Thursday, October 28, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
Survival Mode
This song perfectly encapsulates my feelings about getting a 'survival job' for the holidays. Hopefully I won't have to enter the ol Barnes and Noble as an employee again anytime soon...I'll be calling and e-mailing local theatres and such to see if they need house managers or box office folks. Best case scenario I book a gig teaching movement, clowning, pantomime, or something. Or...y'know...lead some text and movement workshops at the pretend college or my old High School.
BOINK!!
It took me a while to get up this morning. Last night's TV marathonning in my underpants with a bowl of Cracklin Oat Bran really took it out of me(?) Nah..couldn't be that. It was the week's worth of shows all catching up to my body. Matter of fact, come this Monday I will have been working on Othello and An Ideal Husband for about four months. If you throw Shakesperience in there, I've been hearing "And what's he then that says I play the villain?" on repeat for the better part of the year. That's not a complaint. I've got no gripes about listening to and performing Shakespeare all year. That's like saying "Man, I wish I could take a break from that daily smoothie'n'intercourse routine my girlfriend's got me on." I'm immensely grateful for this year and those to come. It's strange just how significantly my life has been altered at 25. It's staggering, really. I've put in a good amount of effort--though there's still plenty of projects and things I want to get going. Such as:
Start my own theatre company.
Naturally, this is the dream. Get all my favorite actors together and just fuck with texts. Blow them apart. Explore them. Live them. Rip them to shreds and run around naked with "What fools these mortals be" smeared on our bodies in glow-in-the-dark paint.
Get High School Daze back off the ground.
I've been drawing this fucking comic since middle school. I remember the exact day I created the main character, Jason McKinsey...I was at an airport headed to the east coast and I wanted to kill some time before the flight left. I've been drawing him now for most of my life--and that series holds a special place in my heart.
Start Clowning Around.
I've been avoiding this terrifying idea, but I can't any longer. I've been a little too busy to come up with good street routines, but I would love to begin clowning on a regular basis. I think its a healthy way to confront my stage fears face to face.
Write Some More Effing Music.
I've written all of one song, and I'm not terribly proud of it. I want to write enough to start playing gigs at coffee shops. That's right.
But first--survival job. I wonder if there's a market for a job where I literally just survive. Like I have a machete, a canteen, and a towel, and a film crew follows me around LA while I'm hacking away at shrubs and collecting rainwater from gutters.
Hell, Jersey Shore has an audience--and I don't think any of those fuckers could even SPELL 'survival'.
Much love (with rubber gloves,)
Dak
BOINK!!
It took me a while to get up this morning. Last night's TV marathonning in my underpants with a bowl of Cracklin Oat Bran really took it out of me(?) Nah..couldn't be that. It was the week's worth of shows all catching up to my body. Matter of fact, come this Monday I will have been working on Othello and An Ideal Husband for about four months. If you throw Shakesperience in there, I've been hearing "And what's he then that says I play the villain?" on repeat for the better part of the year. That's not a complaint. I've got no gripes about listening to and performing Shakespeare all year. That's like saying "Man, I wish I could take a break from that daily smoothie'n'intercourse routine my girlfriend's got me on." I'm immensely grateful for this year and those to come. It's strange just how significantly my life has been altered at 25. It's staggering, really. I've put in a good amount of effort--though there's still plenty of projects and things I want to get going. Such as:
Start my own theatre company.
Naturally, this is the dream. Get all my favorite actors together and just fuck with texts. Blow them apart. Explore them. Live them. Rip them to shreds and run around naked with "What fools these mortals be" smeared on our bodies in glow-in-the-dark paint.
Get High School Daze back off the ground.
I've been drawing this fucking comic since middle school. I remember the exact day I created the main character, Jason McKinsey...I was at an airport headed to the east coast and I wanted to kill some time before the flight left. I've been drawing him now for most of my life--and that series holds a special place in my heart.
Start Clowning Around.
I've been avoiding this terrifying idea, but I can't any longer. I've been a little too busy to come up with good street routines, but I would love to begin clowning on a regular basis. I think its a healthy way to confront my stage fears face to face.
Write Some More Effing Music.
I've written all of one song, and I'm not terribly proud of it. I want to write enough to start playing gigs at coffee shops. That's right.
But first--survival job. I wonder if there's a market for a job where I literally just survive. Like I have a machete, a canteen, and a towel, and a film crew follows me around LA while I'm hacking away at shrubs and collecting rainwater from gutters.
Hell, Jersey Shore has an audience--and I don't think any of those fuckers could even SPELL 'survival'.
Much love (with rubber gloves,)
Dak
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Relationship Advice To Keep From Puking
Went to see the Allison Bencar band play last night at our resident watering hole, Pacers. A bunch of the folks from the show came to check it out and show their support. After elbowing my way up to the bar and grabbing a classy two Oktoberfests I grabbed a seat, ordered the hottest wings available, and checked out the music. The band was fun--though with the exception of a stellar cover of Spiderwebs, I preferred their original stuff.
When my beers and wing plate were empty, a buddy of mine pulled me aside to have some bro talk. It served to remind me why I decided to take up singletude. It seems that he and his girlfriend have taken up two differing arts, and that puts a damper on their relationship. It's not an enormous issue, but when you're not part of someone's "world" so to speak, it's a little difficult to give advice that you'd deem worthy. I get it. I've been there. If I was dating a sculpture artist, there'd really be only so much advice I could give in that capacity.
"I like the...I like how it's made of...uh...clay.."
"Ah...okay, but what do you think about the symbolic representation of Poland in 1937?"
"It's...good..?"
Somewhere in that talk, I started to feel violently ill. I had to excuse myself and find somewhere to sit...as I was getting chills and sweating like a crazy person. After my buddy said his goodbyes, we went to my apartment to grab his bag and continue talking. Or rather, he talked while I clung to walls and tried not to puke on him. My input was reduced to sharp nods and terse responses punctuated by deep breaths. Nevertheless, it was good for him to get it out in the open.
He left, and I crashed...but not before thinking about some of the stuff he said.
I've seen stellar examples of great relationships. I've also participated in some. Conversely, I've been in terrible relationships that shouldn't have lasted half as long as they did. Does it really matter if you can't lend your wisdom to every part of your other half's life? Should it matter? What's really a bump in the road? I don't want to be the guy who freaks out at every little misstep. I've done that. I also don't want to be the guy that fights tooth and nail for something that's profoundly not working. I've also done that.
Guys, relationships are weird. Lovely and fucking weird.
Love, (but hey, don't feel pressured to say it back...give yourself...y'know...the time you need)
Dak
When my beers and wing plate were empty, a buddy of mine pulled me aside to have some bro talk. It served to remind me why I decided to take up singletude. It seems that he and his girlfriend have taken up two differing arts, and that puts a damper on their relationship. It's not an enormous issue, but when you're not part of someone's "world" so to speak, it's a little difficult to give advice that you'd deem worthy. I get it. I've been there. If I was dating a sculpture artist, there'd really be only so much advice I could give in that capacity.
"I like the...I like how it's made of...uh...clay.."
"Ah...okay, but what do you think about the symbolic representation of Poland in 1937?"
"It's...good..?"
Somewhere in that talk, I started to feel violently ill. I had to excuse myself and find somewhere to sit...as I was getting chills and sweating like a crazy person. After my buddy said his goodbyes, we went to my apartment to grab his bag and continue talking. Or rather, he talked while I clung to walls and tried not to puke on him. My input was reduced to sharp nods and terse responses punctuated by deep breaths. Nevertheless, it was good for him to get it out in the open.
He left, and I crashed...but not before thinking about some of the stuff he said.
I've seen stellar examples of great relationships. I've also participated in some. Conversely, I've been in terrible relationships that shouldn't have lasted half as long as they did. Does it really matter if you can't lend your wisdom to every part of your other half's life? Should it matter? What's really a bump in the road? I don't want to be the guy who freaks out at every little misstep. I've done that. I also don't want to be the guy that fights tooth and nail for something that's profoundly not working. I've also done that.
Guys, relationships are weird. Lovely and fucking weird.
Love, (but hey, don't feel pressured to say it back...give yourself...y'know...the time you need)
Dak
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Fired (Up)
After a lovely weekend of art, amazing meals, nights out, nights in, and U2 (courtesy of a lovely lovely friend), I feel like I'm transformed. I have an annoying habit of assuming I know how an event is going to go down, thereby eliminating all possible surprise for myself. It's like keeping a handful of dirt in my pocket so I can throw grit on all the shiny new experiences out there. The past few days, however--I've had a completely new approach to the stage, and I'm beginning to approach life differently as well. Maybe differently is the wrong word.
Somehow I feel closer to myself.
Maybe it was watching Bono wail Bloody Sunday a foot away from me, while a capacity crowd Buenos Aires cried and sang along. Perhaps it was being close enough to touch Picasso's La Vie and Rodin's The Thinker in a span of five minutes. Either way, it's like something has opened up in me that's been closed for months.
Yes. It's my butthole.
On the serious, though! I've been gypsying around, and only sort of participating in my life. Like...I've shown up and opened the book, but I haven't been doing the classwork. Deja Vu. BAH!!
I'm excited. I have an excite.
Love,
Dak
Somehow I feel closer to myself.
Maybe it was watching Bono wail Bloody Sunday a foot away from me, while a capacity crowd Buenos Aires cried and sang along. Perhaps it was being close enough to touch Picasso's La Vie and Rodin's The Thinker in a span of five minutes. Either way, it's like something has opened up in me that's been closed for months.
Yes. It's my butthole.
On the serious, though! I've been gypsying around, and only sort of participating in my life. Like...I've shown up and opened the book, but I haven't been doing the classwork. Deja Vu. BAH!!
I'm excited. I have an excite.
Love,
Dak
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Woo Thyself
I was flipping through an issue of Glamour magazine in the green room during our show's matinee today (I always get a kick out of the 'Naughty Sex Questions' in womens' magazines. I want to see something like "Is it okay to fill my husband's anus with tortellini shells?") I stumbled upon a little blurb that suggested to women that it was okay to be interesting.
"Hmm." I thought to myself.
Upon further investigation, there was a testimonial written by someone who claimed that "In my mid twenties, my boyfriend was my hobby. After we broke up, I decided to learn to be interested in myself again. I started learning Italian, doing youth charity, and I took a vacay to Rome." Aside from the abominable usage of 'vacay', I found it extremely fascinating. "Right on!" I thought, "We ALL could use some of that!"
Honestly, some people just know who they are. On the flip side, some people DON'T know who they are, but they're okay with being who they've BEEN for the rest of their lives. Falling into that second category is a terrifying thought to me. It'd be easy to do, too! My acting life is pretty fulfilling as is...but I'm still lacking something...that something that makes you go to bed at night spent with the exhaustion of a fully-lived day, a crescent moon hanging in the sky like a used-up orange peel.
Yeah, it comes down to making sure you're not neglecting yourself in life's love triangle. You are your own partner first and everything else second. That's not to say you should be selfish of course, but hell...there's no shame in toughing it out to get what you need. I'm starting to get life-hungry again...in the best way possible.
Look out below,
Dak
"Hmm." I thought to myself.
Upon further investigation, there was a testimonial written by someone who claimed that "In my mid twenties, my boyfriend was my hobby. After we broke up, I decided to learn to be interested in myself again. I started learning Italian, doing youth charity, and I took a vacay to Rome." Aside from the abominable usage of 'vacay', I found it extremely fascinating. "Right on!" I thought, "We ALL could use some of that!"
Honestly, some people just know who they are. On the flip side, some people DON'T know who they are, but they're okay with being who they've BEEN for the rest of their lives. Falling into that second category is a terrifying thought to me. It'd be easy to do, too! My acting life is pretty fulfilling as is...but I'm still lacking something...that something that makes you go to bed at night spent with the exhaustion of a fully-lived day, a crescent moon hanging in the sky like a used-up orange peel.
Yeah, it comes down to making sure you're not neglecting yourself in life's love triangle. You are your own partner first and everything else second. That's not to say you should be selfish of course, but hell...there's no shame in toughing it out to get what you need. I'm starting to get life-hungry again...in the best way possible.
Look out below,
Dak
Monday, October 4, 2010
The Social Network
The film makes me want to delete my Facebook.
It's also pretty freaking great. You should see it.
I don't know what it is about movies based on eccentric people, but they tend to nudge me more and more in that direction. That is to say, in the "Eff everyone, I'm going to start wearing mascot outfits when I feel like it" direction. Palpable eff-the-world energy that could make you loved or hated for who you are(trying to be.) It certainly addresses the 'block' I've been feeling as of late. Its a relaxed bit of settling. Its a thumbed nose at the surprises the world has to offer. I've been fluffing my laurels to prepare to rest on them.
Now now now, it's not as dire as all that. It's just how I've been feeling for a bit. It goes away when I get onstage, or sing Karaoke, or dance, or write. That said--I'm glad that aspect has been irritated. Reddened and swollen like my tonsils. Otherwise I may have gone longer without truly appreciating it. In addition, it's always lovely to hear "Keep doing your thing, son--the world is yours! Love, Mom" via Facebook.
Which is why I won't actually be deleting my profitty-profile.
It's all good, though. It's all REALLY good. I feel like my fire's back. I'm rumbling again. The periscope is up and I can see in three hundred and sixty lovely lovely degrees.
Future Plan: New Years in the Bay with Dresy-Poo and company. Let's make that happen.
All you need is,
Dak
It's also pretty freaking great. You should see it.
I don't know what it is about movies based on eccentric people, but they tend to nudge me more and more in that direction. That is to say, in the "Eff everyone, I'm going to start wearing mascot outfits when I feel like it" direction. Palpable eff-the-world energy that could make you loved or hated for who you are(trying to be.) It certainly addresses the 'block' I've been feeling as of late. Its a relaxed bit of settling. Its a thumbed nose at the surprises the world has to offer. I've been fluffing my laurels to prepare to rest on them.
Now now now, it's not as dire as all that. It's just how I've been feeling for a bit. It goes away when I get onstage, or sing Karaoke, or dance, or write. That said--I'm glad that aspect has been irritated. Reddened and swollen like my tonsils. Otherwise I may have gone longer without truly appreciating it. In addition, it's always lovely to hear "Keep doing your thing, son--the world is yours! Love, Mom" via Facebook.
Which is why I won't actually be deleting my profitty-profile.
It's all good, though. It's all REALLY good. I feel like my fire's back. I'm rumbling again. The periscope is up and I can see in three hundred and sixty lovely lovely degrees.
Future Plan: New Years in the Bay with Dresy-Poo and company. Let's make that happen.
All you need is,
Dak
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