Just saw my old friend Lois Sage return to NYC last night to do a cabaret at The Laurie Beechman Theatre. She was wonderful. Has one of the best voices in the business and has taken twenty years off, give or take, to raise a family.
It was so wonderful to see her back in action again as she has so much to give.
Nice to know that things can turn around at any age, for anybody.
Other great news is that I will be returning to Flat Rock Playhouse to play Roger deBris in The Producers... Could NOT be more happy about THAT, as it is one of those parts that you'd sell a sister or brother for!!!
Flat Rock is a place I love dearly and their shows are always an absolute blast to be a part of. A level of professionalism that just makes you never want to leave once that final curtain rings down.
Things seem to be slooooooooowly turning around career-wise. It's been a tough few years back in the city from being oversesas. Getting my Equity card back, getting signed with an agent and getting WORK. So, seeing Lois start over is pretty inspirational.
Rock on, sistah.
Thank God...
Monday, April 12, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
Easter and The Yankees
I went to Mass at St. Francis' Church on 31rst Street yesterday. Lovely place. I like The Franciscans. Very appreciative of Life and loving of nature, living things, etc... and there is a real zeal and encouragement to question things. My inner Half-Jew loves that and I have truly enjoyed my time in this place. Lovely environment and I just feel good when I'm there. I could launch a million explanations as to the whys and the wherefores, but the bottom line is how it makes me feel. And the sum total of all of the pros and cons is that "it makes me feel good!"
So... anyway, Easter Sunday. Kind of a big day in the Christian world...
I get there at five to 11--forgetting that people who aren't in weekly attendance sort of come out of the woodwork for the "Big Days". There is no place--I mean NO PLACE, to sit. Totally SRO. I am getting nervous as the thing is about to start and I don't want to get caught wandering around--nor do I want to stand with my gamy leg. FINALLY, someone official comes up to me and asks me if I want a seat. I smile and say "Yes, please!!!". Thinking I'll end up in the back because as a non-Catholic I don't get up for Communion and I really don't need all and sundry seeing me sitting down in an empty pew wondering what I've done to keep me from going up to the priest (Small Town-itis even in Manhattan), but I blithely follow the lady with the badge.
She then heads up the aisle, onto the altar and then puts me square in the middle of the twelve seats in plain view of the 2,000 plus congregation. Oy... so... the beautiful Mass begins (trumpets, clarions, choir, piano, GORGEOUS voices, stand up, sit down, fight, fight, fight) and all I can think of is how to avoid looking like a refugee from The Scarlet Letter, sitting up there on the main altar with everyone seeing lonesome little me NOT going to Communion...
So... The priest begins to wander through the church, with the vat of holy water and the very large, very golden censer to spray it all over us. Total silence in the church as he comes to the twelve of us first in the "Royal Family" seats.
"In the name of the Father, the Son and--BAM!!!!!!!!" The very gold, very heavy end of the censer flies off, arcs through the air and hits me square in the chest. I go tottering backward and the whole church gasps. I look at the priest and his eyes are open VERY wide and I think I remember saying, "I CAUGHT IT!!!!!!" (a feat in itself for anyone who knows my lack of hand/eye coordination... My people don't catch.) At which point, everyone starts laughing and my friend Joe (a wonderful associate in the church) comes running up to me to get it back saying, "THAT'S NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!!"
Um... I'm not Catholic, but I gathered that.
So ... Communion was the least of my worries with The Holy Water Follies being played out in front.
I wonder if St. Francis' has a baseball team...
So... anyway, Easter Sunday. Kind of a big day in the Christian world...
I get there at five to 11--forgetting that people who aren't in weekly attendance sort of come out of the woodwork for the "Big Days". There is no place--I mean NO PLACE, to sit. Totally SRO. I am getting nervous as the thing is about to start and I don't want to get caught wandering around--nor do I want to stand with my gamy leg. FINALLY, someone official comes up to me and asks me if I want a seat. I smile and say "Yes, please!!!". Thinking I'll end up in the back because as a non-Catholic I don't get up for Communion and I really don't need all and sundry seeing me sitting down in an empty pew wondering what I've done to keep me from going up to the priest (Small Town-itis even in Manhattan), but I blithely follow the lady with the badge.
She then heads up the aisle, onto the altar and then puts me square in the middle of the twelve seats in plain view of the 2,000 plus congregation. Oy... so... the beautiful Mass begins (trumpets, clarions, choir, piano, GORGEOUS voices, stand up, sit down, fight, fight, fight) and all I can think of is how to avoid looking like a refugee from The Scarlet Letter, sitting up there on the main altar with everyone seeing lonesome little me NOT going to Communion...
So... The priest begins to wander through the church, with the vat of holy water and the very large, very golden censer to spray it all over us. Total silence in the church as he comes to the twelve of us first in the "Royal Family" seats.
"In the name of the Father, the Son and--BAM!!!!!!!!" The very gold, very heavy end of the censer flies off, arcs through the air and hits me square in the chest. I go tottering backward and the whole church gasps. I look at the priest and his eyes are open VERY wide and I think I remember saying, "I CAUGHT IT!!!!!!" (a feat in itself for anyone who knows my lack of hand/eye coordination... My people don't catch.) At which point, everyone starts laughing and my friend Joe (a wonderful associate in the church) comes running up to me to get it back saying, "THAT'S NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!!"
Um... I'm not Catholic, but I gathered that.
So ... Communion was the least of my worries with The Holy Water Follies being played out in front.
I wonder if St. Francis' has a baseball team...
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Start Spreeeeeeadin' the News...
The USS Intrepid is a battleship that saw active duty in WWII, Viet Nam and countless other military initiatives. As far as The USA is concerned, it is an absolute icon permanently moored off The West Side of Manhattan. Today it is a museum.
To those of us in the theatre who must support ourselves with jobs here and there between gigs, it is a place we cater-waiters occasionally and grudgingly trudge off to work. Grudgingly as it is a Grand Exodus to get there. The Blue Line Subway gets you as close as 8th and 49th and then there are long blocks to go in the cold past theatres, restaurants, apartments and eventually warehouses and buildings that belong to another century and whose use is now mysterious and at best, circumspect. Getting back after work is even more fun because--belieeeeeve me--you want to take a cab to either Penn Station (Ah, Kew Gardens), your apartment (if lucky enough to live in Midtown) or back to the E/C train because it is dark, late and potentially dangerous... even post gentrification of Hell's Kitchen. And puh-LEEZE---as long as Port Authority is nearby, it will ALWAYS be Hell's Kitchen regardless of what cute little name you want to attach to it. "Clinton"... Uh huh... and Shell Shock is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
I digress.
You never know what you're going to have to put up with when you go to a catering gig. Here, you know it's a steel floor and a dodgy sewer system. Last night, add dressing up like a sailor in a tshirt, dog tags and little sailor hat... which sat on my big head like a yarmulke with fintails.
Adding to this discomfort, my cheap, black, polyester trousers decided to abandon ship and break the clasp, so I ran around trying to look as if my shirt were tucked in, when in reality I was praying to any handy deity to please at least keep my loose zipper half of the way up so said trousers would not slide South during the salad course.
During the set up, I noticed that the white, red and gold motif was a little on the MGM side--circa 1963... Did Jerry Lewis work for MGM? I don't know, but it looked like one of his sets.
Essentially it was some Australian company that was being treated to a concert--direct from Atlantic City... Cher, Bette, Liza, Diana and Sinatra lookalikes crooned/lyp synched into the wee hours whilst I tried to smile, serve coffee and keep my pants on.
Discomfort and embarassment reached sitcom potential when I realized that the Sinatra lookalike ("look" is all, because "sound a like" was beggaring belief) was someone I had a brief but memorable and sweet fling with 1,000 years ago.
Folks--nothing tops an evening when you must consistently walk past an old amour--dressed like an extra in South Pacific and schlepping dirty plates when they are clad in an Armani tux.
I sometimes wonder if my life is on pay-per-view up on Mount Olympus, or wherever the gods meet to laugh at we mere mortals....
The fun of this night kept exploding like a concussion grenade... Humiliation after degradation--
UNTIL--he and the drag queens began a rousing rendition of New York, New York.
Clad in Armani, surrounded by drag queens and a bad sound system--there he was, attempting a kick line. Ghosts of sailors past more than likely watching in amazement, I realized that while he may be in a tuxedo, and I was dressed like a cheap sailor we were equalized by the serving up of the cheesecake.
I like to think that mine was palatable.
To those of us in the theatre who must support ourselves with jobs here and there between gigs, it is a place we cater-waiters occasionally and grudgingly trudge off to work. Grudgingly as it is a Grand Exodus to get there. The Blue Line Subway gets you as close as 8th and 49th and then there are long blocks to go in the cold past theatres, restaurants, apartments and eventually warehouses and buildings that belong to another century and whose use is now mysterious and at best, circumspect. Getting back after work is even more fun because--belieeeeeve me--you want to take a cab to either Penn Station (Ah, Kew Gardens), your apartment (if lucky enough to live in Midtown) or back to the E/C train because it is dark, late and potentially dangerous... even post gentrification of Hell's Kitchen. And puh-LEEZE---as long as Port Authority is nearby, it will ALWAYS be Hell's Kitchen regardless of what cute little name you want to attach to it. "Clinton"... Uh huh... and Shell Shock is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
I digress.
You never know what you're going to have to put up with when you go to a catering gig. Here, you know it's a steel floor and a dodgy sewer system. Last night, add dressing up like a sailor in a tshirt, dog tags and little sailor hat... which sat on my big head like a yarmulke with fintails.
Adding to this discomfort, my cheap, black, polyester trousers decided to abandon ship and break the clasp, so I ran around trying to look as if my shirt were tucked in, when in reality I was praying to any handy deity to please at least keep my loose zipper half of the way up so said trousers would not slide South during the salad course.
During the set up, I noticed that the white, red and gold motif was a little on the MGM side--circa 1963... Did Jerry Lewis work for MGM? I don't know, but it looked like one of his sets.
Essentially it was some Australian company that was being treated to a concert--direct from Atlantic City... Cher, Bette, Liza, Diana and Sinatra lookalikes crooned/lyp synched into the wee hours whilst I tried to smile, serve coffee and keep my pants on.
Discomfort and embarassment reached sitcom potential when I realized that the Sinatra lookalike ("look" is all, because "sound a like" was beggaring belief) was someone I had a brief but memorable and sweet fling with 1,000 years ago.
Folks--nothing tops an evening when you must consistently walk past an old amour--dressed like an extra in South Pacific and schlepping dirty plates when they are clad in an Armani tux.
I sometimes wonder if my life is on pay-per-view up on Mount Olympus, or wherever the gods meet to laugh at we mere mortals....
The fun of this night kept exploding like a concussion grenade... Humiliation after degradation--
UNTIL--he and the drag queens began a rousing rendition of New York, New York.
Clad in Armani, surrounded by drag queens and a bad sound system--there he was, attempting a kick line. Ghosts of sailors past more than likely watching in amazement, I realized that while he may be in a tuxedo, and I was dressed like a cheap sailor we were equalized by the serving up of the cheesecake.
I like to think that mine was palatable.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Addendum
Aaaaaaaaaand it's Winter. 9 degrees today and careers and hobbies seem like a lifetime away in the struggle to not be found in an ice floe in Central Park.
Temping away, catering and then huddling inside a cinema to watch Young Victoria. Life becomes a chapter in a Jane Austen novel midway through January until around March. And I'm not complaining.
It appeals to the maiden aunt in my soul. Which is down there lurking with swashbucklers, archaeologists, medieval royalty, chefs and mystics...
Temping away, catering and then huddling inside a cinema to watch Young Victoria. Life becomes a chapter in a Jane Austen novel midway through January until around March. And I'm not complaining.
It appeals to the maiden aunt in my soul. Which is down there lurking with swashbucklers, archaeologists, medieval royalty, chefs and mystics...
Monday, December 28, 2009
Christmas Eve
Just returned from five days in Woodstock where I was the chef for Christmas Eve dinner.
Sea Scallop Rumaki, Moules Marnieres, Prime Rib, Leg of Lamb marinated with Olive Oil, Dijon mustard, shallots and Rosmary, Goose stuffed with Braised Dates filled with foie gras and port wine reduction, Tarte Tatin, Tarte Fraise and Tangerine Flan.... and every wine under the sun.
Very successful and would do it again in a heartbeat. Great friends, food and drink in an idyllic setting. Certainly beat last Chrissy when I was by myself on my couch with a busted dvd of Sex & the City/The Movie. I was determined NOT to have to go through that again, thus--Gooseapalooza '09.
Next day was lamb stew and lamb sandwiches with Bearnaise sauce which does NOT keep well.
Have realized that my new favourite colour is egg yolk and sugar whipped into gold ribbons. :)
The hostess gave me her Breadmaker and three All-Clad pans which I hope to be buried with!
Five days of this was enough, because I swear... gout is imminent! I don't understand how the gourmets do it. Living like Louis XIV would kill me after a month. Anne Rice said, "The days of Wine and Roses are fabulous... but they're BRIEF!".
Got home last night and baked a loaf of bread. Didn't rise all the way, so will get to the bottom of that--and watched Sam Raimi's Drag Me to Hell, which was just the most awful movie. You'd like to think that if you're gonna commit to a character that there might be SOME chance of redemption for him/her... Feh.
Anyway... tonight, it's supposed to drop into the single digits and we're gonna freeze our tuchii off.
Happy New Year everybody...
OH--if anyone knows anything about the complimentary technique classes at Williams/Sonoma, please fill me in. I want to go, but not if it's just a chance for them to hawk merchandise for an hour.
Sea Scallop Rumaki, Moules Marnieres, Prime Rib, Leg of Lamb marinated with Olive Oil, Dijon mustard, shallots and Rosmary, Goose stuffed with Braised Dates filled with foie gras and port wine reduction, Tarte Tatin, Tarte Fraise and Tangerine Flan.... and every wine under the sun.
Very successful and would do it again in a heartbeat. Great friends, food and drink in an idyllic setting. Certainly beat last Chrissy when I was by myself on my couch with a busted dvd of Sex & the City/The Movie. I was determined NOT to have to go through that again, thus--Gooseapalooza '09.
Next day was lamb stew and lamb sandwiches with Bearnaise sauce which does NOT keep well.
Have realized that my new favourite colour is egg yolk and sugar whipped into gold ribbons. :)
The hostess gave me her Breadmaker and three All-Clad pans which I hope to be buried with!
Five days of this was enough, because I swear... gout is imminent! I don't understand how the gourmets do it. Living like Louis XIV would kill me after a month. Anne Rice said, "The days of Wine and Roses are fabulous... but they're BRIEF!".
Got home last night and baked a loaf of bread. Didn't rise all the way, so will get to the bottom of that--and watched Sam Raimi's Drag Me to Hell, which was just the most awful movie. You'd like to think that if you're gonna commit to a character that there might be SOME chance of redemption for him/her... Feh.
Anyway... tonight, it's supposed to drop into the single digits and we're gonna freeze our tuchii off.
Happy New Year everybody...
OH--if anyone knows anything about the complimentary technique classes at Williams/Sonoma, please fill me in. I want to go, but not if it's just a chance for them to hawk merchandise for an hour.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Went to meet an old friend last evening, her daughter (also an old friend!) and HER daughters who were taking David Howard's evening class at Steps on Broadway and 75th. I hadn't set foot in the studio in almost fifteen years, and it was nice to see that not very much has changed.
Scholarship kids still running the register (I used to do this), same antique wood furniture everywhere and the same social life going on outside the studios on the floor. The dancers look younger than ever and I stared into the same mirrors I stared in long ago.... Only a VERY different face looked back at me. Time... she's a bitch of a mistress...
David is a legend in the dance world and the dancers and artists he has created populate every major company in the world. Was lovely to see this icon and my old friend relive memories. He is rather physically feeble now, but his voice is still powerful and he demonstrates with his hands. He lost his studio in NYC as the rent skyrocketed to an unbelievable rate--as so many rents have done, and now teaches at Steps.
Getting to the studio was chaotic as some idiot on the subway slammed a box into my back and we got into a screaming match. The whole time I am cursing this cretin out, I am thinking, "Jesus man, lighten up, it's Christmas!", but yet my mouth kept going and god knows there was an audience. I was so embarassed I got out of the subway at 66th street and walked the rest of the way. Ho, ho, NO. Light a candle for my short, temper someone won't you please?!?!?
Heading up to Woodstock tomorrow to begin this cookfest.
Merry Hols, everyone.
Scholarship kids still running the register (I used to do this), same antique wood furniture everywhere and the same social life going on outside the studios on the floor. The dancers look younger than ever and I stared into the same mirrors I stared in long ago.... Only a VERY different face looked back at me. Time... she's a bitch of a mistress...
David is a legend in the dance world and the dancers and artists he has created populate every major company in the world. Was lovely to see this icon and my old friend relive memories. He is rather physically feeble now, but his voice is still powerful and he demonstrates with his hands. He lost his studio in NYC as the rent skyrocketed to an unbelievable rate--as so many rents have done, and now teaches at Steps.
Getting to the studio was chaotic as some idiot on the subway slammed a box into my back and we got into a screaming match. The whole time I am cursing this cretin out, I am thinking, "Jesus man, lighten up, it's Christmas!", but yet my mouth kept going and god knows there was an audience. I was so embarassed I got out of the subway at 66th street and walked the rest of the way. Ho, ho, NO. Light a candle for my short, temper someone won't you please?!?!?
Heading up to Woodstock tomorrow to begin this cookfest.
Merry Hols, everyone.
Monday, December 21, 2009
The Winter Solstice
December 21.
The Winter Solstice.
CLEARLY the first day of Winter as the snow from the Northeastern Blizzard has backed up and it takes double the time to walk anywhere. Still sort of white.
It's insanely cold and time for the I Don't Care coat. The Ugly Betty coat. AKA the vomit-taupe, Michelin Man coat I bought at Daffy's for 7 bucks when I first arrived to counteract the elements in the bleak Midwinter. The coat I wore when I was meeting my roommate at The Color Purple on Broadway and while standing on 52nd St, he could see my approach from 47th Street. And had to check or buy another seat for.
The I DON'T GIVE A DAMN HOW I LOOK IT'S FREEZING SO GET OFF MY DRESS coat.
Sitting at my temp desk laden with Mucinex, Airborne, Advil and enough coffee to jump start Lazarus.
No auditions this week that I can go to due to this gig and the resounding cold that is pummeling my pulmonaries... and a HUGE case of the Mean Reds. Getting ready to abscond Upstate and start the process of Christmas Eve Dinner.
Definitely need to get out of the city for a bit, even if the entire time will be spent in front of a stove. Worse places to be!
The Winter Solstice.
CLEARLY the first day of Winter as the snow from the Northeastern Blizzard has backed up and it takes double the time to walk anywhere. Still sort of white.
It's insanely cold and time for the I Don't Care coat. The Ugly Betty coat. AKA the vomit-taupe, Michelin Man coat I bought at Daffy's for 7 bucks when I first arrived to counteract the elements in the bleak Midwinter. The coat I wore when I was meeting my roommate at The Color Purple on Broadway and while standing on 52nd St, he could see my approach from 47th Street. And had to check or buy another seat for.
The I DON'T GIVE A DAMN HOW I LOOK IT'S FREEZING SO GET OFF MY DRESS coat.
Sitting at my temp desk laden with Mucinex, Airborne, Advil and enough coffee to jump start Lazarus.
No auditions this week that I can go to due to this gig and the resounding cold that is pummeling my pulmonaries... and a HUGE case of the Mean Reds. Getting ready to abscond Upstate and start the process of Christmas Eve Dinner.
Definitely need to get out of the city for a bit, even if the entire time will be spent in front of a stove. Worse places to be!
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