Workin' 9-5 (or 8-4:30)

Just faxed my work resume and application to Dakota County CDA for the Office Assistant job. Same duties as I'm used to, just getting paid a decent wage and benefits. I'd get Columbus Day off too. Could be a good thing to get settled down for awhile instead of this hooplah I've been running through the last few years. I need to give myself a break and realize that my money will not come solely from acting. Most of us don't have that luxury here in town. It'll work it's way out, I have faith. No hope, but faith.

I can almost taste it... mmmm, is that gingerbread?

Getting pretty close now. The wheels are in motion and everything appears to be set. More later...

1 out of 3 ain't bad

I had some pretty fucked up dreams last night. One was that Amy and I bought a big haunted Victorian house. While we tried watching "Dexter", there were noises coming from all over. I reached out and felt a solid invisible person standing in front of me. Ugh.

I also had a dream about being in a prison riot, where two friends of mine were shot. Not that I really knew these people, but I cried like a baby at their passing.

I also had a dream about working at Barnes & Noble. Everyone there seemed pretty cool, even though I was new. Huh.

breathe in the air

It's been over a week since Fringe ended, and I have to say that the exhilaration I thought I'd feel from the entire experience is/was non-existent. Not to say that I didn't see good shows or have good experiences, but I never fully felt a part of the whole thing. The overall attendance to my show was embarrassing and I'll be lucky to break even. There was a weird yet understandable disparity in box office from Rarig venues to others. I guess if I wanted to Fringe (and Fringe economically), I'd go to the place that had 4 shows in one setting at any given time. No driving and parking all over town. Hard lesson learned.

I'm not a big name, or all that popular on the scene, but I put my eggs in the basket of "People will see my show based on the absurd premise". Some did. Most didn't. Second verse, same as the first. But I guess I'm glad to have attracted those that did find it and discovered exactly what I was up to at Intermedia Arts. This show was for you.

I guess I felt a bit frustrated, and still do to an extent, but I'm relieved that it's done and over with. The oats are vacuumed out from my car, the sock puppet's eyes are back in the sewing kit and the dreaded Oatwheel is in the dumpster. Amy is relieved that I can get back to the real world and concentrate on house-hunting and watch the second season of "Dexter" without worry. Officially out of the system. Moving on...

almost there

4 down and 1 to go. I have to admit that last night's show (10 pm) was not my personal best. My contact came out of my eye for the second time during this run (right away as I ended the dream sequence dance). I managed to salvage it and pop it in, but the tech jumped the cue and didn't give Mark enough time to do his clowning bit. Needless to say I entered late for the first scene, coming out of the "wall" and into the oat box, apparently. Tonight I think I'll go sans contacts, just to be sure. The laptop worked well though (it's been screwing up latley and freezing the last 2 shows; Amy helped me remedy that).

Jason, the author was in town yesterday. I picked him up after I saw BOOM and An Inconvenient Squirrel. Nice shows, each in their own right.

I took Jason to Deviants. Very unique experience, and not what I expected from Live Action Set. He enjoyed it, and it was interesting to get his playwright perspective about a group that creates work from exercises and movements. Stark, very stark.

Went to the Fringe final afterparty. Saw a few folks I hadn't seen in awhile, including the Stitelers. Bill saw my show and gave it a good review last week. I wish we had more opportunities to connect instead of the once or twice a year dealio.

OK, off to townhome hunt!

something wicked

I'm assuming the crappy facial hair I grew for "Oats" got me the print gig as the "Thug" in a new advertising campaign for the Minneapolis Police department.

There's such balance in nature...

computer blue

Apparently my laptop is not responding the way it should for the show. The cues were somewhat delayed last night at the show. I ran a defrag on it and got rid of some pictures that took up some memory. It ran fine this morning.

Ugh. I'm a 19th Century guy in a 21st Century body. So to speak.

"How to make an Oatwheel!" or "Things I learned while high on fumes!"

What you'll need:

-2 4 x 8 sheets of hardboard
-4 1/2 cans of 3M spray adhesive
-2 gallons of DAP contact cement
-7 canisters of Cub brand rolled oats (they're on sale!)
-one plastic 9 x12 drop cloth

1. Come up with a "great" alternative plan to having oats on stage for your play. The Fringe techs would frown, otherwise.

2. Ding, ding! Oatwheel!

3. Decide that the material will be oats adhered to thin hardboard. Keep forgetting that hardboard, while sturdy, likes to wobble when carried. Alot.

4. Have your friend who has a garage volunteer an afternoon to constuct and adhere oats. Whee!

5. Have same friend redesign (over the phone) the particular way to cut the aforementioned oatwheel so it fits in your sedan. Put it all together and make an 8 foot diameter oatwheel! Huzzah!

6. Arrive at friend's house. Unload oatwheel parts to be cut with a jig saw. Success! An evenly cut circle.

7. Adhere oats with spray. Wear protective mask, even though you have no sense of smell. The fumes; they'll getcha!

8. Hm. You need more 3M spray. The oats really aren't sticking as well as you hoped. Make 2 trips back to Home Depot.

9. Oats still are not adhering the way you envisioned they would. Buy your friend and his wife pizza, because you've overstayed your welcome.

10. Your friend tries a bit of contact cement, which seems to work pretty well. He only has a small can of it, so you decide to load up the Oatwheel into your car and try again next week.

11. Make the mistake of hauling the shedding oatwheel from your parking stall, up the back stairs and onto your apartment porch. Fire up the vacuum!

12. Apply newly bought gallon of contact cement to larger oatwheel sections. Despite the apparent success at adhering oats, you make a fucking mess on the porch. The wife is going to kill you. And it apparently smells really awful (or so you are told). Call wife on the phone while she's out to prematurely apologize for the mess. Somehow, you're forgiven (hint: get emotional from the fumes- or even if it's not the fumes, get emotional!).

13. Let dry. Buy a DROP CLOTH (something that you should have done in the first place (Hm). Wrap plastic sheet around 4 stacked Oatwheel pieces. Maneuver down stairs. Despite ramming the 8 foot long unwieldy pieces repeatedly on the staircase, they survive.

14. Purchase yet one more gallon of contact cement (that makes 2!). Haul Oatwheel sections to nearby park pavilion. Repeat steps 12 and 13, without as much mess. Ask park garbage collector if the Oatwheel smells. At first he says no, then a minute later he says "Oh, I smell it now"!

15. Let dry. Most of Oatwheel is covered, although the yellowish color from the previously dried oats looks like someone peed on it. It'll do. You are so done with it.

16. Bring still smelly Oatwheel to your tech rehearsal. The smell of the adhesive is still evident, but hopefully masked by the graffiti spray project outside Intermedia Arts. Fortunately, the technicians do not detect the smell, and your fellow actors don't really complain.

Congratulations! Promise yourself that you'll never do anything like that ever again!