Tuesday, March 11, 2008

evil I-25

so, i'm driving back down to denver last night, for callbacks for '18 holes,' and somewhere between windsor and the first loveland exit, the car in front of me runs over a folded-up, mangled old sign. it flaps up and i am on top of it before i can do anything about it. but whereas the thing burst out from under the car in front of me, when it got under my car (a ford exploder, mind you, with some pretty high clearance) it gets jammed into the frame right by the rear right wheel.

so i'm looking back out of my rearview, hearing this godawful scraping sound, and i see sparks flying out the back of my car.


i pull off the freeway, and attempt to dislodge the sign, but it's jammed in there pretty good. finally some guy stops and gives me a hand (thanks, random stranger in the white pickup) and we get the thing free. of course, now i don't know if the brake line or fuel tank or anything unimportant like that has been damaged, and i'm not going to find out on the way down to denver.

so i didn't make it to the callback. :( i'm going to call the director today and see where they are at, if they are doing another round of callbacks or what.

ah well. at least the thing didn't fly up off the road into my windshield.


anyway, here's a dream i had last night. i think i might be under some stress...


I am leaving a late-night party of some kind that has gotten out of hand. It is a night of celebration all over the city, perhaps the world. But I left the place where I was and decided to walk home, although it was a couple of miles.

The city/town seems to be State College-esque, dark streets lined with older, conservatively built houses. I cut through a wooded area at one point, and slog through some mud, but I am of high spirits, and dial my phone to inform someone I am on my way home. I come out of the woods behind an old strip mall/office complex, a low, long building made of brick and steel, circa 1965. I circle around the building and am walking through its narrow parking lot along the street when I see the car for the first time. it is a long, older vehicle, perhaps a Taurus or something like that. It is careening back and forth across the roadway, with only its parking lights on, not changing speed or seeming to even attempt to avoid parked cars. I watch and begin to back away from the road as it continues its approach when I realize that it probably isn’t going to stop, and that it certainly wouldn’t stop just because a person was on the sidewalk.

The car finally slams into a triangle splitting the road into two, and comes to rest on the curb there. I tell my friend that I will call them back, hang up and start to dial 911 as the driver gets out. It is a big shirtless white guy, completely out of it, but with a drugged determination about him. He gets out and stumbles toward the building, where people have now come out to see what’s going on. I am at the far end of the building, and so I am not in his line of fire as I tell the police dispatcher there is an obviously drunken man who wrecked a car. But then he begins to harass the bystanders, berating them, asking what they’re staring at. He begins to get physical, shoving some of them around, and threatening them, and I duck around the corner of the building and make it clear that the situation is more urgent for the police. When I peek back around the corner, he is swinging a hoe or a rake or something at some people in the crowd, when finally the flashing blue lights pull up.

Next we see the man, now hastily dressed in a ripped green sweater and a t-shirt he found somewhere being pulled out of the basement of the building in cuffs. We (the crowd) commiserate on the situation, relating our versions of the story, pat each other on the back etc.

At some point, however, I am at a huge, sprawling chemical plant. I get out of the car, an old Thunderbird or some such, with a guy who looks suspiciously like a young Ray Liotta, and who holds a gun on some guy. We lead him toward the back of this plant area, which is seemingly abandoned, past several fences and gates that are wide open, and past a final row of curtain-like cloths that are hanging from a line a few dozen feet before we reach the back wall.

I hang back as my partner takes the guy back behind these flapping curtains, which don’t really cover up what is happening back there, and he shoots the guy in the head.

I remember I wasn’t really disturbed by this; it was an inevitability.

But I turn and am walking back toward the car when something goes wrong. The plant’s sirens and lights begin to flash as if there is a shutdown or something. A crew of workers streams out into the yard, which is a muddy, rocky, rolling area, and proceed to throw the football around. They are diving in the muck, sliding through the standing water, not caring.

But my partner is trapped somehow behind the curtains at the end of the plant’s grounds, and I have to get the car and drive up there and get him. I get in the car and start to ease my way past the workers and their game, across a gulley and up a rock face that protrudes from the muck. At some point I explain to the footballers what’s going on and they get out of the way gladly.

But by the time I get the car near where I need to go, the next round of plant procedures has started. There are sirens and lights a plenty now, and gates swing closed. The footballers, when I look back, have all disappeared, taken shelter somewhere. The car gets stuck and I proceed on foot, only to be stopped when a giant sprayer, like an agricultural watering system sprays out a huge burst of pink, jellied fluid, like a thick antifreeze, spraying down the whole area like a lawn sprinkler. I turn and flee, passing through several of these sprinklers, and make it outside the gates. I go back in several times, but I am beaten back by the jellied chemicals every time.

I have no idea how I will save my partner now.

Monday, March 10, 2008

monologue audition

so i went down to denver last night and did a monologue for the producers and director of gene kato's '18 holes,' a new play that won best play last year at the rocky mountain theatre association. this is a world premiere, and right on the heels of the premiere of 'the harvey project,' it would be pretty cool to be cast.

i did a monologue i have done several times before, one i am really comfortable with, from howard korder's play 'boy's life.' it's a monologue featuring phil, who is described as a 'nervous self-dramatizer,' and it has him telling the story of how a woman he was dating for two weeks broke it off after he told her he loved her. naturally, it was her fault. :)

at any rate, it is a funny piece, and one i can relate to on several levels, and its a character i can wrap myself around pretty smoothly, i think. so i should have no problems, right? i walked into the audition space, and there was no one waiting to read, just one guy at the sign-in table, and the auditors on their way out for a smoke break. i'm bullshitting with them, and i'm very relaxed, joking, confident, etc. then i get into the the room where i'm doing the piece, and BAM! i start into the monologue and i feel myself talking too fast, i feel my breathing choke up into the upper parts of my lungs, i feel my heart rate soar--wtf? i've done this many many times. i mean, i guess it's been a while since i've done an audition that wasn't for a bunch of people i know really well--openstage/bas bleu in fort collins--but still! it was weird.

not that i'm such a seasoned pro that it should be easy. i guess i am heartened by the tales of very famous, very good actors who never conquered stage fright. they say that right up until his death, every time henry fonda would perform on stage, he threw up in the wings just before going out.

thank god it's not that bad. :)

at any rate, i must have done something right--i just got the call to attend call-backs. wish me luck!


Sunday, March 9, 2008

stones in his pockets

here's a link to a review i wrote last week of Stones in his Pockets, an irish tragicomedy that's running at the victorian playhouse in denver thru april 5.
somehow in the editing process, i left out that there is indeed a significant amount of tragedy in this story as well as humor. not quite sure how that happened. i blame the post and it's 650-word limit. (although the truth is i edited those parts out myself before i sent it in.)
it's a great show, however, with all the characters done by two excellent actors, seth maisel and austin terrell (above).

as for myself, i am auditioning tonight for a spot in a new play by gene kato, "18 holes." it's about golf not porno, which had me puzzled for a while. it is an interesting script, and i would love to do a play in denver, finally, although the parts for ahem, gentlemen of a certain age are scant.
i am just excited to do a monologue audition. it's been forever.

also, i am auditioning for the part of stanley kowlaski in a production of streetcar named desire next week(!!!) that should be interesting...i've been going to the gym a lot lately. :) i may not be able to act worth a shit, but i can play "shirtless" with the best of them, lol.