haiku #4

Trash becomes treasure
I celebrate the weather
Sweet! Forty Degrees!

Does this photo make my nose look crooked?

Here ya go, Sandy, this one's for you... Thanks to the lovely and talented Mr. Daren Scott for the headshots. (I booked my first job with these this week :)
And, for the record, if I ever do get my nose put back together again I won't lose the whole crooked, I'll just do the semi-crooked I was born with before I broke it twice and had my right nostril caved in. (It still doesn't work. If you want to asphyxiate me you don't have to plug my whole nose, just staple the left side shut. The common cold is a fucking nightmare. Zycam? Why-cam. It's bullshit. Coffee's ready gotta go.)

Let the games begin! (sigh)

I would be lying if I said I loved auditioning. Who does? It's sick. It's twisted. That said, I had a strong audition for Women's Project / Cherry Lane yesterday. And it was actually (gulp) fun.
My spider sense tells me I might be too young for the role (as does the actual um breakdown) but the audition was solid and the feedback was very positive. The CD from Playwrights Horizons was there so we got to say hi face to face, and the director of the piece gave me another lead and told me to name drop her, so that's a good sign.
In other news, my friend and former San Diego actor Spencer Moses called and asked me to be his scene partner for his audition into The Actor's Studio, so him and I are gonna team up on that. Might use it as my preliminary audition as well. Which is a bit intimidating seeing as how I always pictured myself ending up at The Actor's Studio, ever since I was a kid, and now the preliminary audition might be about a month away. What if I don't make it? Talk about an identity crisis! I think I'll literally just cease to exist if they turn me away. I'll start fading like Michael J in Back to the Future. In fact I'm feeling a little transparent right now, I better

Aaaaaaaand we're back...

Hello dear reader and sorry for the radio silence. The holidays were a blur. Kelly came out from the 22nd to the 4th, Adam Brick and Vanessa came out on the 28th and Brick stayed til the 9th - we all had a blast. When they all shipped out to the west coast I, naturally, was exhausted so of course I got sick. Still sniffeling and recovering I'm afraid but I do have news...

- Had my first NY audition on Monday. It was for a staged reading. Went to callbacks. Booked it! Feels good. A 1M/1W show. Premieres Jan 31st and Feb 1st at The Tank Theatre
- Tomorrow is my first "big" audition for a play at the Women's Project, co-produced with Cherry Lane Theatre. An intense, wonderful new script that I'd really, really like to book (like really, really!)
- Just set up a one-on-one meeting with the Casting Director at Playwrights Horizons - really excited about that! (thank you DA for the nod)

Hope you are all doing well and had a pleasant, ecstatic holiday season. Or whatever kind you wanted. (holy crap, the opera upstairs is really loud right now! does that happen anywhere else!?!) Sorry to be so factual (read: boring) this time around. Perhaps once this congestion passes I'll be funny again. (Was I ever funny?) Well, amusing hopefully. Now beat it. Scram. But come back soon. (bye)

Highlights / Nov 9 - 13

Went on a mission into the city to approve the retouching of my headshots in person. thought of myself (because i'm a dork) as jason bourne or something, weaving through the streets. found the building. up the elevator. "yep, they look great" "cool, they'll be ready tomorrow". walked out.

Finished NVA lobby redesign project. sweet. Golden Boy collage seen here. photography by Adam Brick

Found my local bar in Astoria. it's called Sweet Afton and it's great. low light, no TVs, great bartenders. I actually heard "Random Rules" by Silver Jews in the bar. Rad. This will become my regular spot, when I can afford it, and, really, my main source of social interaction with other bipeds since I work from home - a basement level apt that's getting colder everyday.

Went on a mission (see #1)... and picked up new headshots

Went to a reading at New Group.. exciting to see so much new work being put out there

Lunch with  Diana Ruppe, friend and fellow cast member from The Adding Machine at LJP. went to City Bakery in Union Square. slightly rainy day - found my way, which is still exciting, to a place I've never been. enjoyed catching up with Diana and talking theatre / film / agent / management

Yay, it's Daniel Aukin!

Sunday, Nov 8
My friend, colleague, and the lovely director of The Adding Machine at La Jolla Playhouse, Mr. Daniel Aukin got me a ticket to a preview of THIS, the new Melissa James Gibson play he's directing at Playwright's Horizons. When I entered the house I saw Daniel in the back row, texting. I looked back several times hoping to say hello, but he was clicking away. I didn't want to be too much of an intruder, and I knew this was, after all, previews for him, so I kept to myself. A few moments later I hear Daniel's familiar voice (has it really been over two years?).. "Josh?" I turn around. Big smiles on both ends. This, dear reader, is one of the moments I've been really looking forward to. Daniel was so great to work with and when we said so long in La Jolla his words were "This isn't goodbye, I'll see you in the city..." And, finally, here I am. Here we are, having a hug in the middle of the audience at Playwright's Horizon's on 42nd St. So cool.

The play was fantastic. All the elements were there. Great lights, sound, and an amazing set. Fantastic writing, direction and cast - which included Eisa Davis, Bulrusher playwright. After the show, Daniel and I got to exchange a few words and make plans to meet up after Thanksgiving. He truly made me feel welcome right there on 42nd street - a feeling I need to remind myself of, dear reader, on my lonely, broke-and-stuck-in-a-basement-apartment type days. Which are soon to come. And last. In the lobby I ran into Maiko Matsushima, the brilliant and lovely costume designer from The Adding Machine. More big smiles and warm welcomes. I exited the theatre feeling alive and glad to be there. I wandered around Times Square for a while, found TKTS, and eventually made it home on the subway all by myself.

Can you make me look less, I don't know, me?

Saturday, Nov 7
Jan showed me some casting opportunities so I got busy ordering my new headshots which were taken by the handsome and talented Mr. Daren Scott (hi daren, thank you). The spot I ordered from has a quick turn-around and, thank god, retouching services available. Some people have porcelain skin. Some. People.

Went back to Blackbird's that night and it was packed. Some kind of Anniversary party for a local couple. I am not, as you know dear reader, a local couple. Nothing quite like the loneliness of being a nobody in a sea of all-knowing, familiar somebodys. I will experience this many more times in the weeks to come.

Who's that idiot in the subway?

Friday, Nov 6
Yep, it's me. Bought my first NY Metro Card and spent $9 getting through the stall the first time. What. A dork. You'd think I'd never been in a subway before. The way it looked to my virgin eyes somehow confused me. An optical illusion. A litmus test to identify the train-worthy passenger. I was failing miserably. It was a swinging door type stall. I kept swiping my card, getting the green light then grabbing the bar closest to my shoulder instead of in front of me and rotating it one turn. Of course, after one turn, the bar locks. I essentially kept paying to lock myself out. After the third time the solution finally revealed itself to me as this young boy, who had just walked down the station stairs, turned to me and said, "You're supposed to..." "Yeah, no, I know, I mean... yeah," I stammered, picking up what was left of my dignity and self-worth, which wasn't much, and stuffing it in my pocket. I swiped my card, made it through the stall and got on the train. And it only cost me $9.00!

I headed to meet my friend Jan Leslie Harding from the cast of The Adding Machine at La Jolla Playhouse. I was to meet her at Times Square. This was a Friday night, maybe 6pm. Now, I knew I was headed to Times Square but it's been a good five years since I've set foot in the big apple and it wasn't until I popped out of the station and was accosted by the bright lights, enormous street signs and sea of moving people (Friday at 6 o'clock - christ!) that I realized, Holy Shit, I'm in Times Square! Times-m*th-rf^ck*ng-Square!!! (sorry, dear shy reader. but it will probably happen again) I joined the sea of moving people like, I think, a pro. Moving at the speed of pedestrian, weaving through, loving it. Jan and I and her daughter, young Chayda, met up and took a bus to, I believe, the West Village. Pasta, conversation, and holy crap-cakes, I'm in Manhattan.

Catching up...

Hello dear reader, welcome back. Lots of catching up to do. A recommendation if you wanna get the full effect: begin at the end. That is, start in November (link to the right) and go chronologically. Ok. My pants are wet but my notes are dry. Let's do this. 

Thursday, Nov 5
Today I walked my neighborhood. My apt is off of 30th Ave in Astoria, Queens. 30th is a main vein in Astoria so that's nice. I live on the quiet end, near 49th st. Walked the neighborhood, down 30th to Steinway, Steinway to Broadway. Shops. It's neat. A mix of delis, liquor stores and giant Victoria's Secretses. A week from now I will walk with ease, but today I am a little tense. Unsure of my neighborhood. I find an Internet cafe before I even take my phone out of my pocket. It's a good neighborhood.

Went grocery shopping for the first time at the local Trade Faire, a pretty typical market right on my corner. Went out for a beer at Blackbird's, a local pub / bar with nice low light. The late night menu gives you a free pint with your food order. A chicken wrap, delicious fries and a Guinness. Not a bad first night.

Day One (pt 2) / Wed, Nov 4

I reach my gate and before I even set my bags down I see a familiar face. Two, actually. And what makes this an amazing anecdote, dear reader, is that one of the faces was in my dreams a couple of nights before my flight - an anxiety dream about flying on a plane-bus (a vehicle that, as far as I know, only exists in dreams) through the streets of an abstract LA-ish urban landscape on its way to New York City. The faces belong to Sean Murray and Bill Schmidt, Artistic and Executive Directors of Cygnet Theatre, my other theatre home, in San Diego.

In my dream I was sitting next to Bill on this plane-bus-machine. I was unprepared for my move. "I haven't packed. I'm not ready. What am I doing?" I exclaimed. And Bill, the hero of my dream, friendly reader, got up and stopped the flight - which was taking place on the streets of this urban landscape, because, as you may or may not know, plane-bus-machines fly-drive on street-level in dreams. Let me just do this-hyphen-thing one more time. Thanks.

Needless to say -  you know, that's an odd expression seeing as how it's always followed by something said. Need-ful to say, it was great to have Sean and Bill on the flight. They sat right in front of me, with Sean and I on aisle seats mere inches away. Interesting tidbit: (forgive me Sean, Bill) Bill books the flights for them both and, as Sean leaned over and confessed to me, he books Sean in an aisle seat and himself at the window and leaves the middle seat open hoping no one will book themselves in the not-so-pleasant in-between spot. We were at the very back of the plane. I watched them watching the on-coming passengers. Will someone sit? Ooh, the excitement. Actually, it was pretty exciting, not to mention - (see, wait, same thing here - "not to mention" but then you do mention. weird.) - not to mention somehow endearing, to watch these two grown men hold their breath as a seemingly endless flow of passengers made their way down the aisle. Their plan was successful - open middle seat!

I, myself,  (see, again. english is weird. why would I say "I' about someone else? whatever.) I myself  sat next to a kind Swiss gentleman who, because the flight attendant chose to waive the five-dollar fee for our whiskeys, and because he didn't understand english too goodly, thought I bought him a drink. In between conversations with Sean, this Swiss gentleman and I had a brilliant chat about god-knows-what.

One bad in-plane movie and an episode of 30 Rock later, we land. I hop in a taxi and head to my apartment in Astoria. It's all very surreal. Nighttime in New York - in unfamiliar Astoria, no less. I am greeted by Kristen, a San Diego actor now in New York whos (who's?) apartment I am subletting (thank you Jay and Julie Sarno for the introduction and lovely dinner). Her boyfriend Jonathan joins us and we walk through the brick-building-lined streets - am I facing North? East? Where the hell am I? - to a small pub, Dillinger's, for a beer and a bite. Then home. I like my apartment. It's a basement apartment, and it's going to get a little weird and lonely, but I like it. Shoes off. Comfy bed with a down blanket - score! - and soon enough I'm out. Day one, d-u-n done. Tomorrow I will wake up and start anew in New York city.

Day One (pt 1) / Wed, Nov 4

So, here come the back-notes from the trip thus far. I won't guarantee excitement but I will try to be economic, dear reader. Bring on the humorous facts and curious anecdotes that are sure to be laced with a certain beautiful pathos. Yeah right. But I'll try to be interesting. Ok. Here we go.

Kelly and I rush to the airport after a long all-nighter of packing and last-minute decisions on exactly what to do with all-the-stuff-that's-still-left-in-this-frikn-apartment. Thanks to Tim Parker and Sam Sherman for helping us lug the boxes up the stairs at NVA. And to Sean Christopher for the late night tea visit.

We get in the car. It's a foggy San Diego morning. Traffic is poop. Still, we make the plane.

Turns out my third carry-on (one bag, two guitars) will cost an extra $100. The check-in guy decides we can tape the guitars together. I think this is brilliant. We tape the guitars together. Voila, two bags total. We head for the gate. Now, what happens next, dear reader, can never be truly defined by a simple writer like me. Not to it's fullest. For this is the moment that it all gets real. I had booked my flight months in advance. I packed and sold my belongings. I locked my truck and gave away the key. I had been discussing and planning this move for about three years. But not until now, when I look at my girl and begin to try to say goodbye, not until now does it all come forward.

The tears came on the second hug. We tried to keep it simple. We said goodbye for now. She walked away for what seemed like no reason at all. Neither one of us understood why she would just walk away after a hug. It didn't make sense, this getting-on-a-plane-without-you thing. I stood in line, teary-eyed. And if you know me, dear reader, you know I'm no longer a crier in my older, cynical years. Still, there I was, teary-eyed, standing in line puzzlingly alone.

And suddenly she was back for another hug. A few feet away from the security check point. Another hug, another impossible goodbye. We wave goodbye as she backs up down the terminal to the escalator, slowly dipping below the horizon. I remove my backpack and place it in a tub in preparation for the conveyor belt. "Babes!" I hear. And she is there again, leaning over the waist-high line divider. The other passengers are aware of us. Security is aware of us. She is 10 feet away. Do I leave my bag? Stall the line? I do. The people see and let it happen. Security sees and lets it happen. Surely we are breaking some vital security guideline. She is trying to give me money for my cab. This motion, hand over the divider, leaning forward, taking care of me despite the security issues and onlooking would-be passengers, this gesture, dear readers, is so endearing that your author loses-his-shit, I think the term is, and, crying through what must have been my proudest and most radiant and simultaneously heart-broken smile, I tuck her perfect fingers back around the money, place another kiss and, because I must, slide back to my bag to avoid the handcuff-greeting that surely would have occurred had I let my backpack slink one more foot down the security conveyor belt alone. Next thing I know I am through the gate, no handcuffs, no "freedom search". I am past the point of no return. I am on my way to New York city.

haiku #3

Shape size color style
Mix within a quarter mile
Wind blown Union Square

haiku #2

O Sweet Afton
You're almost as new as I
Exquisite timing