Hey-WHOA!! and Love the One You Is

(I'm watching the coolest conversation between Tom Whitaker's clone and a skinny intense man with glasses outside. In my head there's a lot of profanity and metaphysics.)

SO in returning to L.A., I began to notice a certain...attitude...I guess? Yeah, that's what we'll call it. I've dubbed this attitude "Hey-WHOA!!" (Also comes in profanity flavor!) Now imagine doing that while throwing your hands up in your face, protectively. Do it a couple of times, and you'll begin to embody what I'm talking about. It's not even like I was gone for very long, but going to Nebraska--where strangers ask "Have you had enough to eat?" was a very nice eye-opener. I realized that in my self, I'm generally quick to put up the barriers. It got to the point where I'd just lock myself in for the sake of preemptively protecting my ego. (Which incidentally is the single off of my new emo rock album.) It's not a fun way to be. It's sort of telling yourself that you can't handle anything. "BE CAREFUL ALL THE TIME BECAUSE YOU SUCK BALLS." LOTS of folks in L.A., for reasons I may dive into in some other rambling pseudo-intellectual post, embody this attitude to a T.

ALTERNATIVELY

"If you can't be the one you love, love the one you is"

More often than not, I'll beat myself up about things instead of just outright fixing them. Its easier for me to find motivation through self-hatred rather than through an objective and love-based desire to change. Being a dick to yourself feels powerful and dramatic, but it can't sustain itself. You can pull out you guts and stomp on em as much as you want, but in the end--you're still gutless. Lately, I've been opting instead to just come from a place of love and let changes take the time they need. You don't teach a child to walk by screaming f-bombs at it when it falls down. Though...*snicker*...I mean...the image is delicious.

But no, seriously. You're loved. If we have enough love to give some to our favorite pair of shoes--we can eat least sling some in our own direction.

Speaking of which-

Love Love Love and Dirty Jokes,
Dakotah

You know you want it.

Another Drawing Lesson.

Nebraska Shakes: Post Mortem

I'm back in L.A., listening to the pillows and trying to pick apart that entire weird, fun, informative tour.

I think first and foremost, I'm going to miss everyone--a lot. I already do. It feels strange being at home right now. I miss Pat Leuschen's basement, with its exercise equipment and mini-fridge. I miss Pat, who is a lot like my grandma--if she'd gotten a PhD in Neuroscience. I miss leaving the house and walking across the street to UNO, where we would rehearse in the strange greenish room with the hardwood floors. I miss the hell out of the cast. All my touries. Off to bigger and better things already--or simply going back to work. Vince, who is a for-reals Jedi--off to direct shows and teach kids how to murder each other onstage. Sarah, who--despite playing a terrifying supernatural force of impending doom--will squeal if a cupcake is cute. Sean, who will say that thing you'd think would be really funny to say aloud--but don't have the balls to. Brian, who is Goddamn hilarious--sometimes unintentionally (ask about 'Oh no, coffee stain'.) Maria, who is the best kind of 'off her rocker' EVER. Wes, who I wish I'd had more time to drink and nerd out with. Each and every one of these people are amazing em-effers that I REALLY wish I get a chance to work with again.

Sigh. Sob.

In any case, here I am again. My brother moved out, so I've got my own room! IT'S.....empty, really. I won't be here for much longer, either--I'll be moving in with Kivs and Jack Freeeeezay soon enough. For now, though--I'm going to work, audition, and try to earn a barrel of cash so I can move confidently. Here's to that!

Love,
Dakotah

Pre-Post-Mortem

After every day of performances and workshops for Nebraska Shakes, we do a thing called 'Post Mortem', which is basically a recap of the days events (load-in, show, workshops)--and how things can improve/etc. Now, I'll do a big tearful one of those in a day or so, but suffice to say--today was our final show.

WAH.

GOOD LORD I'M GONNA MISS EVERYBODY SO MUCH-


Love to everyone
Butt squeezes to most of everyone
D K

Dress-Up

I will never outgrow dress-up.

When I get home, I'm constructing a goddamn steampunk outfit.

And buying a pocketwatch and some goggles...and some metallic paint.

With any luck, they'll let me join the New York Steampunk Negroes.

Love,
Dak

Dear Madam,

Man enters from stage right, stops center. He carries a carefully handwritten letter in his hand. It is crisp. He holds up the letter, clears his throat, and begins to read.

MAN
Dear Madam, I write this letter as a dire warning. It is not an ultimatum, for that would require that you exist in the literal sense. No, this is from past me to future you. Excuse the errors in tense, since I'm new to this sort of thing. I don't believe in time travel, but I do believe in preparation. So, when I accidentally reach for your glass of wine at that dimly-lit hole-in-the-wall bar and our eyes meet for the first time, and I notice that your eyes don't match and your bleached hair is growing brown again at the roots--I warn you--do not stop me from making a fool of myself. Under no circumstances are you to shift the conversation away from favorite childrens' picture books onto more savvy sociopolitical topics. Do not stifle your laughter when you spot the gaping hole in the crotch of my jeans. And if you dare--for one second--assume that I just might be the grown up shit-together guy to pull you out of a frivolous life of floundering and excess, walk away immediately. Do not even entertain that thought.

The man turns over the letter.

In return for listening to my warning, I vow never to cut you down in front of your friends or mine because I'm feeling insecure. I promise never to force you to come to comic book conventions with me or stay up late to watch zombie movie marathons. On my honor, I'll never talk down to you for your tastes in music, fashion, books, or tv. Hear me out, because I will never call you too much or too little--in this I admit I have an uncanny tendency toward absolute perfection. I will notice a new beauty in you ever single day for a full year--and if we last that long, I will write a poem for each one and publish them in a book that I will bind myself--and give you for our two-year anniversay. All I ask of you is to follow my warning. Do not be fooled by my brooding nature or my stoic looks. I am not one to be taken seriously, but I am one to be taken.

Love, Me. (The one who ordered the Merlot.) P.S. If I won't eat something because I don't like onions, I don't like onions. If you respond "Eat it, you love onions." I will walk right out on you so fast your head will spin.




I guess that's a monologue?

Love,
Dakotah

This is a post about acting.

This tour has blown my mind in so many ways and taught me a lot about acting. For example--if I don't sleep very well, I WILL FUCKING SUCK the following day. This happened to me yesterday--where the first performance was a SCHLONG FESTIVAL, but the next one (where I was fully awake) was EXCELLENT.

I guess this is a good time to talk about my process! :D (Emoticons don't look very good with serifs...Also if you already act, I'm sure you know all this. It's just my personal Macbeezy experience.)

I tend to get the most mileage out of working from the inside out. This is generally because I don't get a very good external sense of characters unless I really internalize their wants and needs first. I've got to find the impulse that's buried in the text or the situation. In Macbeth, I'm playing three parts: The Sergeant, Banquo, and Rosse. The Sergeant shows up early and then dies....so he's been routinely the hardest to nail. Banquo started off easy, then became more difficult and interesting as I learned more about him (i.e. his hot-temperedness, his love for his son, his ego.) Rosse didn't click with me until midway through the first week of performances....basically until I hit upon the fact that he's older than I think he is. For each character, I get the most out of them when I let the script go, breath deeply (VERY VERY deeply) and let the imagery wash over my body and my voice. It forces a sort of relaxation and makes you kick your anxieties to the curb. The problem in Shakespeare is always that the internet well of complex emotion is too big for the script you're given. There's a sort of eternal frustration you have when you speak--because even if it seems like your partner gets it they just don't understand quite enough. The images, born from a combination of onstage action, external targets, sound, and feelings can only be found with a focused and quiet mind. Once you've got them, it's your job to explore them fully and completely. Feel, touch, smell, hear, and taste these images--and perhaps most importantly--trust them.

My biggest problem as of late (aside from lack of sleep) has been attempting to replicate previous performances. This only comes about when I'm feeling a general lack of confidence, and that typically happens when I don't get much shut-eye. Occasionally something else will throw me (I never claimed to be the most confident guy in the world by any stretch of the imagination) but its always the breathing that gets me back on track. Not only does it root you in your own body, but it glues the character to you in a profound way. It's even the fuel for your journey into the world of imagery. Try staring at an inanimate object while breathing as deeply as you can....you start to discover new things about that object. Thing you probably would never have seen otherwise. (It may even start out frustrating--but if you stick with it, you'll surprise yourself.)

Very occasionally, starting externally (i.e. Mannerisms, movement, voice, etc.) has helped unlock the character so to speak--but I've yet to find an outside-in method that I can fully trust in. That's neither here nor there, frankly--I think I just need to find something that works. Again--this tour has taught me a valuable lesson about delving into characters. YOU NEVER KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT THEM. Boiling a character down is the quickest way to shoot yourself in the foot/face. In addition, REMAINING SAFE for the sake of appearing 'The Good Actor' is another way to tie yourself down. You'll be concerned about your performance and not the situation. Your images will abandon you if you try to hold them too tight, or use the same ones over and over. They wear down and become unhelpful.

Anyway--yeah, I dunno...having a rehearsal period this short meant I had take care of all those pesky things I usually work through with a director alone. It's been really hard, but extremely good for me.

Why? Because I'm awesome.

Anyway, I've got all sorts of buttcheeks to squeeze. Until next crime!

Love lurve suki aishiteru,
Dakotah

(P.S. No, I don't actually have any buttcheeks to squeeze. Shut up. Stop rubbing it in.)