Norma's Back at Last

Some days, a person just feels complete, you know? For me, it was today. And lately, I guess, in general. I think it's this city. There's something electric about it that I can't escape, and I don't think I really want to. It's so wonderful.

Today, Millie and I went to see the matinee of the Durang/Melnick musical ADRIFT IN MACAO at Primary Stages at 59E59. I saw the production back in its Philly tryout and enjoyed it. I think I enjoyed it a lot more there, even though here my seats were significantly better, and cheaper. Either way, it is still so fun, and Michelle Ragusa is a dynamo: there's no stopping her, and it's so exciting to see such a fabulous performer onstage.

Anyway, my point. I was reading the program, thinking "oh, Alan Campbell is in this." (He's the original Joe from SUNSET BLVD on Broadway.) Literally thirty seconds after I mentioned it to Millie, I turned to see who was walking up the aisle to sit in the pair of empty seats next to me, and it was none other than Glenn Close. GLENN CLOSE. Next to me. Immediately in the seat beside me. Her knee was touching mine.

Some backstory and facts:

1. the first CD I ever purchased was the American premiere recording of SUNSET starring Glenn Close and Alan Campbell. Today, I sat next to her and we both watched his performance.

2. As a kid, I loved the circus. In college, I got to play the lead in BARNUM which starred Glenn Close and Jim Dale. Today, I sat next to her.

3. A few weeks ago, I made banana bread for a Tony winner. Today, I sat next to one.

4. Years ago, I saw Betty Buckley perform a concert from the fourth row. She replaced Glenn Close in SUNSET.

5. Alan Campbell and Lauren Kennedy made their Broadway debuts in SUNSET. Now they're married.

6. Elaine Page was a replacement Norma in SUNSET. Now, she's a replacement Chaperone in London's DROWSY. I saw Page perform SWEENEY with the NYC Opera (in 2003?). I sat next to the original Norma today. I made banana bread for the original Chaperone a couple weeks ago.

7. AND, if I'm not mistaken, I saw STUDIO 60's Sarah Paulson at work yesterday. Those lips are unmistakable.

8. This is too much. New York is grand.

An Open Letter to the Sun

Dear Mr Sunshine:

It has been a long time since we've seen each other, and I just wanted to thank you for shining this afternoon. I spent the morning in an audition studio and when I emerged, like a butterfly from a cocoon, I smiled at your warmth. In fact, I decided not to even cross the street where I should have so that I could spend another few blocks in your rays.

I look forward to seeing you again soon. Maybe we could continue this friendship into next week.

Yours,
Beedow

Failure = Success

It was inevitable, I guess. There's only so much a dog can take, you know? And I guess this was it. A few days shy of three months, and I lost it. My brain stumbled, and actually began to think of other things. But, there's no excuse, I failed again.

Maybe it's for the better. I decided to observe some Lenten obligations beginning yesterday, and I fasted. Let me tell you, I was STARVING. But it felt good knowing that I didn't eat an entire bag of chips before I went to bed like usual. And, I am on day five of my before-bed-better-belly-brigade. So, perhaps I was spending my time thinking about other things and just figured that there was no need to remember (j)OE'S.

Either way, I'm not going to get myself down. I'm excited about my new found freedom, the endless possibilites that await me now that I'm no longer tied to a daily writing routine here at (j)OE'S.

Now, I know some of you will be angry, and think I've failed. But what is failure? To me, it's not completing a project you set out to do ... well, OK, then I guess I have failed. But, perhaps we should measure the success I've encrued while failing. I've gotten back into blogging, and have had something to keep me busy daily. Last night, as I was drifting off to sleep and realized I hadn't posted, I make the conscious decision to let it go. It's fine. Let it go.

From now on, I'll try to post regularly, but am not going to stress about it. Take this as an opportunity for you too to let some stress go, release yourself from the shackles of yesterday and go fly a kite.

(Name the two musicals for extra points ...)

Laundry in the Afternoon

I was just doing some laundry this afternoon. Minding my own business. When I took note of instruction numero uno on the dryer:

1. Check inside of machine for children, pets or other foreign objects.

What?! Check inside the dryer for children? And pets? I think I'd notice immediately when I looked at the dryer, since there's a glass door on it, if a child or an animal were inside, wouldn't I? Wouldn't you?

And what makes the instruction-writer automatically assume that only foreign children and pets are likely to crawl inside a dryer, whose opening is perched approximately four feet off the floor? Why couldn't they be indiginous children or pets?

And who brings their kids or dogs to the laundromat (there's that blasted word again) anyhow? That's what nannies and pounds are for. Call a sitter, latch your adorable drooling pooch to the lamppost and wash your stockings. Don't subject the kids to waiting around in the oven-like room of washers and dryers. They don't want to be there and you don't want them there. Plus, since they're technically not allowed to play inside the dryer, it's no fun for them.

Hmm. Actually, there weren't any signs that said not to allow your children or animals (or other foreign objects) inside the dryer. The sign just said to check for them. Maybe you should check to make sure they're there. Or, because most children actually do play inside of them, you should check in case you've lost yours.

Also, there were no similar signs on the washing machine. So, by the sin of omission, I guess it's technically permitted to not check the washing machine for children, pets or other foreign objects. Which therefore means it is generally accepted to let them stay inside the washing machine throughout the complete cycle.

I don't really think we should do that, though. Because they could drown. Or, they might look like prunes when they come out. Worse, how would we best dry them? We know they're not allowed in the dryer, so we'd have to go back home and get a towel.

That's why I don't have kids.

Or pets.

Or other foreign objects.

President's Day

Or is it Presidents' Day? Or perhaps Presidents Day? Even the New Yorker don't have a clue. Wow.

Anyway, BONE CHILLING today here in the Big Apple. Ridiculous.

I was up and out of the house early today, in order to signup and try to be seen for three different auditions. I was seen for two of them, and one callback! Zinga! Also, what's amazing... is I saw at least seven people I knew today. One in an elevator, others in jam-packed holding rooms, or walking down the street. It is amazing that in a city so dense, a person can always find someone he knows. Wowza.

And now off to see Mr Sorkin's bombing backstage boobtuber.

Origins

I feel like I once wrote a post titled Origins already, but, here goes again... I've been asked by two readers about my namesake, and so I figured today would be as good a time as any to divulge.

In fourth grade, I was taking a test and finished early, so I had some time on my hands. I looked around the room and remember locking into the alphabet displayed across the top width of the chalkboard -- you know, that cursive correct-form alphabet that no one actually still uses once they pass the fourth grade? Anyway, I started combining letters and resulted in:

ZACKMANBEEDOWLOW

It turned into the name of a comic book character I only slightly developed. He looked like this guy to the left. What followed was zilch, however, and I never actually created anything past a name and a face.

However, when my family got the internet during my seventh grade year, America OnLine was the big name in service. Those three telephone numbers, all of which were usually busy, resulted in a person spending up to thirty minutes or so just to actually connect to the 'net. Once on, of course, it took just loads of time to actually complete a task as simple as checking email, or seeing a website. Goodness, it was so long ago and so slow ago. Either way, when we got AOL, I was able to choose a username. I chose Beedow, which, as you may have already surmised, is an abbreviated nickname derived from the aforementioned moniker.

Flash forward to the present time. I use Beedow as a nom de plume and am consistently referred to by this pseudonym on the world wide web.

Office Post 2

B-O-R-I-N-G-!

I have literally exhausted every idea I have on internet surfing today. I read an entire magazine (Nov '06 edition that I finally had an opportunity to read), but can't fathom reading another issue. I've responded to all my outdated emails, and even sent myself five emails. I've watched narcoleptic dogs on youtube and made mental notes of my friends' birthdays on myspace.

I don't know what to do anymore. No one calls here! Ahhhhhhhh!

Live, from the Office

Today's a biggie, folks. It's my first post from work. That's right, I've entered the high-paced, fast-moving life of the standard American workforce. And, because of that, I have LOTS of free time to write, read, sing, dance, and be generally useless during the day while making my meanial wage.

I'm excited to bring you all into my daily life, and offer wisdom from the computer here at work while I should be doing other things. Or, should I? What else should I be really doing? Should I try to read all of the papers posted around the office? Should I close my eyes and try to complete my tasks as if I were a sight-impaired individual?

No, of course not. I shouldn't be doing anything else. And, I'm happy to have figured it out. I don't owe anyone anything more than I'm giving. I just hope this computer isn't bugged and they're not reading everything I'm writing.

Belated V-Day Poem

In lieu of an actual post tonight, simply because I'm wraught over the episode of GREY'S ANATOMY that aired, I will just post this little video. A belated Valentine to all y'all. She's funny!

Valentine's Snow

What happens in New York when it snows?

It takes longer to walk everywhere because of the buildup of snow on the corners, on the curb, off the curb, in the median, on the steps, around the wall, et al. Today was a mess in the city. Phew.

That's all. Happy VDAY.

Only Downhill from There

Before my day became perhaps one of the worst ever (long story, but maybe I should consider changing careers), it was essentially fantastic! I worked, I did some time at the library, I had a fantastic audition, saw Millie for coffee, and then I was having dinner.

At dinner, my new favorite place ever (CHICKEN BAR on 45th and 8th), I was sitting, having a Number 3 (crispy chicken, lettuce, tomato, mayo, honey mustard, fries, and coke -- with ice) and looking out the window down 45th street. The lights were glowing, the traffic bustling, the people moving. And these girls were stopped waiting to cross the street. And one looked at me, and then said something to her friend who then also looked at me. I, of course, looked away because I figured they must be mocking me for having hat hair, or mayo on my chin or something. But when I looked back, one blew me a kiss and crossed the street.

(and then later, I saw her friend give her ten dollars)

OUCH

Why do some nights, people sleep weird and then their body is sore? I don't get it, but I guess last night I slept in a wonky way because my right shoulder is KILLING me today. Hrmph.

Anyway, if you're a medical doctor, or a person of spiritual medicine, please contact me.

She was wearing a cute blue hat.

It's amazing how, in a city of 8.1 million (or 18.7 if you include the surrounding areas), it's still easy to see someone you know or recognize almost daily. Today, after quite a bout with the drink last night and having succumbed to its day-after queasiness, I made my way in to rehearsal on the Q train. Why the Q? Because this weekend begins a lot of crazy maintenance work on the tracks, and the Q was going in and out of Queens all weekend.

Anyway, at 5th Avenue, Michele Ragusa quickly stepped on, and made her way to the very front of the car. Now, this woman, you will remember, is the one I raved about in last season's Philly production of ADRIFT IN MACAO. She spent a couple months in the Queen City last season doing BAD DATES and now is in the big city to do the off-Broadway mouting of MACAO. And not a soul on the train clammored after her for a photo or autograph.

Now here is a woman who is making a very decent living as an actress, and yet, is still anonymous enough to be able to ride the train and not be worried about anything. Of course, maybe that has to do with New Yorkers not caring about anyone or anything. Or, the fact that no one on the train goes to theatre. Or, maybe they just thought she was terrible and didn't want to say anything. But most likely, it's just that they didn't know she was anyone special, and let her be.

That's what's nice. I like that feeling where a person can be onstage and so special under the lights and in front of the applause, and then walk out the stage door, scurry into the front car of the Q train and blend into the city and no one is the wiser.

Also, if anyone can find me the photo of Ms Ragusa from the Feb 12 issue of THE NEW YORKER (p6), I'd be grateful. I can't seem to find it online.

I'm So Glad I Came

ONE: I saw the Encores! production of FOLLIES Thursday night at City Center (apparently Steve and Hal were both in the house that night as well, albeit in closer seats than my second-to-last-row-humdinger). Brantley is spot on in his review. It was epic, magnificent, and gorgeous. Musically astounding, emotionally wretching, personally inspiring ... it didn't stop for the whole two-and-a-half-hours. And, throw in the dream team of Vicki Clark, Donna Murphy, and Casey Nicholaw, there's no turning back: we're in whole-hog, and happily rolling around in the mud.

It was something to it there and listen to these extraordinary voices sing these delicious songs and receive enormous amounts of applause. I was sure the entire show was going to stop a few times, notably after "In Buddy's Eyes," "Losing My Mind," "Could I Leave You?," and "The Story of Lucy and Jessie." No surprise here, those were the four solos by Ms Clark and Ms Murphy.

TWO: I met a certain actress last night, backstage at a certain broadway show and presented her with a certain baked good. It was brilliant. And she was just delightful, and beautiful, and so kind.

Skate Spectacle Skeptical

Late last month, a workshop of the new rollerskating tuner XANADU took place at the Minetta Lane Theatre and is currently sked'd to open in April at the Helen Hayes. Critics called the Olivia Newton-John film "the most dreadful, tasteless movie of all time," yet B'way execs think it can make it on the boards. Star Jane Krakowski decided last Friday, however, to pull out of the planned mounting to stick with the boob-tube laugher, 30 ROCK, for which she's obviously raking in a lot more green.

Sources were quoted in the POST saying "I don't see how they can do it without her. She's the show." It makes one wonder if the show that'll try to forgive STARLIGHT EXPRESS for ruining skates and stages will be able to get itself together for those harsh critics in that big apple sans Krakowski. We'll see. The book is being fixed by Douglas Carter Beane, currently rep'd on Bway with gay romp, THE LITTLE DOG LAUGHED. Auditions are happening now, and official rehearsals will most likely begin shortly, however, actors already associated with the project have been taking skating lessons into their own hands.

But, hell, wouldn't that be something? To have to turn down an above-the-title role in a new Bway smash (well, probable failure?) to do television? Sheesh. And I have yet to be able to turn down non-paying, way the hell off-off Broadway shows.

Directions Anyone?

Check this place out: hopstop.com.

It speaks for itself once you get there. It's a MapQuest for those of us using public transportation. There's nothing like it. It makes me happy. It gets me excited. It delivers me to my destination. What else is there?

Yucky Murakami

When I was in Chicago, I began my as-yet-quite-short relationship with mister Haruki Murakami by was of Frank Gelati's adaptation (and brilliant staging) of after the quake. That was fall of ought-five. I read that series of short stories in spring ought-six, and now have just completed his Kakfa on the Shore.

In a sprawling, mystical tale, we meet Kafka, his conscience, his "mother," his "sister," his father, his father's killer, and a few other assorted characters along the way. It's a terrifying Oedipal story of love, loss and memory.

I say terrifying because it is. For the reader as well as our fifteen-year old runaway, Kafka. It's unbearable for about 40% of the 400 page novel, in that it's so egregiously graphic and excessive. I'm actually cringing writing this right now.

Of course, some of it is quite interesting, especially if you just give up the real world and let Murakami's crazy magical world live. It's fine, but I'm glad I've finished and can move on to Crichton's newest, Next.

Required Wall Art

Don't be upset. These are not some stock images I'm simply grabbing from some major corporate site. In fact, these are my own creations, beautious as they are. This is giving me inspiration already, I can feel it.

What I See

So, Beedow is going to start a series of photographic posts while he thinks of something to say.

Bumpkis

What is it with life, huh?

So, I've got this friend, let's call him Bumpkis. OK, so Bumpkis can go through one week feeling really well, and then the next week maybe he'll be down. Or, then maybe he'll have a good day and then a bad day. But what about having like a good morning, a weird afternoon, a strange evening and then a lousy night? How does life do that?

I can't ... um, strike that. Bumpkis can't figure it out. Mood shifts, emotional swings, feeling alterations... what the heck he wonders? Why can't he just be happy all the time? Why does he have to beat himself up when things aren't perfect? Hasn't he figured out yet that life, like his namesake, can be bumpkis sometimes? Dull, boring, terrible, lousy, unfeeling, ineffective, irrational, stupid, difficult, crazy, insane, problematic, unseemly, depressing, poopy ... the list goes on. But, othertimes, everything can be sunny, cheery, warm, wonderful... hmm, that's a significantly shorter list.

Anyway, he just needs to eat some pizza, watch some futbol and take a siesta and start the week over again tomorrow. Thank goodness for Mondays.

PS: He doesn't even care about futbol.

...

I nearly forgot to write anything here today, it was such a relaxing afternoon and evening. I think this whole Project 365 is stupid and pointless. I should just write when I have something to say instead of forcing myself to write crapola like this for y'all to read, which you don't even want to because it's not worthy of reading even.

Alas, poor Blog, I knew it well.

No Shadows Here

Phil didn't see his shadow this morning, and come to think of it, neither did I as I walked around the corner to do some laundry earlier today. It's an early spring -- which means things are looking up. It's a grand way to begin a new year. Of course, today is the real new year's day for me and Phil, who both consider this date probably the most important on the calendar. I mean, if it weren't for this date, neither of us would be who we are today.

I'm now about thirty minutes into my twenty-fourth year of life. It's exciting. Birthdays are always nice, because you see who really cares a lick about you. I got some early morning phone calls today from some friends, a bunch of texts, and a gaggle of messages on my myspace and facebook "walls." Of course, technology nowadays tells us immediately whose birthday it is, so it's no big deal to actually remember it or worry about forgetting someone's. Which, I guess, is nice because it allows the birthday boy (or girl or groundhog) to feel worth. Which is a good thing.

So, today I feel like a million bucks, and gosh darn it, I look like it too!

Drink, Drank, Drunk

So, I was going to write a post tonight about my last thoughts on being 23. But, instead, after getting out of rehearsal fifteen minutes early, I actually made it to the grocery store before it closed, and purchased beer, bread, and potato chips. Then, I came home and watched by DVR'd GREY'S ANATOMY and THE OFFICE while consuming said chips and beer (four of them). So, I cannot really speak coherently for what twenty-three was like. Twenty-four, however, is coming in like a lion, and I expected nothing less.

More when soberness hits me like a train.