A Week for Goodbyes

You think you've seen how pathetic a dog can look when she's watching you eat and hoping for just one tasty morsel, but that's nothing. When that same dog is to weak to move and finding it difficult to even breathe, then you see what those eyes can really do. Now before anybody who might happen to read this feels the need to send me condolences, I'm not talking about my dog. This dog and I didn't have a particularly close bond. In fact, I first realized something was seriously wrong with this dog when I walked into her yard and heard only a muffled woof, instead of the loud, angry barking. There was something not right about the way she was lying on the ground, not stretched out or curled up in typical fashion but like a used dog someone had crumpled and discarded. Her labored breathing was another clear sign, and the distress showed in her face. This would be the morning I helped my mother transport her dying dog to the vet. It turned out the dog had bleeding masses in her spleen and liver. The spleen she could have lived without; the liver, not so much, and every lobe appeared affected. The veterinary surgeon said their were procedures that she could do, but she couldn't in good conscience recommend any of them. So we watched as the vet administered a lethal injection. Within just a couple of seconds the dog stopped struggling to breathe.

That night was the final performance of A Tuna Christmas, in which I played, among other roles, an animal lover named Petey Fisk who adopts a dog/coyote hybrid he names Fresno. In this production, Fresno was played by a standard poodle. It was a strange experience being greeted by Grendel, who sniffed my jeans with particular interest that night - the same jeans I had worn to the vet. And acting with him on stage, having just said goodbye to one dog and knowing I also might well never see him again had a peculiar poignancy. Now this would be the appropriate place to say I gave an incredibly moving performance that reduced the house to tears, akin to Kathryn Hepburn's character in Stage Door when she talked about the calla lilies, but it wasn't anything that outwardly dramatic, just something I felt while playing a goofy little comedy. Afterward there was a cast party, which was nice because I got to say goodbye to the rest of the cast and hang out with some friends who came to the show, but I stayed a little too long because the conversation somehow turned to dead pets. And it wasn't me.

And here's where I give a shout-out to friends who came to the show: Glen Hardy, Spenser Coates, and Bart Weil. Glen and I met in Much Ado About Nothing, Spenser was in Love's Labors Lost, and Bart and I have done improv together on several occasions. Thanks for the support!

Among this week's auditions, the real standout in my mind was a dog-food commercial. During the audition I got to talk to a big stuffed dog as if it was real. Naturally, I kept seeing those big brown eyes staring at me like they had Saturday morning. Made for a real happy pitchman, I'm sure.

Last night was the last theater Christmas party ever at the Second Stage in Anaheim, home of many fabulous theatrical productions of note over the years. The party had some raunchy and raucous moments, largely related to a twisted white elephant gift exchange, but it also had a melancholy tinge because it was a fair well to a place where I had some personally significant experiences and met some pretty important people in my life.

Today I got a call from someone who would like me to audition for a gig hosting a new series. (The series is about animals, naturally.) Well, the audition's something to look forward to in the new year. Getting the gig could make for a very happy 2008.

I Was a Teenage Meth Addict

I pushed a terrified man against the wall today and threatened to violate his wife in a degrading and violent fashion. It was all in a day's work. I had an audition for an anti-drug PSA, and I was playing a meth-addicted teenage thug. And if you think that's a strange role for a mild-mannered middle-aged man, you're right. I was actually there to try out for the part of the terrified guy, but the session runner brought us in three at a time and had us take turns being the hoodlums. It was totally unexpected, but that's what keeps it interesting.

New Tuna Flyer

There might be a flying fish joke somewhere in there, but it's been a long day. Anyway, if you see a little picture of the flyer over there on the right, click on it for a larger version. In case you don't, here's the gist of it: December 1 through 15; Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays at 8 p.m. and Sundays at 4 p.m.; reservations and additional information at http://plays411.com/atunachristmas.

I Gave the Director a Wedgie

A large man in a blood-stained shirt grinned at me as I walked along the canyon road. I sure hope I'm in the right place, I thought. My friend Summer is working on an indie film, and based on her recommendation, some performance clips and a headshot or two, the director had cast me in a small (but memorable!) role. I hadn't seen the full script and didn't really know what the movie was about. Fortunately, the big bloody man turned out to be a friendly guy who had come to guide me to the location. It's a horror spoof, and it turned out to be a fun shoot. The writer even added a scene for me that every actor has dreamed about, in which I Gave the Director a Wedgie. And we did multiple takes! In other news, my interaction with another actor on the train movie mentioned in the previous post seems to have inspired the director/writer. He's working on a new script written around our characters!

Station to Station

The word “set” would seem to describe something stationery, but I just finished working on one that moved all over Los Angeles. I was cast in an indie film that was set largely on a commuter train. We spent two days hopping on and off the Gold Line, from Sierra Madre Villa to Union Station and back again with occasional stops en route, to get all the coverage that was needed, while hoping not to attract too much attention.

You Can Tune a Piano, But You Can't Tune a Fisk

I've begun rehearsing for an LA production of A Tuna Christmas. It looks like it's going to be a lot of fun to perform and, hopefully, to watch. It's written as a two-man play with lots of quick changes and cross-dressing, but the director has decided to spread the joy (and the work) by dividing up the roles among several actors. Most of us will still end up playing multiple characters. My chief role is Petey Fisk, a kind-hearted misfit who loves animals, but who doesn't always seem to be loved by them. Stay tuned for more information as opening night approaches.

GBZ and Me

I'm at the Coffee Bean between auditions, drinking a red-eye and using the WiFi (free until Nov. 11!). I did OK at my first audition, but I have doubts about my Great Big Zit. I think it may be holding me back, and I'm planning to dissolve our partnership soon. I'm not sure, though. What if it turns out they liked GBZ better than me? Maybe if we get both roles, I can do one and GBZ can do the other.

The Year of the Diamond Dogs

I find myself liking Radiant's “That Girl” video (no, Marlo Thomas isn't in it).



In other news, “Nightmares” is over and the show went really well and got great reactions. I wasn't sure how many people would turn out on Halloween night, but we had a nice crowd at the show and the after-party. The audience was more elaborately costumed than the cast. Standouts included Superwoman and Wonderman, Bikini Guy, Trojan and Dracula. Bart was there for the third time and did a karaoke/stand-up routine dressed as Santa. I really need to keep my camera phone with me at all times.

I Dreamed We Were Expecting A Full House...

... and then somebody realized he had counted some reservations twice, so there weren't as many people coming as expected. Aaiieee! Whew, what a scary dream. What's that? It really happened? Aaiieee! OK, calm down. There's still time for people to call 714-630-9870 and book the remaining seats.

NIGHTMARES final performance Oct. 31
House opens at 7:30 p.m., performance at 8, party follows
THE GALLERY THEATRE
3152 East La Palma, Suite G
Anaheim, CA

At only $6, you can hardly afford not to go!

Dancing Makes Me Hungry

I just got back from a salsa and merengue class. Do you know what would taste really good right now? Some chips and salsa and a slice of lemon meringue pie. But is there any salsa or pie in the house? Of course not.

Strictly Ballroom

Last night I took a dance lesson, proving I don't have to be around horses to get my feet stepped on. Fortunately, my partners this time were much, much lighter. I'll be polishing my waltz, swing and cha-cha skills in the coming weeks. One never knows when one might have to cha-cha, after all. Hey, if you want to see something even scarier than dance lessons, come to the final performance of Nightmares on Halloween night at the Gallery Theatre. It's only $6 and there's a party afterward. I'm told it's almost sold out, so call 714-630-9870.

More Nightmares!

You have two more chances to catch me (and some other people) in "Nightmares" at the Gallery Theatre for the absurdly low price of $6 (unless you're reading this after the fact, which is hardly my fault, is it?). I've had several people tell me I'm creepy and scary. And some of them have actually seen the show.

NIGHTMARES
Sunday Oct. 28 and Wednesday Oct. 31 (Halloween)
Show starts promptly at 8 p.m.
THE GALLERY THEATRE
3152 East La Palma - Suite G
Anaheim, CA 92807

Reservations and Information:
714.630.9870

Directions:
Take the 91 freeway to Kraemer. Turn right at the end of the ramp and right again at La Palma (first light). The Gallery Theatre is located in the Sterling Business Complex.

Mares & Nightmares

Monday: Auditioned for a role as a chef in a white jacket purchased specially for the occasion ($2 at a local thrift store) — two more auditions and wardrobe changes that day.
Tuesday: Traveled to Dude's Ranch for a riding lesson. Practiced steering, accelerating, reverse, and most importantly, braking. Had a great time, not realizing my thighs would still be sore five days later. Also managed to get my foot under a horse's hoof; glad I wore boots. Later, rehearsed for Nightmares, sore thighs and toes and all.
Wednesday: Went on audition or two. In the evening, performed reading of The Dybbuk — we made people cry, we got paid, and we were invited back to do another reading. A good night all-in-all.
Thursday: Had an audition wherein I was asked to pantomime running into an electric fence, do a bad robot imitation, fall over a chair and chase an imaginary monkey around the room. Bruised more than my dignity. Another Nightmares rehearsal
Friday: Another skating lesson. Last time I thought I lurched around like the Frankenstein monster. This time my coach said I wobbled like Winnie-the-Pooh. Is that better or worse?
Saturday: Saw a very enjoyable production of A Midsummer's Night Dream at the Next Stage. "Every man shall have his mare!"
Sunday: Off to a dress rehearsal of Nightmares. The show opens Thursday at the Gallery Theatre. I play two despicable characters. Come and show me some hate!

Don't Blink

Demons, Golems, and Me

One man has delved to deeply into hidden things and another has kept his mind willfully ignorant of what his heart knows to be true. A woman loved by both is caught between the truth and the lie, the light and the shadow, the living and the dead. “Demons, Golems, and Dybbuks: Monsters of the Jewish Imagination” is the theme of a series of discussions being held in Pasadena this fall. On October 17, the conversation will focus on The Dybbuk: Between Two Worlds, considered a seminal work of Jewish theater. I will take on the role of Khonon/The Dybbuk in a staged reading that will precede the discussion. Preparing for the event has been a fascinating journey into a time, place, and belief system I knew very little about, and I look forward to learning more. For details or to register, contact Joanne Kim, (626) 585-7837, jykim@pasadena.edu.

Cool World

I have been visiting the cartooniverse lately. First, I interviewed the delightful Ann-Margret in her Beverly Hills home. Ann-Margret herself is quite real, but I first knew her as Ann-Margrock on The Flintstones. Then I auditioned for a role on the DVD release of... well, I signed a confidentiality agreement, but it was highly popular anime back when we used to just call it Japanese animation. In noncartoon news, I had my first ice-skating lesson. Technically, I think I've been to the rink at least once as a child, but I don't remember much more than sitting down, hard, a lot. This time I managed to stay vertical for several stiff, lumbering turns around the rink. I must have looked like Boris Karloff in Frankenstein on Ice.

Two Kinds of Shoot

Yesterday I fired off several dozen rounds with a Springfield XD9 and got my handgun safety certificate. During the classroom session, I sometimes felt that the life-size cardboard cutout of John Wayne was staring at me like I didn't belong. But I passed the test and even managed to hit the center of the target a few times. Take that, Duke. It was only my second time firing a handgun and my first with a semiautomatic (as part of an acting gig, I fired a 1903 Colt 38 single-action revolver). I was worried that I'd be too nervous to shoot straight, but by the time we'd had all the safety instruction and gone through a few dry-firing sessions, I felt pretty comfortable. There seemed to be one instructor for every two or three students on the firing line, and they made darned sure the only time any students were holding a loaded firearm was when they were facing the target and preparing to fire. On the previous day, I worked on an instructional video project called Treasure Your Marriage, in which I got to complain about my wife's compulsive cleaning and organizing. If only I had a wife like that, my life would be so much easier. Well, maybe not easier, but probably cleaner and more organized.

Mob Rules

When I asked the attendant about parking for Deal Or No Deal, she gave me a quizzical look. Stupid parking attendant, I thought. She ought to know the name of the show. Certainly other contestants have already arrived. “The game show,” I prompted her, “at the studio.” “Oh,” she responded, a look of sudden realization on her face. “You want the next entrance over.” I thanked her and drove to the next entrance, marked by a yellow sign reading 1 vs. 100, the actual name of the show I was there to participate in. I'm really not prepared for this, I realized. In my defense, I did wake up at 4 a.m. in order to make it to the studio on time. How is anyone supposed to be smart after waking up while it's still dark out? Oh, sure, emergency room surgeons do it all the time, but they aren't dealing with the stress of being on a game show. And as I've already written, I'm not a regular viewer and it wasn't my idea to be on the show. As it turns out, it wasn't anyone's idea for me to be on the show that day. For this episode, they wanted two mobs, one all male and one all female. The men were all given name tags, some of which had blue dots on them. The blue dot people were made mob members right away. Then they asked for men over 6 feet tall (missed it by that much. Then, they took men whose tags had a 1 or a 2 as the last digit. Mine had a 4. There were no 5s. I'm not sure if the numbers were randoms, or the 4 meant they really thought I sucked. Maybe it related to the 3.5 I got at the audition? In any case, I was again sent home before the day was over. Before I left, someone explained that all the people with blue dots had been there once before and were called back, and that's why they got preference this time around, and the same thing could happen to us. So that blew our theory that the blue dot meant they blew the casting director.

Life and Death Concerns

I went to an American Red Cross CPR and first aid class today and as I was watching the demonstration videos, a couple of very important questions occured to me, namely, who are these people and how much did they get paid? Some of the performers may well have been ARC employees, while others almost had to be professional actors. Some of the vignettes were simple demonstrations that were done very straight and without emotion and some of them were staged to simulate real-life situations. Of the latter, some were performed a little lethargically, but that may well have been a directorial choice to keep theatrics to a minimum so as not to interfere with the instructional purpose of the videos. Still, others were very effective and even occasionally moving. I thought the heat exhaustion farm workers and hypothermia fishermen were particularly good. So, it had me wondering if the Red Cross had some sort of SAG waiver like the film schools that allows them to use a mixture of union and non-union actors, and if so, what if anything they pay them. Or if they produce some of the videos in-house as a non-signatory and contract out the rest to a company that has signed a SAG agreement. These are the things I think about now. (Lest anyone think that's all I thought about today, I got 100 percent on my written exam and am now certified in first aid and CPR).

No Rushin' This Literature

In preparation for a dramatic reading of The Dybbuk, I ordered an Ansky anthology from an online bookstore. I was about $5 short of the minimum to qualify for free shipping, so I searched for something to buy for $5 or less. In the mix with a bunch of questionable titles I'd never heard of was an acknowledged classic: The Brothers Karamazov. What the heck, I thought, I'm basically getting a free book. Upon delivery, I breezed through The Dybbuk in one sitting. Then, I turned with some apprehension to the heftier tome: 700+ pages of smallish print with narrow margins. Well, I told myself, it's a classic, so it must be worth the effort. Then I read the author's introduction, in which Dostoevsky basically apologizes for writing such a uninteresting story about such an unexceptional proagonist but assures the reader that it's a necessary prelude to the second part of the story, which will be much more interesting, honest. The problem with that is that he never got around to writing The Brothers Karamazov II: Alyosha Strikes Back, or whatever it was supposed to be. No, he took the easy way out and died, leaving me with 700+ pages of prologue.

Joining the Mob

A few weeks ago a certain female acquaintance convinced me to trying out for the game show 1 vs. 100 — “coerced” might be more accurate; I can still here the crack of the whip reverberating in my mind. She was positive I could not only make it on the show, but make big money doing it. Now, it's true that I did win a couple of times on Jeopardy!, but that was way back in the 20th century, when I was younger and smarter than I am now, and I had been watching that show since the Art Fleming days (so I must not have been that young), whereas I've never actually seen an entire episode of this one. By the time I finally caved in and drove down to Culver Studios, the auditions were almost over. I didn't even have time to complete the entry form, and when they whisked me in for the personal interview, questions such as “What was the funniest thing that ever happened to you?” and “What interesting thing about you should we know?” were still left blank. So I realized I had about 30 seconds to convince a stranger that I was actually an interesting person worthy of being on the show (kind of like a commercial audition, actually). After a few words back and forth, she wrote “3.5” on my application and turned to the next person on line. I'm a 3.5? Someone looked at me, talked to me, and summed me up as 3.5? Hopefully that's not out of 100. Then we walked on to the set of “Deal or No Deal.” Had I mixed up my game shows? No, turns out the same production company does both and for some reason they had at the DoND set. No models were present on the staircase, however. We took a written test, which seemed to me very heavy on pop culture. (Apparently, everyone but me knew Hannah Montana is Billy Ray Cyrus' daughter.) So I wasn't too surprised when I wasn't asked to stay for the next part of the audition, but my dark muse seemed rather disappointed when I notified her via cell phone. Anyway, yesterday I got a call on that very same cell phone. Although my incomplete application form, 3.5 rating and ignorance as to which reality show was produced by Heidi Klum may have disqualified from being the 1, I am apparently good enough to be one of the 100. So I guess I better watch the show this Friday, and study up on my recent Grammy winners.

Represented

I have a new commercial agent! I left the theater in June with the intention of booking commercials, TV shows and films. I've had a few successes in the past couple of months, and this week I feel like things have moved a big step forward. I had already done a mass mailing to casting directors with a cover letter and four brand new headshots in each envelope and was preparing to do the same for agencies when I got a call from my friend Dino, who is an assistant of this particular agent. He had recommended that she take me on as well to help out, and I jumped at the chance. Not only would it be an opportunity to learn about the business from a different perspective, but there was the possibility of making a little money at it. But when I met her, she immediately had me audition and ended up taking me on as a client. Now, I know having a great agent doesn't mean I get to stop working. Well, the whole point is for me to work more now, right? At least now I feel like I have more people on my side, and that's a very good thing. I don't know what I'm going to do with all those agency mailing labels I printed, though.

Why I Am a Bruins Fan

This morning I went to work on a student film in which I played a college teacher named Mr. Robertson. Two of my “students,” Rebecca and Jonathan, were exchanging glances throughout the class. Rebecca was supposed to arrive late and make an excuse, prompting me to say, “That's OK, Rebecca, just have a seat,” but someone in the crew pointed out that Mr. Robertson shouldn't know her name at that moment. I responded that I just assumed that we had a past. “Rebecca“ laughed and said she thought so too, and new darned well why she was late, which made a lot of people laugh. I'm glad she played along rather than reacting with shock and horror. Later on, when we were shooting Mr. Robertson introducing himself, I goofed and said “Robinson,” so I apologized and said I was thinking of The Graduate. I said it more for my own amusement than anything else; I’ve heard "I was born in XXXX" as an excuse so often I no longer expect anyone more than 10 years younger than me to get any of my pop-culture reference, but several people laughed. Of course there were a lot of film students in the room, but it was still encouraging. The rest of the shoot went very smoothly. Director Clint Chang was calm and collected and seemed to know exactly what he wanted. The crew was very welcoming and respectful. I left the set feeling pretty good, but unfortunately I had to deal with some personal stuff afterward that brought me down a little. Then, tonight, I got this e-mail:

“Thanks so much for coming and participating in my film. You really did an amazing job - I got several complements on your performance in particular. Multiple people asked me if you were a real teacher because they all felt you nailed the act. I look forward to doing the edit to see all your great work come together.”

Now, he didn't have to say any of that at all, but the fact that he did helped bring me back up. Go, UCLA!

Living on Video

So I'm having dinner with my wife, talking about my day at work and the dog and this funny noise the car's making, when all of sudden we're interrupted by.... well, you'll just have to see for yourself. It's what I worked on today and it's coming soon from the Coheed and Cambria, a hard-rock band whose records all have something to do with some kind of cosmic battle between good and evil in which we're all just hapless pawns, I think. It was a fun shoot. Director Ben Barnes always seemed to be cool and laid back and ready with a joke but somehow kept everything running smoothly, the crew as a whole seemed very genial yet professional, and they really treated the actors well. Last but not least, the food was good -- both the “prop” lasagna for the dinner scene and the catered Cuban lunch.

Feelin' Groovy

Today I went to a fitting for a movie set in the ’70s. After getting tricked out in blue/gray pinstriped three-piece suit, I went to the hair and make-up trailer. "Look at those sideburns!" the stylist exclaimed. "I love them! Did you grow those just for us?" Uhh.... yeeesss... yes I did.

Two Shoes

I had two auditions yesterday: one for the part of a college professor, another for the part of a priest. To suit the roles, I decided to dress a little more formally than usual: a gray wool suit, dress shirt, and black leather shoes. It wasn't until five minutes before the second audition that I noticed my left shoe was obviously from a different pair than my right. What did I learn from this? (a) Don't stay out to late the night before an audition. (b) Lay out your clothes, including footwear, ahead of time. (c) Don't get dressed in the dark. (d) Just don't be an idiot.

Location, Location, Location

I've learned a lot in the last few days, but this may be the most important lesson: If you decide to pick up a few extra bucks (and I do mean a few) by doing background work, make sure you find out where the shoot takes place before booking it. Otherwise, you might find yourself driving to freakin&slquo; Valencia like I did. Actually, it turned out not to be such a bad thing. The cast and crew were very nice, it was a fun scene, and a day in front of the camera beats a day in cubicle any day. But Valencia? That's a long, expensive drive. I also had my second commercial acting class with Daphne Kirby, and I'm amazed at how much ground we can cover in a couple of hours. The best part is that we each get to ”audition“ two or three times on camera with actual commercial copy and watch the results. It's enlightening to see what a difference a few adjustments can make.

Why I'm Not a Bruins Fan

Knowing that this is a public forum, even if only three people in the world actually read the damn thing, I've always tried to keep it positive, or at least neutral. But something's been bugging me lately and I've decided to break that self-imposed rule at the risk of alienating the students, faculty, and alumni of one of Southern California's largest and most prestigious film schools. I have had great experiences on projects at USC, Loyola-Marymount, Chapman, Cal Sate Long Beach, the Los Angeles Film School, and the New York Film Academy. It has been a pleasure to collaborate with talented, earnest young filmmakers. Even on auditions where I didn't get the role, I was treated with courtesy, respect, and even gratitude. ("Hey," you may be thinking, "I was promised negativity!" Hold your horses.) So when I submitted for a role in a project at another university film school and was invited to audition, I had every reason to expect the same. The character I submitted for had a name, an interesting back story, and a pivotal role in the plot. The role I submitted for was a named character who was described as a professor. When I met with one of the filmmakers, he had me read dialogue that was written for other characters which kind of surprised me, but it wasn't the first time. Sometimes a filmmaker may see you in a different role when they meet you in person; sometimes a screenplay is unfinished and your part may not even be fully written. The director responded enthusiastically to my reading, gave me some adjustments, thanked me profusely for coming in, and sent me on my way. The next day I was offered the role and I accepted. Then he sent me a script. I searched for my character's name, couldn't find it. No dialogue, no entrance, no action, nothing. I contacted the director and he told me I was going to be part of a crowd scene. Now, I've done nonspeaking roles, I've done crowd scenes, and I will do them again. But everything from the initial character description in the breakdown to the multiple readings during the audition seemed calculated to give the impression I was being considered for a principal role, a role which didn't really exist. That was some time ago. So why bring it up now? Because I recently responded to this notice: "Seven short films are being cast and shot this week, including '[title deleted]'! [name deleted] graduate directing students and TFT faculty will be involved! Come to the audition and you will have the chance to audition for several of the films, not just ours!" Do you see in there where it says these films will be directed by high school students, because I sure don't. I have actually recently worked with a director who was a high-school student at the time of filming. It was a great experience and I'd do it again, but let me know up front. Please don't make me think I'll be working with film school graduates when that's not the case. And please don't then usher me into a room full of high-school males and give me the task of finding one who is interested in talking to me and not the beautiful young women in the room. One student was openly derisive and rude. Another was obviously not going to cast me but seemed to want to try out his impression of a slick Hollywood mover a la Entourage.Despite the less than ideal circumstances, I did strike up a rapport with a young director, who called the next morning to offer me a leading role. I called back and accepted, and he called back and very apologetically retracted the offer, saying his writer and director of photography wanted someone else and outvoted him. At first I laughed it off, chalking it up to youthful indiscretion and poor impulse control. But then I stopped laughing, realizing that it fit into a pattern of behaving as if promises made, explicitly and implicitly, don't really matter where actors are concerned. This high-school students should have been taught that actors, like anybody, deserve respect and honesty. But who is there to teach them?

Surviving Being Shot

When I saw the results of my recent photo session, my first instinct was to crawl into a cave and live out the remainder of my life in solitude and darkness. But once I stopped focusing on the very worst images, I found some I didn't hate and a few I... dare I say it?... liked. So I posted a selection of them online and asked my friends to comment. Responses range from “Those are
some great headshots!” to “I’m going to be honest because I’m your friend.” (In a completely unrelated development, I have an immediate opening for the position of “friend.” Some diplomatic skills required.) Photos are available for public viewing on Facebook. You have to be registered to comment there, but you can always come back here and (tactfully) express yourself. Or, if you're with MySpace, you can view and comment there.

I'm Selling Out! (Who's Buying?)

After focusing a great deal of time and energy on live performance, which has been greatly rewarding in many nonfinancial ways, I've decided to go commercial. Following closely on the heels of an intensive soap opera class, I've started Daphne Kirby's commercial acting course. The first night was a lot of fun. I got a lot of good general information and some personalized pointers for on-camera auditioning. I plan to start submitting my resume to commercial agents as soon as my new headshots are ready. I haven't given up live theater -- nothing beats that thrill, except maybe the thrill of a monthly residuals check.

Weaving All Night

It took a marathon session but I finally updated my Web site, keithbush.com. Actually, it ended up being more of a rebuild than an update. It's not completely finished, but it now has some of the things an actor's Web site is supposed to have, like a resume, headshots, and performance stills.

Two Saturdays at AAT

Here's a picture of some of the people at a Live Earth party I recently attended. When I wasn't standing awkwardly in the corner painfully aware of my own datelessness, I had a pretty good time. I met some fascinating people, enjoyed some good food, and we talked about saving the earth a little. A week later, I returned to Actor's Art Theatre for an intensive soap opera workshop. I had worked with the instructor, Jolene Adams, before in a production called Shakespeare's Italian Lovers, so I was confident I could learn from her. She has a real knack for drawing solutions out of the actor rather than imposing them from the outside. I learned a lot about the challenges facing soap opera actors and I think it will serve me well when the time comes to lather up.

Wide Awake in Orange County

I'm in a sketch show that opens and closes Friday, May 18. Then it reopens and recloses the first Friday in June. Then it comes back for a couple of more weeks. Wacky, isn't it? Some of the sketches are pretty out there, too. Come see "We Haven't Slept Together in a Week," performed and written by several of the people who brought you last year's senfreakingsational "Second Best Sketch Comedy Show Ever!" and some fresh new faces.

Second Stage, 431 N. Brookhurst #140, Anaheim.

May 18, June 1, June 15, and June 22 at 8 p.m.

Blog's Labors Lost?

I could have sworn I posted something about this already. But I shouldn't swear lightly. That's the message, such as it is, of Love's Labors Lost,* William Shakespeare's comedy of vows broken and love unrequited. I'm the director and producer of a a production currently playing in the heart of Hollywood. I also, by sheerest coincidence, happen to have the largest role — about 1/3 of the the lines, according to some sources. I haven't counted, but it seems about right. I've put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into this project — OK, not so much blood — but I'm having a lot of fun, and so are the cast and audience. It's a blast to hear people laughing at 400-year-old wordplay as well as the physical comedy with which we've liberally salted the play (as I believe Shakespeare's company would have done) and come up and say how much they enjoyed it, but the most satisfying are the ones who say they never "got" Shakespeare until now! We've closed the first leg of our two-city tour of Southern California, but there's still two more chances to catch us.

Saturdays @ 8 p.m.

May 19 and 26

The Next Stage

1523 N. La Brea

Second Floor

Hollywood, CA 90028

http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/14049

* Yes, most people spell it "Love's Labour's Lost," but my spelling is closer to the one on the title page of the first published edition and makes a better title, I think.

Star f-ed

My STARmeter is down 44%. I just found out today I had a STARmeter, and now it's down by 44%. Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed.

What's Next

My long-awaited* return to the stage takes place in a little over a week. Once again I'm directing and acting, but not simultaneously this time. I play Harry Scupp, seeking treatment at Ravenswood after attacking his wife with a remote-control lawnmower. I sing and dance a little in this one (very little, mercifully). I'm also directing a one-act about a man who doesn't want to go war and a sergeant who is less than sympathetic. Both plays are short comedies, with varying shades of darkness.

*Long-awaited by me.

Lost Time

Oops, I just accidentally deleted Keith Bush. No, not me, another K.B. who was nice enough to drop by and leave a friendly comment (unlike some people--yeah, you know who are). The mishap occurred while I was deleting dozens of spamoids that had settled here in my absence.

Where did those two months go? Seems I'm always losing track of time, or car keys, or something. Well, I'm determined to do a better job of keeping up with this blogging thing. There's a lot of exciting stuff going on in the Bushland these days. Unfortunately, I'm tired from clearing out all that trash (not you, K.B., the other stuff) so I won't be posting. Besides, it's Friday night, so I'm going to pretend like I have something better to do.

Cheers!

Day Trippin'

It turns out I'm directing myself in
"Giving Thanks."

Surprise!

Well, it was to me, anyway.

At the Second Stage, Again (and Again)

Following close on the heels of the specfreakingtacular success of "The Second Best Sketch Comedy Show Ever!", I'll be appearing in two evenings of improv (with some scripted material sprinkled in.

I'll also be making my directorial debut with "The Daytripper," part of the annual holiday show "Giving Thanks."

Be amazed by my diverse talents, or leave feeling better about yourself by comparison. Either way, you win!

Improv: Nov. 3 and Nov. 10, 8:30 p.m., $10
Giving Thanks: Nov. 11, 18, 25, and Dec. 9., 8 p.m., $15

The Second Stage
431 N. Brookhurst, Suite 140
Anaheim, CA

Second Chance at "Second Best"

The original cast of "The Second Best Sketch Comedy Show Ever!" (which I perform in and cowrote) is reuniting for a special command performance 8 p.m. Saturday at the Next Stage, 1523 N. La Brea, Second Floor, Hollywood, California. (323) 850-7827. This is your last opportunity to see it. We mean it this time. If you don't go, you'll regret it for the rest of your miserable little life. And I say that with love.

Second Best Slide Show Ever

"The Second Best Sketch Comedy Show Ever!" has played to capacity crowds and smashed box office records at the Second Stage. OK, that's not quite like playing to capacity crowds at the Pantages, but it's something. And it's even more remarkable considering my legions of faithful friends who haven't shown up in droves. Oh, well, there's always Mom, even if she was convinced I was making some kind of statement in the "Frat Mom" sketch, which I didn't even write or cast myself in. Anyway, for the rest of you who can't be bothered to show up, here are some slides from opening night, if clicking isn't too much trouble for you.

Character/Sketches

It's not a sure thing, but I may have a chance soon to direct a play of my choosing. It would probably be a classical piece (that is, pre-1923) so royalties wouldn't be an issue. Of course I'd want to put myself in a major role, but therein lies the rub. How can I be sure I haven't miscast myself before it's too late? Usually when I'm acting, I have the comforting thought that someone else thought I was appropriate for the part (and I try not to think about the dozen more-appropriate people who might have turned down the gig). But to rely on nothing but my own judgment and talent is an entirely different matter. Here are some characters I may be inappropriate for: Lear (too young), Cleopatra (too male), and Othello (too white). But I could use some help coming up with the perfect part. While you're puzzling over that, remember that I'll be appearing in "The Second Best Sketch Comedy Show Ever!" (co-written by me), Fridays at 8 p.m., Sept. 15 - Oct. 6, Second Stage at El Ranch Plaza, 431 N. Brookhurst, Suite 140, Anaheim, Calif. Admission $15 cash at the door.

Short Stuff

I'm still tall, it's the pictures that got short. I'm in Convicted for Life, screening September 10 at the Arclight as part of the Los Angeles International Short Film Festival. It'll just be you, me, the cameras, and those wonderful people out there in the dark.

Breaking News Extra: Our stage show now has a name: The Second Best Sketch Comedy Show Ever. (If it were the best, we'd have to charge more.)

Spontaneity: Plan on It

I'll be part of the "Improv Extravaganza" at the Second Stage, 531 N. Brookhurst, Anaheim, 8:30 p.m., Friday, Aug. 18. Admission is $10 cash, or mention my name and get charged double.

Something Sketchy

I'm a cowriter and featured performer in an upcoming sketch comedy show. We don't have a title yet, but we do have outrageous characters and incredible situations that will have you laughing till you stop, so I encourage my reader (hi, Mom) to make reservations now (or just show up).

The Second Stage
El Rancho Plaza #140
531 N. Brookhurst
Anaheim, Calif.
(714) 502-2249

September 15, 22, and 29 and October 6 at 8 p.m., or whenever we get our heads together. Admission is a measly $15, cash at the door.

Who's the Boss?

I'm the boss. Well, I got to act like one, anyway. Over the weekend I worked on an independent short, playing the protagonist's disagreeable employer. I'd almost forgotten what it's like to tell other people what to do. Even though there was no chance of him actually doing it, there was something kind of satisfying about it. Maybe I should consider directing.

Back to Berubia

I'll be performing with the Berubian All-Stars of Improv again, this Friday at 8ish. A good time is guaranteed to be had by me. Tickets are normally $12, but mention my name and they'll let you in for $24.95.

Second Stage Theatre
El Rancho Plaza
431 N. Brookhurst, Suite 140
Anaheim, California
(714) 502-2249

I Put the 'Ear' in 'RehEarsal'

I gaze achingly, hungrily, longingly at her until my passion overwhelms me and I seize her, press my body against hers and plant a wet, passionate kiss on her... yep, her ear. Who knew she was going to move her head just then? Oh, well. One more week to get it right.

Living Beyond My Means

My beautiful, auburn-haired wife and I spent a few hours in Hancock Park today, looking at multimillion-dollar homes in which we might spend the rest of our lives together. In my dreams? No, in the short film I mentioned a couple of paragraphs down. If only life could be more like the movies (the ones where I don't get shot). Oh, well, it was a fun shoot working with cool people and I got to feel successful for a weekend, anyway, even if my character was a bit dorky. (Obviously the filmmakers decided it would be interesting to cast against type!)

New Flyer, New Date, New Time

Click the thumbnail to view the new, more-informative, less-scandalous art for Shakespeare's Italian Lovers. We have just scheduled a third performance. Because of the limited run and, uh, intimate nature of the space, reservations are strongly suggested.

June 23 (Friday) & 24 (Saturday) @ 8 p.m.
June 25 (Sunday) @ 3 p.m.
Actors Art Theatre, 6128 Wilshire Blvd. #110, LA 90048
323-969-4953

Hate, Eat, Love

Yesterday morning I auditioned for a part in an indie horror film, an unloving and unlovable misfit. I'm not sure who or what the killer is, but he'd be high on my list of suspects. Apparently I was good (bad?) enough to merit a call-back later the same day to read with some other actors. Then I had to rush from Huntington Beach to the Miracle Mile for a read-through. When I arrived I was in no state of mind for romantic comedy, but that was fine, because our Italian-American director started us off with a delicious Italian feast, wine included, that put us all in the mood to have a few laughs and pitch some woo. Looks like a good cast, and all the scenes are funny. That Shakespeare could write. You can quote me.

That's Amore!

I'm one of Shakespeare's Italian Lovers, but that's not me on the promotional material. Looks like I need to get in shape. And we might need a bigger flag.

8 p.m. June 23rd & June 24th (Friday & Saturday)
Actors Art Theatre
6128 Wilshire Blvd. #110, Los Angeles, CA 90048

323.969.4953

There Are Some Who Call Me... Tim?

I've been cast as Tim in a short film with the working title of Ben & Benny. Something tells me I won't be getting top billing on this one, but it should be fun.

Benediction

I had a couple of auditions this weekend, one of which involved Benedick and Beatrice confessing their love to each other. I have to admit there was a little wish-fulfillment involved there. In fact, my biggest concern with my performance was that I might have been smiling too much. But the director has scheduled me for a callback, so I guess I didn't stink up the stage too much.

Holy Smokes!

I appear as a cigarette-puffing messiah in Second Time's the Charm, part of the Spring 2006 Filmmakers Showcase at the Carpenter Performing Arts Center (pictured) in Long Beach, May 20 at 8 p.m. Tickets ($6 to $8) available at the box office.

Much Adieu

This weekend we gave the opening and closing performance of Much Ado About Nothing. How’s that for efficiency? It was the climax to a tragicomedy that began five months ago with my nearly killing myself to get to the audition, included several shocking twists, spawned a spin-off act, and ended with a lightly attended show that was twice disrupted by an angry downstairs neighbor hammering on a pipe. In between we had rehearsals in cold, rain, and gloom of night. If we had opened when and where we had planned it could have been a great success. This cast had the talent and drive to make wonderful things happen. But as we moved from one venue to another uncertain if and when the show would ever open, and the director become increasingly embroiled in permit struggles with the county government, I think we lost some of the spark. Add to that the difficulty of working in a space about a third of the size of the one the show was originally blocked and rehearsed in, and you end up with a show that just wasn’t all it should have been. The few people who did see the first and final official performance said they really enjoyed it, but I feel we actually gave our best performances weeks ago, around the time of our originally schedule opening, in our final rehearsals on the company's own stage. With time in the new space we probably could have recaptured the magic, but poor attendance did us in. That could be accounted for by the fact that the ticket price was too high, there was no street-level advertising, the promotional materials had the wrong phone number, there were no listings in the LA Weekly or LA Times, people we had personally invited were repeatedly uninvited…. well, none of it really matters now. Although it didn’t end at all the way I wanted it to, it was an amazing experience. I hope I’ll be seeing more of some of the cast, but in any case I feel fortunate to have worked with such a talented, warm, and dedicated group of people, even too briefly. Sixteen actors without a flake or prima donna in the bunch? What are the odds? And fun—oh, yeah, you bet we had some fun along the way. And I learned a lot about how to put on a show, and how not to put on a show, and acting, and Shakespeare, and life in general. So with dozens of rehearsals, one performance, several cast parties and some tearful goodbyes behind me, I look forward to the next adventure.

Big Audition/Improv de Mayo

1) Last night I saw “The Big Audition” at the Second Stage in Anaheim, which features a few actors I've worked with before. Funny stuff and highly interactive. It begins as soon as you enter the theatre and continues through intermission, with the cast mingling with the audience and staying in character the whole time. In the second act they dragged several audience members on stage to "audition" for roles. Of course everything was exaggerated for comic effect, yet it was painfully reminiscent of a few auditions I've participated in. The two-person monologue was a definite high/low point. It plays three more Thursdays. Check it out.

2) About two hours ago I found out I'm going to be doing some improv TONIGHT:
* Berubian All-Stars
* Second Stage Theatre
* 431 N. Brookhurst, Ste. 140
* Anaheim, Calif.
* Admission: US$10
Plaza Garibaldi across the street has delicioso Mexican food, live music, and a dance floor.

Back to the Bash

I just saw a report on the Bard's Birthday Bash from the talented guy who provided my theme music by means of a one-man electronic orchestra. OK, that wasn't his primary function, but this is my blog, after all. His blog is mostly about his experiences (well, duh), but it does give an overall impression of the event and includes this photo of my backside, which you should be able to see next to this post.

Pistol-Whipping and Other Fun

I had a good audition Friday. I mean, I don't know how it looked to the director, but it felt natural, and I was confident, energetic, and fully present, and for once I didn't stress out thinking about it afterward. I'd like to say that's because I've matured as an actor, but it's probably just because I was too busy stressing about my MC gig that night, hosting a 3 1/2-hour pseudo-Elizabethan variety show. It turned out to be a lot of fun, and I learned a few things that could come in handy the next time I'm asked to host a 3 1/2-hour pseudo-Elizabethan variety show. Saturday I worked on an independent film in which I got to be smug and condescending—at least until the pistol-whipping started. Today was another rehearsal for Much Ado—three weeks until the long-awaited opening!

Monkey-Shining

I went to the Second Stage last night to see a show called “The Monkey Shiners,” featuring some Hitchhiker's alums (Davian and Andrew, among others.) Before I knew what was going on, they had me up on stage playing games with them. I ended up creating three characters: Clueless-Panicky Guy, Overacting Guy, and Sexually Frustrated Guy. Really, where do I come up with this stuff? My favorite line of the evening (not spoken by my): “Quakers! I see Quakers!” I guess you had to be there. I enjoyed watching the show, but I enjoyed being in it even more. Thanks, guys!

Action!

I've just started work on a short film. My character is described in the script as “sarcastic,” so people who know me know what a stretch it is for me. He's a director, which means I got to shout “action” and “cut” a lot. The real filmmaker is alarmingly young, but he's already got one credit to his name on IMDb, so I've got reason to believe an actual film will result from the experience.

Bushlander vs. the Bard

I'm to go toe-to-toe with Big Willie Shakespeare in the next couple of months. First, there's the Bard's Bawdy Birthday Bash, April 21 at the Knightsbridge Theatre (1944 Riverside Dr., Los Angeles.) My stage partner, Nic Anthony, and I will be committing sketch comedy, improvisation, and perhaps some song-and-dance throughout the evening. The lineup also includes swordfighters, musicians, and other sundry entertainers. Admission is $15 at the door or a meagre $10 if you make reservations by April 17 (E-mail BardBashGuestList@yahoo.com) and includes the show, hor d'ouvres, and a raffle ticket. Beverages and additional food will be available for a pittance.

The Los Angeles Shakespeare Company's much-anticipated Much Ado About Nothing, with yours truly as Dogberry and Nic as Verges, is now on track to open at another location on May 13 and continue through June 18, Saturdays and Sundays at 1 p.m., excluding Memorial Day weekend. More details will be forthcoming.

Happy Birthday to Thee....

It looks like I will be performing at the Bard's Bawdy Birthday Bash. More as the story develops!

Ridi pagliacco

I am a sad clown. After weeks of long, tiring, but satisfying rehearsals with a terrific cast and director, the excitement building as opening day grew closer, everything's come to a halt. The streets of Messina are empty, Dogberry is speechless, and there's no ado about anything. The permit still hasn't been issued, and instead of coming together for our third performance this Saturday, we'll be be assembling for what could be our last cast meeting. With all the anxiety that precedes an opening you'd think there'd be a corresponding sense of relief when it's canceled, but it doesn't work that way. There's disappointment, of course, but it's more than that - loss, regret, disorientation. On the other hand, we could find a way to put on a show after all and salvage some of the run. A lot of good, talented people put effort and resources into making this a great show, some much more than I, and it would be a shame to let it go to waste. Maybe we'll find another space, or get an 11th-hour reprieve or something. We just want to make people laugh. Is that so wrong?

Much Ado About... Nothing?

In the fine tradition of Elizabethan theatre, the Los Angeles County Master of Revels has banned this weekend's performance on account of lewdness or the plague or something. OK, actually it has to do with a conditional use permit that wasn't processed correctly, I think. I'll keep you all posted. In the meantime, here's my chin with a couple of friends, Meegs and Wendibus, whom I met long ago at the Second City Immersion Workshop. Meegs is now in the conservatory program in Chicago, improv capital of the universe (with apologies to the fine improvisators of Alpha Centauri), and was visiting li'l ol' L.A. for the weekend.

Much Ado About Dogberry

Truly, I've been much adoing and not much blogging lately. Last week I was in two student films, one of which answered the question, "What would Jesus smoke?" I played a cigarrete-puffing, sunglasses-wearing Messiah in a film that dealt with the Second Coming, and the director asked me what brand I wanted. Naturally, I chose Camels. (Kids: Jesus probably wouldn't want you to smoke.) But mostly I've been thinking about my upcoming role in Much Ado About Nothing. Now, I tend to view myself as the princely or at least lordly type, but for some reason the director seemed to see me as the clown, so who am I to disagree? Besides, I really wanted to be in this production, so I agreed even though I had reservations about the part. One of the first people I told about this said, "You lucky bastard! That's one of Shakespeare's best roles!" I might still choose Hamlet, Macbeth, Iago, or a number of others, if anyone were offering, but I've come to respect the Dog a bit more than I did. Early on, Verges and I were running lines and drinking Margaritas at Abuelita's when a guy at another table started speaking my part. I asked him when he had played the master constable and he said he hadn't but he'd always wanted to. Instead, he had played Benedick—the male romantic lead. One friend, whom I told that I hadn't pictured myself as this character before, said I'd make a great Dogberry (uh... thanks?), although I could never top Michael Keaton (thanks again). Where would we be without our friends? But I have to try not to think about M.K., or William Kemp or any of the thousands upon thousands of other Dogberrys before me, and just go out there and be my own ass—the biggest, baddest, loudest ass I can be. Yes, the director encouraged me to go over the top, so I've been pushing a little further with each rehearsal, expecting him eventually to ask me to tone it down a notch. Hasn't happened yet.

"Do not forget to specify, when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass."

Time: Saturday & Sunday @ 1 p.m.
Place: Los Angeles Shakespeare Co., 1909 Topanga Cyn Blvd., Topanga, Calif.

Something About My Ass

In Friday's improv show, we did a game called "Late for Work," in which I played an employee trying to explain to my boss why I was late. The catch was that I was the only person in the theater who didn't know the reason, which was based on suggestions from the audience. Fortunately, I had two helpful coworkers standing behind the boss, acting it out. I figured out fairly early on that my anal region was involved somehow, but for some reason it took me a few dozen wild guesses to figure out that I had stopped off for an enema. (Again, these suggestions come from the audience, so don't blame me.) Backstage, I commented that I didn't think I had ever said the word "ass" in front of my parents before, and I had just said it 50 times in the space of two minutes. My director then told me it was my mother who suggested that the bag had burst. Coincidentally, I will also say "ass" several times in "Much Ado About Nothing," but that's different because it's Shakespeare.

Phoning It In

Last night I had my first audition by phone. I was up for a brief voice-over in a short film. The director was supposed to call me and listen to me read the sides, but somehow I never got the sides, so he explained the scenario to me and asked me to improv something, which I did. There was a moment of silence, during which I thought, well, that's that; I'll never hear from him again. Then he said something to the effect o, that was almost exactly what he had in mind when he wrote it. Then he asked me to try another part, and I did, and he said that was maybe even better than what he wrote. So he called me back later that night and offered me an on-camera role. On a related note, tomorrow night at 8 I perform improv with the Berubians at The Second Stage, 431 N. Brookhurst, Anaheim, Calif. What's a Berubian? Come learn the terrifying answer for only $10.

Comedy Is Easy

Life is hard.

Feeblebrox

As an actor who takes responsibility seriously, I would never show up on the night of a performance under the influence of opiates, at least without letting my director and fellow cast members know. At the start of last Wednesday's improv workshop, the leader told us not to be afraid to leave the stage for a moment and come back when it served the scene. I eagerly volunteered for the first exercise and soon put his advice into action, only to discover that someone, whom I will call F.N. Idiot, had placed a 2x2x2-foot wooden cube directly behind the blackout curtain at the exit I had chosen. I'll just lie here in agony for a few minutes and go back out when I'm ready, I thought to myself, but soon I heard someon calling my character's name, so I gamely and lamely staggered back on stage and sat down. I could hear people talking to me, but couldn't understand what they were saying. As a master of improv, I covered by saying, "I can hear you talking to me, but I can't understand what you're saying." After the scene, I limped off stage, feeling a sense of accomplishment for having completed the exercise. Fearless Leader then stood up in front of the assembly and said, "That was horrible!", stretching the third word out for about five seconds and making a face as if he had just mistaken a cat turd for Almond Roca. At that moment, I learned that harsh criticism, even from a mentor, is not the most painful thing in the world. Compared to a knee injury, it hardly rates. Wounded yet somehow less vulnerable than before, I made my way through another exercise that night. Some people thought the limp was an affectation, but the more observant were beginning to suspect something was seriously wrong. I was still in denial myself, and got up again for the final exercise of the day, but my body had other ideas. While our leader was explaining the rules of the game, I begin to feel cold sweat running down my face, and a queasiness in my stomach, and I quietly left the stage. After the workshop broke up, a couple of people offered to drive me home or to the hospital, but I was kind of shrugging it off until I realized I was too dizzy to drive myself. So about four hours later, after getting X-rays, a tetanus shot and a parting dose of morphine, I rode back to the theater with my friend Mike, a funny guy and a real mensch. I spent the night there and drove to work Thursday morning, from where I called the director of "Hitchhiker's" and told him that I was still willing to do the show, but didn't think I could do all the leaps and falls that I had been doing. I also said I would understand if he decided to step into the role (as writer and the director, he knew the lines). He assured me that was not going to happen. So I e-mailed the cast to warn them that my performance might be very different because of the injury and the painkillers. They were very understanding and adapted their own performances marvelously. They also tell me I said and did some very funny and surprising things. I'll have to take their word for it until I see the video. I do think that not being able to rely so much on the wild flailing and crashing about may have inspired me to dig deeper and find comedic opportunities I had missed before, so injuring myself my have actually helped my performance. I wouldn't recommend it, though.

Never Say Never Again

OK, I confess, I've been going to a weekly improv workshop, and on February 24, 2006, I will be performing as part of an improv ensemble at the Second Stage (431 N. Brookhurst, Anaheim; admission is a paltry $10). Now, loyal and attentive readers might remember when I wrote that I wasn't interested in that sort of thing, and at the time it was true. But I sort of stumbled across this workshop while doing another show at the theater, and I liked the low-key, informal vibe almost as much as the fact that I wasn't being charged anything for the privilege. I decided to attend on a drop-in basis, and ended up dropping in every week until I dropped right into a show. It could be a one-night-stand or a long-term relationship, depending on how that first date goes.

Driven to Succeed?

Hey, I got a part! I guess I'll be wearing a blue-green coat and driving off-road to all my auditions from now on. The role is Dogberry. I'll admit I'm not too familiar with the play, but from that noble surname I'm guessing he's the dashing young hero who saves the day and wins the fair lady.

On the Edge

"Hi, it's a pleasure to meet you; my name's Keith," I said, confidently extending my hand and flashing a big, friendly grin, while my car idled two feet behind me, with its front bumper hanging over a precipice and its rear wheel a foot off the ground. OK, let me do something I couldn't do then and back up a bit. I was feeling pretty confident as I drove to my audition on Topanga Canyon Blvd., a twisting road through wooded hills that seem hundreds of miles from L.A. I had a secret weapon to set me apart from the crowd: a blue-green sport coat I picked up for $5 at a thrift store. He won't forget the guy in the blue-green sport coat, I thought. I found the address, saw a sign that said something about parking, turned into what looked like a driveway, and suddenly found myself staring down into a ravine and experiencing a serious loss of traction. I shifted into park, set the hand brake and jumped out, not bothering to take my keys with me. The wide-eyed director arrived on the scene looking more shaken than I felt, and I cheerfully introduced myself. I'm sure I made an impression, and not with my wardrobe. After that, things went pretty smoothly. I showed my AAA card to a towtruck driver who was finishing up with some other poor sap across the street, and a CHP officer diverted traffic for a few minutes while we got the car back on solid ground. So I did a couple of monologues and a cold reading, and what I want to know is, why did my heart start racing and my mouth dry up when I stepped on stage for the umpteenth time but nearly driving into oblivion scarcely phased me?

Thumbs Up!

My parents were at last night show, along with a couple of Holidaze cast members and a few people from the improv workshop, and they didn't run away in horror. In fact, they stuck around after the show talking, smiling, and laughing. I'd call that a smashing success! In fact, we got some huge laughs, and a couple of them were intentional. I have to say this isn't quite the thought-provoking, heart-rending kind of drama I had envisioned doing when I began this actor's journey. I certainly didn't envision the costume. But this kind of whacky, knockabout comedy is a lot of fun to perform, and, when things work like they're supposed to, to watch. And the bruises barely show.

You Are Where You Are

It's a truism that wherever you go, there you are. But where you are also in part shapes you who are by determining the people you will meet, the things you will see, and the opportunities and obstacles you will encounter. This is not idle philosophical rambling. Well it sort of is, but it's prompted by the fact that my rent's about to go up over 100 percent, so I've got to find a new home. Now, I'm probably not going to go more than 30 miles from my current location. My roots are pretty deep, I've got friends and family here, and I need to be close by when Spielberg calls. ("Mr. Bush, we're looking for some one to play Loser No. 3." "Count me in, Stevarino!" "Never call me Stevarino again.") But 30 miles encompasses a lot of territory in L.A., and I need to think seriously about what it is I'm doing with my life and how much I want to keep doing whatever it is. I hate thinking seriously.

Head Games

I haven't gone on as many auditions as usual in the past few weeks, partly because of my schedule but also because my headshots don't reflect my current hirsute appearance. Anyone who called me in expecting clean-cut, conservative guy would be disappointed. So, just for the heck of it, I submitted to two or three CDs with an outlandish picture of myself that a fellow cast member took at a recent rehearsal. It's pretty much everything a headshot isn't supposed to be. Yet, within an hour, someone called me to set up an audition. That's a higher success rate than the ones I paid specialists hundreds of dollars for! Maybe I had discovered a secret tool for success. So, after a two-hour drive and a two-minute audition, the director says, "That was great, but the client may be looking for someone more conservative-looking." So, I ask you: What is a headshot for, anyway?

Let's Get Hitched

Come see me shine in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I'm not saying I'll be good, just shiny. Second Stage Theatre, 431 N. Brookhurst, Anaheim, (714) 502-2249, Fridays at 8, January 20 to February 10. Click for directions.

Mild and Crazy Guy

OK, for the last four Friday's I've been this shockingly over-the-top, in-your-face party guy on stage. So why am I the one at the cast party standing there like a stiff in the background? Oh, well, I had a great time, really. I just internalized it. This Friday I get to try to be even loonier than last week in a brand-new production. I hope there are witnesses. Click on the link to get a sneak preview, right after the cast party pictures. (If you're reading this in the archives, the link may no longer work as advertised.)

Final Daze

Tomorrow night is the last chance to see me (and some other people) in Holidaze, the show that made the critics say, "A hell of a lot better than A Christmas Carol" (my father) and "Where did we go wrong?" (my mother). Really. Friday night, 8 p.m., 431 N. Brookhurst, a measly $10.

Spirit of Christmas Pants

(From an actual Christmas Eve conversation.) MOM: I've never been one to pry. ME: I've always appreciated that. MOM: But I couldn't help notice you have a pair of shiny silver pants in the back seat of your car. ME: They're for a show. MOM: Oh. (beat) What kind of show? ME: It's a kind of science-fiction/comedy thing. MOM: (skeptically) I see. ME: Look, don't judge the pants without seeing the rest of the outfit, OK? MOM: You aren't going to wear them on the street, are you? ME: They're for a show!

Take a Trip With Me

A friend kindly pointed out that if I want people to attend my current performance, I should provide some information about it. The show is called Holidaze, and I appear as a larger-than-life character in a wild and crazy sketch called "The Day Tripper." It's whacky, zany stuff that the opening-night audience ate up with a spoon.

Fridays at 8 p.m. through Jan. 13
Second Stage
431 N. Brookhurst
Suite 140
Anaheim, CA
(714) 502-2249
http://tinyurl.com/4o7c6

Not So Tiny, Now

A Christmas Carol closed just in time. Tiny Tim, who was pregnant, got harder to carry every week. But I'll sure miss it. It was a great cast and an exciting production to be part of, and although I wasn't the star I got to exercise my chops in a lot of ways: broad comedy, high drama, heavy exposition, even a little singing and dancing. (Although I'm no threat to... uh, you know, that famous singing, dancing, acting guy.) The best show was probably the one we did for a theater full of sixth-graders. I wasn't sure they'd appreciate our faithful telling of this old story, but they laughed without inhibition at the humor and were utterly silent during the dramatic scenes, except for the sniffles. I'd like to think we touched a few of them, but it is cold and flu season. We also had a large group of high-school students (and high-school students do seem larger than ever). I think they were there for extra credit, but even they were very attentive. Maybe there was going to be a quiz afterward, but I like to think we reached them--us and that Dickens guy.

Unorthodox Christmas

I've just taken a role in another holiday show. Holidaze will open Dec. 23, a scant week after Carol closes, and continue well after even Orthodox Christmas is over. Oh, well, if my father can leave the artificial tree up all year, I guess I can do this. Keep the badnjak burning!

Two Little Words

In case you're still wondering, this is a blog of me, by me, and for me. I am my own principal author, chief topic, and target audience. But just to prove I'm not entirely self-centered, I will devote a large chunk of this entry to the opinions of someone else, namely, Press-Telegram theater critic John Farrell: "Keith Bush is a warmly believable Bob Cratchit." OK, so "warmly believable" isn't exactly "stunningly brilliant," but it was nice to see it in print this morning, nonetheless. I didn't know if he'd mention me, or what he'd write if he did. Of all the words he might have chosen, those weren't bad. The first thing the director told me about the character was that warmth was the key to making it work. And Cratchit is so different from me and the range of emotion so great, believability was a big concern of mine. Oh, John also wrote several hundred words that didn't directly concern me. Some highlights: "The sheer complexity of the production is worth the admission price. Nine actors fill the piece's 38 roles.... [Bart Shattuck] has the presence and range to make Scrooge believable, whether he is being penurious, frightened half to death by the ghosts that visit him or gleefully happy when he finally discovers Christmas.... The rest of the cast proves its versatility in quick scene changes, faster costume changes and the ability to use the limited space of the Black Box to full effect. Brando Cutts is perhaps the king of the fast change in this production. He goes from the white ghost of Marley to a storybook genie to three other roles, including the Ghost of Christmas Present, in what seems like less time than it takes to tell about the changes.... Zavanna DeLaRoca is delightful as Tiny Tim.... a homey (and professional) telling of a great story, much of it in the author's rich language. If Christmas is a time for simple pleasures (and it is, despite all the advertising to the contrary), this is exactly the kind of show that brings those pleasures home. Nothing spectacular, nothing too fancy, just a rich and pleasant eveninng for family and those who love Dickens."

Shirley Says, "Float"

Yesterday evening, Shirley MacLaine told me that when she first came to California, she was more interested in the fashions and the climate than in becoming a serious actress. I didn't buy it. Surely someone doesn't make that many films, win that many awards and reach that level of fame without relentless struggle. She explained "The Law of Inverse Effort" to me. If you're at sea and you thrash around in a panic, you drown. If you relax and float, you survive. Then, she caught me off guard by asking me about my goals. I shyly talked a little about how I felt about acting and how I denied it to myself for years and only pursued it recently because I'm "beyond humiliation." She congratulated me and said it takes some people a lot longer to reach that point. The truth is, I still get self-conscious, embarrassed, mortified even, but I don't let it stop me from doing what I want to do. After all, life has thrown much worse things at me, with far less of a payoff. So I'll stretch myself, take risks, sing a little song, do a little dance, even wear a funny wig, and just maybe I'll help somebody think about things a little differently or forget their troubles for a while. If nothing else, maybe they'll feel better about themselves because they aren't signing the song, dancing the dance, wearing the wig, and I guess that's OK too. Let them take from it what they will, what they can, what they need. I'm just floating with the currents and feeling fine.

Why Haven't You Called?

I had fun. I thought you did too. Did I do something wrong? Was it something I said? Were you only pretending to like me? Did you want to see how far I would go? Was it just some kind of game to you? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound like that. It’s just, I think we could have had something really special. We still can, if you’ll pick up the phone and call. OK, maybe it’s too soon. Maybe you’ll call in a couple of days. But why not now? I mean, if you want me, why do we have to play around like that? Don’t you want me? What’s wrong with me? If you let me know, I’ll fix it. I know I came on sort of strong, but I just wanted it so badly. I’ll take it at your pace, be whatever you want me to be. Or did you decide to go with someone younger? Better-looking? How can you be so shallow? If you give me a chance, you’ll see how happy I can make you. I know I’ll never hear from you again. You forgot all about me as soon as that other one walked in the room. Don’t think I didn’t notice. So that’s your type? Whatever. You’re all the same. No, I didn’t mean it. Maybe you don’t realize how much I care. Maybe I should call you, just to say thanks and wish you the best. What am I thinking? That would probably creep you out and I’d lose whatever chance I have. Do I have a chance? Why don’t you call? I don’t need you anyway. I’ll find someone else who wants me. Someone who'll give me something deeper and more meaningful than cheap thrills and good times. You’ll see. Are you going to call or not? (Yeah, the audition is fun, but the next day sucks!)

I Like Auditions!

An audition is just a compressed, accelerated little performance--a chance to connect with an audience (albeit a small, critical one), and maybe make someone laugh or even move them a little. If that doesn't work, hopefully I've learned something, or at least had a chance to hone my skills. So I've auditioned thrice in the past eight days, even though my current play has a few weeks left to run. A stitch in time, idle hands, yadda yadda. Each time, I've felt that same rush of adrenaline that comes from actually doing a show. Kim beamed with joy and told me I was amazing. Kelly laughed out loud at all the right places and thanked me profusely. Neither one of them gave me a role. (Talk's cheap, Kim and Kelly! Actions speak louder than words! Don't make me hurl more cliches at you!) Tonight I auditioned for a part I wasn't even sure I wanted in a production that sounded a little sketchy, but once I got started I gave it 100 percent. By the end I was in love with the character and the project, and I think the director felt pretty good about me. I certainly projected, emoted and took possession of the stage, which I think is what was called for--no subtle introspection here. People who know me as the quiet guy who spends the whole party standing in a corner nursing a beer and holding a plate full of those little quiches would not have recognized me. So I was feeling pretty good until the director asked me to dance -- just a couple of steps, she said. But then she added more, and more, and more.... No one told me I'd be dancing. I never said I could dance. And in the end, I'm not sure you could call what I did dancing. But I took a risk and did something entirely new and different and unexpected and had fun, and that's kind of what this acting thing is about.

In My Head/In the Dark

"My, isn't the sewing coming along nicely?" (Why are they sewing an overcoat? They were never sewing an overcoat during rehearsals. Does the audience see that it's an overcoat? Does it matter? Whoops, I'm worrying about the audience; that's bad. Now I'm judging myself for worrying about the audience; that's worse. Get back in the moment, now! Back!) "Such nimble fingers." (Why did the lights just go out? Is this some kind of comment on my performance, like getting the hook? Maybe they decided to trim the scene and forgot to tell me? Why would they do that? Should I wait for them to go back on? What if they don't go back on?) "I've just been to the place where Tim will rest. I wish you all could have seen it." (I wish we could see something. Or at least be seen.) "We'll visit every Sunday." (Oh, great, here come the lights just in time for my unconvincing emotional breakdown.) "My little child!" (Is that... a cell phone? Yes, yes, it's a cell phone. In 1843!) I left the stage feeling like a complete fraud but, amazingly, another member of the cast congratulated me afterward for not missing a beat and audience members said (before I had a chance to prompt them!) they scene moved them to tears. I'm pretty sure Dickens deserved the credit for that, but since I was there and he wasn't, I took a share of it.

Being Bob

Last night at 8 p.m. I stood on a dark stage, wondering if it was too late to slip away unnoticed. Surely someone else would remember my lines well enough to cover for my absence. All I knew was that the stage doors had magically sucked every bit of dialogue out of my head. But before I knew it, the lights went up, and the last note of the requiem (how appropriate) faded. I put on my derby, faced the audience and started talking. Words came out of my mouth as if they were my own, not some text I was struggling to remember. I don't know if I'll ever get used to that sensation or fully understand the phenomenon, but I'm sure glad for it. Once the play started rolling there was no more time to be nervous as I bounced around from Narrator to Cratchit to Schoolmaster to Fezziwig to Miner to Topper to Businessman and back again. (The rest of the cast plays multiple roles too, so as much activity as there is onstage there's even more off, with continual lightning-fast costume changes.) Topper is the most fun role for me, as he's all about having a good time. As Fezziwig I was nearly swallowed whole by the wig from hell, but I survived. But Bob Cratchit is the most challenging and the most rewarding part for me by far. Although the dialogue isn't extensive, he's called upon to show a wide range of emotions and create meaningful connections with several other characters. To be honest, it's not the role I wanted or expected. I had my eye on a couple larger-than-life characters who deliver important messages in grand, flowery language, not a simple, down-to-earth clerk, husband and father. Now of course I can't imagine not being Cratchit. I could write more, but it's time to get ready for tonight's show.

Passing Shadow

The Anaheim 2005 cast of Tales From the Shadow Zone has taken its final bows, and I've put away the bow tie and Ben Nye stage blood. It was definitely time to move on. Doing a Halloween show on Nov. 5 was pushing it, even if we did beat The Simpsons by 24 hours. But ending the show was bittersweet. As much as I look forward to new challenges and opportunities, I'll miss getting together with the rest of the cast next weekend—another little family formed and dissolved in a matter of weeks. But our paths may cross again soon. When I showed up at the theater last night, I met a guy from Pan who was there to work on another show, in which he'd just got the lead. Also last night, I learned that in Hollywood even the homeless have notes. A street person came in from the cold (he must have been comped) and stayed to critique some of the actors, but not me. Either he was pleased with my performance or thought it unworthy of comment. IMHO, The Woods Beast didn't sizzle quite like last week, but The Girlz reached new heights of... something.

Take that, Martians!

Last night was a real hoot! As an actor I generally have to respect the fourth wall, which means I don't get to watch the audience reactions, other than peripherally. As a narrator, however, it was appropriate for me to tell the story directly to them, and to watch them, keenly and closely. It was fun to see them hang on my every word (OK, they were really H.G. Wells' words, but they were mine for an hour or so.) I think it really helped create a connection. But it was also nerve-wracking sitting up there the whole time, never retreating backstage or even upstage, and having to convey mood and emotion without making any huge gestures, running around, or knocking things or people about (which I'm sure is exactly what Stanislawski had in mind). And I couldn't get away with the mental trick of pretending the audience didn't exist. Fortunately I was far from alone up there, sharing the stage with five fine actors, one of whom is going to play Scrooge in A Christmas Carol and was also responsible for the bulk of last night's sound effects, in addition to a star turn as a survivalist.

Mars Attacks!

This Halloween night, I'll be on hand to narrate the invasion. This dramatic reading draws from the H.G. Wells classic, incorporating scenes and characters absent from the well-known film, TV or radio adaptations but essential to the author's vision.

Making Christmas

"Time to give them something fun they'll talk about for years to come. Let's have a cheer from everyone. It's time to party. Making Christmas...." So, now I'm a carpenter! Well, not really, but I have been helping to build the set for A Christmas Carol. We built a massive platform that elevates the actors to increase our visibility (not to mention making us look taller and more important). We're thinking of calling this revolutionary structure a "stage". But that's just the beginning. If you saw a Black Box Theatre production earlier this year and come back for this one, you'll be amazed at the transformation. I'm just amazed that I'm doing construction work. It's the first time I've done anything like this since flunking wood shop in the seventh grade. But I'm doing so well they've given me the all-important job of sorting screws!

The Hollywood Zone

On Thursday I got a frantic call. The actor who plays Robert in the Hollywood cast of Tales From the Shadow Zone couldn't make the Friday night performance. Could I please, please, please step in? Well, in the proud tradition of Underdog and Mighty Mouse, I answered the cry for help. Actually, I just seized an opportunity for a few extra minutes in the spotlight, but I can pretend like I'm some sort of hero. So tonight I found myself playing a familiar role with an unfamiliar cast in an unfamiliar venue. It was very interesting to experience how their personalities and choices affected the onstage dynamics and caused me to make different choices in reaction to them. Okay, it was still about four people in a cabin surrounded by monsters, but it had a whole different energy—not better or worse, just different. It was a clear demonstration of the living, organic nature of theater.

Inside the CD Club

Hey, I'm a casting director! Well, maybe not, but in the past few days I've been helping a technophobic director complete the cast of a play by posting notices online, screening applicants and scheduling auditions. So, like everyone else who has been involved in that side of the casting process for more than a minute, I now have advice to offer actors. How much is that worth to you? Nothing? Well, that's what I'm charging. These tips pertain particularly to actors using online casting services. Tip No. 1: Smile! I want to work with happy people. Besides, if I don't see your teeth in at least one of your photos, I'm going to wonder if they're little, brown, crooked and pointy. If you have little, brown, crooked, pointy teeth, you might as well let me see them now. They may actually be what I'm looking for. Tip No. 2: Provide an e-mail address. You're online. I'm online. Wouldn't it be great if I could reach you right now -- online? Oh, wait, there's another actor with comparable looks and experience and an e-mail address. I wonder which one I'll contact first. Okay, so two tips is all you get. It's free, and I told you I haven't been doing this long.

Brush With a Brush With Fame

So I'm at the Westwood Brewing Company (which isn't a brewing company at all) with an actress you've never heard of when she says, "I'm going to talk to Marisa Tomei" and leaves the table. A few minutes later she comes back and announces, "I just hugged Marisa Tomei," as indeed she had. Kind of makes me wonder how many other Oscar-winning actors I've been within hugging distance of without realizing it during all my years in and around L.A. Even when I've been on sets with famous people, I'm slow to recognize them. Well, there you have it: my first celebrity name-dropping. Pretty soon I'll resort to pictures of cute, furry animals.

The Girlz and I

Hey, that was all right! We had 18 people in the audience, which may not sound like a lot but for a show that got very little promotion opening in a 49-seat theater in the back of an office building in a nondescript area of Anaheim, ain't too shabby. After a brief introductory scene came the first of four self-contained episodes, "The Girlz," in which I play a nerdy scientist with a couple of dedicated personal assistants. The girlz and I have really hit it off. In fact, they demanded I step into the role after the original lead left the cast, and now they say I'm perfect for the part, which is kind of flattering and insulting at the same time. The second sketch, "The Virus," I'm not in, so it can go to hell. Then, after intermission, comes "A Date in Time." I can't say too much about my role in that, but it involves holding still for what seems like a very long time. My last appearance was in "The Woods Beast," which I was worried we hadn't rehearsed enough, but other than lights going up and down at random, one character having to exit through a window because the door was stuck shut, sound cues that consisted of silence or white noise, and my own Wizard of Oz moment (Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain. Thanks a lot, Toto!), it went great! We just stuck with the characters and and did our best to keep the energy up and move the scene forward, and the audience seemed to enjoy it on one level or another!

The Curse of the Woods Beast

Wanna hear something really scary? One of the vignettes mentioned a post or two below this one hasn't had a full cast rehearsal for three weeks. Perhaps I shouldn't broadcast the fact on a public blog, but since judging by the lack of comments no one but me actually reads the damn thing, what the hell. Anyhoo, I was on my way to a rehearsal tonight when one of the other cast members calls to tell me she was having car trouble. Aiieee! Then, while I'm sitting alone in the dark parking lot, the director -- who has the keys to the building -- calls to tell me his car broke down. Aiieee! Eventually, another cast member shows up and says he only came to audition for another play. Aiieee! We open Saturday. Aiieee! Will the cast show up? Will we have rehearsed first? There's only one way to find out! Tales From the Shadow Zone, Second Stage Theatre, El Rancho Plaza Suite 140, Saturdays through Oct.29th at 8 p.m., 714-502-2249.

Here We Come a-Caroling

I just got back from the first read-through for A Christmas  Carol and I am definitely feeling the spirit. It's a very faithful adaptation, meaning all of the great lines are intact and undiluted. After seeing so many modern retellings I'd almost forgot how powerful the original is and filled with cheer, pathos, and wit, often in a single paragraph. And although the world has changed much since Dickens' time, the issues he addressed are just as relevant today. I'm going to enjoy immersing myself in this for the next several weeks.