January 2011

Actor's blog. STARdate 013011. RESPITE SUNDAY, however, no rest for the wicked. Gotta keep moving, like a shark. You heard of that right? If a shark doesn't keep moving it dies? Remember that scene in Annie Hall where Diane Keaton and Woody Allen "lament" their failed relationship:

So, gotta keep moving forward. I'll rest when I'm dead...starting tomorrow.

Laundry, taxes, pick up the pink one (Gina) and discuss bills & stuff. The trunk of our car smells as fresh as a mountain spring. But in the trunk. (Sniiiiifffff) Ahhhhh. I tells ya Miss emergency flare, it's like we're frolicing on Kilimanjaro. And one big spot looks way cleaner than the rest. So either, behold the cleaning power of Arm & Hammer laundry detergent, or, what the hell have we been doing with that trunk? Disposing of bodies? Did Jen and I go on a sleepwalking homicidal rampage, take a drive up to the Meadowlands and bury the incriminating evidence in a cement foundation next to Jimmy Hoffa?

We're on the run to do errands now, even with Sheriff Buford T. Justice and the law in hot pursuit. I wonder if we dug deeply enough? Curses! Sloppy work there "Stump Legs" Pedini. You're goin' to electric chair for 'dis one ya Mook! They'll never take me alive ya see! Nyah! Nyah! See!!! Nyah. Coppers.

What the hell.

My brain is a very active place and I'm leaving the above, just so you can get some semblance of what occurs when I free-form write and just start typing in the middle of exposition. I become Edward G. Robinson Apparently.

Okay. (Neck crick) Yeesh. Gotta shake that image off.

On today's agenda, Jen goes to get her taxes done while I currently sit here doing our fine washables. Even if we're busy before we pick up Gina from her "Father's", we at least are spending time together, and that's been more often. I'll find out within the hour if we're screwed, blued and tattooed (too late) or if the Gods see fit to cut us that ever-lovin' break I've been lamenting so we can have more time together and I can see Gracie more often.

Even though I've mentioned that I don't believe in luck, I'm ironically superstitious. You know, throw salt over your left shoulder if you spill it, seeing the clock at 12:12, 11:11, 10:10, incessantly, MUST MEAN SOMETHING! I'm a nut case.

Ooo. My phone is blinking, this must mean news from Jen and taxes. Fingers crossed (sigh).

...

...waiting...

...

PHEEEWWWWW. Slight, collective sigh.

We're not screwed and blued but we are still tattooed.

I'm talking a large breath. After my next two weeks of gigs, getting money from being Sackboy a couple weeks ago and my own tax return (hope, hope), this may be our new start. It's been a damn difficult time in the past year and 2011 may have us seeing some sunshine. But not too much, we like dark, dark is good.

There were just as many very good things about 2010 as there were horrible, but on the whole, this year HAS TO be better. Not trying to thumb my nose or shake my fist at chaos, random events or entropy, but it just HAS TO BE! Shaking fist, nosy thumb. I can then spend more time with Gracie, pay off a couple debts still lingering, we can catch up on bills, get back to even (sort of) and then may have to up and move on top of it. We'll see.

But the evening is upon us, we'll wind down for a bit and tomorrow, I begin to get organized for the week before I go away. Gotta do my taxes. And you know what? In 2010, I actually made the most money I ever have in 18 years as a Performing Artist. Huh. Interesting. Good thing with the year I had. Also, we have our first Band rehearsal in two months since we've been gigging so often. Yet, we still have 2 gigs this coming weekend with some new songs.

Keep moving Sharkey.

Actor's blog. STARdate: GetInMyBelly! It's Friday! BITE ME!

I'm telling you most sincerely, that having theme days makes it not only easier to pick out a subject, but also keeps me from delving into a dark recess of my busy cerebellum, filled with confusion, mired in worry and diving into the bleak chasms of my...HEY MELON HEAD!!! Man, gotta stop doing that.

Okay. Foooood.

My Fatherland is Italy. I'm half-Italian. My Motherland is Canada. I'm half French-Canadian. So when I go to whack somebody because they didn't pay the Godfather, they'll probably find me because I left traces of Maple Syrup and my cuddly pet, Fluffy, left Moose tracks.

It's not that I don't love jelly doughnuts, Kraft Dinner, Bumbleberry pie, a 6 pack a Tuborg, 5 Golden Tukes, 4 pounds of Back Bacon, 3 French Toasts, 2 Turtlenecks and a Beer in a tree. Thanks Doug & Bob. Now take off you Hosers.

But growing up we were more heavily influenced by my Dad's side of the family. The Italians. So, my Mom learned how to cook Italian and many, many meals, especially Sundays and Holidays, made by my Mom or Grandmother were brimming with pasta, meatballs, breadballs (a favorite of my Brother's and mine), baked ziti, meat, spinach and cheese breads, bracciole, ravioli, hot sausage, chicken and veal cutlet parmagiana, Italian grinders (the New England style sub sandwich), Sicilian sheet pizza, Italian cookies, cannoli, espresso and all finished with a shot of Anisette. I just drooled on my keypad. Again. Gotta stop writing these every week when I'm hungry.

Even last night, Jen, Gina and I treated ourselves to Pizza because we prepare meals probably 5-6 nights a week. It's easy and delicious Italian fare: sauce, cheese, hand-made dough sprinkled with spices and parmasean. Mmm. Courtesy of Serpico's Pizzaria down the street.

I'm gonna miss my buddy Pete DeGiglio's Birthday Timballo celebration on Sunday. Make sure to follow his entertaining blog, as another Brother of the fold Actor and just a super-talented, awesome Guy and Pal of mine:

Peter DeGiglio - The Skinny http://petertheskinny.blogspot.com/

In his honor, I'll give you a the recipe for today's theme that he so generously makes for his guests. I've been to a couple past celebrations, being a Paisan and a fellow, hungry, good friend, am SO going to miss the deliciousness:

Timballo Di Tagliolini

Timballo, or Timpallo, means a drum, as in the timpani of a symphony orchestra. A number of years ago, in a movie called "Big Night," the preparation of a timballo di maccheroni was featured and made a big impression on audiences.

The dish contains; pasta of some kind, ragu, sausage, tiny meatballs, salami, prosciutto, porcini, green peas, cheeses, hard-cooked eggs, chicken livers -- in short, all the ingredients that might go into an elaborate baked pasta can also be layered in a sweetened pastry crust and baked into a free-standing drum.

To make the pastry:

1. Combine the dry ingredients in the bowl of a food processor, fitted with a metal blade, then add the butter cut into 1-inch pieces. Pulse the flour mixture and butter together until the mixture resembles coarse meal. In a small bowl, beat together the egg and the lesser amount of milk, then pour it into the work bowl. Pulse a dozen or so times to mix thoroughly, then let the motor run a few seconds, until the dough gathers into a ball. If the dough seems dry and doesn�t quite hold together, add a little more milk. Remove the dough from the food processor bowl and place it on a board. Knead it a few times. Let it rest under a kitchen towel. Divide the dough into 2 portions, one about 3/4 of the dough for the bottom of the drum, the remaining 1/4 for the top crust. Form two 1-inch-thick disks, wrap them in plastic and refrigerate (to rest) for at least 30 minutes. (If refrigerated longer, return to room temperature before rolling.)

To make the ragu:

2. In a 3-quart saucepan or casserole, combine the onion, carrot, celery and olive oil. Set over medium heat and cook, stirring frequently, until the vegetables are soft and beginning to brown, about 20 minutes. Add the chopped beef and stir well to mix with the vegetables. Continue cooking over medium heat until the meat has lost all its raw color and has started to brown, about 20 minutes. Add the Marsala and the white wine. Let cook another 3 minutes. Add the pureed canned tomatoes and salt. Simmer very gently, uncovered, for 1 1/2 to 2 hours, stirring every 15 minutes or so and making sure to scrape down the sides of the pan every time you stir. When finished, the meat should still be covered with sauce. Add water a little at a time, if necessary. Allow the sauce to cool, then skim off any fat that has risen to the surface. The sauce can be made ahead, cooled and refrigerated until the timballo will be assembled, but make sure to cool it to room temperature, without stirring, before refrigerating. That allows more fat to separate and rise to the top.

3. Just before assembling the timballo, with the sauce skimmed and just warm, pour the sauce into a strainer and strain the meat out of the sauce. Reserve the meat and sauce separately. You should have a little more than 1 cup of sauce without meat.

To make the white sauce:

4. In a small saucepan over medium heat, melt the butter. Stir in the flour and cook for about 2 minutes. Pour in the milk and stir vigorously to combine. Stirring constantly, cook until sauce simmers and thickens, about 5 minutes. Season with salt, nutmeg and pepper. Cover and set aside.

To prepare the peas:

5. Place the peas in a skillet with one tablespoon butter. Cook, stirring occasionally, over medium high heat, until heated
through, about 2 minutes. Cover and set aside.

To assemble and bake the timballo:

6. Butter a 9-inch springform pan. Preheat the oven to 425
degrees.

7. On a lightly floured board, roll out the larger disk of dough
into a circle at least 16 inches in diameter -- large enough to
cover the bottom and sides of a 9-inch springform pan. Then roll
out the small disk into a circle at least 11 inches across.

8. Gently drape the larger circle of dough over the springform
and carefully fit it into the pan. Let the excess dough hang over
the edge of the pan. Set aside covered with a dish towel to
prevent drying.

9. Boil the tagliarini in salted water until not quite done.
Drain it, then toss it in a bowl with the strained sauce from the ragu, mixing well.

10. Make a layer of half the pasta on the bottom of the
pastry-lined pan. Make a layer of half the meat. Make a layer of half the white sauce, then half the peas, then half the grated cheese. Repeat with a layer of pasta, meat, white sauce, peas and cheese. (There will be some sauce left in the pasta bowl. Mix it back into the remaining meat for the last layer of meat.)

11. Cover with the top crust and cut the pastry to shape. Brush
the edge of the circle with the beaten egg and pinch together.
Use the remaining egg wash to brush on the top pastry. Cut 2 or 3 slits in the pastry.

12. Place the timballo in the next-to-the-lowest rack for about an hour, until the pastry is well browned. If necessary, after 20 to 30 minutes, drape a piece of aluminum foil over the top to prevent it from browning too much. Remove the foil for the last 5 to 10 minutes of baking to make sure the top is well browned. When done, the pastry will have pulled away from the sides of the pan slightly.

13. Let the timballo cool 10 minutes, then remove the springform ring and slide the timballo onto a serving platter. Serve hot.

And there are hundreds of wonderful Italian restaurants in the NYC Metropolitan area that include Long island and NJ, but I love so many I've been to and this one of the best. It's on Mulberry Street in the heart of Little Italy:

Il Palazzo - Little Italy, NYC

http://www.littleitalynyc.com/ilpalazzo/

Actor's blog. STARdate 012711.

It's WHERE'S SUBTLETY Whendsdays! I mean Wendsdays. Wed-nes-da...forget it.

TODAY'S subject for this week's thematarrific day is a HOT, STEAMY, SULTRY topic that to me, personally, is like taking a cold shower, rinsing my netheregions with alum.

It's all over the news, major corporate sponsors are pulling their ads, parents are in an uproar, an understandable one this time, and ONCE AGAIN it's thanks to our good friends at MTV. Who so generously gave us the inception of my WHERE'S SUBTLETY GeorgeWendtsday theme topic with the programming of the show, Jersey Shore. Which I understand will now be going to Italy to film season 4 because the Producer & Programmers say, get this, "The cast is headed to the birthplace of the culture they love and live by."

I see.

I've been to Italy and I've never seen obnoxiously drunk, gym-obsessed, fake-tan, boorish American Brats behaving like a bunch of spoiled infants. Unless they were on a European Spring Break in Florence. What's the biggest punchline of this whole concept? A couple of them aren't even Italian. Guess what? I'm not watching Season 4 either. Battin' 1.000! If they wanted to go to the birthplace of the culture they love and live by, just stay where you are and embarrass your fellow NJ residents. Please. Europeans can't stand Americans anyway because we're represented by schmucks like them. Sigh.

The questionable item at the heart of this week's subtlety discussion is MTVs new show, Skins.

I remember seeing ads on the big Viacom jumbotron when I was flyering in December. It was sandwiched in between commercials for new seasons of Comedy Central programming and Spike TVs Lingerie Football League. Yes, you read it right. Entertainment has fewer and fewer jobs for Actors and far more willing participants for televised crapola and expoitation.

Fuck it.

My impending failure may be becoming more imminent. I'm getting closer and closer to turning in my union cards and just dropping my pants at every audition. Even if they don't require me to. And even if it's an alternate/optional underwear day.

Before I get into a very brief summary, which will be so very brief because I'm not one to give too much attention or promotion to something I don't care for. It's also a discussion topic that precludes the need for briefs; I'd like to mourn the passing of MTV, yes, MUSIC Television.

Bow your heads.

Lights please.

Loved ones, friends and followers, I would like to regale you with a story of a simpler time. When my younger Brother and I were pre-pubescent saplings, relaxing on the steps of our colonial domicile, enjoying the green tinge of our youth. As the fresh dew cascaded off the morning grass, bright neon colors emblazoned fabrics, feathered hair gave off the fragrant whaft of follicular enriched mousse and you can bet my friends a REVOLUTION was beginning in this fashionably- challenged country called CABLE TELEVISION!

CAN I GET A CO-AXIAL HOOK-UP!!!

During the early days of that sparkling dawn, if you were fortunate enough to subscribe, you received a small black box which simply had one single dial that occupied approximately 60 wondrous channels on it's illusive, yet glorious band. I remember one beautiful channel in particular, # 14. That being Home Box Office (HBO). The heavens parted as your wrist carefully rotated to see the wonders of pay television late-night, after Mom & Dad went to sleep of course; colorful swearing, gut-spewing violence and boobies. Hee. My parental units most likely knew I would sneak peaks after dark. Mostly because there were no Parent Lock controls to have them do their work for them. Naughty, morbid and brimming with puberty was I, but as the years progressed, I had the courtesy, and the gumption, to ask if I could watch the latest horror movie premiere. They said yes. They had a somewhat liberal outlook. Even then, as it is now, gruesome carnage and gore was more acceptable than sex. I had to sneak the latenight peeps, but was allowed the violence as long as I "Don't come crying to us if you had nightmares." They knew it was fictional make-believe and even the Bible had it's fair share. They should take no fault or blame dear ones, tis just our repressed culture you see.

When I turned a mere decade and one years in this time of Yore a NEW, MAGNIFICENT and CULTURE-DEFINING channel was about to premiere: Music Television (MTV). Now, 24 hours a day/7 days a week you were served a heaping platformspoon of music videos beginning with The Buggles' "Video Killed The Radio Star". The very first music video to permeate the cablewaves. From here on out Artists like Cyndi Lauper, Billy Idol, Van Halen, Pat Benetar, Michael Jackson, Weird Al Yankovic, Bon Jovi, The Bangles, Madonna, Bruce Springsteen and countless throngs of others would have a technicolor soapbox to not only promote their albums, but showcase their creativity, or lack thereof, for an audience of captive millions.

And like the radio stations of old, the Music Television era had hosts know forthwith as VJs. I can recall ALL of their names like a cult roll call of Apostle-like personality: Adam Goodman, Alan Hunter, J.J. Jackson, Martha Quinn and Nina Blackwood. They appeared like friends, peers, hipster fashionistas who spoke to our generation with a common purpose and singular creed, "I want my MTV". We were amongst the converted who spent the better half of my younger days infusing my brain cells with musical memories that are now and forever burned on the brain. You could consider my Brother and I the faithful and devoted followers of the disaffected, radically rebellious and cathode ray tubular, "Twentysomething" generation.

Friends, some almost THIRTY years later, the tenets of which MTV was firmly entrenched and solidly built are now passe. Secondary stations still play those golden years, but they have transformed mostly into classic mythos. The holy, streaming waters of YouTube plays those bygone years for those who seek it, to reminisce but still feel the icy sting of wanting.

Let us now say goodbye to our old friend MTV, Music Television and take our own moments of silence for it's passing.

Twice the Sigh.

Now, I must elaborate upon the reasoning for my own heartfelt Eulogy.

MTV programming is becoming no more than a side show. A publicity stunt. A controversy flop house of irresponsibility and debauch. I am by no means against those principles or a Puritanical soul in the least. In fact, my values bend towards the philosophy of "everything in moderation". I have admittedly stated that I am not particularly religious. Spiritual certainly, and always searching for deeper meaning in the Universe. But TV is getting to be a tiny bit ridiculous. It's too much. TV has always been a commercial medium and the fact that mutliple advertisers are pulling out is a sign that this isn't just conservativism, but a bad idea.
There are those that are unfortunately too ignorant or responsible enough to handle this, and oh boy, we gots a slew of those types living here in the land of the "free". By and large, we hate taking responsibility for our own lapses in judgment. America, FUCK YEAH!

The Producers of "Skins" have repackaged yet another British show and attempted to sell it to the American People as a tamer version of itself. Showcasing teens drinking, doing drugs, having sex and participating in irresponsible behavior. Yeah. Tamer. They have said it merely shows what teens deal with and are just like in real life. They think that it's a purportedly intelligent, psychological framework. They say it tackles tough issues responsibly and with an air of sensitivity.

Huh. They make a big assumption that people in this mostly conservative country are ready to deal with that. They think kids DO NOT emulate what they see and that's the Parents responsibility, not theirs, to teach kids. Most Adults don't teach their kids because they're too afraid or ashamed. Okay then. MTV is taking the old, "It ain't our fault for programming this so just change the channel or be a responsible Parent" defense.

Why then are Parents surprised when they see this show on their DVR, when they didn't program it to record, even when they forbade their child not to watch? Or after ordering them to behave, tell them sex and drugs are just plain bad and then their own teen gets pregnant, goes to the emergency room with an OD or .20 blood alcohol level after they throw a party at their house when they're away?

Kids are watching regardless because the kids on the show seem cool, rebellious, they're on TV and because find kids find a way.

I can't say this show was a good idea even in the UK, but it should never have even been considered as an option here. People here in the US are not flexible enough with their attitudes on "tough" subjects like sex, drugs and booze when it comes to behaving responsibly. The culture has gotten more repressed and thusly, people act out even more.

Hell, I've even said it before that some Adults are kids themselves and how do you teach your kids how to behave when they can barely do it themselves sometimes. They have tons of Reality Shows on television RIGHT NOW showing grown Adults and even Parents acting just as irresponsible and immature as the kids do.

This is not to say our Parents acted that way. They didn't. They're weren't apathetic. They told us what we needed to know. They didn't give specifics or suggestions, but they did teach us respect and gave us some guidance. The rest was up to us to decide for ourselves as long as we were being "safe". I'm not going to speak for my Brother, but I was a tad irresponsible, took unnecessary risks and played with fire, however, I was never stupid about it. I was curious because I didn't have the facts and without knowing what I was missing, I got curious. Human nature.

Just talk, discuss, have a heartfelt, but productive, serious and understanding conversation with your kids and if you don't even have kids yet, either you just shouldn't (If you're too immature yourself and keep being a grownup kid) or make it part of raising them.

I'm better off because our Parents at least cared enough to talk about stuff, even a little bit, but a great many of my peers, friends and even loved ones rebelled HARDCORE because of lack of guidance or because their Parents didn't care or did it themselves.

Triple sigh.

Why not stop telling kids what they CAN'T do, because then it makes you want to do it even more. Right?

Maybe they can start by discussing with kids what you could do, might want to avoid doing or wouldn't do if I were you, but, I'm not you, however, here's what you should know. We all simply need to be careful and give the right information with an understanding intention. Cat and I see eye to eye about this with talking to Gracie when she gets older. Even with her Parents not together, we still love her just the same and want her to make her own choices, but give her the facts, never be afraid to ask questions and teach her to be safe and responsible by learning from our mistakes and from her own if she makes them. And she will.

Remember...You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

Try not to order, yell, forbid or force but talk and use some common sense.

(Snicker, SNARF!)

Sorry, it's just difficult saying that with a straight face when I saw an ample-sized, inebriated, 45 year old corporate Woman at my gig last week drone on loudly about how people don't do what she says, even her kids. She didn't notice I watched her say this while I was in the Sackboy costume. But then she saw me and ordered her assistant to take pictures of her "touching the sack" as she engulfed more mixed drinks and made more lewd attempts to be clever.

Look out Jersey Shore, Skins and Teen Mom! Here comes Pickled Unfunny Obnoxious Corporate Women of New York City!

It reminds me of a really funny bit Comedian Louie Anderson used to do:

Louie's Dad: I DON'T WANT YOU KIDS TOUCHING THESE TOOLS!!!

Louie: Well then, you shouldn't have told us.

Mister crescent wrench, how are ya?

Actor's blog. STARdate: 012411. It's FAVORITE Mondays!

Last week I went and got all "funny in the head" talking about my favorite Actor, Peter Sellers, and other Actors whom I find particularly groovy.

Today, I will discuss the fairer of the sexes with my FAVORITE ACTRESS(ES). In all honesty I do not have an absolute favorite like last week, but what I'll do is give a list that is similar to my list of Male Actors: Character/Lead Actresses that I find to be risk-takers, no fear in taking a role that would be too over the top, make them look funny or hideous and they also need the ability to have a sense of humor about their work and themselves. These ladies have those same qualities (Well at least as far as I know, they could personally be shrill fish-wives, but a man can still have his fantasy that they're just bustling rays of sunshine accoutered in lycra, right?):

Bette Davis
Lucille Ball
Anne Bancroft
Dame Maggie Smith
Dame Julie Andrews
Carol Burnett
Cloris Leachman
Madeline Kahn
Gilda Radner
Dame Judi Dench
Dame Helen Mirren
Meryl Streep
Emma Thompson
Jodie Foster
Helena Bonham Carter
Tracey Ullman
Kate Winslet
Cate Blanchett
Reese Witherspoon
Hilary Swank

I know, again, a lot of Brits and comedic Actresses, but all of these lovely Ladies are impressive and if I've left a few out, it's not because they're not great, but these are ones I like personally.

I'm a cuttin' today's post short because it's a long week a-comin' and I guess once and a while I need a real break. Maybe I'll update this post when I have more time and actually pick a few Ladies who I REALLY like and why.

Ain't NOTHIN' like a DAME! (Literally and "figuratively"...Rrrrrooowwwrrrrr) Actor's blog. STARdate: 012411. It's FAVORITE Mondays!

Saturday's theme, one and all, from here forthwith, will be known as the entity, titularly entitled:

LET'S JAM

With the one possible exception of the second weekend in February (I go for a week to the Midwest to train the new Emcees for StarQuest, my old touring gig) White Wedding will have, and has had, a gig every Saturday night. And those weekends that are open in the spring will most likely be filled into the summer. We've been booking new and old venues like crazy. As far as party Bands go, we've just entered the elite position of 2 shows a week, making significant income.

Free weekends have been rare and the two weekends I did have free recently were due to the Holidays. It was a nice break because I really missed Jen especially. We've had some tough times, but we're working through them. She works SO hard during the week, full-time as an Electrician/Office Manager for her security systems company. She wakes up at 5:00, with Gina, drops Gina at day care, goes to work every day, picks her up, then goes home, takes care of her and the dog, til 9pm. 5 days a week. She does it all without ANY financial help from her Ex, Gina's biological Father (Hell, I help pay for day care and our apt bills where we all live), and he still only takes Gina on weekends 1/2 the time. Jen barely gets time off and can be considered a FOR REALS Super-Single-Mom.

Because I gig and work full-time in the city, I stay with Bob & Danna in Brooklyn, in my old apartment and throw them a few bucks, to save money on travel (it's expensive to train round trip to Central shore NJ every day), and I only get to be home a couple days a week. We're still winding up barely getting by. I've had friends and family who have been generous enough to lend a hand when they're able, and I do my best to pay them back, or pay them back eventually. But Jen and I do our best to stay afloat, appreciate the time we do have and I enjoy playtime with Gina when we have it. Things are getting a bit better time-wise, but it's a real challenge.

I STILL find a way to see my own happy Girl Gracie once a week and help support her financially, with what I have, without going broke. It's the life of a freelance working Actor. At least a freelance Actor that hasn't gotten his big break...yet...

I suppose weekly gigs (Twice a week now, on average) are my own release and therapy. Tonight's gig is a Private Party in the Gramercy Park section of NYC. They're having an 80s Birthday Bash at a Country Western Bar. Hmmm. There's a Jungian quagmire wrapped in a Hank Williams Jr. nightmare right  there. But we did two huge sets, Double the FUN, and if the bar didn't shut us down at 2am, the party organizers were about to shell out even more money to have us play a third set til 4. That's how cool they were and how well we did our job!

There are about 75+ people here ALL dressed to the nines in 80s garb. I bet a number of them weren't even born in the 80s, but, they have to be the best looking and most enthusiastic group we've EVER SEEN! They're singing along to the tunes, they're dancing, having a great time and they paid us what most bands dream they rightly deserve for a night of work. And they let us know that we exceeded their expectations!

This will hopefully book us more work, and even if it doesn't, they were insanely happy. That's paramount. Even if they paid us half for what we did, we would STILL have given them an all out show because that's what we do.

And at this point, since you may indeed be wondering, what I should do is have you MEET THE BAND!

This is WHITE WEDDING...

Mike (Doc Brown): Mike is our fearless leader, "Who makes all this time-travel possible". He started the group, began the concept, still books gigs, refines our image, buys the costume pieces and props with money we earn, does most of our set lists and plays lead guitar. He actually used to play drums for a "Smiths" Tribute Band, a fact which I personally love. He knows what's best for us, is the backbone of the group and has such an awesome, hardcore, kick-ass stage presence for someone who is a really unassuming, sweet Guy offstage. His beautiful Wife, Tawni, used to be our keyboard player. But they both recently had a gorgeous bundle of joy, Thora, and she spends her time now not only being a Mama, but being a counselor, and had to sacrifice playing in the Band unfortunately. We miss her out there. I Love 'em both and Mike keeps our tight ship afloat.

Hey! I'm a poet and didn't even realize.

I'll make a blanket statement that I LOVE ALL my Bandmates, so that I'm not being redundant. Just FYI. They're all cool, chill and bring their own unique mojo to our growing musical enterprise.

Spike (Animal): Spike is the drummer, "He don't wanna work, he just wanna bang on his drum all day!" I can safely say there have been only two people I have ever known who have had an almost INFINATE knowledge of music. My friend Mark Levy, who I mentioned in an earlier post as the hipster from Austin, who knows Bands, new music, old music and can access an encyclopedic knowledge of almost any genre. Then, there's Spike. Spike not only has that same wealth of knowledge, but being a working musician, has the advantage of knowing the nuances of performance in almost any type of music and appreciates the rich foundation of which it was built on. A Hep-Cat, mellow Dude, the one to hang out with late night, and I always have a good time with. He's always there if you need help and is a really good friend.

Nancy (Billie Jean): My partner-in-crime out Fronting the show, she's the one "Who will dance, on the floor, in the round". One of the kindest, most gentle, genuine and talented people I've ever worked with. And she has a great affinity for New Orleans, never a bad thing! A phenomenal singer and has so much more presence and confidence than she gives herself credit for. In that respect, we're very alike as kindred souls in our ongoing battle against our own worst enemies - ourselves. That's the Singers/Actor's life for ya! However, she's one of the strongest people I've ever met. I don't mean mere physical strength, but in spirit, soul, sheer fortitude and having the will to persevere and move forward even in the most dire of circumstances. I think she's even stronger than me in that respect. And her Parents are the nicest, sweetest people you could ever meet and support us at many of our shows. I wouldn't want anyone else other than Nancy next to me up there out front. I love her so very much.

Dave (Diamond Dave): "He's just a Gigolo and everywhere he goes, people know the part he's playing". Well, sort of. Dave is our bass player, a fiercely intelligent, stand-up Guy, honestly tells-it-like-it-is and always keeps the rhythm down under. In his way, Dave is quiet when it comes to himself and will certainly share, even though he's very self-effacing and modest. But when it comes to how well he plays, what's best for the band  and how enthusiastic he gets when we are kickin' ass, he let's it all out! He's committed to his craft (He's played Carnegie Hall!) and often kids about how "No one really cares about the bass player". Well, the funny thing is, of the bass players I've known, they actually care more than anyone and are one of the coolest Guys out there. Because he seems so quiet and in the background onstage, you would never suspect he's the most serious of all of us, but it's in the best way you can be. He's my litmus test as to how well we're doing. If Dave thinks we're doing well, than we MUST be doing well.

JC (Amadeus): JC and I like to kid the Band that things really didn't take off until WE got into the group!  He's "Straight from 1785 and he's here to Rock You!" When Tawni left, we auditioned for a keyboard player. We had a number of people come in, but not only did he have the mad skills on them 88 keys, but he had the contacts and was serious about succeeding with the Band. JC is a native Brooklynite. He's our "Wheeler & Dealer" and does the majority of our bookings. Since he joined the band, our bookings have doubled and we're getting more NYC high-profile gigs. He is an unbelievably quick study, for not having been a purveyor of popular 80s music, has been on the circuit of over 20 years and possesses a great head for business dealings. But GOD FORBID if you haven't seen The Good, The Bad and The Fuckin' Ugly. Fuggedaboutit. If we ever needed to hide a body, he would knoe EXACTLY where to go. You Capisci' Paisan?

We're now at the point where we're gathering a following, musically we're playing better and better and we've achieved the status of a real force to be reckoned with in the world of event Bands.

We're hoping that we book even more, and have even groomed Understudies for us. Thanks to Dan (My singing understudy) and Marco (Mike's lead guitar understudy) for helping us out if we get even busier! We're mini Rock Stars...I'll take it!

Rock & Roll.

Actor's blog. STARdate: WhoGivesARatsAss.

Thursday. A Theme? I feel like the planet is about to be destroyed in a few minutes. Like Truman Capote once penned, it's too gruesome. I originally intended today's theme to be something clever, since I'd been implanting every day to have a theme; Monday: FAVORITES, Tuesday: MULLIGAN and Wednesday: WHERE'S SUBTLETY?.

But this just turned into a shitty day. So not inspired right now. Dammit all to hell. If you believe in that kind of thing. But, I'm going forward regardless talking about my profession and where it fits in my life. For good and for oh my sweet baby corn I can't believe I'm posting today's blog...

Thursday will be GLOOM AND DOOM.

Why is it whenever I do my best, I guess my best isn't good enough? I give of myself, sacrifice, look at the big picture, do for others before myself and yet I still come up short. Yes. The pun was intended. Another in a string of failures. As much as I hate therapy, in times like this, I miss it. Sort of. Aw, c'mon self, you hated that too. So, my BLOG is intended to relieve some of that internal pressure, the writhing, grappling and ongoing battle for my identity and sanity. Sigh. BIG SIGH. I HATE WRITING HERE!!! I'm not going to get specific with my own bullshit, but this whole blog-thingie that I'm writing on every day about myself, with such fervent zeal and a great deal of clarity, has me very conflicted. I can't talk, so I talk to you. And that isn't working either.

I hate this as much as I love it.  I can't stand looking at myself in the mirror on days like this. Yet, I kid myself into thinking this is helping me. I feel like crap, so I blow smoke up my own proverbial sphincter hole, venting, and at the same time feel like a quasi-hero for being able to toot my own horn in a scripted, shrill, high-pitched shriek.

Story of my fucking fife.

I just can't seem to make the right decisions to take care of myself. Too much heart not enough head. But for others?

In the Summer of 2007, I was a Musical Director and Teacher at very wonderful and reputable Performing Arts Camp. I Directed Musicals and one in particular was a VERY cool, VERY special and unique experience with some remarkable campers, counselors and staff that I'll never forget. Project Mayhem. Maybe another time I'll talk about it. But I also was required to teach performance-themed classes to campers. One of the myriad of fabulous things they do is that if there is a class that isn't taught there, and they find some value to it, they let you create your own curriculum. So I did. I had already taught classes on Slapstick Comedy and offered The Business of Acting for the older kids and this was yet another chance to talk about the aspects about the business that most don't really talk about. The Psychology of Acting. We had an open dialogue about what was troubling them, what problems they were having and why they even wanted to be in show business at at young age, when they hadn't even experienced life yet? How do you deal with the ongoing rejection, the family pressure to stay out of the business and do something with a future? Or, if you were born into the business, how do you deal with not being able to tell your parents or friends that you want to do something else, even though THIS is what's expected of you? We talked about the shows they were currently in, if there were pressures, problems or if they just wanted to vent. The big question for everyone was if this was indeed what you love more than anything, how do you go about it and stay relatively rational and sane about it all? How do you deal with the internal struggle of your own demons, if you have any, that give you both inspiration and cause so much pain?

I tried to practice what I teach, but all along, I think I was worse off than anyone I ever tried to consul. I'm not a licensed therapist, but that's not what we were doing. We were just talking. Shooting the shit. Most of them never even talked to their Parents, Siblings or other peers about it, but we weren't looking for answers. Just some fellow human beings talking about common interests and they appreciated my advice as a "working" Actor. I always told them to follow their heart and they would know what to do. And other people would have to accept who they were and respect their decision, even if they were seemingly too young and naive. They're smarter than you think. Underage kids are for the most part. Yet adults, whom many are kids themselves, condescend to them as if they're stupid. I see some pretty infantile behavior from so-called "Adults". They don't know any better than kids do. Hell, I don't even know.

Wish I took some of my own advice. But maybe I did. Have I become a Widow to the business?

Are the herculean efforts I make to provide, in every way, too much? It doesn't make any sense to me. I like to think of myself as pretty selfless. I'm making an effort not being closed off so much and staying open-minded to suggestion. Try to be part of the solution rather than being problematic and counter-productive.

The pain I'm causing is not just to myself, but to those around me. How? As hard as I try to bring happiness to those close to me, I don't think I'm trying so hard that I'm either being myopic or ignoring bigger issues. I've become a better communicator over the years and am very cognizant of the feelings of those I care about. But I can't be everything without sacrificing something. If it's not time, it's money, if it's not money, it's time, if it's not extreme emotion, it's outright apathy and so on. I talk to people I'm very close with and I even talk to friends. But even with a friendly ear and a caring heart, they have their own issues and don't know much better than I do. Some are even worse off and are just being kind. Was this whole blog a bad idea and should I have just kept it in?

Is it me?

Is it everyone else?

Is there just too much expected of me? Do I expect too much of myself?

It's overwhelming. I'm really working too hard, trying to be everything for everybody. Going out of my way. Stretching myself too thin. I've quietly snapped before, a couple times. But now this is out there. Crap. I'm naked here. KNEW this was a bad idea. My blog day "A funny thing happened on the way to the forum - January 6th, 2011" explained the huge amount of hesitation I had to begin with.

I can't believe I'm doing this. It's SO not my M.O.. I'm out of my element, yet, the feedback I've gotten says I'm very much in it. Perhaps even perfectly suited for it. I'm not perfect, not by any stretch of the imagination.

If there are those of you out there who clutch at straws, like I do, and just can't make sense of it all, talk to you friends, family, or a journal or blog like I do. Even if you don't think it helps. Pick up the phone, text, IM or even Skype if you don't have the time for human connection. I suck at all of this, but I've been so good paying attention to the blog for three weeks, maybe I should have done it years ago. But I wasn't ready. I'm not ready to continue even now. Maybe I need a day off from this, or, everything. Find my cave. Hibernate.

Wait...

You know what I just realized? It's a full moon. The moon kills you know. Lunar cycles. Erratic behavior.

It's January, Wolf Moon. Old Moon. It's also Waning Gibbous Moon. Shrinking. Out with the old.

If you believe in the cycles of the Universe, I do, and if you also believe in the tenets of Astrology...eh...I'm a Cancer, ruled by the Moon. "M-O-O-N, that spells Moon." I'm not an advocate in the complete Astrological inner-workings. To me, a lot of it is hokum, but there is something to be said for certain energy out THERE in the ether, having an effect on you.

As a Performer, you're ruled by energy. What kind of energy you expend, what kind you you take in (I especially am a slave to that) and HOW MUCH has a "dramatic" effect on those around you, both on and off the stage. In general, people's energies, Performers or not, are fairly consistent. There's a decent amount of predictability. Of course there are exceptions, but like the cycles of nature, they may wax and wane. In our line of work, at least those of us who are able to manipulate their energy so effectively, it's excruciatingly unpredictable. Either you're outwardly temperamental, or inwardly conflicted. Or both. I'm certainly more inward, always have been and I always will be. As I've said previously, It's safer.

I really don't wanna get to a point where I regress yet again to being an ineffectual, say-nothing Fester-er...er.

That's it. I'll shave my head, wear a brown, canvas, monastic robe and howl at the moon.

Creepy, kooky, mysterious, spooky. Ooky.

Fook it.

Lunatic.

Actor's blog. StarDate 011801. Blackjack. That's the number of days I've been continually writing the blog. I have not missed a day, slowed down and felt like skipping a day yet.

Til today, that is.

But, since I went and started THEME DAYS, Today: MULLIGAN TUESDAYS.

Yeah. I'm writing about whatever I want on Tuesdays just to either vent, unload my brain or talk about whatever is floating around my head at any given moment since I feel like I may give a piss-poor blog effort. I'm calling a Mulligan.

(mul·li·gan - /ˈmʌlɪgən/ [muhl-i-guhn] –noun 1. Also called mulligan stew. A stew containing meat, vegetables, etc., esp. one made of any available ingredients. 2. Golf term. A shot not counted against the score, permitted in unofficial play to a player whose previous shot was poor.)

So, this entry will be whatever I want it to be on Tuesdays.

This blog has evolved beyond my expectations and imagination. It will REMAIN a blog about how to help Actors through the business. Since my life is "How NOT to succeed in Show Business", I have kept as true as I possibly could to infuse wit, my own life experiences, past and present, and "sage", valuable advice to those who are considering, are still struggling and want to work as a performer in the entertainment industry. Today, even though a mulligan will still most likely have something to do with entertainment since it's what I know. 

This morning as I was finishing yesterday's blog, which is the first time I went beyond the day, to finish my day and life hit a snag. Now I'm in a funk. Today was good workwise and Sackboy (for those who just started reading, I'm the Playstation game character in full-body costume for work this week) went really great for Sony and Playstation. Did my job well, got fed, made money, however, I haven't seen Jen in a week, we're still both struggling, just need some time to rest and I'm working on a multiple day jag. I'm dog tired. It has a silver lining though with Gracie and coming to a nice future arrangement with Cat, but my brain is toast from working 9 of the last 10 days. That's including 2 White Wedding shows. Yesterday was a whirlwind of busy-ness for me and I started the day strong, but it didn't last. Since I'm burnt and lmy blog today is about anything, I'm gonna talk about David Lynch and TWIN PEAKS.

Whaaaaa?!

Yep. From the brilliant, quirky, yet strange mind of David Lynch is the television series that asked the question, "Who killed Laura Palmer".

I'm not gonna spout about the series entire, or give a detailed episode synopsis or character breakdown. That would take too long and I am never here to bore you. I wanna keep everyone who is somewhat interested in my musings, reading voraciously, so I'm only gonna give you teaser bit so that those of you who have not experienced it, or even heard about one of the greatest TV series ever created, has a frame of reference and will seek it out to watch over and over again. I guarantee it. I watch it EVERY year at least once. And I still discover things I didn't notice before.

David Lynch began as an artist and used his talents to infuse art and filmmaking while he was in school. He received a scholarship from The American Film Institute (AFI) and one of his first major projects was a film that helped define the Midnight Movie culture in the 1970s along with The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Night Of The Living Dead; Eraserhead. By the 1980s, David Lynch emerged as a cinematic and artistic mastermind and was tapped to be Director of a new film, The Elephant Man by unlikely Producer, and secret fan of Eraserhead, Mel Brooks. For this unusually restained and brilliant effort, he earned his first Oscar nomination and by 1987, already received his second nomination for the film, considered to still be his best, Blue Velvet. With some considerable respectability now in the film world, he wanted to try his hand at television with an idea that had been developing along with his friend, writer Mark Frost. They created a world where "Nothing is as it seems." ABC picked up the rights and began filming in 1989.   

It centers around FBI Agent Dale Cooper (Kyle MacLachlan) and his investigation of a murdered young girl from the town of Twin Peaks named Laura Palmer (Sheryl Lee). In the first 10 minutes of the pilot episode, she's found wrapped in plastic on a rocky beach. This sets off a chain of events that effect every major and supporting character one way or another. It subsequently unlocks the door to a spirit world hidden in the mysterious woods of the very town they inhabit.

There are literally dozens of websites dedicated to the theories, themes and cult that is Twin Peaks. Now, when I first heard about it in 1990, one of my Brothers' friends, Matt Tansey, had told us about a TV series that we just had to watch. He had been religiously taping it, yes that's VHS everyone, and let us borrow it to catch up with what we had missed.  I started to watch it, and was immediately hooked. When I continued to watch in college, I found a couple guys who were fans and we would occasionally meet for "Twin Peaks" nights along with the rest of America. Having damn good coffee, pie, doughnuts and talk about the previous shows we saw was an event only a few of us enjoyed. The vast majority of our other friends didn't "get it", but the small circle of those who could discuss the show, Lynch and the Man behind every creation in his Universe was just fine with us. It was like a secret society of a head-nodding, hand-shaking, midget-dancing Brotherhood. His visions, characters and stories could keep you talking for hours. The cliff-hangers at the end of each episode would have you hanging for the next 6 days until the next episode would premiere. We revered him, Frost and the entire production team and stock company involved with him.

It's why I have RobOwl is my email callsign, username and other names and symbols to represent me. Pictures of the Twin Peaks' Black Lodge, Great Northern Hotel, RR Diner and Twin Peaks population sign are on my desktop for my laptop computer and smartphone. It's why 21 is a significant number for me. A fantasy world where as strange, horrible and wonderful as it is, it holds secrets. Much like myself, there are things that you cannot possibly unlock. Interpretation is the order of the day and everyone is hiding behind the guise of their own carefully constructed persona. There's only one possible exception: Donna Hayward (Lara Flynn Boyle). Her character is on the surface, and underneath, annoying and predictable. But I'm guessing they planned that too. There always has to be at least one character that you can't stand. But there are always exceptions to every rule. Although, the rules are pretty much out the window too. Watch the show and you'll see what I mean.  

Owls, a dozen Sycamore trees, Glastonbury Grove, Black Lodge, White Lodge, cherry pie, The Log Lady, garmonbozia, Robert, Bob, rings, secrets, Ghostwood, red drapes, giants, baguettes with butter and brie, Dopplegangers, blue roses, trees and take your pick of symbols. They mean something, they mean nothing, they mean everything...21 years later since it premiered on April 8th 1990, and you still are trying to figure this shit out. TV shows and movies rarely ever make you think like that.

The movie, TWIN PEAKS: FIRE WALK WITH ME was a really great companion piece and despite some people's claims that it could stand on it's own without the series, it really can't. However, his projects that followed: Wild At Heart, Lost Highway, Mulholland Drive (His 3rd Oscar nomination for Best Director), Inland Empire and even his music and art, all inhabit their own consciousness and have been birthed and "ear"-marked in his own style. Lynch doesn't make films or do projects for his fans or the mass populous. He's an artist first and foremost and his vision(s) are appreciated by those of us whose minds are willing to open up to it, yet are simultaneously mocked by the Hollywood establishment as too strange, esoteric and weird to even understand or be willing to finance.

Even though Mondays are my "Favorite" days and this was a post about TWIN PEAKS, I'll say it...he's my favorite Director.

http://www.lynchnet.com/tp/
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Twin_Peaks
http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000186/

For those willing to venture onward, you'll thank me later.

Or, you'll wanna kick my ass for wasting your time. It's not for everyone.

"Let's Rock!"

Actor's blog. Stardate: 011611. I am the Frogman. Ribbit. I am the Frogman. Ribbit. I am the Walrus. Goo goo ga Joob. I have no voice this morning. The price of working outside every day and a really good gig last night. Well, amendment, GREAT gig last night. Musically we're getting tighter than ever and the "show" aspect is so much fun for everyone watching and for us playing. We're going to do even more elaborate skits and costumes in upcoming shows. But my voice started to crack and the carefully constructed "Rock Star" character began to wane 3-4 songs from the end of the night at around 2:30am. Most of the folks who were either drunk or having a good time didn't even notice. It occurs rarely, if ever, but I was physically exhausted and let it show. I HATE that. And I wasn't the only one who noticed.  

Jamie did. Dammit. She's our (my) gauge that the show is solid and firing on all pistons. I saw her flinch (a couple times) when my voice started giving out in "Come On Eileen". That NEVER happens. And that song is a third set show closer. Jamie is a friend/super fan who is lovely, sweet, comes to almost all of our shows, and is one of those friends who is a kindred spirit. Someone you meet in the world who "gets it". If either of us went on an all-night bender, we would hold our long hair from hanging in the toilet and get each other juice or ice cream if we needed it. We may even take a bullet. Or, at least a rogue water balloon. But she saw through my "Rocker" persona, as one quinquagenarian drunk lady couldn't stop telling me I was, as she fell over herself and her boyfriend. Glad he wasn't a big man. But dammit, dammit dammit.

Steve and Richard are also included in that fold of people who come to almost all of the shows, no matter where they are, and tells it like it is. They didn't notice my croaking, or didn't show it, but it's helpful when we get constructive criticism from honest friends. And hard to believe that they all take the time to come out as often as they do. Even twice a week.  "Little Steve" has been a fan of White Wedding since it's inception and even goes so far as to help us strike and load equipment. He even got to see me flyering in the freezing cold the other day and kindly offered his sympathies. Helluva Guy. Richard could be considered our "Official" photographer. His shots are always stunning, capture the moment (flattering or otherwise, but hey, photos tell it like it is) and just one of his current shots can be seen splashed as our website home page. He's always there, always watching and lurking with his lens cap off. That sounded vaguely dirty. 

These guys ask for nothing in return but to enjoy our music and be our friends. I'm glad not everyone in the world is nice, appreciative and friendly. Not only would it be tiring and monotonous to thank everyone all the time, but all that energy you spend for appreciation, in one form or another, can be down right exhausting. However, the circle of people I know who are cool, and it's not huge in the grand scheme of the cosmos, I tell them as much. And if I haven't done it in this blog yet, or don't have the chance to, I've let them know in person. By and large, my friends are fuckin' cool.  
 
But even in front of them, I hate showing weakness and have them see through my veneer. I'm not a perfectionist, an obsessive-compulsive or a method Actor (I hate that shit). I just have my own personal standards and it's nothing less than giving 183% during any performance.

Spending 8 of the last 9 days outside working was not conducive to staying vocally healthy. I have avoided and skated around a cold for days and I still have to work through Wednesday. AND we have another Brooklyn Bowl show tomorrow night. Time for tea and vocal rest. 
Tomorrow I'll be inside, mercifully, and then I'll REALLY be inside. I'm in a full-body costume. Don't have to put on a character other than do some physical shtick. Less pressure, vocal rest and being paid well. Sigh (good sigh, not exasperated sigh).

I do love to put on a character completely different than myself. Have a look at my photo and video links that show my comfort zone. The more unlike myself I play, the more comfortable I am. I let the character play for me. It's such a freeing feeling. And people are far more intrigued by who I am because I'm somebody willing to be out there playing. I don't have to worry about them making fun of me, judging me or having an opinion of me because it's not me. Sure, it's an extension of me, but the best feeling I ever get when I'm acting is what every character Actor aspires to. And the following is a true story.

I've done character work for so many years in so many places, but last year I was the Improvisational Director and Actor at The New York Renaissance Faire. It had been a few years since I'd been there doing that same job, but I'll spin that yarn why another time. Anyway, if they trust you, they are willing to give you a great deal of creative freedom as long as they know you're professional, reliable and can deliver the goods. And I prided myself on always doing just that. I decided I wanted to play two different characters in a Faire day, but didn't really make a big announcement I was going to do so. Partly because that's not my style to play the "Pay attention to ME!" type of Actor. There so many in the business, working or non-working, who do just that. Nothing wrong with it because some of my very good friends are like that. They're always on. And that works for them. But not for me. The other reason I didn't tell anyone was because I wanted to see what people's reactions were when I quietly changed characters during a work day and see if anyone noticed. It was a calculated move.

And it worked.

I was the filthy, stinking, Mud Guy, Dudley Mudd, for the first 2/3 of the day. Juggling fire and knives, playing the Village slapstick stock character and rooting around in the mud. And, I played the Aristocratic, stiff-lipped God's right hand man of Queen Elizabeth's Court, Archbishop John Whitgift, for the last 1/3 of the day. That first weekend only a few people knew because they were mostly the ones in charge and those I knew from years back who didn't doubt I could do it. It was mostly the Actors in the company who weren't aware I was doing this and only knew me from Directing Improv rehearsals and rehearsing some scenes for the past month or so. And that first day or two I went on with my performance without saying a word.

Some Actors there ACTUALLY thought, and told me, "Who was this new Guy playing the Archbishop? I don't remember him during rehearsals." As the weekend went on I started to get, "Oh my God. Is THAT ROB?!" Others just passed me while I was dressed and said Hi, but then looked a little closer. And then it occurred to them who I was and the looks they gave were absolute shock. I'm not even exaggerating. 

In each example, they gave me THE BEST compliment you could ever give a Character Actor. I seamlessly transformed from a low-class, dirty peasant, to an upper-class, distinguished elder of the church without some people even knowing I did it. The people who ran the Faire are always dubious about decisions like allowing Actors to play multiple characters. Because even if given permission to do it, the majority are not able to pull it off. They have fun trying and give it a go, but don't have the skill. I fooled the bosses too. I say this not to make anyone feel bad, or act like an arrogant prick,but it takes practice, experience and skill to do it convincingly and on top of that, some of us are born to do it. It's not an effort. It's like breathing. There are one or two Actors at Faire who I've worked with who are able to do such transformations very adeptly. We are the same ilk of insecure person outside of performing and have the same people we revere who are famous for doing what we want to do. It'll make sense to you when I explain who they are... 

...Tomorrow. I'm going to start "THEME" days and Monday I think will be my "Favorite Things". And then I don't feel so bad. How do you solve a prob-a-lem like Mondays? My favorite Character Actor(s)! 

I don't wanna be a Leading Man, have no desire to be the most famous movie star or the most award-winning Actor who ever lived. I wanna just get paid STOOPID amounts of money to do what I love. And STOOPID doesn't even mean the absurd salaries that top Stars command. Enough to live comfortably, not have to think about how bills are going to get paid (like now) and enough that my new Agent(s) and Manager(s) are happy to make their well-earned cut. I love being THAT Guy. And I know I'm good enough to do just THAT. I've got a level head, I'm professional and, not to make you think I'm talking out of my ass, complete strangers, friends, family and even some Celebrities* who I've performed for, have told me, unsolicited. They've said things like; "What are doing here?" "You're REALLY good."* "Have we ever worked together? Because you're excellent."* "Why aren't you famous making millions of dollars already?" (Note* - Those were the quotes from actual working Celebrities who make that kind of $)
You damn skippy.

Here are some links and books on those famous, and not-so-famous, Character Actors who always worked because they could play "anyone" or "everyone":

http://www.imdb.com/list/HrFsuvgfn6w/
http://www.digital-polyphony.com/top25characteractors.htm
http://www.screened.com/profile/rockinkemosabe/best-female-character-actors/233-2024/
(Only a very contemporary Female list above. I'll get to some of the GREATS of all time later, but you get the idea)
http://www.amazon.com/Reel-Characters-Great-Character-Actors/dp/0940410796
http://www.amazon.com/Hey-Its-That-Tara-Ariano/dp/1594740429
http://www.amazon.com/Names-Never-Remember-Faces-Forget/dp/1593930410/ref=pd_sim_b_1

And that's what I am. I'm a character Actor. 

I'm THAT Guy.
Not THAT Guy.
THAT Guy.
Or, is it THAT Guy?

Wait...who are You again?

Actor's blog. Stardate 011411. So this morning, my Brother told me that in order to get a better ranking from Google for this blog, I should use the words "Actor's blog" in my content. Primarily towards the front of the post. He did point out that it may be a bit awkward and I wouldn't have to do it every time, but it would be helpful to work it in whenever possible. And of course, my geek brain responded. Live long and prosper. 

I might keep doing that, may not be every time, but I may copyright or trademark my clever musing so I can make money if anyone ever uses it without the expressed written consent and permission of ME. BLOO-HA-HA (tm)! Ha! I don't owe you a quarter THAT time PETE. Given him too many quarters over that. Remember when I joked about that (previous blog post-go lookee where-I ain't doin' all the work) and how I said it was an inside joke? Well, here's the joke. Peter Timony, you know, The Timony Twins, Bobby and Peter? Okay. Here - "Comedy, comedy, comedy - January 11, 2011". There. Now Peter is the Evil Twin and Bobby the Good Twin. Peter came up with his own cackling evil catchphrase BLOO-HA-HA (tm). It's similar to MWA-HA-HA (I doubt anyone did a tm) or AH-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA...ha (Ibid). It was only done in an effort to make sure no one would use it other than him and to make some moolah. He then actually went through the process to trademark his phrase.

I know. Freakin' dupe. I mean, who would actually go through the trouble to spend the money so that NO ONE ELSE would use an evil catchphrase unless they paid him or you tag the two letters (tm) either verbally or in print. People most likely wouldn't even think to use it anyway unless they were either familiar with it, or they knew Pete Timo.....awwwww. You ASSHOLE! 
And he is. He takes pride in it. It's all in fun, sure. But he's the EVIL Twin, make no mistake, and just try to cross him and he'll make you pay. We've all seen it. We've all tried and many of us have run with our tail between our legs after we've been summarily mocked and then laughed at. He's got a gift for it. 

We LOOOVE Bobby though. He's so cute, earnest and friendly. Like a little puppy who'll fetch, roll over when you ask him, eat out of the trash can and then pee on your leg when you least expect it. I've seen that happen too. Damn you Bob and your weak bladder.

I'm actually half-tempted to pee down my own pants leg to keep me warm it's so cold out. Typing is difficult and hurty. If you hadn't noticed me saying it or read about it yet, I do the majority of my blog writing on my smartphone. My Blackberry Tour 9630. It has a keypad, which I still enjoy the functionality over touch screens, and during my trips on the subway and train, I'll write. Where it gets screwy is when I have some spare moments of cerebral brilliance and I HAVE TO type something while I'm flyering outside in the bitter cold. With two pairs of gloves on. I'm actually getting adept with thick gloves at typing on such small keys with over-sized fingers. 

Today is another frosty 28 degree day complete with 10 mph wind chill and yet I sully forth with great vigor and nearly frozen digits. Sigh. Thanks go to Bob and Danna (his very pretty, care-taking Wife, Producer extraordinaire and another best pal of mine) for getting me those hand warmer packs for Xmas. They're SO helping today.

Alright, fine...

I won't be able to get away with not mentioning Pete's equally lovely, talented, sharp-tongued, Goddess of a Wife, Kerry. Love You Kerry!

But, for the rest of today's entry I'll briefly go into why even though the BLOO-HA-HA (tm) is a half kidding/half serious concept, the very reality of the "business" side of Show Business is so important. You have to stay organized, invest your money wisely (which I'm learning still) and think of the big picture. You gotta be smart about your money (still learning and fixing), frugal (still learning) and know the business. There are horror stories you either hear or read about. Remember MC Hammer? Spent all his money on mansion(s), dozens of cars, a completely unnecessary luxurious lifestyle and lost it all. Stupid. Check out the news currently where a Guy is suing MTV because he first came up with the idea of a "Jersey Shore" type show called "Guidos", copyrighted it and is now suing them for stealing his idea. Granted, he just inked a deal to develop "Guidos" with another network to ride on the success of "Jersey Shore", but I don't blame the guy. If he did indeed cover his ass and come up with the idea, went through the steps to ensure it was his and someone still stole it, that's not cool. Nature of the beast though. It can be a house of mirrors...(SLAM!)...OW...Mirror.

Almost everything we've done with Mook Productions has been reviewed by our Entertainment Lawyer. We made our company an LLC, so our projects produced under the umbrella of our corporation would be protected. We've registered many scripts with the Writers Guild of America (WGA) so that we could protect those too. It all costs money, but it's a necessary part of the business and it's smart. Lawyers spend hours helping you understand contracts, rights and is able to talk with anyone who wants to make deals with you without you getting ripped of. In the long run, you'll have fewer problems, less likelihood of facing litigation against you and if someone does steal anything, you've covered your ass and would probably be able to successfully sue them, if it's worth it, and win. Gotta spend money to make money.

The thing I've discovered about most Actors is they're pretty ignorant about the business side of entertainment and just don't wanna deal with it. But, you HAVE to. YOU ARE your OWN business if you have a production company or not. When I manifestoed (yeah, I just made it a verb) yesterday I went over the list of things you gotta do and it's not the first time I've made a list blogging about it. Gotta remind MYSELF occasionally.

I'm GLAD a great number of Actors would rather take the lazy way and call themselves "Artists". Their attitudes are "Let someone else deal with the business" or "That's what you have an Agent or Manager for". That means fewer Actors I have to compete against who give up or can't afford to go on. I've had some good fortune and bad in the survival department, but, either way, I'm still here. Even those who do make it, you have to be vigilant and know every aspect of your OWN career. Ask Dane Cook how that worked out. Ouch. Another example! Harsh, but it's the truth. You can't trust anyone sometimes. Not even your immediate family. Sorry Dane. You have to know who to trust as much as it seems like smoke and mirrors. I trust Bob and Pete implicitly. And Danna and Kerry. We all have our, for lack of a better word, quirks. But we've been through so much, sacrificed, earned our trust countless times and would do anything for each other. 

This is the path we've chosen. We'll get there. And as in any venture, you have to know it inside and out. And what you don't know, you do research. And like looking for Doctors, you get second opinions on things. I'm still learning. Always will be. Even now I'm implementing new strategies, taking new risks and boldly going where no man has gone before.

Well, maybe a couple have. But they haven't been on my path. They wouldn't want to. No one would want to.

Not even me.

I'll be a Super Villain before that happens.

I'm an Actor, not Khan Noonien Singh DAMMIT. 

I'm home today. Jen is not feeling well, yet, still working from home and getting paid. This might not be good, the pain comes and goes in waves, but we don't have health insurance right now (as many we know don't) and can't afford a Doctor visit. I'm worried because, well, certain symptoms that arose...it might not be good. We're both concerned. But it'll be okay. She's napping now as Gina and I are playing after her nap. Well, we've been playing for hours today and she's been really good. She's such a good Girl, a happy kid and so smart for her age. So, we're watching Noggin. We try to discourage too much TV, something I wish I had done when Gracie was growing up, but it's "educational". Some days, there's only so much playing you can do before you want to ram a plastic carrot into your nostril cavity and hope it pierces your brain into a state of self-euthanasia.

I have a feeling today's blog may JUST reach 1,000 words, the goal I try, with my Brother's help, to set for myself. Today was productive in that when I wasn't watching Gina because she was napping, I spent those couple hours sending out applications for work. The flyering job goes on hiatus for 5 weeks starting Monday and White Wedding has a few private gigs that will make us some good money, but not enough to pay all the bills AND catch up with old ones long overdue.

Sigh.

I actually heard from two of the gigs I inquired about online and have an interview tomorrow. In a nice ironic titty-twister from the Universe...it's another flyering job, however, it would be money and steady work. The other one was for costume character work, which would pay really well, but I wouldn't get paid for over a month. That's the funny thing about those kind of gigs in NYC that are in the "grey area' of non-union jurisdiction, they take forever to pay you. But, that'll be a nice paycheck in the mail mid to late February, if I get the gig.

Aside of babysitting today and looking for work, I saw Gracie on Skype tonight and it's good, always painful. In all honesty I'm really not waxing melodramatic looking for sympathy. The fact that my Daughter and I have to look at each other on a computer screen and can't hug, spend quality time together and I can't make her feel better when she's cranky, which she was, it sometimes too much to deal with. It's better than not seeing her at all and I only do it once or twice a week because it's too awful when it's more than that. Cat said she was having a hard time with Gracie because she had a snow day (unbelievable how they cancel school when it's not even a Blizzard, as I said a couple days ago, pussies) and the previous day she threw a tantrum on a school field trip. Apparently they took a trip to the Palisades Mall in West Nyack and the class visited the kid playland that has cool jungle gyms and video games. If it's the one I used to take Gracie to, it's fun and she has a ball...until...they had to leave. I had the EXACT same problem and practically had to drag her out of there kicking and screaming on a couple occasions. But usually I was able to quell her with either a distraction, telling her we would be back, or, we would go to somewhere else fun, or, say we'd go get some frozen yogurt or something. They didn't have such luck.

So Gracie was still on the "I want to go back to the arcade" kick when I saw her tonight. And you know kids, they want to act up and get attention and sympathy from other adults when they have a new defense team, Me, to plead their case to. Cat was trying to get Gracie to talk to me as I was trying to talk to her without her glued to her iPad or watching SpongeBob. When Cat calmly took both away to get her to talk to me, THE BATTLE OF WILLS HAD BEGUN. 

Gracie first ran downstairs to her play room and Cat gave chase. Gracie hid in her nylon tunnel and the counting to three began. Gracie came out before 3, but then ran up 2 flights to her room. Cat gave chase. Gracie hid in her bedroom closet and threw a small fit, then ran downstairs to the living room. Cat gave chase. Gracie hid in the front hall closet where all her stuffed animals live and finally, Cat put the computer down aftre a number of valiant, but futile attempts. End of chase. I then gave a last ditch effort to quietly ask Gracie what she wanted. Cat was unfortunately having to be bad cop, since she lives with Gracie, and I was less frustrated and had the advantage of a bit more patience with her. Gracie calmed down and actually talked to me and held a conversation rather than repeat what she wanted in metaphor. Occasionally, talking to Gracie is like that episode of Star Trek: TNG where Paul Winfield plays the alien who only speaks in metaphor - Darmok. But when she really wants something, and in this instance, I really believe it was to be with Daddy and connect with me in some way.

She told me she wanted to go back to the arcade and I said that she could another time, but she had to be good for Mama and her Teachers. And maybe when I go and see her again, we could go together. She just has to be good and know that you have to listen and respect your elders, even when you don't want to. It worked. She calmed down, gave me a smooch on the screen, said goodbye and then I got offline. Then I completely, quietly and painfull lost it.

I miss her SO much. I HATE not being there for her. I HATE myself for being half-responsible for the break-up of our family. And, I HATE myself knowing that until I can afford the expense of seeing her, at the ADULT AGE OF 40 DAMNABLE YEARS OLD, I'm going to have to suck up this feeling of helplessness, failure and disappointment in myself that Gracie is growing up without me there, to cherish and love nearly every second of it.

Okay. Enough pity. Time to really throw a monkey wrench into my evening after THAT...

...let's look at old photos of myself and reminisce about how fat, dorky and awkward I was!

Webster's Dictionary
SELF–ABUSE
noun \-ə-ˈbyüs\
Definition of SELF-ABUSE
1: reproach of oneself
2: abuse of one's body or health
3: Rob Pedini

Alrighhhhht. It wasn't as bad as all that. Jen spent the last couple hours making homemade fried chicken with broccoli and mac and cheese. Oh man, it was so flippin' good. After eating that, accompanied by a Newcastle and having a cigarette (really needed one) I felt a little better. Food. Booze. Nicotine.  The last two are not habitual or necessities for me, but man they're good when you got 'em.

The old pictures of me were for the blog. I found some beauts. I think it's always fun to look at old photos of yourself and your family and friends. Man, the hairstyles, fashions and furnishings of the 70s and 80s alone are both cringe and guffaw-worthy. But also happily nostalgic. I did get them out for the blog, yes, but the impetus for doing that was Jen showing me old photos of her, because she had considered cutting her hair short these past two days. She wanted me to see her with her old "Twiggy" cut. I worked so well on her, but she decided she's just gonna color it. Jen and Gina both had fun looking at mine and Jen, like so many others I've told when they asked me about what I was like when I was younger, could barely believe what she saw I looked like then. My Brother and Mom & Dad too. I'm gonna get some pics on here for past blog days that punctuate some of the themes I talked about. And save some others for future topics I know I'll talk about. There will definitely be a "comic book geek" day where I'll break out Halloween photos of me and Brother donning Superhero alter-egos when we were pre-adolescents. They'll be up soon. Oh yes, they'll be up soon.

Reading through today's blog I think it was time I did a day that solely centered on the day's events. That is what these are for after all. But I like telling stories, spinning yarns and keeping the few of you who actually read this, entertained somewhat. Once again, occupational hazard. It's only my second full week into this and after looking at a few popular blogs, vlogs and other sundry journaly-like dailies, I'm still not sure the method, protocol and actual structure I'm supposed to follow.

But who says I have to follow what everyone else does anyway. That's kind of how I've always been throughout my life. Follow the beat of my own drummer. Bang on my drum all day. Dancing with myself. She-Bop. Okay, that one was gratuitous to make an infantile joke.  Jerk-off that I am...GET IT!?!

I'm tired, but a decent tired. Not too maudlin anymore. Now to sleep, perchance to dream about being naked in 8th grade english class with my red corduroy pants, yellow izod shirt, puma sneakers and oversized prescription eyeglasses lying on the floor, my butt-cutt hairdo bouncing and behaving while my entire family, The Huxtables, Drummonds, Keatons, Cunninghams, The Fonz and Maynard G. Krebs (Not 80s, but don't ask me why Bob Denver is in my dream) are laughing at me while I'm doing the truffle shuffle.

KNEW I shouldn't have looked at those old photos.

I find it funny how I'm starting my day today on the subway, ready to get off on 42nd St., in real time, about to walk into a railing post while I type on my smartphone (PAY ATTENTION Spaz!) and I finally came up with an idea of what I'm gonna write about today. And just think, today's anticipated events have yet to mysteriously reveal themselves yet. (Creepy music) BLOO-HA-HA (tm). I owe you a quarter Pete. Sorry, inside joke. I'll explain it another day.

Some days I already have an idea and let the rest of the day play itself out. Then, I write in a flood. I had nothing for today. No intelligent thoughts or anecdotes as my brain, my physical being and my soul was exhausted from yesterday's, well, day. My head needed a rest last night, badly.

As I started typing, I put up the date and realized it was Day 13 of my blog. I let it sit there for a moment and thought, 13. "Unlucky for some." THAT'S IT! Thank you Mr. Humphries for giving me the inspiration I needed.

Today is my salute to: THE BRITISH!

I do this blog with great trepidation every day, but can't believe it's almost 2 weeks. The style and humor I always attempt to write with (even for years before this blog on MANY projects), could be considered pithy, clever and possessing a self-depricating wit. At least I've been told that. Even if I consider myself a career failure, I know and can be proud that my creativity and talents as a writer are influenced by people whom I admire, revere and kinda wish I was.

I THANK YOU British people for my comedic thinking and sensibilities. Specifically, I should thank my Dad for tuning into PBS when I was growing up and even allowing me to watch. You have to admit, some of those BBC shows in the 70s were a bit "naughty": Benny Hill, Are You Being Served?, Fawlty Towers & Monty Python's Flying Circus.

Watching them now, that stuff was racy, irreverent and at the very heart of it; just plain gut-wrenchingly funny. I didn't get all of the jokes or subtleties at the time, but my Dad was laughing til he got red in the face, teared up and had coughing fits.

Are You Being Served played out the misadventures of Department Store workers at Grace Brothers. Mr. Humphries (John Inman) could be considered the 1st Gay character on television. Screw "openly Gay", he was as queer as a three dollar bill, everyone knew it, suggestive humor flew by like a twinkly, light-loafered fairy, but it was never discussed. It was just accepted and so cool that the English (And Europeans too) didn't care . It was fuckin' hysterical. He was service worker #13 in Man's fashions. "Unlucky for some" he would say. Way ahead of it's time. Take THAT "Ellen". His catch phrase "I'm free!" came from an exchange with the stiff-lipped Department Head, Captain Peacock:

Captain Peacock: Mr. Humphries are you free?

Mr. Humphries: That depends what you had in mind Captain Peacock.

Captain Peacock: Mr. Humphries...

Mr. Humphries: I'm Free!

What I totally did get was their mannerisms, double-takes and sense of upper class propriety as they acted like absolute buffoons. Many of them had most likely learned from their predecessors (English AND American); Chaplin, Laurel & Hardy, Keaton, Lloyd, Arbuckle, The Marx Brothers and the list goes on and on. So much could be conveyed with just a look, a reaction or a simple stumble.

I remember watching Benny Hill with my Dad and couldn't believe he let us. Here's this rotund, quasi-lecherous, middle-aged man surrounded by all these scantily clad females and all the while he keeps slapping the head of this wrinkled old guy in his underwear and the show always ended with them running after each other with that music...Daaaaa, da-da-datta-datta-datta-datta-datta-datta-da-da-datta-datta-da. Da-da-da-datta-datta-datta-datta-datta-datta-da-da-datta-datta-da...you know it. It was so silly, but sooooo funny.

However, in my opinion, the best British series ever was Fawlty Towers. John Cleese and his Wife (at the time) Connie Booth, created only 12 episodes, but it is hands down the funniest television in modern creation. If you don't believe me, search it out and watch. It's that funny. Cleese is the master of the "slow burn". I'm certain everyone has their favorite shows and it may not include Basil & Sybil Fawlty, Polly, Maunuel and the lunatics residing in Torquey at Fawlty Towers Hotel. But it should. Speaking of lunatics, The Young Ones are a probably a close second for me.

Comedy is always funniest when those performing it are never aware they're trying to be funny. That's the BIG problem with American comedians or comic Actors that I can't stand. The mugging, over the top physical shtick and the vulgar dirty humor done with a wink and a nod. Don't get me wrong, there is a place for that kind of humor, but it's never even come close to the comic brilliance that comes from investment in character, truth and realism. It lends itself to guaranteed hilarious moments.

In classic Laurel & Hardy shorts, Stan could sit there for 3-5 minutes an do practically nothing with any object and you could see the wheels inside of his head turning, trying to work things out. Ollie would be right there with you, but his disbelief was equally hilarious. Stanley would have you transfixed, beside yourself with laughter and you could watch for another five minutes. Chaplin was like that too. And both of them...British. Even drama can work better with peppered moments of humor that accompany the serious moments. It's real, honest and disarming.

However, I can tell you my absolute favorite kind of comedy, next to slapstick, is absurdist.

One discovery I made in British Comedy a number of years ago was The BBC Home Service Radio's The Goon Show - www.thegoonshow.net. Performed in the 1950s by Spike Milligan, Harry Secombe and a young Peter Sellers. It was done every Sunday night, recorded in front of a live audience at The Camden Theater in London and included live foley sounds, orchestral interludes and hardly any breaks or edits.

Spike Milligan was the Head Writer and he had a some co-writers, but he did the brunt of over 250 episodes in their 10 year run non-stop run from 1951-1960. It literally drove him crazy and he spent some time in a sanitarium. Unfortunate as that was, his insanity is what was so wonderful about the show. It was an absurdly, hysterical stream of consciousness storyline with wonderfully crafted stock characters. It showcased Milligan's writing genius and Sellers' facility with characterization and vocal acuity. It deeply influenced members of Monty Python and was listened to weekly by two young English lads; John Lennon and Charles Phillip Arthur George, The Prince of Wales. The American boy who is writing this blog, is a rabid fan who has listened to every single episode that was able to be saved and digitally restored for posterity.

Many contemporary British shows are equally as good as the classics I watched: Mr. Bean, Absolutely Fabulous, Black Adder, A Bit of Fry & Laurie, The Office, Little Britain, Father Ted (Irish, but very similar sensibility) and countless others worth mention. Many great American sitcoms are BASED on old British ones: Steptoe & Son (Sanford & Son), Til Death Do Us Part (All In The Family), Man About The House (Three's Company), The Office, Queer as Folk and Who's Line Is It Anyway?.

There are so many awesome movies, TV series, theatrical productions and Actors from England. For some reason, people give Brits more reverence and respectability when it comes to Acting. It's not just because they have cool accents or because they're too much better or because they do Shakespeare so well. It helps, but I think it's because they have more respect for the craft and that it should be taken seriously.

Today I was talking to one of my flyer jockey mates, Phil, and he's from England. Very talented, super-cool and works as an Actor a lot. I really hope to work with him one day and we've talked about it. It's not that he doesn't work hard or is lacking in any ability, but being British does give him a bit of an edge here in this country. Because he's a native, and he doesn't have to do a forced, awful English accent like most of us here do. Even though he has a survival job with us, he's always booking work because he's not only talented, smart and respects his craft, but he's British. I'm sure even he would agree to a point that it's an advantage. I told Phil what I was writing about and we did chat a bit about shows we watched and I now have some new ones he suggested. One being The Fast Show I think he said. I'll have to ask again, but looking forward to something British and new.

Acting and entertainment is a business. One to be taken seriously. The English know that and those of us who do that in this country are respected equally by our British peers.

Comedy is an especially serious business. I love making people laugh and am VERY serious about comedy. I guess that's why I have a knack for it. I learned at a young age.

You have to free your mind, be open to every possibility, accept and build, take risks and fear nothing.

Are YOU free?

I love my flyer jockey Supervisor, Don.  I was nearing the end of my shift last night outside in Times Square and Don showed up to see how the few of us left were doing. As far as I've heard, Don has been doing the flyer thing for almost two years. He may have been doing it longer, but regardless, he's my Supervisor and he's fabulously muti-talented. A Professional Dancer, Actor, Personal Trainer and he also told me that he's studying to be a Male Nurse, or a Physical Therapist, not sure which, but he's busy. And he rules. Everyone who works for different companies outside flyering, knows him. He's laid back, understanding, flexible, yet does his job efficiently and no-nonsense when he has to. "Yay." He says that a lot and it's always happy to hear.

The reason I'm giving him a buildup and appreciating his existence is because he's one of us. He's a working Performer who knows the business, makes the sacrifices you have to make, puts up with the bullshit and lives the life you have to lead. We were talking for a few minutes and he did tell me a few days ago that he's currently dancing in a professional production. Cool right? Well apparently, this 6 foot tall, 195 lb. (more or less), physically fit Personal Trainer and Dancer said that he had to lose 10 lbs. because his costume was a bit tight. Hmmm. I see.

I asked him, "Where are you supposed to lose it from? Are going to cut off your head?". The head averages 12 lbs., so the Producers should be satisfied with that. I realized I sounded like my Dad. Don then proceeded to explain how he and the other Dancers and Actors were talking in the dressing room about how they have to lose the extra weight. They talk about it in front of the very Producers, Directors and Costumers who tell them to lose weight and all they do is laugh it off and leave. Don says they rehearse, work out, walk everywhere, take diuretics, supplements and starve themselves. But, in order to keep functioning properly and not do any permanent damage to their liver or other parts of their body, they only eat bananas when they absolutely need to. 

I couldn't really say anything. Because I myself sometimes fast and skip meals, have purged on a rare occasion after eating way too much (but never made it a bulimic lifestyle and it wasn't purposeful), walk everywhere when I'm in the city and do starve myself to drop weight. But I must have given a look of concern and worry because Don then said, "It's not MY eating disorder, it's the INDUSTRY'S eating disorder." 

I fell out with laughter. I'd never heard that before and he couldn't be more right. Well, sort of.

I told him I was writing a personal blog and asked if I could quote him because I thought it was a brilliantly twisted philosophy. He said it was fine and I proclaimed that I had my topic for next blog. Today. It's about one of our basic, natural, survival instincts: Sustenence. Replenishing your body with whatever necessary nutrients it needs to sustain bodily functions. Only in this day and age, I think we sustain just a teeeeeny-weeeeeny bit too much. Or, in the case of those of us in show business, just a teeeeeny-weeeeeny too little...ahhh who the hell am I kidding....

In the world today, we're either a bunch of compulsively eating overweight fucks, or a gaggle of starved, bulimic anorexics. 

Where did we go wrong? Was it our fault at all? Was it the media? Our upbringing? Slim Goodbody?

Strangely enough, I'm not going to go off on a rant. About how we're too fat, too skinny or how undernourished some third-world countries who don't even have the ability to consume, or waste food the way we do here in more fortunate climbs are literally starving.  Damn. I think I just ranted. All we can deduce, that's common knowledge anyway, is it's the product of your upbringing, poor school nutrition, the media AND your own jugement. 

It's all about moderation. The brilliant comic BLOOM COUNTY, by Pulitzer-prize winning strip creator Berkeley Breathed, may be my favorite comic strip ever. Witty, sardonic, political, satirical and pure genius. I had every book collection he published and can cetainly count him as a writing inspiration for those of us self-proclaimed "smart-asses". Give him a read, a look and just laugh - www.berkeleybreathed.com. One strip in the volume "Billy and The Boingers Bootleg" has Opus the Penguin trying to lose weight. He considers every method imaginable: fad diets, liposuction with a vacuum cleaner and even the negative reinforcement method of being thwacked on the head whenever he approaches food. Our town Hero, Milo Bloom suggests repeatedly he "Eat less and exercise". Opus is very dubious and stubborn at first, but then relents. 

This doesn't make Berke Breathed any more intelligent than the rest of us for drawing a simple solution to a simple problem, but he grew up in a time where moderation was commonplace. Hell, I grew up in the 70s and 80s when moderation and a little self control in the food department was still commonplace. You ate at the table with your family as Mom or Dad, or both, prepared the meal in the kitchen. Going out to eat was a special event and perhaps happened once a month. That included fast food. Going out now happens on average once or twice a week, if not more with families. And fast food chains, gas & fill up marts and even corner pharmacy super stores have rearranged their store configurations to offer meal replacement alternatives before the checkout aisle on a daily basis. Why not? It's fast, inexpensive and sustains. It sustains SUPER SIZE for only a dollar more!

I think we're all aware. You see them at a sports event, on vacation at a theme park, or even walking through the streets in your neighborhood. A ridiculous number of people carrying too much weight for their frame or disgustingly obese. And it's not always a glandular problem or genetics. Humans are complicated machines and there are many factors to consider. We're classified into three body frame types: ectomorphs (thin), mesomorphs (muscular) and endomorphs (heavy set). Each has a propensity to gain or lose weight and muscle. Then, your DNA has a part to play with your body and how it reacts to foods, exercise and the altering the speed of your metabolism. But really? Eating til your 500 lbs. is not a disease. It's a choice. Like drinking too much or doing drugs. 

When I was a kid, I had a weight problem. I wasn't obese, just heavy for my size. My Parents were too, my Brother a bit and our eating habits only bordered on healthy. We were happy eating. Sure, I remember sitting at the table as my Mom cooked almost every single night. We went out once a month and when we did, my Dad would discourage me from eating off the adult menu. But it looked better than the kids menu and I was really hungry. When my Mom would shop, aside of the good foods for meals, there would be chips, dip, devil-dogs, twinkies and other yummy snacks that would be for our lunch box and the weekends. As a teen, I was mistaken for a girl more times than I can remember because my genetics gave me a small frame, a wide pelvis and I had boy boobies and a butt cut hairdo. At my peak weight I was 13 years old, 5 foot 3 inches tall and weighed 175 pounds. No exaggeration. I was tubby. 

But I LOVED to eat. I still do. I consider myself a "foodie" and love that I'm in the BEST city in the world to sample any kind of food you want. And I DO! My Mom is a killer cook and was taught how by my Dad, his Mom (Grandma Edith) and her Mom (Grandma Assunta). Italian food. Now, I cook the same way. It's in the blood. Cooking is love. We love to eat in my family and I enjoy it so much. A little too much sometimes. Especially as a kid. But I wasn't auditioning for parts, being judged by anyone (for employment anyway) and it wasn't a constant worry. But it slowly became an issue. 

I was scorned by the girls. Picked on by the bigger kids and jocks. Blown off by the troublemakers and freaks, but the geeks? I fit there. I was the short, pudgy kid who did all the characters, was a fellow computer nerd, gamer and movie geek. Kind of a combination of Chunk and Mouth from The Goonies. At least I had a clique and wasn't a loner or sociopath. Social misfit, sure, but didn't have a reason to lose weight or goto the prom. I wanted to, but, BIG butt as a matter of fact. We were all scorned and stuck together on nights everyone else was out getting laid. I was a quiet kid anyway, but because of the ridicule, insults and other kids just being plain mean, wow, did I hate myself. So, I did something about it. I left home and the very place where I was loved and hated.

My Brother and I decided to go away to boarding school and I started working out. And fuck me, I was still made fun of by the jocks there. But I started to feel better after dropping about 35 lbs. and finally started dating my Senior year, then more in college. I felt even more confident when I showed an interest in theatre, sang with the traveling a capella group and even rebelled a bit by finding my identity as a raver/goth kid. Then, when I hung out more of the freaks and theatre crowd that were like me, I started smoking. Yep. I started sophmore year and lost some of the weight I gained back from the "freshman 15". In the performance world a LOT of people smoke. It speeds up your metabolism, curbs your appetite and rather than stick food in your mouth, you smoke 'em if you got em.

It kept my weight down for the next 10 years. I tried running, but fuck that. Only do that if you're being chased down a dark alley on the Lower East Side by a group of hyper-evolved speed-freak mutant Zombies. We have them here you know. Instead, if I have the time and I'm within a fifty block radius of my destination here in the city, I walk. Easier on my joints, great aerobic workout and you can window shop.

I finally stopped some of those habits that are really bad for your health. I quit smoking, but find myself still doing it occasionally. And stopped skipping meals, but do it if I need to lose a few pounds for an audition or performance. I consider myself borderline anorexic. Because I actively don't eat to lose weight and hide the fact, or lie when I say that I have. Why I'm borderline is that I love food. I have my comfort foods and my haunts in the city that I frequent have the best foods in the world. Food is good. Food is happy. Yay.

People in the entertainment and fashion industry and kids too young to even start dieting are hurting themselves because they don't have a personal trainer, sushi chef, or a lighting tech to place that soft, china ball light over your head while a professional wardrobe mistress and make-up artist make you look like a lusty-eyed, raven-haired "Lolita" in a Betsey Johnson frock. The media IS part of the problem, but they don't HAVE to be. As long as positive role models teach kids to love themselves. Tell them to be self confident. Don't tell them they have to go to Fat Camp or take them for granted and treat them like they're a burden. Tell them to make fun of the kids who are fat, ugly and poor because it's a cut-throat world and it's either you or them. Too many horror stories I've been told by friends who have things exactly like this said to them.

I have issues not because my Parents didn't care or didn't give me enough love and support, but because it was humiliating. I didn't say anything, retreated into my imagination, my safe fantasy world and knew that these kids who made fun of me would eventually, most of these kids will look like crap at 40. My friends can't believe I have weight issues, because I keep myself at a 'livable" weight. I will always have issues. Now I stay between 135-140 lbs. and will fluctuate under or over depending on how busy, or sedentary I am work-wise. I always feel like that chubby 13 year old even though I'm considered to be a "sexy", "handsome" and even "hot" 40 year old Man. Not my opinion, but I have been told all these as recently as this week. 

Believe me. I'll take it.

And I'll take an everything bagel with lox spread, a veal cutlet parmigiana hero, plate of cajun crawfish ettouffee with a side of sauteed spinach, a Reeses peanut butter cup sundae, slice of damn fine cherry pie with vanilla ice cream and a cup of black coffee. 

And a Diet Coke.

What?

Social networks. Public forums. Status updates. I remember when MySpace became all the rage. Put up your profile, your bio, interests, pics, videos, post to a wall and you can even enter code to "pimp" your page and personalize it a skosh. Because I hadn't been on in a while, and I'll get to why in a sentence or two, I checked it out just now (Mercifully, I have the day off) and it's lost it's very reason for why it differentiated itself, sauntered off to more modified pastures to reap the benefits of other more popular site formats and changed the one aspect I actually liked about it in the first place. My personalized profile is not the home page anymore. My "pimped" page got sloppy seconds. MAN I outta slap 'dat BITCH HO on principle!

I did it back then because, alright, everybody else seemed to be doing it. You should never want to be in any kind of club that would have someone like you as a member. I think I was member 56,000,000 when I signed up in 2005, I don't know. By the time 2007 rolled around the membership had peaked at 300,000,000 or some-such ridiculous number, the summer rolled around and someone said to me, "Hey. You on Facebook?". I said, "No. What's Facebook?".

I think many of us, in retrospect, may have regretting asking that question when we were first asked it. Seemed harmless enough at the time. "What's Facebook?". Simple. Innocent. Interrogative. Life-sucking. Deadly.

If you asked that question today, January 6th, 2011, "What's Facebook?", it's likely A FedEx driver should have taken that left turn at Albuquerque and ended up in Pyinmana Township, Burma (population unknown) initiating small-talk will the only local villager who speaks English to see if there's anywhere he can pick a few bars of a signal to Facebook status post "I'm cold, I'm wet and I'm just plain scared."

Facebook is an obsession. A world phenomenon. The social networking, application playing and media posting brain child of a 26 year-old Harvard educated computer hacker from White Plains, NY. After launching it in 2004, it now has over 500 million users, continues to grow at an exponential rate and creator Mark Zuckerberg is now worth 15 billion dollars.

The other phenom in the social spectrum is Twitter. A microblogging and networking service that allows you to post your status, by the second, in 140 characters or less. With almost 200 million users, Jack Dorsey and his buddies in San Francisco have also touched upon the public nerve. I only cite these as examples that lead the pack for the other dozens of sites and services that you can link to reach even more of the SAME people to pose a socializing question: When did we stop talking to one another? Yet, with finding it even easier now and socially acceptable to not have to be face-to-face or eye-to-eye with each other, people hate the fact that no one pays attention to them in what seems to be the height of our socialization.

It's what everyone wants nowadays. To be heard by an audience. Any audience. Their 642 "Friends", 283 "Followers" and the 52 capacity sitting on the bus across from you. People in their lives feel ignored, pushed aside or suffer from some complex and have to over-compensate for what they either didn't get at home, work or even ironically, online. Society owes them some consideration and courtesy for just being alive.

"Pay attention to ME!"

The age of ENTITLEMENT.
That's what we should call it unless someone penned it before I did.

I do it myself in fits and spurts. I'll occasionally post a status on Facebook and once in a blue moon, Tweet something. It's usually when I have something "meaningful" to say and not just because I rearranged my sock drawer or because I want you to help me defend the 31 petunias I just planted in my victory garden that's being overtaken by the Vampyre Mafia. As an Actor, the internet, social networking, blogging, vlogging and email blasts to promote your career, your wares and most importantly, YOURSELF, is the best thing that ever happened to an Actor. It save us the stamps, the manila envelopes, door-to-door knocking on Agent's doors, promotion and the industrial line mailings we used to do. Isn't that just another bitch of my existence? Something that was supposed to make my job easier and get me more excited to get my name, talents and abilities out there, and I rarely do it. I actually avoid it. I started old school, it worked, and even though I make the minimal effort at submissions and promotion online, I can't stand promoting myself or letting people know what I'm doing. Honestly, it's partly because when all this came about, I DID throw myself into the fray. I messaged, linked, emailed, snail-mailed, postcarded AND called on the phone old school to get people interested. To get them to come. Industry, new contacts and even friends. I constantly gigged. But people hardly came.

After a while, industry, new contacts and yes, even friends, didn't come. They still don't when I Facebook invite and even in person when I get "Absolutely, next gig you have!". So I stopped bothering. Stopped caring. I'm not saying this to make anyone feel bad and no, not every gig I had no matter what type of performance it was, was either too expensive or too out-of-the-way. I would have stretches where my Facebook was generic and gave only minimal information. Even to friends. I hardly ever put up a profile picture of myself. It's usually some Peter Sellers incarnation. He was the ultimate no-identity crybaby who loved his characters more than himself. My anti-hero. And my Twitter would remain dormant for months. Why do I even have them? My carefully devised plan was to disconnect myself from the the world. "Sell the house. Sell the car. Sell the kids. Find someone else. Forget it. I'm never coming back. Forget it!" Well, not exactly, but my point is...ACK...I just swallowed a bug.

I'm very selective with people I hang out with now, who I want to spend time with and I never expect anyone to reciprocate even if I do a solid for them and give my support. It's not that people don't have their own lives. They do. But they prioritize. I'm guilty of punking out on supporting friends' endeavors even though I said I was gonna, or wanted to come. We're all guilty of it. But dammit, I've been doing this for SO LONG and given SO MUCH of myself and my previous posts on negativity and getting rejected were purposeful indictments of my continual ongoing disappointments with people and things. So, I regress.

I hide in my social networking cave and come out like the groundhog, or the changing of the seasons. And when I do, it's usually pithy, significant, something that poses a discussion and becomes a mini event as I do get a number of people paying attention to ME! When you post, status and blog every day (and sometimes every other minute of every day), people tend to zone you out because it's too much. It becomes inane, insipid and pedantic to need a cheering section because you stepped out the door, drove to work and then did your freakin' laundry. But that's me. To me, it's safer this way.

And last night, I just threw that plan, and my mojo, completely into the crapper. I HATED that I eventually had to post this out into the world. I was comfy in my own self-congratulatory wit, rambling about myself and being able to calculate a 1,000 words a day (and sometimes WAY over) so I can call myself a writer and at least get the damage and pain inside my skull out onto a word processor after years of deliberate delay. I also do it in the hopes that maybe it could help my Acting career and if it doesn't, perhaps this writing thing could take me in a whole new direction. Keep your options open, I suppose. In all sincerity, I have to thank my Brother for kicking me in the ass. This is as much his as it is mine.

This blog IS helpful to me and my closet need to be heard at the end of every day. I hope it's at the very least comical amidst the tragedy that I keep skirting and postponing every 24 hours toward my inevitable failure. I'm not attempting to be too clever clever for my own good and then discovering that no one really gives a shit. That I'm a talentless hack and just one more whiny blogger, feeling sorry for himself. I don't want sympathy, or empathy from anyone on that ole' world of wide interweb and am not asking for it. In finding my own semblances of happiness and knowing that I have friends, family and loved ones who do care, the true enemy is my own psyche and it's lonely fragility. I'm FraGILE. Must be Italian. Eh. Predictable, but it was there.

But, I love patterns and predictability and I'm at the very least not going to disappoint myself. I know where this is going: Fuck it.

Tragedy tomorrow. Comedy tonight.

Gonna be a long winter having to work outside. I'm sure I'll bemoan how cold it is again this season. I'm pretty certain. At least a few more times. Five at the absolute maximum.

This is certainly not the coldest day we've had yet, being only the second week of winter. But after yesterday's balmy 47 degrees in Times Square, 28 degrees today, sucks. And the sun just went behind the Ernst & Young building. Crapola. Gotta keep the pipes warmed up with vocal exercises for the show tonight. This job is not condusive to being a singer. Sigh.

What's keeping me partially warm is the thought of being home tomorrow night with Jen. Mmmmm. Electric space heater that looks like a fireplace, toasty, intimate snuggles while watching a good, gory horror movie and on my warm crotch, the wet nose of a Boxer named Tango...(record scratch)...wait...ah fuck it. Fantasy spoiled. Dumb dog. Love him to pieces, he's loyal and always eager to be a good boy, but he's as smart as a bag of hammers. Although, he wiggles and jiggles when he's excited. It's so funny how excited he gets even if you leave him for 10 minutes and go to the store and come back. Jen told me an anecdote about how a co-worker once told her "If you locked your dog and your wife in the trunk of a car and then got them out after an hour, who would be more excited to see you?" Good boy.

What also WAS keeping me warm was the thought of being done with the survival job in a few hours, then heading to the cool and trendy, Brooklyn Bowl for my Band's gig. It's an AWESOME venue www.brooklynbowl.com.

I'm-a getting there early to order something off the menu, have a beer and sit back in the green room before we step on stage to entertain the "masses" who will come to do their own personal white-man's overbite to the sounds of Pat Benetar, Cyndi Lauper, Survivor, Journey and Bob Seger, to name just a few.

Pre-Show. Just wait til those fans show up.
Just you wait...waiting...ROCK 'N ROLL!!!

You know, I don't think I've even hipped you to my Band's name: White Wedding.

Yup that's us. Visit us at www.whiteweddingband.com. There shameless plug, link included.

I was in a couple other Bands in the last few years. A hard rock Band called Vermont Wisconsin (Cheesy Rock, get it?) and we did classic rock, metal, grunge and hardcore. It was great to rock out with those guys (Pat, Rich and Rob). They still gig with a different lineup in Long Island and I miss them. After that I was with a classic rock/blues Band called Urban Shock (Rich (same Rich), Greg, Gas & Anthony) and even though it was short lived, it was my favorite music to rock out to: Hendrix, Zeppelin, Stones, Bad Company, CCR, ZZ Top...

But now, it's all 80s. It's so popular now. Musak in clothing stores and supermarkets play it everywhere. Teens and college kids know it because it's retro and also thanks to nostalgic movies and satellite radio.

Even though it's a bowling alley, it's the same people who booked White Wedding at BB King's. Hell, The Roots played here at Brooklyn Bowl a few days ago on New Years Eve. BB King's gave us the same Rock Star treatment too. Rock Stars. That's how we're treated at some of these places now. Only...without the huge paycheck, lines of coke on the glass tabletop and a topless groupie underneath pressing her boobies up against it. Hee. Boobies. Ah-hem.

Our Green Room.
Are those leather couches? Swaaaaanky.

This can qualify as a non-failure in my career right? We've worked our asses off to get to this point and continue to do so in order to get bigger, better gigs. I mean, right now it's not enough to live on alone, but maybe it will be. That's why you do it. You do it for free at first to prove yourself and then keep proving yourself until you graduate to the next level. Then you get paid to do it. Then you only accept a minimum as to not undervalue what you supply to meet the demand. I'm getting paid, there are perks and it keeps me out of the cold. At least for tonight. Tomorrow morning it's back to flyer jockeying in the cold. But tonight...ROCK & ROLL!!!

Time to go.

"HELLO CLEVELAND!"

Blog Day 4, hump day of the first week of my Blog. Now I know it's actually Day 5 with the Origin Story Day starting the whole thing. The Origin Story being a figurative Day 1 rather than a literal one. For those actually reading and paying attention, it's a literal Day 5 (January 2nd)  and figurative Day 4 (that day being literal January 1st) with figurative Day 1 (being literal December 30th) and literal Day 1 (literal December 29th) being an Origin Story. I got it.

SO, felt like crap after work yesterday. Working on a cold. It's a good one. Good pacing in the congestion department and aches and pains are coming along nicely. Working every day since the day after the Blizzard of 2010 (Figurative Pre-Origin Story Day negative 2 and literal December 27th...anyway) is not helping. Been drinking OJ, takin' meds and trying to combat the sluggishness of working the past six days outside while feeling crappy. And I have three more work days to go with a show tomorrow night.

Hate being poor. But the SHOW will actually be SUPER-GROOVY. We get a green room, get fed off the awesome menu for free, free booze, and a 2 hour show featuring your favorite 80s hits starting at 8. AND we get paid. Not too shabby. THAT'S all of our full-time freakin' dream job isn't it? Nothing but performance without having to wait tables, bartend, cater or stand outside handing out flyers to make ends meet.

But today as I head to Times Square and hand out flyers to make ends meet and... it's raining.

Sigh.

Fuck it.

Wait, I've actually been writing that all along with no irony. Origin Story. What am I a Superhero?

Mild mannered, painfully shy, wallflower and cub reporter for the Picayune Blog Daily Inquisitor by day, PRETENTIOUS MAN fights a never-ending battle for the fine art of bullshit, flim-flam and let's play pretend til we're way to old! Douchebag.

I can't stand it sometimes that I'm over 40 and still can barely take care of myself and my loved ones. I really tried to give up and live a normal life. REALLY tried. A number of times. I looked, applied and made a herculean effort job hunting: teaching, retail and I even tried to be a bank teller. They either told me I was underqualified, needed a specialized degree or they just aren't hiring because of downsizing. I even took online aptitude tests for HOURS for a few corporate giants and they told me "Your skills and aptitude does not meet our minimum requirements." You believe that? I can't qualify to deliver packages or rent cars to people due to the fact that their application process and query told me so. What the shit is this? Weed out those who are qualified, competent and professional because their "personality quiz" said so? Goat fuckers.

Hard times aplenty for the last few years and despite the optimistic forcast for 2011, people still aren't hiring. I can only seem to find jobs that hire Actors because we'll do the stuff people don't want to, or can't do. I'm thankful for the good friends I have who have recommended me and thrown work my way. I'm very appreciative. But it's like the Universe wants me to hang on. Still. For 18 years though? I hate this and me.

Bitch, bitch, bitch, is that all I ever do? Whiny shithead.

And I think that will be it the colorful name-calling. At least for today. Don't want to overuse a theme or literal device. Have to pace myself the way a true literati would...dickweed.

But this is Day 5. Day 5! However, the number five is universally significant in many circles (Spritual AND Science based!). Do some research and see. Fellow Wiccans and Discordians especially know what I'm talking about. Five is a great number day to try being positive.

It's still difficult to be glass half-full Guy when rain is filling the glass. Stupid glass glass now being one-quarter empty. In this freakin' rain outside it's difficult to type without damaging my smartphone. But through the spritzing, schvitzing and plotzing...OY VEY...I notice a couple new workers they hired and one is chronically late. She seems nice, introduced herself, but may have a problem keeping her job if it's a thing with her. And she even tells me this as much today.  I hate being late personally. It's a thing with me. I actually get pissed at myself when I'm late for ANYTHING and get irked when I'm late because of others. It's honestly only for professional stuff when I really get mad, but it rarely happens.

And I'll tell you why.

My first professionally paid acting gig ever was a voiceover gig for a local cable company here in the city. Well, not really the city, but being one of the boroughs it's part of the city. Staten Island. Well, it's really not even completely an Island. It's partly a landfill. For garbage. Used to be. It's pungent legacy remains. Stinkin Island. I booked a gig there and their transporation system is, well, let's kindly say, limited. And unless you have a car, which I didn't at the time, you're kinda steeped in shaight as ya may very well be in da Scottish Highlands fer feck saik. I was late because I ONLY gave myself 2 hours, coming from my first apatment in Astoria, Queens. I had to take the N train, to the 1 train, to the Staten Island Ferry, to the one MTA S.I. Bus, only to have the bus driver be non-too helpful with the address I had for the TV station that I had to go to, so I was dropped off 1 mile away with only 10 minutes to get there.

The worst thing about being late to a professional gig is that they usually say it's "no problem". But it is. Because being late wastes their time and wasting their time costs money and they don't care if you've never been to Staten Island and underestimated what a travel challenge it was going to be. Bottom line, I never heard from them again and the person whom I booked the gig with said it would be a recurring gig. It certainly didn't end my career, but I only understood later when disappointment set in and KNEW why they didn't call me back. As a producer and director of projects I learned first-hand how unprofessional being late is.

Now I always leave myself more than enough time when I'm going to anything. And I don't show up too-too early, but I arrive at least 10 minutes before I have to be there. Relaxed. Not rushing. They can see you sweat. They know what frightens you. In space no one can hear you scream. Because there's no oxygen. In the Acting world, no one can hear you scream because they don't give a shit unless they're making money from you doing it because Director Eli Roth set your naughty bits on fire as they're sitting in a rusty vice.

Just don't be late. Ever. Your naughty bits may depend on it.

I'm now going to attempt to stay positive for this 5th day of my blog and I don't want to disappoint anyone, but have no fear kiddies, Gothy Rain Cloud Boy will return.

This being the second day of the New Year, I'm being fashionably late because it's trendy, I'm not going to make a laundry list of resolutions to feel better about myself. Always hated resolutions, "Here's what I'm gonna try and do that I shouldn't have done so much of last year that I knew damn well was bad for me and non-productive, SO, I'm gonna make a list of each and every one of those things (most of which I like doing and make me happy) only to remind me that the likelihood of me doing it ALL OVER AGAIN it will be pretty damn likely."

Horseshit-New Years resolutions-stupid marketing ploy.

C'mon Dude. Positive. POSITIVE!

I'm going to gush a bit about a few things that actually were GOOD in the last year. Enough complaining and let's tip our hats to happiness!

1. My daughter Gracie. It can be said that I am a complete mess without my little girl, but I've learned to deal. I went from being a full-time Daddy to rarely seeing her. But I'm grateful that my Ex is understanding and flexible with my visiting and when I have more money I can possibly see her more.

Gracie is stronger than me for only 5 1/2. She has told me she loves me, but also has told me she misses me and is beginning to understand the situation. Her communication has been flourishing and her special school is just what she needed to get her up to speed. Time, care and Cat being a constant, nuturing presence as her Primary Parent is so good for her. Gracie and I are apart, but are very similar that we both feel very much without having to say anything. We're apart, but things will get better. I believe that.

Funniest thing she did this past year? So, my Ex is in the downstairs playroom with Gracie and they're watching Mulan. Going to war they cry "FOR CHINA!" Gracie get's Mama's attention. "Look Mama." Gracie points at her crotch "VAGINA!". Priceless. She's gonna be okay. I love you Gracie. Daddy loves you.

2. My girlfriend Jen. She found me on her three day free trial on a Goth dating website. Don't say it. We both know. Inevitable explanation to come.

She's SO freakin' cool. We're exactly alike (even with our damage), both are pretty quiet and have similar senses of humor. And one of the coolest things: she's not an Actress. I will admit to always being attracted to the kind of Girl who was like myself as an Actor; fearless, witty and creative. But Jen, even though a blue-collar electrician, is a DJ, plays the guitar really well and is an awesome artist.

It's difficult to make me laugh. I'm especially impressed when females are able to do it, thus the inherent attraction. It's not a sexist thing, it's just the way it is. We're in the car coming back from a pub in Red Bank on New Years Eve. Jen's on her GPS when it starts giving incorrect directions, as they do (stupid computers). She grumbles and as if to make it feel bad yells "You're Mother was an Atari!". I almost drove into a snow bank. She's doesn't feel the need to be "on" all the time, but when she randomly does that, it kills me.

We've had some difficult times with my myriad of issues and her own personal issues (we all have our bad days), but we worked at it even when all seemed lost, and it nearly was. Because that's what you have to do. Inherently, you need so much in common and I now know that YES INDEED you should date someone EXACTLY like yourself. If not indefinitely, then try it at least once. You know what to expect. We're happy. We don't even count time. We just are. We both hate ourselves and loathe our very existence while we pat ourselves on the back because we can't stand how cool, clever and hip we are sometimes together.

And Jen has a little girl too. Gina. She's a cute, precocious 2 1/2 and a freaky communicator, speaking like a 6 year old now. She's also goofy-ass, like her Mama, and can rave dance like nobody's business. Her Daddy is another Blog entry entirely, but she took to me right away and I to her. She's not my blood, but I love her all the same.

Gracie & Gina will rule the world someday.

3. Friends & Family. Not that I should be surprised at the gobs of support I received during this difficult time. To every single person who heard the sordid tale, saw the confusion and pain and even extended their own sympathy and/or empathy, I'm eternally grateful.

What actually did surprise me was HOW MUCH support I received. ETERNALLY grateful.

I can even consider my Ex Wife, Cat, sorry, as one of those who was, and continues to be, supportive. We both put Gracie first and have her best interests at the heart of it all. We don't see eye to eye on many things, and will continue to work through our differences amicably. But working together, finding common ground and remaining friendly will ensure Gracie will grow up a happy soul. That's what matters the most to me (us).

And those of you without a cracked psyche may cast the first stress ball. Cracked people are the best. Old and young. Well, the good kind of cracked anyway.

"VAGINA!"