snapmuse’s blog

just another day

I have a full day today, including shooting with a really wonderful photographer and a supporting role feature audition. My acting bug has taken me to a new frontier... film. I have been doing quite a bit of work lately. It amazes me how much I knew when I was 18. I mean, none of the specifics of course (I'm a little psychic and then not so much... I think I'm just so paranoid that I imagine everything happening so it makes sense that I'm eventually right)... but quite a bit of the general picture. I always thought I wanted to do film work. Of course, theatre was really the only acting medium available to me in ..Wyoming. Now I find myself finally doing what I thought I would do when I was a teenager. Holy crap...

I shot some background work on Law & Order last week. It was a pretty great experience (yes, yes, even all of the waiting... I read THE OTHER BOLEYN GIRL which is quite good…). Everyone was so kind and patient and HAPPY, which is a sharp contrast from the perception of what successful industry people are supposed to be like. I booked the work through Central Casting, which has called me in for several projects.

I have a Staged Reading on Monday for a new work by Maggie Surovell called GOOD VIBRATIONS. This will be the second reading we have done. They are a great group of people and Maggie is sheer light and joy.

And now I'm bored of typing.

the deal-i-o, yo
Current mood:  listless

Oh my friends... I know that I have been ever delinquent and absent from my life for the past several months. And for this I apologize and kiss you on the mouth in thanks for your unwavering patience of my assholeness. The city is melting my face off and even sitting on this leather couch makes me tired and kinda sticky (leather + humidity = well, you know what it equals and it ain't exactly flourless chocolate cake). The city... she renders mountains of trash and the smell of dirty urine (as opposed to clean urine, which I guess would just be water... urine being waste and all)... and yet I still find myself in love with her, BO and all. We get into fights every now and again... usually over something stupid like the lack of oxygen in the air, or her radiating the full force of the sun off of her metallic face. But in the end I always find myself caught breathless in the sheer power of her gaze. Growing into her grace. We share the same drive for more, More, MORE. And I know when I wake in the night I'll find her quietly whispering to the sky, so as not to wake me.

Currently reading: A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius By Dave Eggers Release date: 13 February, 2001

48-Hour Film Project Showing

my madonna

Nothing is as serene as this city late on a late Monday night. She is my prayer. And I kneel before her. Always. Thankful.

TALES OF THE LOST FORMICANS through April 15th

Hello friends and fellow artists,

One bedroom storage unit

Just A Matter of Time: Full Production: 01/18-01/31

off to grandmothers house we go...

I'll be in Denver from the 19th-27th of December. Including a little outing to good ole' Armidas on Broadway on the 22nd around 8. I'd love to see as many D-town peeps as possible! Drop me a line if yer around and we can get together and make some old Colorado magic!

All my NYC pals, I'll miss ya and look for you in the new year! Oh, and... you're hot!

Kisses,

Lindsay

DUDE! Hog the sidewalk much?

There are 30 Santa Clauses on the corner of 31st and 6th Ave. And all I could think was... COME ON!! I am block away from work. What the (read THEEEEEEEE) hell are all of these people doing in my WAY!?!?! Ah, the changes my life has undergone. And no... It's not Santa Con... And yes... I'm positive.

consume me...

There are days when you walk past me on the street. In the dim of a work night... Swooning past my hair and thoughtlessly sliding into my mouth. Invading my skin. I can feel your shape in my fingers. My thoughts. Days when I wonder if everything would be better with you. Different with you. Different air. Different breath. I can smell you. Sweetly hidden in the belch of the subway or the strike of a match. Taunting me back through hazy grey. Lost nights. I stop the woozy air to prevent you. I chose your absence and now all I want to do is find a new fire. Something to burn and consume me.

Currently listening: Dirty Vegas By Dirty Vegas Release date: 04 June, 2002

Opening Night of MARY POPPINS

I was THERE!!!!

Boot massacre on the first floor

What is it with women in this city and boots? I get the cold weather thing. And the just plain HOT thing. But seriously…. Boots are not food (I mean they could be if you were really hungry… and if it was that really soft leather from PRADA). Boots are not shelter (well, except for that old woman who lived in a shoe). Boots are not an all encompassing, cancer fighting, fat busting, make-you-look-more-gorgeous-than-you-just-ARE magical object. If this is all so (and I am fairly certain it is) then why are perfectly sensible women crawling over each other, we-are-on-the-battlefield style to get to the size 7.5 chocolate suede knee-high boots? Why are these boots laying, contorted, across the floor like broken arms and legs sans a body? Why is there a boot massacre on the first floor at Loehmans? 'Cause women are crazy, man. Just plain, fuckin' crazy!

Music Video Shoot: Peeps Needed!!

Hello you lovely, mouthy, raunchy lovers of all things roller derby! It is none other than I, Sleazy Anna Purchase of the Backseat Betties! Why, you ask, am I so f*ckin' lucky to hear from Ms Sleazy? Well...

AKA Lindsay

JUST A MATTER OF TIME: Friends and Family: 2 for $10

So, as most of you know, my lovely little show, JUST A MATTER OF TIME, has been extended through this weekend (YES, it's the PIG one). The producers of TSI are interested in its long-term potential as a Main Stage production. They are allowing our friends and family 2 for $10 tickets for tonight and tomorrow (October 7th and 8th). If you are interested in going (or know any 7-10 year olds/parents that would be interested in going), spread the word! It is a children's musical, but all ages will love it! I hope to see you there!

Cast:
Sarah Coleman
Zach Levin
Josh Gunn
Lindsay Goranson

Dates: 
Saturday, October 7 @ 5pm
Sunday, October 8 @ 5pm

JUST A MATTER OF TIME extension!

My show, JUST A MATTER OF TIME, has been extended! We were the first musical to be performed as a part of the TSI/Playtime Series. The response was so overwhelming that TSI asked us to perform next weekend. They are bringing in children to see what their response will be. There is talk of taking the show up to Maine next summer!

a chill's whisper

fall is here. my tree is turning red. i can feel the chill wisper on the skin of my shoulders. the light is crisp and amber in the morning. god i love new york.

Just a Matter of Time

Book and Lyrics by: Sandra Dutton

Music by: Jack Kohl

Director: Susan Streater

Performance Dates:
Saturday, September 30^th: 8 PM

Sunday, October 1^st: 5 PM

Performance Location:

123 East 24 Street 
New York, NY 10010

Price: $20

Purchase tickets at: http://www.theatermania.com/content/show.cfm/show/122846

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Meg who'd lost her curiosity.  She sat   memorizing facts rather than actually doing anything.  She'd forgotten how to think.  Then one day in her grandmother's garden, she heard voices.  You!  Meg!  Can you help us find Time? Being polite, Meg said yes. That's how she ended up in the Maze.

Where she learned that Time wasn't making time. And that it was her job to find him.  Time. (Oh yes, it's very strange.)

A combination of "The Wizard of Oz" and "Alice in Wonderland" feel with a whimsical, children' fable-like point of view. A young girl's search for time's meaning and a test of her lost curiosity. (35 min Mini-Musical)

Just a Matter of Time is a part of the TSI/Playtime Series which produces new works throughout the year. Each performance includes two "shows". Following is the synopsis and order of the shows on the specified performance date:

Just a Matter of Time Written by: Sandra Dutton Composer: Jack Kohl Directed by: Susan Streater "A combo 'Oz' and 'Wonderland' feel with fable like POV. A young girl's search for time's meaning and a test of her curiosity." (35 Min. Mini-Musical)

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 1ST - 5PM (SERIES 3784)
Just a Matter of Time Written by: Sandra Dutton & 
Composer: Jack Kohl Directed by: Susan Streeter
"A combo Oz and Wonder World, fresh with fable-like POV. A young girls search for meaning and a test of her curiosity. " (35 Min)

The Long Ride From Ham Lake
Written by: Kathryne Easton & Lawrence Hennigan 
Directed by: Alexis Fedor
"Two male passengers gain insight." (20 Min.)

Regression Night with Impetuous Theatre Group

Impetuous Theatre Group: Regression Night Fundraiser!

rottweilers are a mouthy breed

an elderly woman on the corner of 78th and 2nd is having a verbal altercation with her rottweiler
she wears her eyeliner like a battle cry
and a floppy turquoise hat to shadow the rage of her face
the rain plops against her rolled newspaper
and taps against her bare arm
she smacks him with a sharp crack of the paper
and yells like she's hailing a cab
i have to wonder

BOOKED: Just a Matter of Time

Hey ya'll...

I just booked the new children's musical JUST A MATTER OF TIME with TSI/Playtime down on 24th and Lex/Park! ROCK!

whoever you are...

Divide and conquor. Divide and conquor. This keeps pulling through my head. I always do too much. Always. Since I was young (and skinny) in school. A member of every club. A part of every activity. The question is... can I really do it all. I mean if I am doing so much something is suffering, right? And yet I still don't feel like I am REALLY doing anything. Am I? I have come to a crossroad with my chosen profession. Do I continue to work on EVERYTHING and become a more dynamic performer? Or do I buckle down and focus on ONE aspect? As I write it I know the answer. I'm sure you would tell me the same thing. FOCUS. Sigh... I feel like that naive, ambitious, foolhearty child in me has died. And the new part that is to replace it is just a bud... not yet even blossoming. But something has to die to give way and fertalize the new. It is a sad process... but necessiary to be more. To be better. To be great.

I guess that's a full recap and update. Whoever you are, I'm sure I'm missing you...

it hurts when i breathe...

ouch. i must stop breathing. it is making my head throbBbBbB. i can't use any more capital letters. they are too loud. i lived through the male stripper at kimmy's bachelorette party atmanitoba's. liz, lauren and i hovered behind a red brick column so he wouldn't get us. i know... what are we? three? he was actually very clean and good-looking, so if he hadn't been wearing a fringe covered bananna bag he wouln't have been scary at all. but he was. so there you have it. we did have a crif dog on our way home. they have the most incredible tater tots (is that one word or two?). my mouth is still tender from their pipin' hot goodness. mmmmm. tater tots. i think we are going to the art parade today. if i ever get off of the couch. which isn't looking like a safe bet right now. did you see my new profile pic? that's mid-bachelorette party. my arm is so white it's see-through. i am a pasty bitch. yikes. so. yeah.

Tony loves Tina... and I love champagne!

I went a saw my beautiful friend Danielle Montezinos and my very handsome friend Gregory Bock in Tony & Tina's Wedding last night and I have to tell you... I had a blast. The show is what it is... an interactive, big Italian wedding ceremony and reception. But I went with a fellow Johnny Hero-ite, Jere Williams (who is my gay husband), and we made a night of it.

Urban unicorn…

Coming upon my third winter in New York, it is time to look at how I have asked to be changed by the city. Two years ago I felt that I was missing some dynamic. A tiny key with a serrated edge or a whole chunk of the person I could feel nesting inside of my gut. Two years ago I moved to this city, asking it to change me. And it has. Oh, has it. Something that has struck me many times in the last couple of months is how New York will never be NEW YORK to me again. It will never be that bright shining star on the horizon of my future. A beacon luring me down my path. It will always be my New York. Where I lived on 78^th Street. Where I sang karaoke in the scariest Chinese bar in Chinatown. Where I worked 42 16-hour days in a row. Where I had my first real Chorus Line experience. Where I found out my grandfather died, standing on the corner of 78^th and West End Ave in the rain. Where I saw Isabella Rossellini walking her tiny brown dog by my tree on The Great Lawn. Where I discovered Roller Derby, Burlesque and what it is to CHOOSE your friends. Where I was a part of the Guinness Book of World Records longest kick line at The Crossroads of the World. And on and on. As I write this, I think about the New York that I lost. The one that people who come to visit see. Unmarred by the tracks of everyday. I still see the Chrysler building on my way to work. I can see the Hudson from my window on the 24^th floor. I am three blocks away from the Empire State building. And I find myself weekly down in Times Square. But they are the landscape of my day now. They are no longer the legend. The unicorn. Now they are real and I find myself riding the urban unicorn toward the next beacon on my horizon. Now that I am here I can dream bigger, but I can never have the myth again. And thats ok.

BAD DOG callback

Thank you for all of the well wishes and broken bones for my callback yesterday! It went really well. The group of girls that they pulled in for the part was all over the place. It was quite literally every shape, size and shade available... Which means you don't really know how the cards are going to fall. It could be anybody's game. I felt good about the read though. The group was really nice and about as well organized as a callback can be... They ended up keeping me until the end. I think it is between myself and one other girl. The other girl is shorter than I am with dark hair and eyes. She read very dark and depressed... I was light and nervous... We couldn't be more different! I'll keep you posted... Keep those fingers and toes crossed!

UPDATE: I didn't get cast in BAD DOG. I got a call today from the producer thanking me and saying that they loved my work and that they will be calling me in for future productions.

burlesque makes me happy...

I went to an evening of The New York Burlesque Festival last night!  We had a great time! Chris and I met up with a couple of the Jeerleaders for an evening of fun on a very rainy New York evening. Actually, we had a couple of French women take our picture... I thought it was because we were cute... but Chris overheard them say that they thought we were four lesbians... Which is weird... Um, I'm pretty sure there are lesbians in France. Anyway, we got to see the most incredible assortment of ladies perform even though we were attacked by tourists, which almost spoiled the evening. The event was at The Supperclub, which is SUCH a beautiful space... I can't wait to go there in the future. Now, there is nothing wrong with tourists... I actually quite love them (in singles or pairs). They are part of what gives this city its magic. BUT, here's the thing... I think a lot of tourists feel like they have to be assholes in order to survive their vacation here. They think... oh, people who live in New York are known as assholes, therefore in order to fit in, I'll be an asshole. Not true folks. Just simply not true... And actually, you may even stand out more. You see... we here in the city are a living, breathing entity. We all work together so that (most of us) don't go crazy. Being pushy doesn't make you blend in... it's just gonna get you some really pissed off city folk. We had prime seats at the Burlesque Festival. We had a plush velvet bench against the railing on the second level... Clear view to the stage... it was divine. UNTIL we became pressed upon by what we thought were just a TON of people, right? Ok, fine... a little sucky, but fine. Upon a journey to the ladies' room realized that, NO, it was just tourists three people deep... SHOVING forward in order to yell, "COME ON! TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES!" during a Victorian piece (one of my favorites actually... complete with antique undergarments, parasol and classical music). What is wrong with these people? Chris pointed out that he didn't think that they really knew anything about burlesque. That they knew that people took off their clothes, so therefore it must just be stripping, where nudity is the point... but, alas, it is the story that burlesque is about (the nudity is just icing!). Ok... I'll stop ranting... maybe they were just idiots.

YAY for burlesque!

Callback...

Got a callback for BAD DOG on Tuesday... wish me broken bones!

my week...

This week has been good to me.

On Monday I had a very tough session with my vocal teacher, Regan Stone. She has really been pushing me to my limits to work on my legit voice... which has nearly pushed me over the edge. I hit a wall on Monday and broke through (with tears and everything)... It feels good to be on the other side!

On Wednesday I had three auditions. Well, technically it was thirteen. NYFA had a casting call for 11 films... good stuff. I was very happy with the audition. The cold read was from ETERNAL SUNSHINE... the last scene with the two of them when she tells him how fucked-up she really is. I was really proud of myself... I engaged emotionally with the reader and really latched on to the characters feelings... After I was finished... small talk, small talk, small talk... I called my girlfriend, Ann, and told her that she had to come down and audition. She did. And when she mentioned that I sent her down they remembered me and said that they had liked my work!

After work I had an audition for FOLIE A DEUX with Maieutic Theatre Works at The Rock Theatre at W 43rd. The play is a new telling of the Papin sisters. I was called in for the oldest sister, Christine. I got to dust off and stretch my drama muscle... ooooooh, that felt good!

I then had to move an audition because of a scheduling conflict from Thursday over to that evening. I called and they said that they didn't know if they had any spaces, so I walked up to wait. I ended up getting in fairly quickly. The show is called BAD DOG. It is a dark comedy. I read about three quarters of the script while I was waiting. I think it was about reincarnation... um, weird.

So, I'm off to the gym and then the Library for the Performing Arts to mine for some more monologues and some new songs (this never ends)... I also may try to sneek into a couple of open calls...

So that's me for now...

i am made of steel...

I just left an evening where two beautiful, strong, talented women told me that all is not in vain. You begin to feel like the world is sliding down the window pane... you wait... and you give... and you release more into the world than you thought any could withstand. And hopefully you find yourself, stark and empty, amoung friends who tell you the only way is up. Is on. Is forward. Sometimes it is about stripping your body and your soul to it's very last thread in order to find what you are truly made of.

I am made of steel.

And I refuse to find myself anywhere but the top. I will do more than you expected. I will become something greater than you could have imagined. I will be more than the sum of all of my insecurities. Because I chose to be more. I WILL NOT be less than what I aspire to. I won't give you the satisfaction. Or... I won't give myself the satisfaction. Because I am the one who said I wouldn't be anything. That I couldn't become those things that people long for. Than I long for.

But I am greater.

You will see...

And someone... somewhere... will be...

proud.

Life beyond the blog...

Yes. I am still alive. Just barely. I closed the Fringe show I was in: WE LOVE YOU, JOHNNY HERO. The past month has been an example in determination. In addition to opening (and closing) a show, I also had my 10 year reunion. It has been an interesting and emotionally draining month. But I am still here. Last night I attended the FringeNYC Closing Night Cast Party. Which was as many Fringe participants as could be crammed into the Village Theatre down on Bleeker and Thompson. It was a jammin' soiree complete with open bar and awards (Fringe style). It was a curious thing to be so completely engulfed in the NYC theatre community. There were two quotes that stuck with me... "Don't you love it when good theatre happens to good people?" AND "THEATRE is my cardio". Sorry I'm all over the place. I will get a handle on my paragraph organization and begin again with my updates. So, I if you feel that you have been neglected (and you probably have...), I am so sorry and can't wait to see you! But for now I am simply here.

Ani in Central Park

I breathe in...

The fireflies were thick as I listened to her ache. She told me stories about her father. Her loss. I looked up at a sky too perfect for the season. Air too cool for the month. Stars too bright for the light. She cracked open her heart like an egg and held the sore yolk in her hands. Plastic doors slammed. Voices rose. Beer sloshed and fell. But through the human skyline, I saw her. New York City reached out and received her. I stood in the wake of people. Mouths like chimney stacks, discharging smoke and static into the ozone. A sea disrupted by the bathroom line, the beer line, the merch line... Islands of tapestries swirled around me. The dragonflies were as big as birds, swooping downward... sliding toward our heads and the plastic turf beneath our feet. I allowed the air to breathe me in. The leaves folded between the sky and I. She leaned toward me and stretched herself across gaping wounds. One hand, one foot on either side. Clutching my edges. Holding me together.

I breathe out...

Thank you.

I met a man without a dream...

I have six minutes to write this before my tea is done brewing. I met a man without a dream tonight. It could have been the meeting with friends of the past. And seeing what the future could hold. But, I jumped in a cab tonight only to greet a perfectly abled man... without a dream to his name. He was so awkward and formal. It made me sad. If you can't tell your dreams to a stranger, how can you tell them to your passion? He said he felt like he should know me. I told him he will... He tried to take me down 2nd Avenue when I knew he should go straight on 72nd. And he said as you wish. I looked him in his eyes and asked him his dreams. He looked me back and said nothing. How many people wait to be asked their dreams? I know I do. I hang in the wings and wait for the opportunity to arise... I'm an actor. That is what I am. That is what I live. That is what I breathe. You can't ask me that question without my response bouncing off of the word art. What would it be to not know what you want? I can't even imagine. I awaited this life. I know what I want. I have always known. I can't imagine wanting anything else. I grow up with people around me creating. AAAAWwwwww... My six minutes is up... More later... Nothing worse than over-steeped tea...

Misty history... Forward ache

My memories separate like oil and water. Like lovers after a fight. They become two different parts of me that cannot co-exist. They are inappropriate roommates. My beginnings feel like the story of an old friend. I am not sure that they really happened. I could not vouch for their truth. I am living my moments against the backdrop of a phantom history. I feel more grounded and weightless at the same moment. Bound and free. I continue to seek out the future... knowing full well that I am living my memories. I am in the fragments that I will look back on with joy and an ache. This gives me anxiety. It is the worst in the small hours of the morning when I am awake to feel the chemistry of the blue of dawn. That place between night and day. Between future and past. Between fantasy and reality. Between my previous and my next. I float on the dizzy of this hour. Fighting, engaging, resisting, aching... all to move forward where I belong. But I can feel the past on my mouth. Pressing against the naked skin of my legs... the curve of my thigh. Tempting me to close my eyes and exist in another time. But the light of my future falls secretly on my body. Telling me to move forward. Ache forward. Engage forward. I belong forward. I am being called in that direction. I'll lay here in the cool past, eyes blurred in the blue for just a spell longer. The morning sun will wake me soon enough. And I will move thankfully to the horizon and another day in New York City.

soul whisper...

There is a worn spot in my side where you used to nestle.
A spot that will not heal from the salve of new.
There was uninvited breath in my mouth.
A soul whisper that used to be welcome.
Desired.
Dreampt of.
Lingered on.
But you took.
And I gasped.
What did that mean.
Why don't you tell me?
Why can't you talk.
I waited an expanse to hear you say it.
It never came.
And now I'm here.
And you're there.
And that this the end.
And still your silence holds.
This is why it never was.

Birthday Bliss

Whew... What a birthday weekend! I wanted to thank all of you beautiful people that made this event possible... (and my agent, my family and God... hahahhahahh)

To fill everyone in... I had a horrible week. Too many thinks going on. Making me crazy. I had a *slight* psychic break on Wed, but I pulled through to the glory of Friday.

THE BIRTHDAY WEEKEND:
1> I went and worked out in the morning with my dear friend Ann, followed by a lengthy steam/cold shower session (which was divine/really fucking cold).
2> She found this place on East 73rd between 2nd and 3rd that was participating in "Spa Week" (which has been added to the VERY LONG list of REALLY EFF-ING great things about New York). FABULOUS! I know! Anyway, we walked up to our hour long ($50) massage. DIVINE!
3> All jelly and love, we jumped in a cab (which I NEVER do... but hey, it was my Birthday!) and headed up to Sarabeth's on CPS. OH. MY. GOD. We got an bottle ofVeuve Cliquot (YES, actual champagne!!), mussels, fish AND the BEST creme brulee EVER... No really. In the whole world. They even put a little candle in it for me! That was like the most fun ever.
4> Then I was drunk. So, after some drunk dialing and a short 30 block stumble home (I walked Ann back to work... she is a ROCKSTAR! She even came out later that evening and stayed until the END!) I took a nap before rehearsal.
5> Rehearsal was... well, rehearsal.
6> Afterward, the cast of The Beautiful Brown Danube and I went to the RED LION at 151 Bleeker Street (on the corner of Thompson). They had this great band there called THE CAMPFIRE (I cant find them on the web! DAMN IT!). They do all sing-a-long songs. I love them!! If you get a chance, check them out I think they are there every Friday. It's a great way to start the weekend!
7> Then we headed over to The Duplex (which was the OFFICIAL location of the Birthday Bash) where the cast of The Beautiful Brown Danube and I met up with the DOHMH (Department of Health and Mental Hygiene) folks, friends from high school, college and the city all met up for an evening of heavy drinking, cabaret, spanking and shots.
8> Most of the lucky few who stayed until the spanking then ventured to Two Boots for a slice before running of to some bar, somewhere (thanks to Dirt: Fiddlesticks Pub) after a long and arduous voyage into the depths of my purse for my ID there was much booty dancing and more scotch before the evening came to end with a long, drunk, tired subway ride home.

You think it ends there, but it doesn't.

9> On Saturday, Chris gave me my gift, which included tickets to WELL for Sunday (which was FABULOUS!) and then we went down to THE TASTE OF CHINATOWN. Trust me, I didn't think I wanted to go. But BOY am I glad I did!! We had THE BEST General Tsos Chicken at Pings Seafood House (22 Mott Street, who won 3^rd place BTW), the best Shanghai Spring Rolls I have ever had at Lucky 11 (11 Mott Street) and the two weirdest things I have ever put in my mouth (one was what I assume was some sort of crab ball wrapped in some kind of...gag... skin AND a Chinese tamale which was just sticky and weird).
10> The Beautiful Brown Danube opened.
11> Then Sunday was the show (WELL) followed by a walk up through Central Park through all of the flowers and beautiful spring green!

I had the best Birthday I have ever had! Thank you my lovely friends for all of the comments, fun, love and booze!

the friction of space

Shore to shore
Mad cement river
Metal on metal
Wincing under weight of strangers
A swig of air
A cumsy swoon of subway air
Faces slide across disfigured glass
Smelling the day wearing on skin

The Bad Musicals Festival: The Beautiful Brown Danube

That's right... the wildly funny (an offensive) BAD MUSICALS FESTIVAL is here!! I will be performing in THE BEAUTIFUL BROWN DAUBE on "IT AIN'T KANSAS ANYMORE" evenings! Come and join the fun!

sick and tired

Yes, I have returned from Vegas to find myself sick and tired. No, literally. SICK. TIRED. We flew back on Tuesday. Leaving Vegas at 1 am and getting into LGA at11:30 am. That sucked. So, we got home and tried to put the shambles of our apartment into order enough to stumble to bed around 1 pm. Chris had class at 6 and I had rehearsal at 7... so up again at 4:30 pm. Rehearsal ran until 10:30, so I was back home at 11:30 and in bed by 1 pm. I'm all fucked up. Now I'm sick and I have rehearsal again tonight... sigh.

I had a nice time out there... Nothing too crazy... Well, I mean, there was the one day that my sister took us to Fat Tuesday's for an $8 REFILLABLE drink with a floater shot... followed by the REFILL at 3 o'clock in the afternoon. Why is everybody so sober? I licked a slot machine and won $20 on pennies... or it may have been nickels. At least I think it was $20... Chris took my ticket and cashed me out so I wouldn't lick anymore slot machines... come to think of it that may be why I'm sick...

I had the most FANTASTIC steak I have ever had at the Hilton. It was thicker than it was wide... REALLY... like 3 inches... it stood like a little mountain on my plate... Won $100 on pennies and $160 on nickels. My mom and I redecorated my sister's condo for her birthday. We drove back and forth from the airport about a hundred times (we were all coming and going at different times)... um, let's see... what else? Oooohh. I went on a shopping spree... There is that... I REALLY enjoyed that... But I think that sums it up. It was nice to get away... although I was hoping to return to better weather... not that I don't love the rain... I just had high hopes of flowers, brunch and gentle sunshine...

Vegas

So, it has finally come *thank GOD. The trip to Vegas is only two days away. Boy do I need a vacation. From the cold. From work. From my life. Going out to visit the fam. Chris has a bachelor party to go to and I'm taggin' along (not to the party... just on the plane)... The price of tickets is amazing. When we were in Denveryou couldn't find tickets for over $100 to Vegas. Now from here they are over $200. What are they? High? Anyway, it ended up being cheaper for me to go and for us to stay a week than it was if he just went by himself for the weekend. The sis says it's nice there, so that will be a welcome break from the 20 mile an hour wind. I'm not sure there was a point to this update. Just an FYI. So if you write, it may take some time for me to get back to you... but never fear... I will return! (I can' be away from the city for too long or I start to get confused...) Vegas BABY, here I come...

city sprouts

I just had a really weird experience. I was sitting working finishing my new web design (http://www.lindsaygoranson.com : it still has some quirks that I'm working out) and I got a call from an unknown number... I let it go through to voicemail... It is a message from a casting director (that I haven't ever submitted to) calling me in for an audition for a PSA. I accept, and one short shrill of joy and a night between the sheets later I awake to this wonderful opportunity. I went in at 10:30(sometimes I love my job...) and walked into a sea of women in white tank tops (that was a requirement... weird)... It was for a new cervical cancer vaccine. I can only assume that they got my name from the people I shot the Merck PSA for. The audition went well... when there are that many people that look nothing like each other you just never know which way it is going to go... but what I'm really happy about is that I am starting to see things come back to me. Seeds that I have been scattering all over this city for the past year are starting to sprout... and that feels really good.

Red Cherry Keds Do Not Spring Make

Life is going on around me. I have blinked and it is spring… Nobody told the weather that, but never the less, it is. I have tried to will it to come faster by wearing my red cherry Keds ballet flats… but now all I have is cold feet. Things are swarming around me. (As you see by my previous post) I was cast in WE LOVE YOU, JOHNNY HERO. I am also doing a short musical called THE BEAUTIFUL BROWN DANUBE, to be performed at THE BAD MUSICALS FESTIVAL at the end of April, beginning of May. Oooh, and I have an audition for a national Bud Light spot tomorrow… So things are moving. But despite all that I am feeling the blahs. It could be the weather. My lack of sleep. Both. I'm not sure. I feel something looming. I even started the day at my favorite Vinyasa yoga class and I just couldn't focus. Or breathe. I couldn't breathe… Maybe that's all I need to do. Breathe. OK. Here goes…

Well, that didn't help at all.

We Love You, Johnny Hero

YAY! I was just cast in the new political musical "We Love You, Johnny Hero". It may be at the Fringe Festival in August! I'll keep you updated!

something that sucks v.1

Ooooh, I had that experience of someone just before you sing your song at an audition. Wow that sucks.

Currently listening: Knuckle Down By Ani DiFranco Release date: 25 January, 2005

Lions, and Tigers and Casting Directors. OH MY!

I had a couple of auditions this weekend: The New Acting Company and The We Are Like So Morbid Theatre Company and a couple of student film auditions. I also have one tonight for Vital Theatre Company (their children's theatre). I have been feeling good about my auditions lately. Although there is a point where you feel slightly delusional. When you have pinned together several REALLY good auditions and nothing comes of it. Nothing lands. But I did have a moment this weekend. A breakthrough. At The New Acting Company's audition, I looked around and everyone's face was all pinched in anger/frustration/concentration/(constipation?) and I realized... this is suppose to be FUN! I mean, yes, it's work (and IT IS as we all know), but it is also suppose to bring joy and if it doesn't, why do it? I was sitting in a room of (probably) really beautiful, fun and interesting people who were all hunched over into themselves "preparing" for their time slot... It made them all look really... ordinary. It was then that I smiled and looked everyone in the face. Opened myself up. Took a second to really be thankful for how great this business is. How happy I am that I just get the CHANCE to audition in NYC. This is the dream (as I am sure it was for most of the people in the room). We end up rushing to and from and waiting and waiting and WAITING so much that we loose sight of that. This is it. We're living it… And my audition reaped the benefits. I don't know if I have been cast yet (or even a call-back). But at least I know the outcome has so very little to do with me. I gave it to 'em. 100%, pure, unadulterated Lindsay. And they should be thankful. I am.

Currently reading: The Diamond Cutter : The Buddha on Managing Your Business and Your Life By Geshe Michael Roach Release date: 15 July, 2003

voices of the earth
Category: Writing and Poetry

one night every couple of months, Chris and i will be sitting at home after a long day at our respective jobs. we'll be tired. fed up. temperamental. through the strains of our day a sound will ring in the airshaft outside our main window. voices. singing. harmony. the voices will gain in strength and enthusiasm. complicated harmonies filled with joy and sorrow. strength and weakness. togetherness and oneness. they will swell on the bitter air sweeping through the buildings until they climb in our window, over our laps and press on our heavy shoulders. the origin of the songs we don't know. only that it must be some kind of ceremony or  party that happens a couple of times a year. nothing so frequent as monthly. or on any particular day. it is so long in between that we forget about it until it sneaks up in the midst of a commercial or telephone call and then we are bathed in its vibrations again. i find myself wishing that it were nightly, but then it would loose it deliciousness. its gift. i sit here with the olympics muted listening to the mysterious chime of lives happening five floors below...

the WEST has fallen

As the cold creeps into our bones and the slush flows in throbbing rivers through the city, I come to notice something. It seems like the West has fallen in big white drifts all over the city. Everyone has slowed down. Is kinder. More patient. People strike up conversation in bus lines that stretch blocks. Talk about the lack of a cross-town. Ask  you how you got your gloves to match your bag so well.

We got 29.5" in Central Park. Not that I am the weather service or something, you probably already know that. But you would not believe the number of people that coagulated atop the one good hill in Central Park. Children. Adults. Snowboarders. Sledders. Cross-Country skiers. The cacophony of delighted squeals and plastic scraping snow was electric. I was in a Norman Rockwell oasis, a block away from gridlock. It is one of those weird things that you don't expect in NYC, but you become so grateful to be a part of.

When the cold picks up New Yorkers start to look like puffy, mummified Chihuahuas. Fur collars (and coats) are abundant here. Even the men have them. And once you get that hood up around your face and tied sharply in place with an industrial strength scarf, the result is a caricature cross-breed of city folk and their pets.

You know... FYI.

(w)Hole:The (whole) History Of Life On Earth

On the eve of snow up to my butt, Chris and I decided to go see LAVA in (w)Hole:The (whole) History Of Life On Earth. LAVA is an all-female acrobatic dance troup and the show is in one word: wordless. I have never really seen anything like this except De La Guarda. It is... "feats of intense skill and physical strength, the company explore geologic phenomena such as rock and volcano formation, punctuated equilibrium theory, and magnetic polarity reversal. Acrobatic "tricks" illustrate the interconnection between natural geologic phenomena and bodies in motion. The work includes music, video, dance, circus, and spoken text." (nytheatre.com) I KNOW. Although seemingly random, you can tell the show is well thought out. It is a really beautiful specticle of strength, balance, science and relationships. I realize I don't have the words to properly explain... If you want to see something different and inventive, go see this show. Make sure that you read about it before you go, otherwise you'll miss really tiny things that make enhance your experience of the "whole" event.

LAVA [w]Hole
The Flea Theatre
41 White Street
New York, NY 10013
Tickets: http://www.theflea.org/
LAVA: http://www.lavalove.org/

Read more:
http://www.nytheatre.com/nytheatre/whol2957.shtml
http://www.villagevoice.com/dance/0603,jowitt,71785,14.html
http://www.theatermania.com/content/news.cfm/story/7448

pigeon food

The pigeons in New York are extraordinarily fat... excuse me... obese. Wait, strike that, I don't know that the pigeons here are any fatter than anywhere else in the world. However, it does seem strange that while (transplant) New Yorkers are a leaner and meaner version of their former selves, the pigeons aren't. This epidemic occurred to me on my way to Subway (sandwiches, not cars) today. I saw a huddle of pigeons picking at a pile of potato chips someone had crunched up and dropped on the ground. First of all... don't feed the fucking pigeons. Why would you do that? They are not starving and even if they were I don't think Lays potato chips are the best option. That being said, I wondered if maybe the obesity epidemic in pigeons is not simply running parallel to the obesity epidemic in humans. This could be a faulty observation, as I don't think more and more pigeons have desk jobs... like their human counterparts. But, I could be wrong. And pigeons can't really watch their carbs (bacon and eggs would be difficult to cook with their little feet... think about flipping the eggs... GEEZ!) What is there to be done? How many poor pigeons do you think die of heart attacks per year? This would really be something worth investigating. I may call the New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene right now...

Yogi Wildfire

I think it should be mandatory that every day begin with yoga. Look folks, I'm a bitch. And moving to this city has only enhanced that. Yeah, yeah, I can cloak it pretty well with the smile... but believe me... it's in there. And it gets free a little more often than I would like... The past nine months I have become kind of a gym nut. I admit it. Whatcha gonna do about it... Huh? I could take you now... But the last three months I have really gotten into yoga (how cliche is that?). I started going to a MORNING AFTER class for detox (for hangovers). Then it spread like wildfire to three days a week... Then 5... Usually at 10 on Saturday and Sunday... but never earlier... Until today. My favorite yoga instructor (the MORNING AFTER instructor) just took on another class. It's at 7:15 AM on Tuesdays. After many weeks of avoiding this early hour... today I went!! It was WONDERFUL!! What a magical way to start the day. I feel like a whole new person. The bitch in me shriveled up a little and I actually enjoyed the bus ride to work. Don't worry, she isn't gone for good... I need her for the ride home... fucking bus.

gravity of stress

Yes, the rumors are true... I have lost my phone. I hope for a (much nicer) cousin to appear some time this week... After a week without my phone I feel a noticeable reduction in anxiety. This makes me wonder if our technology is creating its own gravity of stress. It is supposed to be that our phones relieve stress...we have a lifeline... a companion... a "just-in-case"... But maybe having the phone is what has caused us to need a lifeline, a companion, a "just-in-case." We have become so dependent on our phone to keep us company when we are waiting, dining, walking that when it doesn't ring we feel alone. Separated from our friends and family. Lonely. Without it I feel a sense of liberation. Of security. If I am meeting someone somewhere at a certain time. They will be there. There is no backup plan. I never thought that lack would put me at ease. But it does. There are fewer exceptions. Dramas. Unwanted calls. Voicemail. There are less of the good things as well... a call to say hello, a long lost friend, a job. But I wonder if the bad doesn't outweigh the good in this case. I am going to languish in the freedom of being phoneless... that is, until my new (fancy) phone arrives. Then I'll embrace the anxiety on the off chance that one of you may call...

Candy & Dorothy

Candy & Dorothy
http://www.candyanddorothy.com/
Theatre Three
311 W 43rd Street
3rd Floor
NYC
Tickets: $15

When you first hear the title CANDY & DOROTHY,  visions of porn may dance in your head... a little, lost Dorothy in a (inappropriately short) gingham ensemble. But, alas, this is not so... There are some pretty fabulous ensembles, but the greatest of all is not the costumes, but the cast.
This is a seemingly mismatched pair of leading ladies. Worhol superstar diva, Candy Darling, and Catholic crusader Dorothy Day. But the pairing is nothing short of divine and makes complete sense (eventually). The cast consists of five dynamic actors: Sloane Shelton, Vince Gatton, Brian Fuqua, Nell Gwynn and Amir Arison. It is a funny and touching trip with layovers in both reality and the afterlife. But overall is is mostly a story about kindness and understanding. It has been a long time since I have seen something so fun, interesting and innovative (since Shockheaded Peter (and that is a remake of a REALLY OLD children's book)). I predict this show will go far. Keep your eyes out for it! Give your money to GOOD theatre!!

the fucking bus and other short stories

The Fucking Bus

Once upon a time there was a girl from Wyoming who moved to the big city. Not just any old city. THE big city. NYC. One day she was heading home from a particularly bad day of shoveling shit in the Pretentious Jungle. She decided to drag her sorry ass to the Magical Gym in an effort to make it smaller (even though she didn't want to). She did this because everyone knows that the kings and queens of the magical land of CASTING don't like NORMAL butts... they like TINY butts. She was exhausted (and a little resentful I might add). She arrived at the Port of Exhaust where she would be whisked away to her little hovel on the Upper East Side. Cold and hungry, she waited. And waited. And waited. Until, finally, the mystical creature they call The Fucking Bus (m79 #1079) came into sight. She was overcome with joy at its arrival. Her eyes nearly welled at the vision of metal and rubber. As it neared her heart flipped with excitement of travel. Closer and closer it chugged. She stepped forward in anticipation of its bow for her to board. Closer and closer Until IT PASSED HER. Her body filled with rage as she chased it two (VERY LONG and not very magical) blocks until her heart and lungs nearly imploded. And, WHEW, she saw it stop not 50 feet away. She had made it. She could go home. She could rest her tired (and slightly smaller) ass. She could sleep away her day at the Pretentious Jungle... She could... Just as she touched the cool scaly skin of the beast, it rose from its bow, closed its gaping mouth... AND. LEFT. HER. The Fucking Bus LEFT HER!! She was so angry she hailed another magical creature called Stinky Cab and convinced it to take her home Consumed by her anger and all of the shit she was carrying upon exiting Stinky Cab SHE LOST HER PHONE!

Fucking Bus.

Someone come up with a moral to the story something clever. Im too angry to even find the humor.

my life in chartreuse

The design trade is a drag. Sure... it sounds all glamorous. Fabulous people. Fabulous parties. Fabulous places. ALL LIES. I mean all of that is true, but for the most part, design (interior anyway) is about PAPER. Push the paper here... push the paper there... hide THAT paper... oooh, LOVE that paper... It is cloaked in this weird shade of fabulous (I imagine the cloak to be this weird toxic pee color... known here as chartreuse). But I just sit here in my paper jail. Sure it pays the bills, but not my soul. When do I get to like my job? Do I ever? Does it come with age? With experience? I think the really lucky get there. I'm proud to say I'm trying. I haven't given up on the dream. I never will. It is as simple at that. When I first moved here I was told I would... give up on the dream. I think people want you to believe that. Especially if they have had hard times. Or if they have failed. Or NEVER EVEN TRIED. Or worst of all... da, da, dun... SUCCEEDED. It validates their journey if they try to squelch yours. The fact that I am pursuing that end feeds me in some way. But I'm still hungry. I want more. I am more. Do you think we get to love our jobs? Or is that quite simply not the point?

concentric circles
Category: Writing and Poetry

When you first get to this city everything seems so sharp. The light. The buildings. The shrill of traffic. After awhile the corners begin to soften. Become round. Before you stood on the bank of a cement river, waving frantically for the slow rubber and metal tug boat to wait. Now it is simply a street. Simply a bus. Your love of the city erodes the sharp edges.

I walk past a private school on my way to work (ah, the poor, downtrodden Upper East Side). I heard a man nonchalantly mention to a woman that the teachers were still talking about how great her child's story was. Now, here's the thing, you always hear little snippets of people lives (if you don't turn your iPod ALL THE WAY UP… like some people), so you never REALLY know anybody's story (there is a certain amount of irony there… living in a city with so many people). But it struck me how the man just tossed that out and then just got into his car (who has a car?). He probably made that woman's day. In turn, maybe she is kinder to her children, her co-workers, her friends and family. Concentric circles moving outward from that comment. I felt the compliment resonate within MY body and I'm just an eavesdropper. We are not stingy with that energy here in Manhattan. We give it freely. We also TAKE it freely. But there is still a surplus of good energy in the air. Traveling in concentric circles. I'm pretty sure it may even travel as far as the boroughs…

ACTING CLASS IV
Category: Writing and Poetry

Auditioning for ON CAMERA and THEATER
Heidi Marshall
January 11th

I was cast in SILENCE OF THE LAMBS for my scene. I had the chance to really work on something that had a strong dichotomy. And let me tell you, it was difficult. I mean REALLY difficult. But I came out the other side with a new respect for Jodi Foster. I also gave myself permission to play. To not be right. To take a CHANCE. And...whew! It freed up my emotions, my body, and my mind. Sure, there was the initial terror of flying, but, ah, to soar!

Light in the gloom...
Category: Writing and Poetry

What is with the wind here? I almost got knocked down on the corner of 78th and West End. I nearly used my poofer coat to make a sail and fly to the top of this especially lonely water tower. With all of the rain it looks like it's made of watercolors... or pastels. The light smeared rust and metal. There I would sit and tell him about my week. I would tell him not to worry, that I feel smeared as well. I would tell him he is not alone. I would tell him it will be alright. Then I would kiss his cold cheek and wipe the wet from my mouth. Spread my coat and sail back down to the whirring metal and droopy buildings. I can feel the tips of my fingers slip away from the binding gloom. My eyes sting from the light. I know my friend in the sky will listen away the rain from my back and offer his constance. I finally lift my head and feel the scream of wind and ache of the rain. But at least I feel.

old pyrex silver lining
Category: Writing and Poetry

it is 11:11... usually i would make a wish. but not today. i stopped wishing. does that mean i have grown up? i feel ashamed to say that. my grandfather passed away yesterday. i feel a heaviness in my chest. he had been going through a lot of brain surgery the last couple of months. we weren't even close. i'm fine. don't say you're sorry. i don't know what to say to that. so don't. but thank you. sigh... everything is feeling so dank lately. so gray. and i like gray. there is something simple and beautiful about gray. but it has begun to wear a hole in my silver lining. and that is really saying something... my silver lining is pretty durable. like teflon or pyrex... that's it, i have a pyrex silver lining. not today. today i hang limp, an old, wet t-shirt on a clothing line. not a breeze. not a ray of light. nothing to disturb the perfect 90 degree slant of my head to the ground. i'll get out. i just needed to tell you where i was.

ACTING CLASS III
Category: Writing and Poetry

Auditioning for ON CAMERA and THEATER
Heidi Marshall
January 4th

We started the class with a discussion on "marketability". Apparently, it is not just about how fabulously talented you are (GASP), but how much money you bring in. I know, I know. You are all shocked and amazed. Get over it. We all must.

Thinking about my marketability I became confused. Does this mean what I want to be seen for (and what I would be BRILLIANT at, BTW), or does this mean what I must resign myself to because it is what I AM? I still don't have an answer to this question, but it is an important one to ask. This goes back to asking your friends and piers who they remind you of: roles and looks. It will give you a leg up when you start to think about your marketability.

That being said, the work we did was more valuable as a marker, seeing where everyone places themselves. Where you place yourself. And a gauge on your level of self awareness. Also, to see how much everyone has evolved as a result of their work in class.

It was truly a "you just had to be there" evening. But, if any of you are interested in working with Heidi, let me know. She does the classes by invite or referral.

Next (and final) class... January11th
We are picking scenes for each other. It is turning out to be a difficult task. TRY IT!

Mediterranean Insomnia
Current mood:  tired 
Category: Writing and Poetry

It smells like bread. It's one of my favorite things. Sitting by an open window in the living room in the middle of the night. The outside chime is laughing like a school girl on our fire escape. A bad bout of insomnia and an epic battle of Mediterranean food is churning in my body. Our computer is set up by an open window so it won't overheat and at about 2 every morning the Jewish bakery below us starts the day.

I met the strangest man last night at a gallery opening in Chelsea sponsored by PBR (there is something really classy and enchantingly contradictory in that sentence). ZieherSmith at 531 25th Street (between 10th and 11th). The art was mediocre but the man was fascinating. A sculptor named Oleg Sohanievich. A sculptor well into his years. A sculptor that was definitely hitting on me. But more importantly an endlessly interesting storyteller and artist.

You meet the strangest people in New York City. He pulled the old one-two of pickup lines. "I'm a sculptor (that's the one... wait for it...). You would make a wonderful subject (and... there's the two)." (insert obscure accent here) If it weren't NYC and he didn't sound kind of crazy, it would almost be charming. So I have decided to research him. The way he tells it, I shouldn't have a problem finding him. He says he does work for museums and schools. We'll see.

Wait. Did I just meet a Russian artist at an art gallery? WOW. Must my life completely mimic Sex and the City? Can't it have any original ideas? Older foreign artists must have been on the prowl after Carrie met her "lovah". Just too weird I had to be a part of that.

Post PBR (13 short blocks and 5 long later), we were at this cute little Mediterranean restaurant where we ordered Maza and a couple bottles of wine. I don't know what it is called but it was on the SW side of 13th and 6th. If I think of it I'll insert the name. I would highly recommend it (although the couple sitting in the same room as us would probably tell you to stay away, apparently they think they own the place... I checked. They don't).

Sigh. Usually the cool glow of the computer can lull my insomnia away (kind of like an ass and a carrot tied to a stick). But tonight (today) this is not the case. Well, insomnia still intact, I don't know that I have much more to say. Looking over this I don't think it makes much sense. I would apologize, but I'm not really sorry. And for the record, just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I answer questions with an upward inflection. I just thought you should know.

Break-neck speed racer
Category: Writing and Poetry

Expanding Balloons...
Category: Writing and Poetry

I leave the group with a sense of hope. A feeling that I have finally discovered my skill. I have been meeting with a group of ladies for the past month to work on our craft. It has been a motivating and insightful month. We discussed types. I have such a difficult time with this subject. I have changed in the last year. There are pieces of me that have clicked into place. This has made it difficult to focus my energy. Getting real honest with yourself is a challenging gift. I realized that the whole person that I am has finally developed. Like a balloon covering the space that was missing has been blown up. I have done the girl next door. Hell, I am her. But now I have an edge as well (all be it a edge that has no need to be sharpened). Talking about how I am perceived has made me realize that people are seeing my insides sans my insecurities. It is liberating. I am working on new monologues now. Something that I feel connected with but would never have picked. With the help of my group, I have discovered the powerhouse within. I find a renewed sense of passion about my craft. Now I just have to get it out there on its legs in a nice skirt.

Homeward flight

constellations of cities
nudge of gravity
rolling crags of clouds
single light in the darkness
moon sliver hung
steady nebula of light
stars give way to life

Listening to:
11:11 By Regina Spektor

X-Mas Blackhole...

New Website

http://www.lindsaygoranson.com

Audition: Theatreworks USA: Ramona

Audition:
Company: Theatreworks USA
Website: http://www.theatreworksusa.org/
Show: Ramona
Role: Mrs. Quimby

ACTING CLASS II
Category: Writing and Poetry

Auditioning for ON CAMERA and THEATER
Heidi Marshall
December 7th

This session consisted mostly of private coaching. We had a new addition to our group. Adam Pascal (original Broadway cast of RENT). I KNOW!

The assignment this week was about getting out of your comfort zone. Who knew it would be so uncomfortable getting out of my comfort zone. This week I chose a scene from MOMENTO. The scene is where Natalie tells Leonard that she is going to take advantage of his short term memory loss and use him. It is a really heavy scene with a lot of language (even the "C" word… which those of you who know me, know that I don't use THAT word… every other word, fine, but  not that one…). I have to admit I did try to wait it out. I kept letting people go in front of me hoping that we wouldn't have time. Well, we did. The scene was a success, but more importantly, I feel like something clicked for me. A tiny little gear in my head (or my heart) finally got in its groove. I was terrified of this assignment. I mean full on, breathe-in-a-bag terrified. And I not only overcame it, but really flourished. There is this great quote from John Lithgow (shut up, I can't spell his name) when somebody asked him if he was scared of his first real singing role on Broadway in DIRTY, ROTTEN SCOUNDRELS. He said (loosely translated from my memory): Absolutely, I try not to do anything that I'm not at least a little bit afraid of. WOW... That was the gear that changed for me. I now know that I can be terrified and succeed. It is possible (that sounds so much deeper in my head). I hope you get what I'm saying...

Actual Overview of the Class:

1. Share three online sources for auditions.
2. Go on one audition (play the game).
3. Find a scene that gets you WAY OUT of your comfort zone. If you don't think you can do it, it's perfect!

What happened/discoveries:

1. Share three online sources for auditions.
   1. What happened:

                                                               i.      Everyone brought in a couple of resources. Many of them were duplicates, but most of them weren't. By the end of the week, we ended up with a huge number of resources that make the whole world a little wider.

1. Discoveries:

                                                               i.      HOLY SHIT. I had no idea the number of resources out there. Nobody in the class did (and these are all working New York actors). If you think you know all of the online resources, your ego is WAY too big. There is always something to learn and discover. Ask for help, pool resources!

1. Go on one audition (play the game):
   1. What happened:

                                                               i.      Most people were able to get at least one, and several had callbacks (one of my classmates ended up having to come late to class because a callback was going so well).

1. Discoveries:

                                                               i.      YOU CAN MOVE MOUNTAINS! Did you know that? Many of us put off auditions. We don't have the right monologue. Or headshot. Or the right shirt. Whatever! Give yourself deadlines and stick to them. You are the only person that has anything to gain.

1. Find a scene that gets you WAY OUT of your comfort zone. If you don't think you can do it, it's perfect!
   1. What happened:

                                                               i.      Everyone brought in scenes that were very challenging for different reasons. But I learned something from every one of them. Everyone was successful (even if they failed).

1. Discoveries:

                                                               i.      It turns out that "out of the box", although difficult, is not really that far "out of the box" for any of us. We got the opportunity to bring something to the table that exists within us, yet rarely gets shown. It is an exhilarating experience and not only raises the quality of your work (and the work of those around you), but your confidence. NOTE: You have to be willing to fail in this exercise. I MEAN BIG!! If you aren't, the stakes will never be high enough and you won't be able to sell what you're putting out there. Commit. For better or worse!

All in all it was a very successful evening. Every actor should have the opportunity to do this. If you don't know anywhere that offers a similar class, create your own. Reach out in your community of actors, find a video camera (so you can really see what is happening with you… you'll be amazed how many facial ticks you have…) a space and some time. Give yourself the opportunity to stretch your acting muscles. Be afraid. The end result is virtual fearlessness!

Next class December 21 (I will be missing this class, but I'll let you know about my make-up)

Please let me know if any of this is helpful. It takes a long time to type…

ACTING CLASS I (Inspiration not included)

Armed with a headshot and a smile...
Category: Writing and Poetry

Simple thanks...
Current mood:  thankful

I saw RENT yesterday. It made me think about all of the things to really be thankful for. Not just friends and family, but simple things that I take for granted. My health. My survival. My future. Hope. These things lend themselves to the universality of that story. What happens when all of that is in jeopardy or taken away completely? Can there still be thanks? Yes. I am so thankful for every moment that I have. I am thankful for my health and my body. I am thankful for my dreams and hopes. I am thankful for my future. Some will argue that I am not guaranteed a future. True. But the hope of that promise is my future. I came here so that I may fulfill that hope. And I am grateful to myself for doing so. Hope is a hard thing to follow... but not nearly as hard as it is to ignore.

Thank those you love. Thank those you don't. But don't forget to thank yourself.

No day but today.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Currently listening: Rent (1996 Original Broadway Cast) By Jonathan Larson Release date: 27 August, 1996

Hello, my name is Lindsay and I am a victim of Drive-By Flattery
Category: Parties and Nightlife

Some friends and I went to a pre-karaoke bar last night - Brandy's (on 84th between 2nd and 3rd). It was my first time there. Great place. The booze are a little pricey, but the pianist on Tuesday nights rocks... He is kind of a Galvin DeGraw meets Elton John meets Jeffery Daniels... It was wild.

I had a man DRIVE BY FLATTER me there. Brandy's is more or less a gay bar. Not officially. But it is. I was meeting a magnificent friend of mine there for a little inspiration and some good cabaret music (...oh, I forgot to mention, Brandy's is also a cabaret bar). I was early... as always. I got my scotch on the rocks and a couple of looks as if I had just ordered bird flu juice on the rocks and retired to the empty cabaret section of this very small bar. I noticed that an older gentleman chugging on a bottle of beer had followed me and sat only a few (very small) cabaret tables away. There are 15 people in the bar and I am at least 10 feet away from all of them except this guy. Hmmm, weird. I, of course, have nothing to read (Note: when visiting/living in New York... ALWAYS have your IPod and something to read... trust me) start looking at what is hanging on the walls... Signed Broadway posters of Wicked, Thoroughly Modern Millie, Avenue Q, etc... very cool. He walks across the bar and uncomfortably tries to talk to me...  He sits back down and leers... Finishing his beer he rises, puts on his coat and, as he is leaving, yells "VERY PRETTY LADY" and runs out the door and I thought... first of all, what the fuck? Then... Oh my God, I was just a victim of DRIVE BY FLATTERY... IN A GAY BAR! Do the men that do this think that it is nice? At least the egg sandwich guy can look me in the face and say he'd like to cook me breakfast in bed... Or the guys that buy a lady a drink at the bar... that's nice. But the men that just randomly pelt you with violent flattery or scary whispers of "nice" as you walk past on the street... What is that about?!

Making sense of scrambled eggs...
Category: Writing and Poetry

Well, November has come and is going and I am now a month away from my one year anniversary in New York. It is a birthday of sorts. I find myself thinking about everything that has happened and I have made happen in the past year. The things I have learned, discovered, lost. About myself, my relationships, my craft. About what it really means to be generous. And stingy. The friends I have discovered and the ones I chose to leave behind. And why. About what it really feels like to be brave. And foolish. And afraid. About my strengths and my weaknesses. And my resistance to speak about either. About my choice to treat my body and my spirit like they are my most valuable possession. About community. And being alone surrounded by the world. About love. And hate. And forgiveness and lack thereof. About what it really means to live here. What so many sacrifice. Why they struggle and fight to be here. Why my path chose to direct me to the city and why my soul would have starved to death had it not. About why I am here. This I have known since the day my foot touched this soil (or in this case pavement). Here I make sense. Finally.

There's a tree on fire in Central Park
Category: Writing and Poetry

I walk to work in the mornings (yes, just like nearly everyone else in this town I have to work part time while I'm working as an actor). My path leads across the park at 81st Street... a winding path that takes me past Belvedere Castle, Turtle Pond and the Great Lawn. There on the South side of The Great Lawn is a tree on fire. She stands lonely at the edge of the field. Solitary in her burning. Head lifted upward towards the sky. The red of autumn has consumed her wily arms in a magnificent plume of fuchsia. She took my breath away on a day that summer still danced with fall. And now she stands half naked. The city walks past her with their dogs, oblivious to the exquisite beauty of her season. She is nearly gone now. But I saw her. And I am thankful.

Currently listening: Catching Tales By Jamie Cullum Release date: 11 October, 2005

And drive wins by a landslide...
Current mood:  accomplished 
Category: Writing and Poetry

And so it is done. I did it. Beyond all of my doubts and fear I found success. I completed my scene in THE MARCONI BROTHERS. I sang AVE MARIA. I did it. And wonderfully. The sound of that song in a church is intoxicating. It sounded so big and round. It will be a moment I will remember. I had so many reasons not to rise to the challenge. I don't sing soprano. I have terrible stage fright. My voice will crack. I will be off key. I don't know Latin. I can't learn the song fast enough. I don't want to fail in front of the world on film... And as I was climbing up the iron spiral staircase to my perch above the congregation with the spiderwebs and the organ I started to panic. The opportunity surrounding me made me dizzy. The top of the staircase finally came. I caught my breath and I sang. Like a bird, like an angel, like I had been born only to sing that song. Everything after that was a whirl. I had sung, not only in front of a group of nearly 100 people a cappella, but in front of Dan Fogler the man who took home a Tony this year for his part in the musical PUTNAM COUNTY SPELLING BEE. I performed in front of a Tony award winning singer... AND Jon Polito and Brenden Sexton III. I stayed on set to offer the back of my head to the extras coordinator... Jon Polito and Dan Fogler serenaded me with TILL THERE WAS YOU from THE MUSIC MAN... I may have died a little.

I guess there must be a moral to the story, but I am too delighted to find it. I just want to float in the sweet waters of bravery. Doubt never stood a chance... it is official, Drive wins by a landslide.

Currently listening: Sweet Home Alabama By Lynyrd Skynyrd Release date: 06 January, 2004

moments between breath
Category: Writing and Poetry

you could write whole movies about the moments between subway cars.

moments based on breaths and the blink of eyes.

the turn of a head or a phrase.

the flip of hair.

whole lifetimes captured in the web of a single moment.

a moment waiting to be read.

Currently listening: She Talks to Angels By The Black Crowes Release date: 11 June, 1992

The epic battle of drive versus doubt
Current mood:  indescribable 
Category: Writing and Poetry

So the shoot for my stuff in THE MARCONI BROTHERS is on November 14th (www.marconibros.com). I am a Bridesmaid/Maid of Honor singing Ave Maria at a wedding the brothers are filming (see the webpage if you're confused). And all I can think is... CRAP. I am so excited to be a part of the film, but this irritating little voice in my right ear keeps freaking me out. It makes me wonder if the reason I didn't move out here sooner was because I was afraid that if I tried and failed it would be so much worse than if I just didn't give myself the opportunity to try. And now I'm here and failure is a part of the game (people tell you that, but you don't get it until you're hanging off the edge of that cliff thinking "Oooooh, so that's what they mean"). What if my drive is just a figment of my imagination like the Tooth Fairy? I believed so strongly for so long that the Tooth Fairy was an actual, real-life fairy that swooped in and brought me change (Can't you just see a little three inch tall fairy struggling to fly with a quarter? Ha, ha…) What if that feeling in my gut that tells me that I am meant to be here is just a permanent indigestion that I willed upon myself? And in doing so I have created a truth that doesn't really exist? SHIT. Everybody has met someone and said "WOW! Somebody's parents lied to them when they were young". I have. Those artists on the street that REALLY don't have any natural skill or ability (That you can tell... maybe they are out of their "Blue Phase" and in the experimental stretch of their career.). I could be in deep ka-ka here, kids. But I can't turn back now, the lottery of success is too tempting. Until I figure out how to plug my right ear, without inhibiting my uncanny ability to hear "kamikaze cab wheels", I'll keep working on that angelic Latin song and hope that my doubts are run down on the street by my drive. Here's hoping drive has an uncanny ability to aim.

In the city of broken dreams and roated nuts
Category: Writing and Poetry

After relocating to a shoebox in the greatest city on earth, no one tells you that there will be a period of adjustment. It is understood that there will be, but no one really TELLS you that for a couple of months you'll struggle with where to find toothbrush heads, or the cheapest toilet paper, or how to cope in 90 degree heat with 98 umidity. No body tells you that stuff. But you land here, in this great city. You breathe in the stench and find the bent light off of the buildings and that guy that smells like pee and roasted nuts outside of your building really beautiful. And they continue to be beautiful even when you forget your sunglasses, or you trip on the guy while schlepping 20 pounds of laundry, or when you have eaten all of the sweet roasted nuts in the city of New York. You stand in their light and feel like another glorious link in the chain: the loud, clanking chain. Your day becomes flashes from a movie, like the marriage proposals from the egg guy on 69^th Street or the way the sun looks on the Chrysler Building when you're walking down Lexington at 7 o'clock on a cold Tuesday morning. But what am I doing? You want the nitty-gritty stuff, right? Yes, I have had that exciting and dreaded first NY call-back: an adventure consisting of the culmination of everything I have learned since I began acting, being required to memorize two classical monologues of THEIR choosing in two days, a blizzard, a way-word subway trip going express in the wrong direction to Queens, and my first rat at 51^st Street (they say you always remember your first). I have had my first NY dance class (ALONE… my companion cancelled at the last minute… smart girl): a humiliating and exhilarating jump and shimmy fest at STEPS on Broadway where I was kicked mercilessly by 14 foot tall Rockettes and sat in the most beautiful dance studio, watching the most beautiful people, above the most beautiful street, in the most beautiful city in the world. And I realized. THIS. IS. IT. This is where I am meant to be. This place makes my stomach soar, takes my breath away and stops my heart. The past eight months have kept me busy. But not too busy to really appreciate how far I've come, where I started and the incredible amount of determination and bravery it took just to get here. So, I guess that's where I am. The greatest city in the world. New York.

Currently reading: Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books By Azar Nafisi Release date: 30 December, 2003