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2005-12-09 - 7:15 a.m.

Stories from the river...

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Bleah. Never go this long without writing. Explanation is simple: no time. Haven't even responded to Madrigle's note (but I will, James, I will). The Phoenix Boy was up at midnight checking to see if I'd updated, but, obviously, to no avail.

The Phoenix Boy got into Western. Hallelujah. One major hurdle overcome. He called and left a voicemail during rehearsal the other night; when I checked messages and heard the news I almost wept with relief and excitement and happiness and pride. Audition material next, honey, get going on it.

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The "Drood" log isn't dead. Or maybe it is, I don't know. You should keep a separate "Drood" journal, flood, as you keep your voice journal (I know, I know). So-called "table work" on Monday and Tuesday, essentially Text Class: operatives, finding and using them, relaxing on the other stuff, pace and emphasis and intention, plus dialect coaching. What I thought would take two and a half rehearsals took one and a half; we were out early both nights. Joey did a fine (if dialectically inaccurate) job reading Crisparkle, and Chelsea came through to read (and sing!) Puffer with zero notice on Tuesday evening. I had said I was trying to find a reason to like her. Well, I found one. She will understudy the role. Nick has improved dramatically, and both Hardy and J.R. are sounding stronger, deeper, more masculine, more menacing. Hardy is going to be downright creepy.

I heard how to stage the train station scene. I know how it'll work. I heard that it's going to be a good show.

Ryan L is going to win a "tea-with-jam-and-bread" award: his attitude is amazing. I called him on Monday night, only to realize near the end of rehearsal that he has no lines in that Act. Embarrassing.

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Singing lesson with Gayle on Wednesday morning. Amazingly productive work in half an hour; I got stuff I'd never gotten, or else no one had ever taught me that, and it made a big difference. Will sing with more consistency and more confidence - and will sound much more like a real trained singer - on Monday.

I adore Gayle. Adore her.

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Session with Deb yesterday: not really. I arrived at her class not knowing what to expect, flustered because I'd thought I would be late. She sat down and announced we'd be doing "Stories from the River," or whatever it was she called it, and my audible gasp of wonder and joy stopped the entire class in its collective tracks. Immediate tears, and I cried almost the whole time. Memories of Dennis, of Shake & Co., of Mo and Rebecka, of various stages on my journey. I chose: leaving med school ("That was a time when I ..."), arriving at Interlochen ("In every heart there is a room..."), and going off to drama school ("Uh, Jim, could I talk to you for a minute...?). I hope I get to share it today; I hope we have time. I find myself hoping that Deb will share as well.

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Final acting class on Wednesday. Scenes went pretty well, with the possible exception of Holt, who was moderately successful, and Shana, who never really found Ashbe at all; neither of them was doing much of anything. Michael surprised me by going much farther into Richard - and allowing much more of himself out as Richard - than I imagined he'd be able to do. Mo did her best work; Jennifer and Shayla were lovely; Hardy and Daniel R genuinely frightened me. Successful. Brief discussion.

Their papers have gratified me, primarily in the number of times I find myself quoted back to myself. Again and again: "I remember a day you said, ' . . . . '" Wow, I thought. Some things you say, they really get them.

Michael has told Tate that he "likes boys," saying it only when very drunk. Michael, perhaps, also recognizes more than he lets on the contradictions inherent in his approach to his training: he wants a vitamin pill, a list of tasks he can check off; then when you give him a task to do he resents it. He wants violent emotional experiences, but then when his acting gets near to being emotional, he pulls back.

They all resent being given process, and this came into a clearer focus as a result of my non-session with Deb:

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I started to write about this, then got off on another subject, but: We didn't have a session. We went for coffee. Deb said they do so much impulse work here, which has its advantages, but there's not all that much concrete process for building a role, and they rarely get "really specific," she said. Aaaahhhh, I thought! Then why call the whole first year "Basic Process"? The kids in my Acting II class don't have one, and neither do the kids in the "Drood" cast. All starting to make sense.

What we did do was this: after coffee we went back into the Lab and I did my pieces. Deb gave excellent notes, called me on it where I wasn't specific or clear; I did the pieces again.

Why I should be nervous about this audition, I don't know. Kathleen scares me, and that's not good, because as Alfred Molina says so well, "casting directors can smell fear." As I walked into the space I thought, "You've never ever once done this speech for an audition when it didn't blow people away, when it didn't result in someone saying Wow!, you can really speak this language!" So why should I be trying to get it "right" or into some form that Kathleen "wants"? I feel more confident after working wtih Deb. And she helped me crack that old bugaboo - "I don't see how you feel about her" - in the "Oleanna" piece.

When we were just about finished, she said, "I've always liked your acting." I thought, "huh?" She went on: "When we were at Shake & Co., and discussing the students as we did every day, even every meal, which I loved, whenever you came up I always thought, 'he's gonna be fine; he's an actor.'"

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It poured rain all day. I went down to the shop and thanked all the guys who are working on the set. Krista was there; she lit up when she saw me.

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I chose my head shot. #28 it is.

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And both MSB and I had the evening off. I made a chicken pot pie again, a great big one in the lasagne pan with just about everything in it - asparagus and mushrooms as well as the usual stuff - and it was terrific. I thought I had to go to the all-school forum, but I didn't, and I was so excited to realize I could get home before Matt. By the time he got home I had the dinner well under way, all the candles lit, olives and cheese on the coffee table, and a fire in the fireplace. Very Villa-sounding wind and rain whipped around outside. It was a cosy evening.

We went to bed early.

I had bizarre dreams, including one in which I was going to referee a pro football game. Ha ha.

This morning when I woke up, the photo on the computer screen was that shot up Gear Road, approaching the Villa. Very appropriate after last night's weather.

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Today is the last day of classes. End of my first semester at FSU. Today is the one-year anniversary of David's father's death. Yesterday was the twenty-fifth anniversary of the shooting of John Lennon.

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Jordy finally wrote me back.

It was worth trying again.

"Give people second chances" - that's the theme of my "Stories from the River" episodes. Of all three of them, really, wow, I hadn't realized that.

Starting over.

Almost never a bad thing.

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This time tomorrow I'll be on a plane to LaGuardia.

ebb - flow

Friday morning: lightning round. And callbacks tonight. - 2012-09-07
Gloom, anxiety, revelations, excitement, joy, frustration, anxiety: quite a ride for one day. - 2012-09-06
Today's music ain't got the same soul,/I like that old time rock 'n' roll! - 2012-09-05
Sleepless night, shaky morning... - 2012-09-04
A satisfying if perhaps overdone run yesterday morning, and a dinner party last night: life may actually be returning to something like "normal." - 2012-09-03

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