We held auditions last night for Kiss Me Kate, the show I'm music directing. Auditions went okay. It was certainly not the organized, clean-cut thing I was hoping for, but this is community theatre after all. I definitely felt like the rookie in the theatre realm, but I suppose I held my own. The auditions are continued tonight. So far we have one definite for a lead role with several leads still vacant. This is a show that requires some serious acting, singing AND dancing so it'll be a challenge finding the right people. We might be making some phone calls the rest of the week trying to track down the talent we need.
Digital photo layering of 11 photos from my New Zealand/Australia trip.
Overheard comments which are best ignored:
Male 1: "Hey there."
Male 2: "Hey. Did you touch it yet?"
Then they walked out of hearing range...
Washington D.C.
Do you remember as a kid, how everything that was touted as being "important" was boring as hell? Yeah. Like the arduously important church sermons that seemed to go on for hours while I imagined that my left piggy toe has been asked to dance with the singing frog in his latest cartoon debut. For some reason it was "important" that my leg not be in the mist of a spasmatic fit of gleeful abandon when the pastor got to "bow your head in a moment of reflection."
Well we're learning a really "important" song in choir. The piece is based on four texts of Thomas Jefferson and boldly proclaims the need for freedom. And by boldly I mean smacking the audience upside the head with every painstakingly important syllable. How necessary is it to separate every syllable of the word ci-vi-liz-a-tion into a two measure chant of epic boredom? At first I wanted to hurt myself every time we rehearsed the piece. Now I just want to hurt the director...
Alexis walked in the room and found that Frank had been fraternizing with the enema.
Blogs don't authorize opinions. It's more like handing an annoying man a megaphone so the whole world can hear his high pitched delusions of grandeur.

A combover worthy of a photo. Katoomba, Australia.
Last night I saw Theatre District in San Fransisco. While I may have been the only one in our group that enjoyed it, I thought it was cleverly written, funny and had interesting character relationships (which, in my opinion, is what the entire thing was about: relationships). I'm really glad I got to see this show (which no one else liked). Prior to the show I had dinner with Curt (who didn't like it), four of his friends (most of whom didn't like it, but one was the director and another his partner so, you know, they were like contractually obligated to like it) and the playwright, Richard Kramer, who's written for tv shows such as Thirty Something and My So Called Life. Going out on a limb: I'd guess that Richard liked the play. All in all, it was a fun evening and I was really moved by a great play. I'd recommend it to you, but... you wouldn't like it.
Ok. I need some help here. I finally saw Brokeback Mountain last night. You know the film that's won awards, received rave reviews, yadda, yadda, yadda? Yep, that's the one. Well, I gotta say... I'm not sure what all the hype is about. I mean, the characters were interesting and the acting was amazing, but the story itself seemed really slow and not overly interesting. Now I'm one for character stories and I don't shy away from romance stories, but this movie didn't hook me. While I was hoping for a movie that had an interesting storyline that happened to be about gay cowboys, the entire thing was obviously about the fact they were gay. From the first scene it was obviously about that fact. Ok. I can live with that, but then give me more. It was basically two hours of "we love each other, but can't be together." Or did I miss something? No, really. Did I miss something? Was I in the midst of a smack induced coma during the really amazing, award-winning parts of the film?
To give the movie credit, I've spent a fair amount of time thinking about the characters after it ended so there was certainly something there that grabbed me. I guess I should just remember that when seeing a movie that's been hyped up, it's never going to live up to the overinflated expectations I build up. Had I seen this movie before the reviews I may have enjoyed it more.
What'd you think? Am I the only one on the planet that was disappointed by the film?
Mike (grumpy and groggy): "Man, why do some people just have to be morning people?"
Damon: "Because in this world evil must exist to balance the good."
During the rousing give of your tithes speech on Sunday the woman said, "Give to God and he will reward you unremarkably." Suprisingly that comment sent me into a fit of coughs which sounded oddly like sniggering. Hm.
"Don't ya' wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?"
Washington D.C.
Happy V-Day (Valentine's Day that is, not to be confused with the ever popular Venereal Disease Day, cause, well, that day ain't so happy).
Friday's birthday party gig went well. I got moola in my pocket, the host was happy, I charmed the 90 year old and the world as we know it is a better place in which to exist. In addition to all that, the host said he'd be calling me for other gigs in the future. Join me in a hearty "hip hip hooray" for yellow pages advertising. No really. I'm not kidding. Join me: 1, 2, 3... HIP HIP HOORAY!
Ok, put your clothes back on. It's not that kind of party...
Washington D.C.
I started my day with Buttons & Bows because, really, what better way to start one's day?
Remember how things come in groups for me? Well, I got a call yesterday and will now be playing piano for 2 hours at someone's mother's 90th birthday party on Friday night. They want 30s/40s/50s stuff so I bought a book with those styles and will be practicing away the next two days. This contact came through my recently published yellow pages ad. This one gig will nearly pay for that ad. Yay!
Well, Mr. Interrogation decided that he'd "give me a try" with teaching his daughter. Thanks to joat's lady and the other last minute reference phone numbers I put together for telling my inquisitive client that I actually know what I'm doing (your checks are in the mail). We have our first lesson tonight. I'm expecting to have to spend half the lesson telling the father to sit down, shut up and let me teach. Believe me though, I can make that message outrageously clear.
Washington D.C.
The family of a potential new student came over last night to meet me. It became quite the intensive interview as the father pulled out a list of questions for me. He asked for references, how long I planned to stay in the area, etc. I kept trying to engage the student-to-be, but the father kept answering for her and continuing his barrage of questions. While his approach was overbearing, it was refreshing to see a parent being so thorough in finding a quality piano teacher for his child. Most parents are like "You teach? When can we start?"

What's this place's speciality, constipation?
Last night I went out on the town in the big city (San Francisco) with a new friend, Rik. We got in some fun dancing, gawking and conversations in my first visit to the Castro district. The dance floor at one place was so packed that it became an experiment to determine the point at which large quantities of human friction reach nuclear levels of energy production. Beyond that claustrophobic bit of fun, the evening was a refreshing dose of the big city. I may head in again this coming weekend for another fix.
At the Hirshhorn Museum in Washington DC I saw an amazing short film: A Morir by Miguel Angel Rios. It was a four minute film featuring a multitude of spinning tops. They were filmed with three different camera angles and presented in a room with three screens: one in front of you and two on either side. The movement and sound of these tops spinning wildly was mesmerizing. The chaos of movement, collision and finally 'death' gave these objects tremendous life and character. At times it seemed the tops were violently angry and at other times gleefully content. The final teetering and falling of the last top seemed to hold tremendous depth of symbolism: a statement of the chaos of our own lives, a recognition of how the laws of this world govern us all.
Um, yeah. So, the thing is... things seem to come together for me in spurts. You know, like, several things all at once. Yeah. So Thursday night I got a call asking me to direct the music for the musical Kiss Me Kate in Stockton. Yeah, I know. I'd been asked about that before, but it had fizzled out due to a flaky director and blah, blah, blah circumstances. Now they're desperate and I get to call the shots. Rehearsals start in a few weeks. Friday I found I can work more hours at the newspaper. Saturday night... I was asked to fill in for the pianist of the choir I've joined which not only pays, but shows some 50 guys in the East Bay that I've got it going on in the piano department. Oh, and I forgot to mention that on Wednesday I got a call from a potential piano student who found me on the web (they've already purchased a piano). All in all, I'd say I made a killing in offers this week. It's so swell to be needed. <cheesy grin>
Washington D.C.
Well, my work has decided that they didn't actually need to cut back so much in the graphics department and now all the part-time people can have as many hours as they want. In fact, we are being begged to work more. Suits me just fine because I needed more hours anyway and with this approach I was able to convince my supervisor to let me determine how many hours I can work each week and do it on my schedule. I'm getting the hours while I can before the newspaper decides that it never really needed a graphics department in the first place.
U.S. Botanical Gardens, Washington D.C.
National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C.
There's a fitness center in Manteca, CA called "Slender Lady of Manteca." The only snag with that name... in Spanish Manteca means "lard."
Things you hear at choir rehearsal: "Diction for Forward Motion"
Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, Arlington National Cemetery, Washington D.C.