Saturday, March 23, 2013

Loser Conventions

I don't know if I have posted about the conventions and seminars that people go to to boost their self worth and make them feel better about their lives, but I have worked a bunch of them in the last decade.

I bring it up now because I had a phone call recently from someone who called during a break  in one such seminar to tell me he doesn't feel that we are close. That I only contact him when I absolutely need to. He's right. We aren't close. He wants to support me as an actor but doesn't know what I'm doing. As far as acting goes, not much. My agent is not getting me out and I'm endeavoring to find a new one in between working and surviving.

He invited me to one of the seminars so I could see what it's like. Not  a fucking chance. I've seen it without paying stupid amounts of money to have a huckster blow smoke up my ass. Everyone in the room hugs everyone else. It's a gospel church for those who aren't religious. There are positive messages and people walk out feeling great. But then they get back in their shitty car, go back to their shitty life and cannot maintain the euphoric feeling the seminar gives them. But the seminars cost. It's a cult of feeling good that is perfectly legal and so seductive to the disposed.

I hate to sound like an asshole, but I don't buy the package. Literally or figuratively. At one of these seminars I saw a package for the system, whatever they were selling, it was a $55,000 value which you could get for $13,000! Are you fucking kidding me? Who says what they are selling has a value of $55,000? Certainly not me. But when you are caught up in that oceanic feeling of interconnectedness, that might seem reasonable. So you tap you credit cards, your savings. your kids college funds to make you feel better about yourself.

I don't want to tell this person to stop searching. He feels empty and is looking for something. That's admirable. But seminars are crap. PT Barnum was nice compared to some of these guys.

Religions require the same sense of belief and a fraction of the cost. And when you die, you go to Heaven! 

Such a deal.

Partay


I went to a birthday party of a friend of mine last night. He was turning 35. He has many circles of friends; artistic, movie making friends; sport friends; he does roller derby!?!; and friends that don't come from those categories. This was the time they all overlapped.

His apartment had been cleared out. The couches were outside in the back yard in front of 3 different TVs all with video games running. The main room in the apartment had a table so he could spin (He's a DJ) with laser lights and smoke machine and room to dance. The theme of the party was 90's. People dressed in costumes from 90s movies and I swear I must have missed that part of the invitation. I looked in my closet and realized in the 90s I wore Levi 501s and t shirts. I still were Levis and t shirts. I looked for flannel but realized I only have a flannel bathrobe and sheets on my bed for winter. The Grunge look is the only fashion thing from the 90s I can remember. No one looked particularly weird like in the 80s. The 80s had all the pastels and Miami Vice inspired stupidity.

The only person I knew there, really, was the birthday boy. In rooms full of strangers I've never had that talent of walking up to complete strangers and starting easy conversations. I was introduced to some people and kind of hung out near them much of the time. I also ran into a DP that I worked with on a movie. I loosened up eventually.

As I was talking with people I kept hearing that  they were teens or 5 years old during the 90s. Or when that song was out. In my head the 90s were not that long ago even though 1999 was 13 years ago. I do admit to losing 2005-2008 a bit. Nothing really colossal made those years stand out.

In the back yard there was a portable fire pit like I have seen at other parties. They didn't have a lot of wood so it just kind of made an unmoving haze of smoke in the backyard. Some one showed up, not with a boom box, but a boom suitcase. It was a hard Samsonite case you would use for travel with three 6" speakers mounted on one side. I was told that inside was a motorcycle battery and an amp like you would have in your car. This thing was hooked into someone's phone and they were playing music. I saw the guy with the suitcase come thru the crowded front room. The birthday boy passed me and said, "I don't know who half the people are at the party. That's a great fucking party!"

The boom suitcase was playing music too loud for midnight outdoors in a residential area. I watched people as they danced to NSync and Britney Spears and other 90s bands. At some point I looked at the bright white light streaming over the alley fence like aliens had landed. There were also red and blue flashes. I pointed it out to someone. "I think the cops are here."

The birthday boy walked by about this time and I pointed it out to him. He walked to the boom suitcase and told them to shut it down. They turned it off for a moment then turned it back on but much lower. Then someone started turning it up a bit. I just kind of marveled at the stupidity of the suitcase owner. It's the cops. There have been complaints. Shut it off, you dickhead. They don't get in trouble. The birthday boy does. i felt like I was the only adult in the room.

The cops were talking to the birthday boy out front. They gave him a written warning for the noise. If they came back a second time, there would be a large fine. He came back into the apartment and got on the DJ mic and told the crowd that there were noise complaints and he would be fined. Some young asshole in the crowd was yelling, "Fuck them! We'll chip in to pay the fine!" I wanted to take a baseball bat to the side of his head. He obviously doesn't know the police don't fuck around. They have no sense of humor because on duty they deal with asshole s like that all the time.

I stayed another 20 minutes or so then left. It was late. The cops showing up put a bit of a damper on the party, but it had been a decade since I been at a party that the cops were called out too.

Friday, March 8, 2013

Bunga

These are not my words ( I don't know who wrote them. They were on Facebook.) but they pretty well sum up Bunga.


Bunga is about to do something unpredictable, crazy and possibly dangerous

Bunga is absolutely a hazard to himself

Bunga is tequila + campfire = hilarity

Bunga is asking Howard to play that song again

Bunga is howling like a coyote to scare off a herd of cows

Bunga’s tent is now surrounded by coyotes…oops, time to go.


Bunga’s greatest stage was everyday life


Bunga is singing Carless Whisper a cappella at the top of his lungs in a cowboy bar.


Bunga is paying $5 to see my girlfriend’s breasts as I come out of the shower


Bunga is wearing an outrageous sombrero to the convenience store.


Bunga is guiding to hidden petroglyphs and then to the coolest bar I’ve ever seen in the middle of nowhere.


Bunga is asking a girl is she wants to wrestle


Bunga is saying “Look Elvis” and when you turn your head, eating your fries


Bunga is never depressed, sad yes, angry sure. Depressed? I never saw it.


Bunga is almost decapitated by phone wires riding a “rent-a-hors” in Rocky Point


Bunga is in deep conversation with a homeless guy he just met about alien encounters “Yeah, those greys are evil…”


Bunga is always in character. No airs. Zero pretense. He is always Bunga...Period!


Bunga is wandering into the hotel room at midnight bleeding and soaking wet and without a word of explanation passing out.


Bunga is quoting Carlos Castaneda


Bunga is using to force to avoid capture and prosecution in Oaxaca.


Bunga is to Nora as Tonto was to Scout.


Bunga is eyeing your plate at a restaurant and asking “Are you going to finish that?”


Bunga’s spirit is now and will forever be at The Rock.


Bunga is the only person I have ever known who is truly living every moment to the fullest, as if it were his last.

Sunday, March 3, 2013

Read Across America 2013






I read for 2 classes of 5th Graders on Friday for Read Across America. I started doing it 4 or 5 years back. A friend who is a teacher at the school is also an actress I've worked with in plays. She enlisted actor friends to do the reading for the students. The librarian, Susan, says that the kids get a kick out of people other than the teachers reading to them. New is always better.

I got there Friday morning and looked at the classes I was to read to. 5th Grade? The book I usually pick it pictured above. Henry and the Buccaneer Bunnies. It's a cool book about pirate bunnies and how the one who reads saves them all. The book is fun, I get to do a bunch of pirate voices, and it shows the importance of reading.

The first class I read to paid attention. Since it's a kids book it had pictures which I would show to the class. I'd read the two pages and then show the book. After I finished the class asked me questions. I answered the questions about acting, What I do. The one question that came up in both classes was "Do you know any famous people?" I would tell them yes. I have a few buddies that are known to them. When I dropped the name, their eyes widened and their mouths dropped open.

In the second class I was more calm. The nerves from the first class were gone and I was having more fun with the whole thing. I read the book and showed the pictures and then fielded questions from the class. The teacher asked a couple of me. What's my favorite role I played. "Mercutio from Romeo and Juliet." was my reply. She asked where I was from. And when the kids asked something that she didn't think was appropriate, she would say, "You shouldn't ask that!" Those questions were "How much do you make as an actor?" and "How old are you?" I didn't take offense at the questions. The money one I answered by saying I make part of my money from acting and the other part from other sources. I didn't give an exact number. Nor did I tell them my age. I did tell them in Hollywood people ask "what age range do you play?" Which is usually a 10 year span. "35-45" or some such.

There was a blonde girl in the back. She is an actress and has an agent. She asked me about auditions. How do you not take it personally. I told her that there are lots of people in the mix for the casting decisions and that so much of it has nothing to do with you. Do your best in the audition and walk away from it. If you obsess about it it will make you miserable. Also she asked about crying on cue. I said at 10 years old you haven't been kicked around by Life. As you get older you have a pool of experiences to use to touch emotion when acting. Or there's some tricks to fake it. Whatever works, right?

I finished up in the second class room. As I was leaving I passed by the blond actress and said "Good Luck." I thought about maybe giving my email to the librarian and telling her the little actress could emial me questions. I don't know. Would a gesture of wanting to help be seen as creepy? Everyone needs a mentor at some point.

I went back to the library. One of the readers had a son there. His day job was as a fireman. So he was in the full fireman gear and read books of fire safety to the kids. Very cool in my book. When I was leaving the kids were out on recess. The fireman's son jumped into his dad's arms and hugged him. The kids circled him and asked questions about his job.

Good to know there are some real heroes in the world. I just play one on TV.