I have been curious for a while as to why Broadway is commonly referred to as the Great White Way. Wikipedia says that it's a nickname that Broadway adopted because nearly a mile of Broadway was illuminated in 1880 by brush arc lamps making it the first electrically lighted avenue in the United States. The headline "Found on the Great White Way" appeared in the February 3, 1902, edition of the New York Evening Telegram, which was inspired by the millions of lights on theater marquees and billboard advertisements that illuminate the area, especially around Times Square.
Chestnut Street. The street where I grew up was not overly lit with street lamps. In fact, you might call it the Great Log Way (there were a lot of trees, logging trails and a couple of log cabins, including the one that my dad built for my family to live in). My grandfather called it the place where all of the nuts live. In fact, I fondly remember him always announcing as we took a right turn onto Chestnut, (the sound of his right hand turn signal acting as an underscore), "OK, here we go. All the nuts live here..so you must be a nut..what kind of nut are you?" I would usually say,"A chestnut!" I guess my creative gene hadn't fully blossomed at that time in my life. It brings back a lot of memories thinking about my Chestnut street....the neighbor's manicured yard, the bike accidents on the steep hill in front of our house, and the escapades we took on this street holding bribery cheese and lunch meat in order to find my dog who had run off to play with his dog friends who ran around on the same street.
What kind of a street did you grow up on? A city street? A dirt road? A gravel road? A street in concrete suburbia? I live on Broadway right now...not the Great White Way of Broadway, but a couple hundred blocks north. I used to live where the Chestnuts live....now, I live where every kind of nut lives...keeps life crunchy! I would love to hear from each friend of mine...tell me what kind of a street you grew up on and the first thing that comes to mind when you think of your street.
So, on another note, I am still in rehearsals for White Christmas, and they are going A-mazingly. I am so lucky to be working with not only an extremely talented creative team, but also strong and loving cast members. I am really excited to go on tour. We leave this Sunday for Savannah and tech there for a week before opening in Atlanta on November 6th. I will blog weekly about my experiences in each city, so tune in!!! Hope life is being kind to all...
Oct 24, 2007
Oct 18, 2007
Mary Queen of Martyrs
One of the reasons that I started writing a blog was to let people in on my life as an auditioning performer in NYC....or the Big Crab. Now, even though I am happily gainfully employed in rehearsals for a show, I am slightly sad because I don't have a lot of wacky and crazy things to write about. I am sure that once I really know the choreography, and I know all of my second alto harmony parts like Snoopy knows Woodstock, then I will start seeing and taking in the other-worldly antics in New York like I had been when I started this blog.
For the past week, whenever I am not in rehearsals, I am practicing my harmony parts with the vocal rehearsal mp3s on my Ipod from the previous day as I walk to and from rehearsal...and, then, I dream about the choreography...and SNOW...that is because there is a lot of talk about snow in the show.
For those of you who don't follow this blog, I am in rehearsals for White Christmas...for the past week I have been rehearsing the company dance and vocal numbers...the choreography is unbelievable in this show. We are hoofing our hooves off...seriously, I had a conversation with another dancer about the fact that we keep feeling like our toenails are too long, but when we go to cut them, we realize that they are not long at all...this is from all of the hard tap dancing...a pointe dancer can also relate to this...it is as if your toe nails always feel too long because you are jackhammering the nail in the opposite direction that they grow.
So, I just get off of the A train, and, hallelujah, I have a wild and crazy New York experience that I can write about...so, now, I will tell you about it! I have to stop by my apartment in Inwood that I am currently subletting because I need to get my passport, and I realized a few days ago that this is something that I need for the good ol' feds for the theatre's tax files. Coincidentally, my boy calls me yesterday and tells me that he also needs his passport because Hairspray is stopping in Ontario before the end of his contract. Of course, I wasn't happy when I first thought about un-taping the wardrobe boxes and un-packing the things inside the front closet because it took me HOURS to tetris all of our belongings in that front small closet. (Tetris can be a verb, too!) Then, I realize that both passports are conveniently packed in places outside of the taped monoliths, so it ends up not being fairly un-laborious task.
So, I am walking down the street after I get off of the train to go to my apartment, and a woman says, "Excuse me miss...". I am trying to put that unapproachable frown mask on my face, but I guess because of the darkness, it doesn't work. I stop, and this woman says through her jackolantern snaggle-toothed mouth, "Does this jacket look too small for me?". I immediately say, "No, it looks just fine," as I stare at the foot and a half that exists between one zipper and the other, and the zipper teeth are not getting any closer even with the jaws of life pulling on them. In fact, the image that is created with the extra small jacket and tattered undershirt on the front of her body perfectly mirrors the snaggle-toothed gape on her face.
My benign response triggers her jabber like gas on fire...she explodes with, "Do you know anyone who is renting a room around here? I really need to get a room because I need a place to stay. Really, the most important thing in my life at this time is my sobriety, but I do need to find a substitute teaching job. I really need to get that job first, and then, I need to have a no frills place to live." Her eyes are like the the gaping holes of a jackolantern...I am expecting her to light up from the inside at any moment and amuse me with an early Halloween tradition, but, I think it is rather obvious at this point that her light went out a long time ago.
I think the only reason that I end up spending ten minutes with this homeless woman is because of the strange yet beautiful tableau of her set against a backdrop of the Church of Mary Queen of Martyrs, a beautiful Catholic church with a statue of Jesus right in the center...I all of a sudden start to think of this woman as Mary Magdalene, and I wonder if I have any change that I can give to her to help her out.
This makes me think of the pennies and nickels that I used to leave on the protruding lincoln logs on the sides of the log cabin I inhabited growing up in order to give a tithing to God. I would wait until the next morning and be very disappointed when, I would reach up to where I carefully put the change...and, it was still there. Sometimes, it would no longer be in the neatly stacked piles that I had organized them in the day before. This would make me think that this was a sign from God. Just think, at 7 years old, I thought I was getting a sign from God because he didn't take my offering, but He moved it around a little bit. I thought this meant that I wasn't quite worthy of giving an offering at this ripe age of 7, so I just kept trying for an entire summer until I forgot to check one morning...I eventually forgot about the change...who knows, it could be living in a pile of rust on that same lincoln log...fearing the day that they no longer have a log to live on (my mom sold her house, and it is about to be knocked down so that a road can live on that land, and a construction company can make a big profit as a result of many new homes built and sold.).
OK, back to Mary Magdalene. I genuinely attempt to steer her in the right direction. I tell her that I don't know anyone at this moment who is renting a room, but I tell her that Craigslist. com is the way to go as far as looking for a room and not "having to deal with the owner or landlord" as she requests. Of course, as this is coming out of my mouth, I am thinking, "She doesn't know what that website is, and, more so, she doesn't have access to a computer..." To my surprise, she says, "I have dealt with Craigslist before, and it just isn't my bag. I feel like I am always dealing with a bunch of teeny boppers...that is really what I hate about Astoria...a bunch of teeny boppers. Hoboken is a bunch of wanna-be's....it is as if everyone in Hoboken is running around with their baby strollers trying trying trying to get get get and prove prove prove themselves in the rich rich world...the Hoboken wanna-be 5th Ave. I have been there , done that. I know rich. Unfortunately, my sobriety is the dominating factor in my life, so my wealth took the back seat ....." she pauses.."For now, anyways. I do want "rich" again, and if I can just get find a place to stay that will allow me to save enough money to get ahead, then I will be all set."
She take a deep breath that sounds like a lawnmower with no gas trying to start, "How much do places go for around here?" I tell her that most one bedrooms are about a thousand. She flips her hand in the direction of the holy backdrop and exclaims, "I can't afford a $%&#in thousand a month!" She yells this almost accusingly at me as if I decide on the rent. I knew that this was my cue to bid adieu to this sweet bird without shedding a sorrowful tear. "I have an appointment with my friend that I am late for, so I am going to leave, but good luck." She says, "Does your friend have a room?" This is the "room" that I have rented out to two girls from Virginia..the room that I just agreed to pay rent on for the next year via lease. "No, they don't," I say, "In fact, I don't know anyone around here who has a room," and as I start to run away, I yell, " Craigslist. com is the way to go!"
Sigh...I wish that I could help everyone who needs life crisis aid, but I think that I need to help myself crack my own life code...I have this nebulous cloud called my life that needs some clarification before I start helping other people...seriously.
As I walk down the street, I can hear her whisper, "Thank you", as she sharply turns in the other direction. The wheels of her suitcase on the sidewalk create a sad tune of disappointment and frustration as her backdrop changes from the holy hopeful light of Mary the Queen of Martyrs to the street lamp-less vacant dark of questionability. It affects me a lot, and this is why, on most days, I try not to even flinch when someone says, "Excuse me Miss..." It is especially dangerous when their voice is really sweet and pleading. At least, I am less likely to encounter pleas from homeless people in places like Appleton, WI and Buffalo, NY (I think...) over the next few months . If anyone is going to be in any of the following places during the next three months, come out and see my show if you want to see some jackhammer tap dancing and loads of other performers chock full of talent:
Appleton, WI
Atlanta, GA
Memphis, TN
Nashville, TN
Buffalo, NY
Rochester, NY
Clearwater, FL
Till the next time....we only part to meet again!
For the past week, whenever I am not in rehearsals, I am practicing my harmony parts with the vocal rehearsal mp3s on my Ipod from the previous day as I walk to and from rehearsal...and, then, I dream about the choreography...and SNOW...that is because there is a lot of talk about snow in the show.
For those of you who don't follow this blog, I am in rehearsals for White Christmas...for the past week I have been rehearsing the company dance and vocal numbers...the choreography is unbelievable in this show. We are hoofing our hooves off...seriously, I had a conversation with another dancer about the fact that we keep feeling like our toenails are too long, but when we go to cut them, we realize that they are not long at all...this is from all of the hard tap dancing...a pointe dancer can also relate to this...it is as if your toe nails always feel too long because you are jackhammering the nail in the opposite direction that they grow.
So, I just get off of the A train, and, hallelujah, I have a wild and crazy New York experience that I can write about...so, now, I will tell you about it! I have to stop by my apartment in Inwood that I am currently subletting because I need to get my passport, and I realized a few days ago that this is something that I need for the good ol' feds for the theatre's tax files. Coincidentally, my boy calls me yesterday and tells me that he also needs his passport because Hairspray is stopping in Ontario before the end of his contract. Of course, I wasn't happy when I first thought about un-taping the wardrobe boxes and un-packing the things inside the front closet because it took me HOURS to tetris all of our belongings in that front small closet. (Tetris can be a verb, too!) Then, I realize that both passports are conveniently packed in places outside of the taped monoliths, so it ends up not being fairly un-laborious task.
So, I am walking down the street after I get off of the train to go to my apartment, and a woman says, "Excuse me miss...". I am trying to put that unapproachable frown mask on my face, but I guess because of the darkness, it doesn't work. I stop, and this woman says through her jackolantern snaggle-toothed mouth, "Does this jacket look too small for me?". I immediately say, "No, it looks just fine," as I stare at the foot and a half that exists between one zipper and the other, and the zipper teeth are not getting any closer even with the jaws of life pulling on them. In fact, the image that is created with the extra small jacket and tattered undershirt on the front of her body perfectly mirrors the snaggle-toothed gape on her face.
My benign response triggers her jabber like gas on fire...she explodes with, "Do you know anyone who is renting a room around here? I really need to get a room because I need a place to stay. Really, the most important thing in my life at this time is my sobriety, but I do need to find a substitute teaching job. I really need to get that job first, and then, I need to have a no frills place to live." Her eyes are like the the gaping holes of a jackolantern...I am expecting her to light up from the inside at any moment and amuse me with an early Halloween tradition, but, I think it is rather obvious at this point that her light went out a long time ago.
I think the only reason that I end up spending ten minutes with this homeless woman is because of the strange yet beautiful tableau of her set against a backdrop of the Church of Mary Queen of Martyrs, a beautiful Catholic church with a statue of Jesus right in the center...I all of a sudden start to think of this woman as Mary Magdalene, and I wonder if I have any change that I can give to her to help her out.
This makes me think of the pennies and nickels that I used to leave on the protruding lincoln logs on the sides of the log cabin I inhabited growing up in order to give a tithing to God. I would wait until the next morning and be very disappointed when, I would reach up to where I carefully put the change...and, it was still there. Sometimes, it would no longer be in the neatly stacked piles that I had organized them in the day before. This would make me think that this was a sign from God. Just think, at 7 years old, I thought I was getting a sign from God because he didn't take my offering, but He moved it around a little bit. I thought this meant that I wasn't quite worthy of giving an offering at this ripe age of 7, so I just kept trying for an entire summer until I forgot to check one morning...I eventually forgot about the change...who knows, it could be living in a pile of rust on that same lincoln log...fearing the day that they no longer have a log to live on (my mom sold her house, and it is about to be knocked down so that a road can live on that land, and a construction company can make a big profit as a result of many new homes built and sold.).
OK, back to Mary Magdalene. I genuinely attempt to steer her in the right direction. I tell her that I don't know anyone at this moment who is renting a room, but I tell her that Craigslist. com is the way to go as far as looking for a room and not "having to deal with the owner or landlord" as she requests. Of course, as this is coming out of my mouth, I am thinking, "She doesn't know what that website is, and, more so, she doesn't have access to a computer..." To my surprise, she says, "I have dealt with Craigslist before, and it just isn't my bag. I feel like I am always dealing with a bunch of teeny boppers...that is really what I hate about Astoria...a bunch of teeny boppers. Hoboken is a bunch of wanna-be's....it is as if everyone in Hoboken is running around with their baby strollers trying trying trying to get get get and prove prove prove themselves in the rich rich world...the Hoboken wanna-be 5th Ave. I have been there , done that. I know rich. Unfortunately, my sobriety is the dominating factor in my life, so my wealth took the back seat ....." she pauses.."For now, anyways. I do want "rich" again, and if I can just get find a place to stay that will allow me to save enough money to get ahead, then I will be all set."
She take a deep breath that sounds like a lawnmower with no gas trying to start, "How much do places go for around here?" I tell her that most one bedrooms are about a thousand. She flips her hand in the direction of the holy backdrop and exclaims, "I can't afford a $%&#in thousand a month!" She yells this almost accusingly at me as if I decide on the rent. I knew that this was my cue to bid adieu to this sweet bird without shedding a sorrowful tear. "I have an appointment with my friend that I am late for, so I am going to leave, but good luck." She says, "Does your friend have a room?" This is the "room" that I have rented out to two girls from Virginia..the room that I just agreed to pay rent on for the next year via lease. "No, they don't," I say, "In fact, I don't know anyone around here who has a room," and as I start to run away, I yell, " Craigslist. com is the way to go!"
Sigh...I wish that I could help everyone who needs life crisis aid, but I think that I need to help myself crack my own life code...I have this nebulous cloud called my life that needs some clarification before I start helping other people...seriously.
As I walk down the street, I can hear her whisper, "Thank you", as she sharply turns in the other direction. The wheels of her suitcase on the sidewalk create a sad tune of disappointment and frustration as her backdrop changes from the holy hopeful light of Mary the Queen of Martyrs to the street lamp-less vacant dark of questionability. It affects me a lot, and this is why, on most days, I try not to even flinch when someone says, "Excuse me Miss..." It is especially dangerous when their voice is really sweet and pleading. At least, I am less likely to encounter pleas from homeless people in places like Appleton, WI and Buffalo, NY (I think...) over the next few months . If anyone is going to be in any of the following places during the next three months, come out and see my show if you want to see some jackhammer tap dancing and loads of other performers chock full of talent:
Appleton, WI
Atlanta, GA
Memphis, TN
Nashville, TN
Buffalo, NY
Rochester, NY
Clearwater, FL
Till the next time....we only part to meet again!
Oct 3, 2007
Comatose in the Big Crab
Why do I always get such a warm fuzzy feeling when I am at the post office? I think it has a lot to do with their "costumes"-uniforms really, but they are costumes in my reality (this is a "strived-for" idealistic "all the world is a stage" reality...doesn't always happen.). Those muted, periwinkle shirts and navy blue pants really don't give me the blues-maybe they give the workers the blues, but I would never know it-upside down frowns are all that I see. Whenever I see those uniforms I think of kindness and the really good service that I always get..which is, honestly, a little surprising for a government position (the lack of competition makes most government workers not strive for excellent customer service)... My dad was a postal worker, and he always would talk about the really good retirement benefits. Hmmm, this warm, fuzzy feeling at the post office could be comfort and familiarity stemming from my days as a toddler when my dad wore the postal blues daily...
I have NEVER received negative energy from a postal worker. They always have this kind, almost maternal or paternal way of speaking to you (well, I will say me in this case because maybe this is just MY relationship with them...or perception of them). I always have a pleasant conversation with whomever is working that day. For instance, today, I had a talk about the rewards points on my INNYC Amex credit card. I gave her some advice on redeeming rewards points online, and she told me about every credit card that she owned that had rewards points benefits-yes, every credit card...and her feelings about the pros and cons of each one...
OK, so, maybe I wouldn't define every moment of listening to her laundry list her credit cards as blissful, but it was a genuine interaction that I feel like I don't get very often here in the Big Crab Apple. Yes, that is right-the Apple that I live in tends to be mealy and brown and instead of the friendly, googly-eyed worms that you so often see living inside your every day cartoon apples, we have beady eyed crabby and grumpy New York worms (I am generalizing here people-I love all of YOU!).
I think I am going to call this city the Big Crab from now on! (The post offices are our only happy, googly-eyed havens!) For example, the a NYC homeless person who may have just received a hefty gift of 5 dollars complains that your cheap! This reminds me of the SouthPark episode where the homeless people invade SouthPark. I specifically remember a scene in which Kyle gives a homeless man a 20 dollar bill that he has been saving in his piggy bank for a new gaming system. It is a very touching moment when Kyle explains to this homeless man just how much this 20 bill means to him (with dramatic movie muzack really making his sentences push forward with emotion), but he is going to give it to someone else who is more in need of it. As soon as Kyle hands it over, the homeless man takes it, stuffs it in his pocket and stoically says, "You got any more change?"
So, I am walking down the street, and I see the strangest thing. A woman is selling VHS tapes illegally on the street. Hmmm. First of all, why would you risk going to jail selling something so obsolete that shouldn't be selling for more than 25 cents. But, wait, I am wrong...I see people actually buying the VHS tapes-and to top that, they are paying $5 for them!!!!
What is this world coming to! I mean, I know that the ol' VHS (VacuuosHasbeenSquare-OK, it is a rectangle, but for the purpose of this blog, it is a square...although, it sort of makes sense when thinking of the non-geometric definition of the word) must be cheap, but unless you are actually using them as bricks to build a house, they are worthless! I mean, New Yorkers, out of all people, who tend to have rooms the size of cells (not prison, but the kind that you can't see without a microscope) cannot be cluttering their living spaces with an item that could take up just a gig or two on a hard drive! My 500 GB hard drive is about $150...and, it costs about ten bucks to download a movie off of the EXTREME WORLD WIDE INTERNET (announced like the echoing car commercials on the radio that say things like PAUL BUNYON DEALERSHIP-THE EXTREME CAR PLACE PLACE PLACE PLACE PLACE). Therefore, you can OWN between 200 and 300 movies for about 11 bucks a movie including the cost of the hard drive, AND the hard drive only takes up a small space (mine is about 8" high and 6" wide)...voila!
So, today was yet another intriguing day on the Audition Rollercoaster. Today's audition-Dance Beat. Today's call is an invited call, so this means that everyone who attends this audition had been specifically called in by the casting director (through an agent) to audition for this show. The choreographer tells us that the show's title is a work in progress, so I will keep everyone updated on that.
This show is based on the music from the 60's. This is all that I really know about the show at this point. I know, it is pretty vague, but I think that the creative team has the right idea. Make your target market the baby-boomers. Shows like Jersey Boys have been unbelievably successful because people just love the music of Frankie Valley. I mean, that show specifically is a great production with fantastic talent, but a lot of the Broadway show revenue is brought in from the tourist population who might not know anything about the"high-art" of the show...just that they are familiar with a song or a name (hence, celebrity casting in many broadway shows). Dance Beat is going to be having an out of town try-out in Osaka, Japan for a few months, and then, barring a protest from the critics, will come to the Great White Way.
I am staying with my friend Tanny again because I gave my place up for the rest of the year, which my boy is very happy about not having to pay rent on a place that he is not going to be living in for the next three months. I love staying at her place..she even gave me a slippery silver satin sheet to sleep on this time!(Sleeping on a slippery silver satin sheet...say that ten times fast.) Bonus!! I don't think that she will ever get rid of me now! hehe.
Another lovely bonus that comes with staying Chez Tanny(for those who don't speak French, at Tanny's home) is that there is a Whole Foods a block and a half north of where she lives. Now, don't get me wrong, I do cringe when I am at the finish line with my AMEX (even though I am getting rewards...too many rewards in this case), but the journey is unbelievable. All that I can think of is that song from Oliver-"Food Glorious Food, what's new on the menu?" Sometimes I just want to jump on that WF short carriage and skateboard..or skate-carriage all over the store.
It is just so beautiful in there. The first thing that you see when you walk in is beautiful healthy potted plants and fresh cut flowers. Then, there is the produce that is so color coordinated-ly organized that it almost seems like your committing a sin if you take anything to put it in your basket (but, don't worry, there is always a WF Oompa-Loompa waiting to replenish what you have taken). All of the packaging is just so deliciously classy and luringly evocative of its insides health benefits that you sometimes become paralyzed in a Whole Foods Organic Foods Coma (WFOFC)-an illness that allows all bodily functions except the capability to read a price tag!
I think another contributing factor to WFOFC is low lighting. This mood lighting makes it seems as if maybe you are hanging out instead of grocery shopping... I don't mean that there are lava lamps and candles all over the place, but it is dimmed "just so" so that people have the benefit of a slightly more flattering light on their faces (I am especially talking about the people who grocery shop for spouses). Therefore, everyone feels better about just plain feeling better by shopping at Whole Foods, and all of this better-ness results in oblivion towards the fact that we are all infected with WFOFC.
Regarding a previous thought on spousal shopping at Whole Foods-not such a bad idea. I mean, the person is probably healthy, has a moderate amount of money (unless they are in the Whole Foods Hole..large possibility..hmmm), and at least you know that you both are infected with WFOFC, so you can learn to live with it. My boy and I try not to even knock on the WF gates because when we do, we are sucked in like an allergy vacuum would suck up Sneezy!
Today, at the WF, I buy some trail mix, some yogurt, and some coffee. Fully infected by the bug, I purchase these things, which I don't really need because I have some nuts from Target at Tanny's... but, then, I start thinking about the horrible after taste that I got in my mouth the other day after eating a handful of "salt and pepper" cashews from Target while looking at the ingredients label and reading that there is added cornstarch in them, and I, in an urgent manner, purchase the more expensive WF nut mix. Later in the day when I am existing away from the inside of the WF Wonderland, I consider bringing the trail mix back, but I decide against it- I am going to visit my mom for the next few days, so I will share this deliciousness with her-hopefully, I don't pass along the infection! hehe
Back to my Dance Beat audition. I did very well....and I don't give myself a "very well" very often...I am very hard on myself (can I say very one more time?). My appointment time is at 11:00 AM. I walk into Ripley Grier at about 10:15 and head straight for the bathroom-I really don't want anyone to see me until I am "finished"..."You start auditioning when you first walk through the door" is what they say, so I just need to pretend like I haven't "walked though the door" yet at this point because neither my hair nor my make-up is done.
Lately, I have been putting my hair in five pin curls after my hair dries from washing it so that it has a bit of curl and body to it when I let it down. It really works well, but the only problem is that I look like I have never even attempted to do hair in my life (or I am a Beauty School Drop Out) when I have these five "pin curls" living on my head. I say "living" because each pin curl has its own unique shape and personality...one is Alfalfa, one is Larry from the Three Stooges, and then there are the Three Bears eating porridge (even though they are family, they do not look alike). One of the main problems is that darn little rascal Alfalfa-he is always poking out Larry's eye...it is so difficult to train them!
Now, you see why I don't want people looking at my diverse pin curl family until I take them out. I do my make-up and hair as I sit on the bathroom floor staring into the bottom two feet of a full length mirror. This spot is prime real estate for indirect people watching (I actually am concentrating hard on my facial pores that need covering up-so the background people are out of focus). Dancers, actors, and singers sift in and out of this room to wait in line to use the bathroom, but, also, more importantly to gossip about what is going on in the audition rooms...what the casting director is wearing, what kinds of girls have made the cut so far, what the directors' faces are doing while you sing your song, how many counts of 8 the audition combination is, and most importantly, what body parts I have to stretch in order to be able to execute all of the steps in the combination. Ultimately, this is what kind of information I absorb while putting on my make-up and turning Larry, Alfalfa, and the Three Bears into nice curls.
At 11 AM sharp, (gasp! we are actually on time?) we are brought into the room (a rather small, poorly ventilated room...I think another dancer mentioned how the fans seemingly spun in slow motion). We are introduced to the choreographer and assistant who quickly teach us the combination, which has some interesting and heart quickening ingredients such as a triple turn, numerous leg extensions, a shene-jete (without the back leg being in attitude), and an axle turn. The music is upbeat and catchy...a nice dance beat(o:
As I stand in the corner after everyone has danced halfway holding my breath so that the choreographer doesn't see how winded I am, I can see in the mirror that the combination of the beads of sweat running down my face and the recently applied blush are giving Picasso a run for his money as they delineate interesting, asymmetrical pictures on my cheeks. The sweat doesn't stop there, though. It is, also, watering Larry, Alfalfa, and the Three Bears back to life, which I didn't think was possible without bobby pins giving them some support.
The casting director from Binder Casting tells us all "Thank you very much" ..."You are all so talented"..."We appreciate you coming out here and putting in your time and effort"..."But, unfortunately, we have to make a cut"...I instantaneously go into a coma-this one is called the DCBUNIC-Dancer Can't Breathe Until Name Is Called-I used to go through this all the time when I participated in Dance Title competitions like Jr. Miss Dance of New England in which everyone would have to come out on stage in front of hundreds of people to have their fate announced-at least here it is in a small, poorly ventilated room, in which there are about 5 people watching who aren't a part of the dance group classified as "the hopefuls".
Luckily, I don't pass out because I don't have to hold my breath for that long-I hear my name called. Phew, this is my second coma of the day, and I don't know if I can handle another one! The casting director tells us that she needs us to sing 16 bars of a 1960's pop or rock song. Perfect-I have a Janis Joplin song that I prepared for the Shrek audition. The CD tells us that it shouldn't take them longer than 20 minutes to get through singing the first group. An hour later, the second group still hasn't started the singing portion of the audition. Finally, I see the first person of my dancing group who got called back to sing walk into the room with her music book.
OK, this is my cue to stand up, get the blood flowing, drink some water, and do some vocal warm ups with my mouth closed (essentially, this means humming scales while blowing copious amounts of air out of your nose) because I am lucky number 10. This portion of the audition is very unique because instead of telling you in the room immediately after you sing whether or not you have a call back to dance some more, they have you wait outside the room until six people have sang. At this point, the casting assistant comes outside of the room and announces, "For this group that just sang, I need the following people to stay for the rest of the audition..."
I sing Cry Baby really well..in fact, maybe even better than I sang it at Shrek. I see that the casting people are really into it while I am singing it, which tends to be a good sign. When I am finished, I do a little ballerina spin and say thank you as I go to the pianist to get my music. The casting director asks me if I can wait outside for a few minutes. This is the only feedback I get... I shouldn't read too much into it at this point.
After six of us have sang, I can see the silhouette of the casting assistant through the thick green curtains that cover the miniscule "window" that separates us hopefuls from the casting room. She opens the door. She has three pink slips in her hands...the ironic part about these pink slips is that they are slips for employment not lay-offs. She says, "I need the following people to stay, and everyone else, thank you very much." Everything is in slow motion at this point, and I think that I am entering another coma...Only this time, I have to forcefully remind myself to breathe after my name isn't called, and I am still holding my breath.
I don't hesitate in the action of gracefully exiting the building and saying good-bye to my friends. I wait until the walk back to Chez Tanny to recall and reflect on the experience. Any person in this business knows that as soon as the casting people "cut" you from any audition, you start to think, "What did I do wrong?". "I should have worn my hair down"..."I should have sang a different song"..."I should have worn red instead of brown"..."I should have eaten oatmeal this morning instead of a bagel"...but, the truth of the matter is that it really doesn't matter. It is a matter of what is right for your own microscopic matter that makes up the sum total of YOU, who matters the most, at that time...I think my mom says it best when she says, "One door closes because another door opens."
And on that note, my friends, a bid you adieu and bon nuit until the next time. I am on a Bonanza Bus going into Providence where my mom is picking me up...I am spending three days with her, one of which I am going into Boston to see Wicked (I have a good friend in the cast who is going to take us backstage after-yippee!), and then I will be back in NYC to nanny for Tanny (how poetic) (and, yes, I will have another nanny blog exploding with rich kid antics for y'all) for the weekend before I start rehearsals for the WC (White Christmas for those of you who don't know) in the Big Crab. Stay googley-eyed and hopeful!
I have NEVER received negative energy from a postal worker. They always have this kind, almost maternal or paternal way of speaking to you (well, I will say me in this case because maybe this is just MY relationship with them...or perception of them). I always have a pleasant conversation with whomever is working that day. For instance, today, I had a talk about the rewards points on my INNYC Amex credit card. I gave her some advice on redeeming rewards points online, and she told me about every credit card that she owned that had rewards points benefits-yes, every credit card...and her feelings about the pros and cons of each one...
OK, so, maybe I wouldn't define every moment of listening to her laundry list her credit cards as blissful, but it was a genuine interaction that I feel like I don't get very often here in the Big Crab Apple. Yes, that is right-the Apple that I live in tends to be mealy and brown and instead of the friendly, googly-eyed worms that you so often see living inside your every day cartoon apples, we have beady eyed crabby and grumpy New York worms (I am generalizing here people-I love all of YOU!).
I think I am going to call this city the Big Crab from now on! (The post offices are our only happy, googly-eyed havens!) For example, the a NYC homeless person who may have just received a hefty gift of 5 dollars complains that your cheap! This reminds me of the SouthPark episode where the homeless people invade SouthPark. I specifically remember a scene in which Kyle gives a homeless man a 20 dollar bill that he has been saving in his piggy bank for a new gaming system. It is a very touching moment when Kyle explains to this homeless man just how much this 20 bill means to him (with dramatic movie muzack really making his sentences push forward with emotion), but he is going to give it to someone else who is more in need of it. As soon as Kyle hands it over, the homeless man takes it, stuffs it in his pocket and stoically says, "You got any more change?"
So, I am walking down the street, and I see the strangest thing. A woman is selling VHS tapes illegally on the street. Hmmm. First of all, why would you risk going to jail selling something so obsolete that shouldn't be selling for more than 25 cents. But, wait, I am wrong...I see people actually buying the VHS tapes-and to top that, they are paying $5 for them!!!!
What is this world coming to! I mean, I know that the ol' VHS (VacuuosHasbeenSquare-OK, it is a rectangle, but for the purpose of this blog, it is a square...although, it sort of makes sense when thinking of the non-geometric definition of the word) must be cheap, but unless you are actually using them as bricks to build a house, they are worthless! I mean, New Yorkers, out of all people, who tend to have rooms the size of cells (not prison, but the kind that you can't see without a microscope) cannot be cluttering their living spaces with an item that could take up just a gig or two on a hard drive! My 500 GB hard drive is about $150...and, it costs about ten bucks to download a movie off of the EXTREME WORLD WIDE INTERNET (announced like the echoing car commercials on the radio that say things like PAUL BUNYON DEALERSHIP-THE EXTREME CAR PLACE PLACE PLACE PLACE PLACE). Therefore, you can OWN between 200 and 300 movies for about 11 bucks a movie including the cost of the hard drive, AND the hard drive only takes up a small space (mine is about 8" high and 6" wide)...voila!
So, today was yet another intriguing day on the Audition Rollercoaster. Today's audition-Dance Beat. Today's call is an invited call, so this means that everyone who attends this audition had been specifically called in by the casting director (through an agent) to audition for this show. The choreographer tells us that the show's title is a work in progress, so I will keep everyone updated on that.
This show is based on the music from the 60's. This is all that I really know about the show at this point. I know, it is pretty vague, but I think that the creative team has the right idea. Make your target market the baby-boomers. Shows like Jersey Boys have been unbelievably successful because people just love the music of Frankie Valley. I mean, that show specifically is a great production with fantastic talent, but a lot of the Broadway show revenue is brought in from the tourist population who might not know anything about the"high-art" of the show...just that they are familiar with a song or a name (hence, celebrity casting in many broadway shows). Dance Beat is going to be having an out of town try-out in Osaka, Japan for a few months, and then, barring a protest from the critics, will come to the Great White Way.
I am staying with my friend Tanny again because I gave my place up for the rest of the year, which my boy is very happy about not having to pay rent on a place that he is not going to be living in for the next three months. I love staying at her place..she even gave me a slippery silver satin sheet to sleep on this time!(Sleeping on a slippery silver satin sheet...say that ten times fast.) Bonus!! I don't think that she will ever get rid of me now! hehe.
Another lovely bonus that comes with staying Chez Tanny(for those who don't speak French, at Tanny's home) is that there is a Whole Foods a block and a half north of where she lives. Now, don't get me wrong, I do cringe when I am at the finish line with my AMEX (even though I am getting rewards...too many rewards in this case), but the journey is unbelievable. All that I can think of is that song from Oliver-"Food Glorious Food, what's new on the menu?" Sometimes I just want to jump on that WF short carriage and skateboard..or skate-carriage all over the store.
It is just so beautiful in there. The first thing that you see when you walk in is beautiful healthy potted plants and fresh cut flowers. Then, there is the produce that is so color coordinated-ly organized that it almost seems like your committing a sin if you take anything to put it in your basket (but, don't worry, there is always a WF Oompa-Loompa waiting to replenish what you have taken). All of the packaging is just so deliciously classy and luringly evocative of its insides health benefits that you sometimes become paralyzed in a Whole Foods Organic Foods Coma (WFOFC)-an illness that allows all bodily functions except the capability to read a price tag!
I think another contributing factor to WFOFC is low lighting. This mood lighting makes it seems as if maybe you are hanging out instead of grocery shopping... I don't mean that there are lava lamps and candles all over the place, but it is dimmed "just so" so that people have the benefit of a slightly more flattering light on their faces (I am especially talking about the people who grocery shop for spouses). Therefore, everyone feels better about just plain feeling better by shopping at Whole Foods, and all of this better-ness results in oblivion towards the fact that we are all infected with WFOFC.
Regarding a previous thought on spousal shopping at Whole Foods-not such a bad idea. I mean, the person is probably healthy, has a moderate amount of money (unless they are in the Whole Foods Hole..large possibility..hmmm), and at least you know that you both are infected with WFOFC, so you can learn to live with it. My boy and I try not to even knock on the WF gates because when we do, we are sucked in like an allergy vacuum would suck up Sneezy!
Today, at the WF, I buy some trail mix, some yogurt, and some coffee. Fully infected by the bug, I purchase these things, which I don't really need because I have some nuts from Target at Tanny's... but, then, I start thinking about the horrible after taste that I got in my mouth the other day after eating a handful of "salt and pepper" cashews from Target while looking at the ingredients label and reading that there is added cornstarch in them, and I, in an urgent manner, purchase the more expensive WF nut mix. Later in the day when I am existing away from the inside of the WF Wonderland, I consider bringing the trail mix back, but I decide against it- I am going to visit my mom for the next few days, so I will share this deliciousness with her-hopefully, I don't pass along the infection! hehe
Back to my Dance Beat audition. I did very well....and I don't give myself a "very well" very often...I am very hard on myself (can I say very one more time?). My appointment time is at 11:00 AM. I walk into Ripley Grier at about 10:15 and head straight for the bathroom-I really don't want anyone to see me until I am "finished"..."You start auditioning when you first walk through the door" is what they say, so I just need to pretend like I haven't "walked though the door" yet at this point because neither my hair nor my make-up is done.
Lately, I have been putting my hair in five pin curls after my hair dries from washing it so that it has a bit of curl and body to it when I let it down. It really works well, but the only problem is that I look like I have never even attempted to do hair in my life (or I am a Beauty School Drop Out) when I have these five "pin curls" living on my head. I say "living" because each pin curl has its own unique shape and personality...one is Alfalfa, one is Larry from the Three Stooges, and then there are the Three Bears eating porridge (even though they are family, they do not look alike). One of the main problems is that darn little rascal Alfalfa-he is always poking out Larry's eye...it is so difficult to train them!
Now, you see why I don't want people looking at my diverse pin curl family until I take them out. I do my make-up and hair as I sit on the bathroom floor staring into the bottom two feet of a full length mirror. This spot is prime real estate for indirect people watching (I actually am concentrating hard on my facial pores that need covering up-so the background people are out of focus). Dancers, actors, and singers sift in and out of this room to wait in line to use the bathroom, but, also, more importantly to gossip about what is going on in the audition rooms...what the casting director is wearing, what kinds of girls have made the cut so far, what the directors' faces are doing while you sing your song, how many counts of 8 the audition combination is, and most importantly, what body parts I have to stretch in order to be able to execute all of the steps in the combination. Ultimately, this is what kind of information I absorb while putting on my make-up and turning Larry, Alfalfa, and the Three Bears into nice curls.
At 11 AM sharp, (gasp! we are actually on time?) we are brought into the room (a rather small, poorly ventilated room...I think another dancer mentioned how the fans seemingly spun in slow motion). We are introduced to the choreographer and assistant who quickly teach us the combination, which has some interesting and heart quickening ingredients such as a triple turn, numerous leg extensions, a shene-jete (without the back leg being in attitude), and an axle turn. The music is upbeat and catchy...a nice dance beat(o:
As I stand in the corner after everyone has danced halfway holding my breath so that the choreographer doesn't see how winded I am, I can see in the mirror that the combination of the beads of sweat running down my face and the recently applied blush are giving Picasso a run for his money as they delineate interesting, asymmetrical pictures on my cheeks. The sweat doesn't stop there, though. It is, also, watering Larry, Alfalfa, and the Three Bears back to life, which I didn't think was possible without bobby pins giving them some support.
The casting director from Binder Casting tells us all "Thank you very much" ..."You are all so talented"..."We appreciate you coming out here and putting in your time and effort"..."But, unfortunately, we have to make a cut"...I instantaneously go into a coma-this one is called the DCBUNIC-Dancer Can't Breathe Until Name Is Called-I used to go through this all the time when I participated in Dance Title competitions like Jr. Miss Dance of New England in which everyone would have to come out on stage in front of hundreds of people to have their fate announced-at least here it is in a small, poorly ventilated room, in which there are about 5 people watching who aren't a part of the dance group classified as "the hopefuls".
Luckily, I don't pass out because I don't have to hold my breath for that long-I hear my name called. Phew, this is my second coma of the day, and I don't know if I can handle another one! The casting director tells us that she needs us to sing 16 bars of a 1960's pop or rock song. Perfect-I have a Janis Joplin song that I prepared for the Shrek audition. The CD tells us that it shouldn't take them longer than 20 minutes to get through singing the first group. An hour later, the second group still hasn't started the singing portion of the audition. Finally, I see the first person of my dancing group who got called back to sing walk into the room with her music book.
OK, this is my cue to stand up, get the blood flowing, drink some water, and do some vocal warm ups with my mouth closed (essentially, this means humming scales while blowing copious amounts of air out of your nose) because I am lucky number 10. This portion of the audition is very unique because instead of telling you in the room immediately after you sing whether or not you have a call back to dance some more, they have you wait outside the room until six people have sang. At this point, the casting assistant comes outside of the room and announces, "For this group that just sang, I need the following people to stay for the rest of the audition..."
I sing Cry Baby really well..in fact, maybe even better than I sang it at Shrek. I see that the casting people are really into it while I am singing it, which tends to be a good sign. When I am finished, I do a little ballerina spin and say thank you as I go to the pianist to get my music. The casting director asks me if I can wait outside for a few minutes. This is the only feedback I get... I shouldn't read too much into it at this point.
After six of us have sang, I can see the silhouette of the casting assistant through the thick green curtains that cover the miniscule "window" that separates us hopefuls from the casting room. She opens the door. She has three pink slips in her hands...the ironic part about these pink slips is that they are slips for employment not lay-offs. She says, "I need the following people to stay, and everyone else, thank you very much." Everything is in slow motion at this point, and I think that I am entering another coma...Only this time, I have to forcefully remind myself to breathe after my name isn't called, and I am still holding my breath.
I don't hesitate in the action of gracefully exiting the building and saying good-bye to my friends. I wait until the walk back to Chez Tanny to recall and reflect on the experience. Any person in this business knows that as soon as the casting people "cut" you from any audition, you start to think, "What did I do wrong?". "I should have worn my hair down"..."I should have sang a different song"..."I should have worn red instead of brown"..."I should have eaten oatmeal this morning instead of a bagel"...but, the truth of the matter is that it really doesn't matter. It is a matter of what is right for your own microscopic matter that makes up the sum total of YOU, who matters the most, at that time...I think my mom says it best when she says, "One door closes because another door opens."
And on that note, my friends, a bid you adieu and bon nuit until the next time. I am on a Bonanza Bus going into Providence where my mom is picking me up...I am spending three days with her, one of which I am going into Boston to see Wicked (I have a good friend in the cast who is going to take us backstage after-yippee!), and then I will be back in NYC to nanny for Tanny (how poetic) (and, yes, I will have another nanny blog exploding with rich kid antics for y'all) for the weekend before I start rehearsals for the WC (White Christmas for those of you who don't know) in the Big Crab. Stay googley-eyed and hopeful!
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