what to call this post?

Big Love is closed. The final show was fantastic - full house, people sitting on the stairs. I had a crazy cake-induced sneezing fit (3 times during the trial scene). Lots of friends in the audience. Amazing end to an amazing experience to an amazing period of my life. My first show as an Equity actor and my last show as a resident of SF for the foreseeable future.

We struck the set and repainted the theater black.

The two-week Suzuki and Viewpoints intensive with Leon and Akiko is finished. Ben and Wendy hosted an absolutely lovely dinner last night. The training was fantastic - the participants were strong and committed, a lot of people with previous experience and a lot of wonderful new folks.

I'm almost done packing. I laugh and cry about 10 million times a day. It has turned cold and grey here, which I suppose spares me from missing the weather in SF.

Today Tea and I are going to soak in Osento. Tonight there is a foolsFURY planning meeting, my last dance class with Ann Barrett (at least until my next visit to SF), and dinner with my friend Bill.

Now that everything is packed I'm not convinced that shipping is the most cost-effective (to say nothing of the physical hassle) way to send my stuff east so I am investigating moving companies.

But that's the boring logistical part of all of this...there's this whole other component to this transitional moment (but isn't every moment a transition from one thing to the next or one thing to more of that thing or ...?), too, and it has to do with love.

Love of how supportive the theater community is here, the love and caring and generosity of my friends, love that couldn't sustain itself, my love of San Francisco, which will definitely continue after I've left here...

Love. Big love.

Lookie here!

It's a post-show talkback featuring from L-R:
foolsFURY Artistic Director Ben Yalom (there's a great face under that hand), yours truly, foolsFURY Member Ryan O'Donnell, and guest artist Norman Munoz


and here's a photo of me with fabulous friend of foolsFURY (and incredible advocate for Bay Area theater), the inimitable Paula Grace

ch-ch-ch-changes

I'm off to NY on the 5th. No LA.

Read between the lines.

Hugs graciously accepted.

Onward and eastward.

Start spreadin' the news

I have given notice on my San Francisco apartment.

November 5 will be my final day of residence at Grimey Alley Estates. Then I'm off to LA for a couple of days, then on to NY for Frank's birthday/Mixfest/hang with the parents before they vanish to the perilous, sweaty depths of Miami/reconnect with the homeland time. Then it's back to San Francisco for a week to work on the next phase of development of the foolsFURY project formerly, currently, but probably not subsequently known as Monster In The Dark. Then back to LA.

We've got two more weekends and one Monday night scheduled for Big Love, plus a probable extension through the 28th. Then the parties and partings begin. Packing, I am pleased to report, is already in progress.

Tony is a poop.

I can say so because he never reads my blog.

(and I call him that to his face all the time, but more importantly

TONY NEVER READS MY BLOG).

Comment away.

:)

The Book Of Life

Despite the fact that I spent between two and three hours in a car today and visited two strip malls, I still like being in LA.

This morning I met a very friendly casting associate for Center Theater Group (The Taper, Douglas, Ahmanson theaters), which I've discovered is within biking distance of the house. Then I bought some tabi in Little Tokyo and managed to get home without getting lost or consulting the Thomas Guide (I did, however, consult the boyfriend). I spent 35 minutes trying to decide where to park during my audition, looking for the elusive garage where I could utter the magic word "actor" and receive a miraculous discount.

Then I drove with Tony to Northridge, a phenomenally bland suburban splotch on the face of the San Fernando Valley. I read Chuck Mee's Salome and 30 or so pages of Declan Donellan's The Actor and the Target and I experienced one of the major cultural traditions of the region: the manicure/pedicure. Nowhere else (except het porn, most of which is made in the San Fernando Valley anyway) have I seen so many long, square, acrylic, French manicured nails. There was a mother/daughter pair in the salon. When offered a refreshing, Splenda-filled cup of Lipton on a hot and humid day the mother replied, "No, we can't eat or drink anything today." "Oh, yes!" the Vietnamese receptionist replied knowingly. "But it's my daughter's birthday today too, [so we're atoning through acetone.]" Okay, I paraphrase here and, frankly, I'm not one to talk because...

My tribe membership card has officially been revoked. I had a feast last night. A feast after sundown on Yom Kippur. Chicken meatballs, homemade pasta, mixed greens with sheep's milk ricotta and green zebra and heirloom cherry tomatoes. Tea and dried papaya and a little bit of chocolate for dessert.

Do I still get to keep the last name "Cohen"?

Will I make it into the Book of life this year or will I be resigned to the tabloids? The masterpiece or the doodle pad? The well preserved parchment or the used toilet paper? Must I continue to flagellate myself daily for an entire year? Well, at least until I get back to NY where I can be a practicing Jew by osmosis.

Here are some things in LA I really like:

1) the chicken (apparently, there are two, but I've only seen one) that belongs to Tony's neighbors and roams the front yard. I don't know if it has a name already, but I've decided to call it Antigone. Or perhaps Bob. I've got to get to know it better.

2) the pomegranate bush, also in the front yard

yum.
3) Tony shuffling around the house in his green and blue polka dot boxers


I'm also thrilled to discover that downtown and the Anusara studio in Silverlake are both within easy biking distance. I look forward to having my bike here. Then I can join the exclusive ranks of LA cyclists (or is it psychopaths?).

a mouse cut in two

(that Big Love reference, I discovered yesterday, appears in at least one other play by Chuck Mee, My House Was Collapsing Toward One Side)

We had a great show last night. As one company member said, there is a sense that we, as an ensemble, have plunged deeper into the text and we now swim, flail, and dance more fluidly through our choreography. A little more room to breathe.

We were oversold and added a row of chairs for last night's special wedding gala performance. People turned up in all sorts of wedding festoonery and Irvin and Marilyn Yalom, fantastic scholars who also happen to be foolsFURY artistic director Ben Yalom's parents, gave a talk on the Greeks, marriage, and the motifs in the play they found most compelling.

Scott Saul, a scholar (and my former babysitter!) on the English faculty at UC Berkeley was in the audience. He's the son of one of my mom's oldest friends and we had an evening that rocked my 8 year-old-ish world some 18 or so years ago when he and his brother babysat me. I have vivid memories of a carousel at the Santa Monica Boardwalk, my first experience gorging on Pringles, and a late-night viewing of Ghostbusters.

I'm on my way to LA in a few hours.

Adventures (and, of course, corresponding hair-raising reportage) are forthcoming.