage at once. Aside from the undead spazmoid, last night went well. Though not sold out, it was easily our most energetic audience, even cheering and applauding at times. I never did get teary (my Method still needs work), but I did sweat a lot, so at least there was some liquid on my face. Still, I must have triggered something deep down, since about halfway through the play I noticed that my arms were tingly and pale, as though the blood had rushed away from the surface. I think my body may have been preparing for fight or flight. I guess that means I'm getting into it. We all did better than Thursday night, with fewer missed cues and a smoother pace. No small feat, actually, considering that the zombies decided to make a lot more noise than usual, almost relentless banging and scratching on the set wall. (Except for Ted and Kelly, seeing as how they weren't able to make it.) The racket added to the scary ambiance, sure, but none of us onstage had been anticipating it, and we all felt that it was overkill and more than a little distracting. Noona thought it worked, however, and she's the director so it's her call. Something tells me she's probably right.
10:42pm Okay, I'm convinced. The zombie noise works. Good show tonight. Full house, and they were really into it. The first zombie attack went much better. Noona said it looked great last night, but when I informed her that part of that realism came from the fact that it was actually painful, she was okay with it being toned down a little. He still needs to not feast on Jonny (my brother, played by Joe Donohoe), but come after me as soon as Jonny hits the ground. We're supposed to have a rehearsal with all the zombies on Wednesday, something that never really happened before, so I'll take care of it then. Wow. We're already at the end of our first week, a third of the way through the run. What a trip. At this moment, in that very same space, darkness has fallen.
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Feeling better today, less physically tired. It's amazing what a difference getting to bed before eleven makes.
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Yep. The chair's a fake. Goddamnit. Should have known better than to trust him. Of course, I was lured in by the possibility of maybe making a little extra cash. That'll teach me. Y'know, if I'm going to be a whore, I might as well just do it the old-fashioned way.
10:00am
the only certainty is uncertainty
12:11pm The Boss has decided that I'm not busy enough, and as such as given me, well, busywork. How kind of him. Heaven forbid I be disgruntled and bored.
1:27pm A guaranteed way to make the phone ring? Have a mouth full of broccoli. Works every time.
4:20pm Every so often he asks me what my writing skills are like, and I tell him: fine, but not for what you need. I suck at business letters, or most anything requiring a degree of formality. The single most tedious part of college was writing papers; I would usually get two pages into a seven-to-ten page essay before running out of things to say on the subject. That's one of the reasons I haven't pursued writing for magazines. I can barely write on demand about things that matter to me, let alone, say, profiling some rock band. I can't even write a decent movie review to save my life. If I could, I'd probably have a review of Porn Theater in the latest Cinema Sewer. Speaking of writing, Lynnee asked me (and Sini Anderson and (e) and Matthue and a bunch of other people) to read for five minutes at the next K'vetch, which happens to be the event's seventh birthday party I always read at K'vetch in the open mic anyway, but there probably won't be one, this being more of a greatest-hits kinda thing. Ironically, that's the same night that Horehound and I are going to see Neil Young's film Greendale at the Film Arts Festival, and the tickets just arrived in the mail. The movie's at six, though, and the K'vetch generally starts between half past seven and eight, so we can do both. Yay. A busy night, but they're all going to be for the next few weeks.
sometime after midnight Dress rehearsal, with an audience and everything, was tonight. I was aware of every single flaw, but the general consensus was that it went well. I didn't screw anything up too badly, anyway. About a half a dozen people over the course of the day told me to break a leg. I guess I should get used to that. Allegra, Ryan, Ted, Kelly and Chupa were there. Bless them all. Afterwards, Maddy and I stayed at Spanganga to watch some Twilight Zone episodes with Erin, Jim and Ty, essentially the in-house tech crew. I was exhausted and should have gone straight home to bed, but it sounded like fun, and it was. Erin's going to be doing live-action versions of Zone episodes next year, and has asked me to direct one. I want to do "The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street." Sleep, now. Quiet.
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