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4.17.2011
Well, Hamlet is officially dead now.And I was thoroughly depressed earlier, because, well, ending a show is always sad. But I've loved working on the show. I've loved every goddamn minute of it, especially the minutes I spent with Evan and Junie. Even working with Steven, even though we loathed each other and working with him was just short of impossible. Marlene certainly got a run for her money, working with us. But then I ate something (I hadn't eaten all day) and I wasn't depressed anymore. There is much to be said for comfort food. So. Now I finally have some time off to catch up with everyone and do all the things I haven't had time to do. I'm tired. I want to kiss someone. I want to smoke. Today was beautiful, it really was. Labels: hamlet 3 Comments:aw, I'm so glad the show went so well..yeah, I can see how you'd be sad. Great up date.
By I hope you get some lovely down time.
By Just got back from a trip out of town so now I have to catch up with stuff. Glad that Hamlet went well and comfort food is indeed wonderful.
By 4.04.2011
Today, Steven grabbed me and pulled me to him so hard that my nose slammed into his shoulder. Hard. Very, very hard.First thought: Oh, God, what if my nose is broken? I was seized by visions of having to quit Hamlet due to my disfigured face . . . or having to continue with the show despite being grossly disfigured because WE OPEN ON TUESDAY AND I DON'T HAVE AN UNDERSTUDY. It's a Catch-22, really. Turns out my nose did not break, thankfully. But it really fucking hurt . . . and I can feel that my nose is all bruised on the inside now. Evan was surprised . . . and complained about how Steven actually cut him one time with one of the rapiers used in the final scene. Junie was appalled . . . and said that she's concerned that Steven is going to sprain her ankle . . . because he picks her up in a hug and kind of tosses her down. She wears four-inch heeled boots. With curved soles. Those are like magnets for injuries, especially on a marble floor, which is what our stage has. Marlene saw me massaging my nose and jestingly told me to stop snorting the unction used to "poison" the rapiers (it's actually Sweet 'n Low), and I told her that I figured my nose was probably broken. She told me that Steven tends to get . . . passionate. And then she kind of walked away. And this isn't the first injury Steven has given me . . . although, granted, it is the most painful and potentially disfiguring. I mean, I kind of NEED my nose. I've got bruises all over me from him grabbing me . . . they're mostly on my arms. Thankfully, I spend the entire show in long sleeves. And then those times he's given me beard scrape. And he kind of stepped on my finger once. I'm really quite pissed. I was wearing a sleeveless shirt tonight and my mother saw the bruises and wondered why I kept rubbing my nose. I told her. She was more appalled than I'd expected . . . which made me kind of realize that it is a somewhat bad situation. I suppose I got too used to it to realize . . . until today, when I was legitimately concerned that I'd broken my nose. And it wouldn't even have been a cool nose-breaking story, unlike Tara's. She broke her nose doing a back handspring. My nose-breaking story would have been "Oh, my scene partner pulled me into a hug and my nose hit his shoulder. Why, yes, I AM that delicate." Fucking . . . 4 Comments:
I can't believe M. stood up for S. Is he like her star player???
By That Steve is just bad..and he knows it. Be careful.
By So intense!
By When you're flinging about like a madwoman, punch him in the nose.
By 3.29.2011
The "remembrances" are a handcuff key, a massive queen chess piece (seriously . . . this thing is like five inches tall), and a stack of letters. They've been sitting around all week, but I haven't really looked at them. I figured they were blank anyway, or just held gibberish or Lorem Ipsum.Nope. Today, Steven told me that they're all legitimate Shakespeare sonnets. That he personally picked out. And printed out. In one of those fonts that looks like handwriting. I wasn't sure whether to be aghast or amused, so I laughed. "I figured those were just going to be scribbles on notebook paper," I said. Because, you know, I have this weird notebook fixation. And besides . . . I'm fresh out of high school. Everything is notebook paper. "Notebook paper?" he said, clearly appalled. "What? No." The paper is all nice and stuff, you know, the linen-y kind . . . which he personally, shall we say, antiqued, to make it look all well-read and whatnot. I had no idea what to say. And I still don't know what to make of that. That's kind of a lot of effort to put into something that gets a good ten seconds of face time, if that. And hell . . . nobody is even going to SEE the inside of the papers — it's not like anyone reads them or even opens them up. They're just sitting there, in a nice little stack, below the chess piece. (Clearly, Hamlet was not one for gift-giving . . . or else Ophelia just didn't feel like giving him all of his shit back at the time.) So . . . either I'm very low maintenance (read: lazy . . . and I am both, to be frank), or he's just trying way too hard. And damn, I thought I was thorough. Although I'm thorough in a different manner . . . I am quite literally the only one in the cast who knows all of their lines word-perfect . . . and I can count on one hand the number of times I've flubbed them. (It was never the lines that I had a problem with . . . it was, well, the blocking. You know what I mean.) Awkward Cady feels awkward. Labels: hamlet 2 Comments:Wow, that is impressive..the lengths he went too. Oh, lets hope they get on the same page as you are.
By Maybe he's not so much thorough as he is bored. Who knows.
By
We are now officially in tech week.
I got a major haircut today, courtesy of Winter . . . and it makes me look like Joan Jett. Before I was all goth and whatnot, with long, straight black hair. Now I'm, well . . . punk, I suppose. Lea said she didn't even think it was me when she saw me walking up to rehearsal. I . . . sort of like it, but I'm definitely going to have to get used to it. I will say this . . . it definitely makes me look more lesbian than my last haircut did. Which is not going to help things with G, let me tell you. About G . . . on Sunday, the pastor launched very randomly into a tirade about how god is going to bring fiery vengeance on America because of
Thoroughly offended, I got up and left. And I have vowed never to go back to that church. Of course, G is not happy. Why should I be offended, quoth she. Said pastor is merely telling "the truth" . . . and the truth is never offensive, ever. I don't even give a shit anymore. I'm not going back. I'm never going back. I don't even believe in god, so it's not like it's much of a loss to me anyway. I don't know. I'm feeling better about Hamlet in general. It's Evan and Junie mostly, I think. Evan and I haven't been hanging out as much, but we still go off to smoke together. Junie doesn't smoke, so in between scenes we sit in the hall and play Sudoku together. I like her. She's very sweet and unassuming, but her Rosencrantz is hilarious. (Rosencrantz is a valley girl.) Although Steven and I just randomly got along quite famously today. It's like we magically have camaraderie now. I have no idea why. (The kissing is probably why, quite frankly. The ones today were really good . . . and I don't even feel slightly awkward admitting that.) And today, I spent the time preparing for my crazy scenes by listening to Ke$ha and dancing erratically in the halls. I think I'm going to make a habit out of that. Also, it rained today . . . repeatedly and heavily, which might explain my good mood. I adore rain. Labels: hamlet 3 Comments:
Cool to have some ritual like that before your scenes.
By That's so cool that Winter gave you a haircut. In spite of the soured Sunday, you seem in rare form. All the best with the show. No looking back..just have a great time.
By I'm certain that your grandmother would frighten me at some point. I love the rain too, especially thunderstorms. I sleep better.
By 3.24.2011
I really, really, really, really, really like Mr. Sunshine. I'm so afraid it's going to get canceled because it doesn't seem terribly popular. I'm hoping a 30 Rock-ish situation develops. Steven is back . . . he went away for a few days for some unknown (to me, at least) reason. And we're back to that thing where we're not talking. I don't know why. We've got to be the worst Hamlet and Ophelia ever. Together, not individually. Our relationship is abysmal. In the beginning, when we first started rehearsing Get Thee to a Nunnery . . . we both talked way, way, way too fast (especially me . . . people are always telling me that I talk too fast in regular life), stood across the room from each other, and wouldn't touch each other. Marlene more or less fixed all that. The kiss has evolved from a peck on the cheek to a peck on the lips to a brief snog . . . twice. So, you know, it's not COMPLETELY strange or anything, except for that it IS, entirely. During break I encountered Evan in the hall and asked if he wanted to go "smoke, or something." "'Or something'?" he queried. "Yeah." I paused. "It was really fun making out with you yesterday." He laughed. "Oh, yeah, that," he said, as we headed outside. "That was great." Honestly . . . if we HAD snuck off somewhere to, you know, do things, I don't know WHERE we would have done it. We rehearse in a fucking CHURCH, for crying out loud . . . and, even to someone as irreverent as I am, that's kind of awkward. I just thought you all would like to know that I didn't miss the opportunity to make a joke out of that situation. Labels: hamlet 3 Comments:
I like the running joke..
By
There is so much I like about Mr. Sunshine. I love Roman and his Mom. Lots of interesting situations.
By I find this to be wildly amusing. :)
By 3.22.2011
I . . . see too many people too often. I'm one of those people who needs alone time and lots of it. And frankly, I haven't had, well, time for that lately. Between work (which is nothing but talking to people), rehearsal (ditto . . . and also, um, interacting with people), and having a girlfriend (double ditto) . . . there's just not much time. And since I've suddenly transformed into a Normal Person, when I AM alone, people talk to me (phone). And because I, like Mr. Sunshine, am trying to make myself into being a Nice Person, I talk back instead of ignoring them. I actually quite liked the other me. So, yes . . . girlfriend. Winter and I are dating now. We like each other, yes, but I think she's doing this mostly for the novelty of it as she's never had a girlfriend before. And me, well . . . I like her and I like having a girlfriend in general. I don't know. It almost doesn't feel like a real relationship or something. Although that could be just because of Hamlet stuff and whatnot. Who's to say, really? But it's not serious or anything, so it's not a big deal. I've also been hanging out with Evan a lot lately. We mostly just smoke and complain about how we were raised. It's more fun than it sounds. Yesterday, at rehearsal, we went outside on our break to smoke and got locked outside. Despite having contacted everyone upstairs to let them know we were outside so they could let us in, we were out there a good 20 minutes. After rehearsal, Marlene took us aside to lecture us a little bit. Apparently, they searched the building for us . . . including in places like dark corners, closets, and bathrooms. Everyone, it seemed, had concluded that we'd disappeared to go make out or something. Oh. Evan and I burst out laughing . . . because the thought had literally never occurred to either of us. We explained that we weren't, we were just smoking . . . but she clearly didn't believe us until Evan said, "Well, I'm gay." "Oh," Marlene said. "And I have a girlfriend," I said. "So you're both gay," she said, and looked relieved. "Well --" I started to say, because I'm not actually gay, I'm bi. But she kept on . . . with the idea that perhaps the reason we'd been so hard to find was because we'd been smoking pot. Which we weren't. At the time, it amused me . . . just because of the absurdity of the situation (although I guess that didn't really help our case for being stone-cold sober). I guess it's because I knew that Evan is gay and I know he thinks I am. I suppose I didn't consider that everyone else probably doesn't know . . . although I guess they do now. It was really, really funny . . . but now I just feel awkward about it. I think it's probably more over the implicit accusations of Seven Minutes in Heaven and getting stoned. And as for my bisexuality, well . . . I suppose it's fortunate that I have a girlfriend right now and not a boyfriend. I don't really date guys anyway. I don't encounter many that I want to date . . . and my family makes it SO hard with guys, because they (well, except my mother) assume that I've seen the light and turned straight. And, of course, they want me to date every guy they see me with . . . which is a problem because all of my male friends are gay except for two. "That guy's cute," they'll say. "Why don't you date him?" "Uh . . . " And then, last night on the way home, they said that I have gay friends because god might be "calling me" into a MINISTRY for gay people . . . to turn them straight, of course. I was so mad I couldn't even think about them anymore . . . much less look at them OR talk to them. It seems ever more likely that I was switched at birth, because there is just NO way possible I could be related to people like that. Labels: hamlet 3 Comments:hahahaa..my favorite post yet. Oh..this is your story..this is the one. All I can say..make it happen your way.
By Wow, I'm happy for you and Winter. That is so funny about your director and her thoughts about what was going on.
By
This reminded me of that one time at that one place I talked to that person about something.
By 3.12.2011
So I like Evan.Not like THAT. No. We hit it off. Quite nicely, actually . . . he managed to find me at my spot under the first stairwell. When I'm not rehearsing, I slip in there to read or play Sudoku. Well, actually, I usually sit in the second stairwell, but today it was dark for some reason, and there aren't any light switches. The lights in the main areas of the building have remote access. So I was sitting under the first stairwell. Evan came traipsing along and asked if we could run lines. I said sure. And we did, once . . . before falling into a very lengthy, serious, yet upbeat conversation. Honestly, I don't know how it happened. I even told him a couple of things that I haven't told Pris and Winter. Pris, especially. She knows more than anyone. I don't know. But he told me things and they were so eerily similar to my own experiences that I felt I had to share. He's pretty great. And then we had to go rehearse the scene where Laertes leaves for France and gives Ophelia a bunch of advice, and it was easier, because we had some actual camaraderie. And I figure I probably need to sit down and talk with Steven . . . because, well, goddamn it, we're still pretty fucking awkward. It's better, it really is. But it's just not . . . it's not THERE. It doesn't feel right and everyone knows it. There's no . . . rhythm to fall into. Which is doubly hard, because I kind of have to make out with him and all. It's getting more intense that way. Organically. I don't know anymore. And the unfortunate thing is, I'm spending far more time with Steven than Evan. So being friends with Evan is nice and all, but it isn't going to do THAT much good, because Laertes isn't even in the majority of the show. But it's nice to have made a friend in the show. After all . . . he IS the only other person my age. (Turns out he's a year older than me, but still.) Labels: hamlet 2 Comments:I'm so glad things are turning out great with Evan. You need that certain 'flex' I guess to work together. Some actors really come off so damn sure of themselves..and once you get to know them, you realize what a mess they are.
By
Evan sounds nice.
By 3.10.2011
Ever since the new Laertes, Evan, arrived, Steven has been much nicer to me. I'm not sure why. My favorite scarf smells like sage, mint, and him. Steven, I mean. I can understand why it smells like mint and sage [I smoke mint and sage cigarettes sometimes], but I can't figure out why it smells like Steven. I have worn that scarf to rehearsal, but I didn't wear it DURING rehearsal. I can't see how or where that thing would have had an opportunity for him to get his scent on it. Yesterday he accidentally (I think) hit me with his sword and I said, "Oh-HO, is that a hint?" And then we all laughed. And he offered to help me put my dress on. I was like . . . "I'm a big girl. I can dress myself." Confused Cady is confused. But it's not in my nature to make things easy for people. I don't know. It just feels strange that, in the beginning, he wouldn't even look at me and now he's being all chummy. I sort of feel bad for Evan. I think he might actually be younger than I am, and I get the feeling that he doesn't really know what he's doing. He seems nice enough, though. The awkward thing was that we'd barely been introduced and the first thing I had to do was go drape myself all over him. "Act like he's Hamlet," Marlene said. I hemmed. "You think he's your boyfriend," Marlene said in her most authoritative tones, which, let me tell you, are impressively authoritative. I sighed. And I did it. But he's terribly skinny, so it's doubly awkward. He's probably no wider than I am and I'm 5'7 and he's around 6'0. Steven's quite a bit wider, so there's something to work with, you know. Oh, goddamn, I don't even know anymore. I feel like such a whore. Marlene is really making me slut it up for this. I even have to strip down to this little red slip thing. Maybe I should change career paths. EDIT: The whole stripping thing was the reason Steven was offering to help me don my dress. Because I'd taken it off. So. That should make sense now. Labels: hamlet 3 Comments:
hahahhaa...
By
That is interesting about Steven and Evan.
By Ahaha. Sounds like everything's fun.
By 3.07.2011
They fired the guy who plays Laertes. It's not a terrible loss to me . . . I only got to rehearse with him a couple of times, literally. Methinks that's probably why he got fired. I suppose it could be worse -- granted, there's only a month left until we open, but you don't see Laertes very much, as he spends the majority of the play in France whoring it up.So Marlene called me yesterday to let me know . . . and I'm meeting him at rehearsal today. Today is yet another rehearsal of Ophelia's crazy scene. Objectively, it sounds fun. It's not fun. I'm told I need to look up. And cry. And talk to god. I'm having problems with these things.
I assured her this was not the case. She told me that that was Chris's problem . . . and I realized that I already knew that. One day, Marlene was trying to work up some vehemence in him, and told him to liberally sprinkle his lines with a lot of f-words just for emphasis. He wouldn't do it. He said, "Okay," and then continued reading his lines the way he'd been. She told him again. He still wouldn't do it. That's what tipped ME off, anyway. Although, if that's an indicator, I'm not sure why one would make the assumption that I'm religious. I swear all the time. ANYWAY . . . the thing is, the first instance of the new Laertes's and my working relationship is going to be me acting like an escapee from a psych ward and mistaking him for Hamlet and whatnot, complete with Marlene trying to direct me towards a Mariah Gale-esque performance. Thank you all so much for reading January Brings Few Faces over the past few days . . . I'm sorry I haven't been around to read your stories. I'm going to catch up with you just as soon as I can. Labels: hamlet 3 Comments:
It would be hard to know exactly what the director wants. Good look on those real tears.
By It just gives bad vibes to everyone when someone gets canned. Hopefully, with practice..its gonna be a piece of cake soon.
By Odd. The only thing I can do is actual tears.
By 2.28.2011
Rehearsal was uncommonly short. We rehearsed the Murder of Gonzago scene today. Center stage is yet another stage where the actor-actors act. On the right, you have Hamlet and Ophelia, and to the left are Claudius, Gertrude, and Polonius. (There are more people in this scene; they just didn't show up tonight.) So we main characters are sitting around watching these extras when Marlene interrupts. ME: [to nobody in particular] What I want to know is, who wouldn't like to get poison and a hat? STEVEN: Hats don't hold poison very well. It tends to leak out. ME: Unless you get one of those plastic Halloween hats. STEVEN: That's true. [pause] I see you've done this before. ME: Well, I don't like to brag, but . . . It was amusing because it was strangely flirtatious. As you can see, we're loosening up. Somewhat. Not enough for Marlene, though . . . which is only fair, because we're still pretty awkward. She's getting frustrated. "More love!" she shouts. "I need to see more love!" She even made us her example today . . . about three separate times. And not in a good way. Well, I'm trying. Labels: hamlet 2 Comments:
More Love!!!
By More LOVE! It makes the world go round, you know.
By 2.25.2011
Jackie and I finally saw Black Swan. And OH. MY. GOD. It was fucking spectacular. I just want to build a shrine to it in the middle of my house and worship it. And put stills up all over the walls. And marry Mila Kunis. Moving right along . . . by now Steven and I have kissed exactly five times. The second time was particularly memorable because it really hurt. Seriously. I still felt the burn like half an hour later. The next three times passed without incident. It's getting better. We actually talk now. Really. It helps. And of course eliminating all physical barriers and space did too. By the end of the scene, we're . . . how to put this . . . grieving all over each other. Well, it's mostly me doing the grieving, because I'm a girl or something. But yeah. And I most likely get to smoke. As bad as yesterday was, today was exponentially better. Seriously. Yesterday was complete and utter shit. And then today was amazing. I was even early to rehearsal. I cleaned my room. I got to see a movie I've been wanting to see for months. Said movie was incomprehensibly brilliant. Jackie and I even got a discount on our tickets. I found out that she and that skank whore Ashley are no longer friends. I still have cigarettes left. Maybe I'm smoking too much these days. But I feel good. Labels: hamlet 2 Comments:Hey, its not even the weekend yet...lucky you. Snow here. More than I want to even think about.
By I haven't seen it yet. D:
By 2.23.2011
Well, as it turns out, I do have to kiss Steven.It was surprisingly anticlimactic. Yet I was right about the whole beard thing. I don't like it. Labels: hamlet 4 Comments:
I have several friends like that. They think I'm weird that I like the hairy guy. I guess I was excited as he was that he could grow facial hair. He loves to not shave, but he has lately. He's just shaggy.
By Now that's gonna be some real acting..or maybe your ophelia..doesn't like it either.
By oops..I probably spelled that wrong. But I hope the rehearsals are going great.
By It would be more climatic if you were hitting him with an urn instead. j/s
By
The first rehearsal of the Get Thee to a Nunnery scene is tomorrow night . . .
and I am so fucking terrified. Oh my God. Labels: hamlet 2 Comments:I know its like diving in deep..but you'll get it done. I know you will.
By I guess you're over it now.
By
Chris unintentionally said "charge" like a pirate during rehearsal and apparently Steven and I both caught it, because we both growled "YARR!" quite loudly at the same time.
Labels: hamlet 1 Comments:Haha. Maybe he's OK.
By 2.22.2011
I asked Marlene when I was supposed to sidle over to him in a particular scene, and she told me to trust my instincts. "When it feels right," she said, "go for it." "Okay," I said, not terribly sold on my instincts, "but when is that?" "You guys need to make that connection," she said. "When you sense his pain, you need to go over there." "I can't read his aura," I said seriously, but I was kidding. "What?" "I said I can't read his aura." "READ IT," Steven said humorously, texting. He'd been standing there the entire time but hadn't said anything. And that's how the Talking Cherry got popped. Labels: hamlet 4 Comments:hahahhaa..I'm glad you aren't scared of the director.
By Like that you guys are feeling your way through the play. Hmmm. Like his line too.
By interesting communication there. hope things go great with the play.
By Maybe you can read it...
By 2.16.2011
 This is amusing to me partially because I want to be cremated when I die.Which reminds me . . . during rehearsal one day I asked Marlene if I needed to be at the rehearsals for Ophelia's funeral scene. Ophelia's only in a coffin (or on a bier, depending on which version you prefer) and Laertes may or may not snatch her out of the coffin. And then he and Hamlet go at it IN HER FUCKING GRAVE. So I asked Marlene if I was even IN the scene (it's very hard to pretend to be dead. Everything is suddenly unbearably itchy and wildly amusing). She said yes. Lea, the stage manager (among other things) was nearby and overheard, and began to discuss where we could get a coffin for me. I said wouldn't it be funny if they walked on stage carrying an urn? And we never got past that because Lea and I started laughing too hard and somebody came over to ask Marlene something. Labels: hamlet, white ninja 2 Comments:Its the little things that can stir up trouble like that. Must have been an interesting moment.
By Totally should have done it. Oh well.
By 2.12.2011
Today at rehearsal was the longest yet . . . and then I got lost downtown for almost half an hour. In the middle of the day. So far I haven't gotten lost at night . . . but leave it to me to fuck up something EASY. Back when I took piano lessons, my teacher told me that I always got the music that was hard for everyone else finished quickly. The music that everyone else found easy, however, was the music I spent months trying to master.I still don't know how to feel about that. In the beginning we were working on the scene where Hamlet, um, hits on (?) Ophelia at the play. Hits on isn't exactly the right term, but . . . for now it will have to do because I can't think of anything else. Making vagina hand gestures and the ten, you know -- index finger penis and index finger / thumb vagina. Stuff. Deciding on the theme that Ophelia is most likely pregnant. By the end we were all bored and tired and reduced to about 1/4 of our original size (the rest of the cast made up excuses and left) and were either doing deadpan or melodrama just because it's funny. You haven't lived until you've seen and heard the final scenes, particularly Hamlet's dying speech(es), performed deadpan. It's wildly hilarious. Or, as Marlene says, high-LAR-ious. She says that a lot. I enjoy it. Actually, Steven is really, really funny . . . and it feels like some of the tension is dissolving even though we still haven't said anything to each other. Other than lines. If I could look at the future, I'd like to take a glimpse at the show and see how it turns out. I'm sort of scared . . . I mean, this company is known for being, like, very, very good at what they do, to put it briefly. They've never gotten a bad review. Marlene has won about a zillion awards for directing and stuff. So, you know, no pressure. Steven's now doing the Kenneth Branagh version of "I LOVED OPHELIA" which is an impassioned, tragical scream. I laugh every time he (Steven) does it. It's just so WEIRD. Not him, per se . . . he does it nicely. Just the idea of it, or something, I don't know. I'm definitely going to have to get over that before I have to pretend to be dead in a coffin. If your dead body is lying there tittering, then you've got several problems. Most notably . . . they're probably not dead, so maybe you shouldn't bury them. Labels: hamlet 4 Comments:
hahahaa..some interesting stuff at play practice.
By I'm sure you guys will have it perfected by show time. Steve sounds very interesting. I'm glad he can lighten things up.
By Sounds like you guys are having some fun too. I'm sure there be more long rehearsals ahead. All the best on the play.
By Let's call it making awkward remarks and leave it at that.
By 2.10.2011
You wouldn't think sitting in a chair talking and listening to people talk would be tiring, but it is. It is remarkably tiring.So I've been at rehearsal for the past two days . . . and then there's school, of course. Luckily for me, I haven't had to work this week (so far). It's progressing well, I think. Tonight we were trying to figure out what we should have as the "rememberances" that Ophelia gives back to Hamlet during the "Get thee to a nunnery" scene. Nobody could think of anything. And myriad other things . . . quite frankly I'm too tired to elaborate. Tomorrow's my only free day, so I'm going to catch up with all of you then . . . cheers. Labels: hamlet 3 Comments:Its hard to brain storm under certain conditions. Hope you get some rest, but maybe you napped with your eyes open.
By Hope you have a good friday.
By I would think it's tiring. College orientation was so BORING and you have to get up early to make it there. o.e
By 2.09.2011
It sort of feels like I've been at rehearsal for the past two months, such has my immersion been. I feel like I could write volumes about Hamlet (the play, not the character per se) . . . except there's really nothing about it to say that hasn't already been said.So we've all had the script since October, I think. And then yesterday, Marlene sends out a new script. It's all the same lines, thankfully, but they're rearranged. I think this version is shorter. The entire text of Hamlet played full-out from start to finish is over four hours long. Marlene cut that down to about two hours, and I think she cut it again, although I can't quite be sure yet. This new version is arranged in a way that is sort of Kenneth Branagh's version meets Mel Gibson's version meets David Tennant's version. Sort of. Anyway, she sends it out in an email attachment . . . which saves on printing costs for the company, but means we, the cast, have to go through the enormous hassle of printing out our own scripts . . . and then binding them, if you're inclined to do that sort of thing. And for the second time, damn it. And the printer is out of ink because Allie likes to print EVERYTHING she finds on the internet, without regard for saving the printer for important things, like scripts and homework and whatnot. Ugh. I managed to print the first two pages of the script, but unfortunately, those are two of the pages that I need LEAST. And it turns out we don't have a three-hole punch. We do have a one-hole punch, but if someone thinks I'm going to measure out spaces for holes on EVERY PIECE OF PAPER, they have another think coming. No. I'm going to buy a three-hole punch first thing . . . along with some printer ink. (Luckily, we're not short on paper.) And perhaps a new binder, too. Right now I'm missing a show I did a few years back that was a musical revue . . . the entire script was nothing but a few sheets of lyrics and a few pages of sheet music. Easiest damn show ever. Oh . . . and I saw some online promos for the show earlier today . . . although, no doubt, Ronnie's printed out stacks of them. As Job said, "the thing I feared the most came upon me" . . . Steven has a beard. Okay, to be fair, that's not the thing I fear the most — not in the world and not in this show. But it's still unfortunate, I think. Labels: hamlet 3 Comments:We have someone in our family like that too..then I think someone took the cord to the printer. Yeah, we've really got it together here. If I could just go back to sleep this morning.
By Wow, a new script..still I'd feel..well..anyway, hope rehearsals go great.
By What do you use a one-hole punch for? I only use a three-hole punch.
By 1.23.2011
I hope the Hamlet to my Ophelia isn't growing facial hair. I have a thing about facial hair; I can't fucking stand it. I was watching Hamlet DVDs today and it occurred to me that Steven just may very well be growing a beard or a mustache or goatee or SOMETHING and GODDAMN . . . ew. Hamlet even makes mention of his beard in his talks.Granted, our version is modern and most modern people don't have beards unless they're Muslim or Jewish or hipsters. Even so . . . I have the most morbid feeling about it. Nothing against males, but I've never kissed a beard and I really don't want to start now. Also, I'm posting the story I'm working on, January Brings Few Faces (so far, it's about 1/4 finished). I got the title from one of Emerson's poems. The first three pages are up on americanmouths.blogspot.com. cheers. <3 Labels: hamlet 2 Comments:I have a friend who is like you and no facial hair is a plus in her book. My boyfriend can't hardly grow anything since he's part Native American. My little brother is so hairy. He's happy he can grow a beard this winter.
By Beard scrape: a horrible, HORRIBLE thing.
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