After a “break” during the holidays, when I had too much stuff to do and couldn’t learn a new piano song, here’s our first duet of the year!
Camille's Crafty
Tuesday, January 5, 2021
Friday, January 1, 2021
My Interview Stories - The Acting Class
I used to work at a post production company. We edited trailers, did post production on low-budget feature films and various other things. One thing we would occasionally do is cut actor reels. If you don’t know what that is, it’s a compilation of little scenes an actor has done which they send out to agents or casting directors who might want a sample of work before working with someone. Tom Cruise doesn’t need one but the woman who plays a waitress against him probably does. Or at least, did in the olden days. I don’t know if they still make them now that everything is digital.
An actress who may or may not have been named Sydney, I don’t
remember, was in our office having her reel cut. She was close to me in age,
early 20s. She was slender and short. Tiny like many actresses or aspiring
actresses. She had long red hair. But the most memorable thing about her was her
catch phrase. Right on. “Do you want something to drink?” “Right on.” “I just
need to hook up a different drive in this room.” “Right on.”
I wasn’t doing any specific work on her reel, but I’m sure
it was my job to make copies of it for her when it was done. We chatted
periodically when she would step out of the editing room. We got along well and
she invited me to go with her to an acting class that week.
It’s always nice to make new friends, to quote Giselle in Enchanted.
Maybe I’d learn something. Maybe I was making a new friend. It was free for me
to sit in, so I agreed to join her. Then she told me it was in Santa Monica.
If you aren’t from LA, or haven’t spent much time here, you
don’t know the horror of getting invited to an event “over the hill” from where
you live. I lived in Glendale, over the hill from the office, which was in
Hollywood. There was no point in me going home after work and then heading to
Santa Monica because I’d never make it to Santa Monica in time, even though it
is only about 25 miles away. At rush hour, that could be a three-hour drive.
Work ended at six and the class started at eight. Driving there, finding it and
parking would all take time. There was no such thing as GPS or map app on the
phone. There was something called a Thomas Guide, which was a giant book of
maps of Los Angeles that everyone kept in their cars.
I probably stopped to grab fast-food and headed out to the
beach. I managed to find the place and find parking and still get to the class
on time. The class took place in a small theater, with the audience seats
rising up toward the back walls, so the audience looked down on the stage. I
found Sydney. That night, everyone in the class was presenting monologues.
Sydney’s turn came up.
“My vagina is angry,” she started. It was from the Vagina
Monologues which burst onto the scene a few years earlier in 1996. Sydney was supposed
to finish her lackluster performance and then remain on the stage while the
teacher gave her notes.
She didn’t get very far before the teacher interrupted her.
He wasn’t buying it. She had to start over. “My vagina is angry.” And over. “My
vagina is angry.” And over. “My vagina is angry.” Until, finally, she started
to cry. She wasn’t really connecting with the material, written by a woman in her
40s. The teacher told her to either keep working on it or present something
different next time.
She must have been the last person to go, because she came
back into the seats and sat beside me. She wasn’t done crying. By now it was
late, anyway, so I went home. I don’t know if we talked about getting a snack
after the class or not, but there was no way Sydney was doing anything that
night but cry.
I don’t remember seeing her again. We didn’t become friends.
She’s got to be in her 40s by now, so maybe she can finally understand that
monologue. I was not inspired to be an actress or take an acting class, but I’ll
never forget the one class I sat in on.
Thursday, December 17, 2020
My Interview Stories - The Palms
After watching many interviews on late-night shows and
day-time shows during the past year, I’ve become keenly aware of the old go-to
stories that celebrities tell. Often, I don’t enjoy hearing the same one or two
stories from people as they do the rounds on talk shows to sell their latest
project. They usually have no variation. They have practiced the story dozens
of times, pausing for laughs in the same places, even if no one laughs. (The
one story I do enjoy each time I hear it is James Acaster’s Pin Drop band
story. Look for that one if you get the chance.) But this got me thinking about
what some of my talk-show stories might be. Here’s the first one.
After I had lived in LA for a few years, I started taking voice
lessons. To what end? Who can say? We got the trades at work and I did see an
ad in the one for variety acts for a local cabaret night, so I answered the ad.
I discussed the songs I knew with my voice teacher and we
decided I should sing “Another Hundred People,” by Stephen Sondheim. The promoter
who was trying to get the cabaret night together had hired a piano player, so I
just needed to bring the sheet music to the audition.
I went to the audition, at the club, The Palms, in West
Hollywood. I told a gay friend of mine that I was singing there and he asked me
if I was sure, because it was a lesbian bar. Sure. No problem.
The audition was acapella and the promoter was sufficiently
pleased that I got the job. It paid 2 free drinks at the bar the night of. I
wasn’t doing this for the money, so that was fine with me. I left a photocopy
of my music for the pianist.
I don’t remember much about before the show. I knew where
the club was from the audition. I parked at a pay garage instead of driving around
and around looking for a meter, so already I was losing money on this gig. There
wasn’t so much a stage as one of end of the room with a keyboard and
microphone. I sang and the piano player played…something. He certainly wasn’t playing
the song I was doing. I probably starting singing faster and faster, just
wanting to finish this weird duet of voice and noodling. It was excruciating
for me. I don’t think the audience noticed, if they were even paying attention.
I finished the song and took the one step from stage to
crowd. I made my way to the bar. I traded in one drink ticket for a coke. “You
could have something stronger,” the bartender suggested. No, just a coke.
A woman, older than me by maybe 40 years, who can best be
described as Popeye, sat beside me and started to chat me up. I was polite, but
I don’t think I even finished my drink before leaving the club. Did I thank the
promoter? I don’t know. Did I stay and watch the rest of the show? No. How rude
of me. I left and was thankful that I didn’t have to walk far to the parking garage.
I don’t think I answered any other ads looking for singers
after that. Not that it was a horrible experience, just that it wasn’t for me.
I guess that’s why I’m not famous.
Wednesday, December 9, 2020
I Wrote a Book!
I have been writing a book for years. And I finally decided it is done.
If you have some money laying around, it would be the best Christmas present ever for me if you would buy a copy of my book.
Here's the cover, which is part painting by me (with soft pastel) and part electronic. I tried a version where I did the text by hand, but it was a mess and difficult to read. Having a title which people can't read didn't seem like a winning marketing strategy.
Sunday, November 15, 2020
Hazy Shade of Winter
Katherine posted an autumnal picture to Facebook with lyrics from this song, so I decided we had to do it next.
Sunday, November 8, 2020
Sunday, October 25, 2020
Calypso
Katherine and I did a new video. Her bell sounds appropriately nautical for this one. A favorite song of mine. I had a 45 of it that I would listen to every time I went “home” to Texas, where my record player resided.