Promptly following my previous post, I contract chicken pox.
Yes, I'm twenty-goddamed-six.
I have no clue where I picked it up from, aside from those afflicted children I kept eating in the sick ward of that hospital they won't let me near again FOR SOME UNKNOWN REASON. Anyway, bada-boom bada-bang, laws of comedy--POX. Last monday my face resembled a topographical map of mars, a week and change later, there's just a few faint marks.
I am utterly thankful, grateful, and blown away by my friends, the cast, and office staff (Not mutually exclusive.) They immediately snapped up an understudy (a man named Dwayne Blackaller--who is one of the coolest people in the galaxy) and plugged away. I got daily text message check-ins, a signed rubber chicken, and even an effing birthday cake. CAH-RAZY!!
So now I'm hitting the ground running a bit. I'll roadie for the show tomorrow and Friday, then we'll have put-in rehearsals Friday afternoon and Sunday--then it's off to eastern Idaho!
Sheez, man.
In other news, I got a new phone, a new age (which I mentioned with expletive-filled gusto), and several new books...most of which I read during my quarantine. Ughff...
I feel refreshed...and ready to commit my body to some grueling, difficult, rewarding work.
Watch out,
Dak
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Five Hunnid Tunny Fie Thousin Six Unnid Minnits.
Next week I turn 26.
It'll be difficult to trump 25, but I think I have a decent game plan. In short it simply boils down to accepting my craziness for what it is. Everyone I really admire is almost completely out of their mind.
This sort of thing happens in small cycles almost weekly. I start to drift away from myself until I feel strange in my own body, then I snap back with a deep breath and a sudden blinking awareness.
"Wait...what am I doing here? Where'd the pirate costume come from? Why does my mouth taste like butterscotch?"
The writing certainly helps a lot, too. It's good to let the thoughts loose after they've been bouncing around in my head for so long. Decompress. Get it out thurr.
Rehearsal, by the by, is going swimmingly. Obviously there are still tweaks and stuff to...well...tweak...but the whole thing is looking great as a cohesive whole. (Girl you got a cohesive hole.) As mentioned before, it feels great to be back in Boise...and STILL learning new things about this strange, wonderful gem of a city. I've even been to two new bars! Which is saying something given my previous venture here.
Allow me this bit of vanity: The first record of Shakespeare's theatrical career dates to about 1592, when he was 28. That gives me about two solid years to suddenly become 'prolific'.
And THAT brings me back to the insanity I'd mentioned before. It takes a certain amount of crazy to dedicate yourself to a pursuit so strongly that you transcend 'levels of experience'. I mean...that's just how I feel RIGHT NOW. Who knows. Give it a year.
Later loves,
Dak
It'll be difficult to trump 25, but I think I have a decent game plan. In short it simply boils down to accepting my craziness for what it is. Everyone I really admire is almost completely out of their mind.
This sort of thing happens in small cycles almost weekly. I start to drift away from myself until I feel strange in my own body, then I snap back with a deep breath and a sudden blinking awareness.
"Wait...what am I doing here? Where'd the pirate costume come from? Why does my mouth taste like butterscotch?"
The writing certainly helps a lot, too. It's good to let the thoughts loose after they've been bouncing around in my head for so long. Decompress. Get it out thurr.
Rehearsal, by the by, is going swimmingly. Obviously there are still tweaks and stuff to...well...tweak...but the whole thing is looking great as a cohesive whole. (Girl you got a cohesive hole.) As mentioned before, it feels great to be back in Boise...and STILL learning new things about this strange, wonderful gem of a city. I've even been to two new bars! Which is saying something given my previous venture here.
Allow me this bit of vanity: The first record of Shakespeare's theatrical career dates to about 1592, when he was 28. That gives me about two solid years to suddenly become 'prolific'.
And THAT brings me back to the insanity I'd mentioned before. It takes a certain amount of crazy to dedicate yourself to a pursuit so strongly that you transcend 'levels of experience'. I mean...that's just how I feel RIGHT NOW. Who knows. Give it a year.
Later loves,
Dak
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Boise Will Be Boise
As I buttoned my SUPER HAWT H&M JACKET all the way up to my throat and stepped out of the Boise airport, I felt a twinge of excitement, apprehension, and...dare I say...closure(?) The internal "oh my god, I'm a real actor" fanfare from last year was replaced by a new "holy crap, what's going to happen this time?" tune. It's the same nerves I used to get in college, at the beginning of a new semester as I stepped into the first movement or voice class of the quarter. I know the season, I know the people, I know the place, and I know absolutely jack shit.
Day three and I've been roosting comfortably in some of my favorite old haunts again. I've had a latte from my favorite coffee place each and every day, and stolen internet from the Library! a handful of times already. My comfortable yet exciting routine has re-established itself, sans the utter terror of somehow being discovered as a mere amateur and being extradited back to L.A. to hole up at Barnes and Noble while dreaming of "what could have been." Crying in the face of my netbook while playing through Terranigma again and listening to Vic Chesnutt. No, that concern is vanished. I suppose that's a devil-on-the-shoulder that artists simply don't get rid of.
Nope. No guillotines in sight.
Instead, the feeling is replaced by a ravenous hunger to wring every single possibility out of this town and lap it up like a much less disgusting metaphor. My good buddies (also tour buddies, also two of the coolest fucking individuals on the planet) are paying 625 a munf for a two-bedroom house not far from my host family. That's 5 bucks more than I paid to SHARE A ROOM IN SANTA BARBARA. WITH NO HEAT. AND BROKEN PLUMBING. Say...oh...for example's sake...I room it with them fools for a spell...That's about 210 a motherfucking month. I've had larger checks at CPK (granted, fuckers drank a LOT.) All this excitement is, however, coupled with an immense responsibility to myself. Can I do it--of course I goddamn can. Opportunities are boundless in every possible direction. I feel gregarious as it were, but this place just makes you feel that way.
Also, it's 10 degrees in the morning. My scrotum is like a tightly-curled fist.
Love,
Dak
Day three and I've been roosting comfortably in some of my favorite old haunts again. I've had a latte from my favorite coffee place each and every day, and stolen internet from the Library! a handful of times already. My comfortable yet exciting routine has re-established itself, sans the utter terror of somehow being discovered as a mere amateur and being extradited back to L.A. to hole up at Barnes and Noble while dreaming of "what could have been." Crying in the face of my netbook while playing through Terranigma again and listening to Vic Chesnutt. No, that concern is vanished. I suppose that's a devil-on-the-shoulder that artists simply don't get rid of.
Nope. No guillotines in sight.
Instead, the feeling is replaced by a ravenous hunger to wring every single possibility out of this town and lap it up like a much less disgusting metaphor. My good buddies (also tour buddies, also two of the coolest fucking individuals on the planet) are paying 625 a munf for a two-bedroom house not far from my host family. That's 5 bucks more than I paid to SHARE A ROOM IN SANTA BARBARA. WITH NO HEAT. AND BROKEN PLUMBING. Say...oh...for example's sake...I room it with them fools for a spell...That's about 210 a motherfucking month. I've had larger checks at CPK (granted, fuckers drank a LOT.) All this excitement is, however, coupled with an immense responsibility to myself. Can I do it--of course I goddamn can. Opportunities are boundless in every possible direction. I feel gregarious as it were, but this place just makes you feel that way.
Also, it's 10 degrees in the morning. My scrotum is like a tightly-curled fist.
Love,
Dak
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