Santa's Gone Bonkers. I Came Close.

The fat lady sang on Sunday -- Twelfth Night at Cumberland Theatre has closed. What an interesting, odd ride.

'06 has been a decent year for me, theatrically: 28 weeks in rehearsal or onstage, somewhere over 100 performances, thousands of people came to the shows, adults and children both, and lucky me, I've made 'em laugh and cry and a few other things inbetween.

And personally it's been stellar -- Jenny and are now m-m-married. I got the best lady in the land! Still don't know how I pulled that off.

And I finally went to a foreign country (Belize), woohoo!

But hey, here's hoping '07 tops '06! Life! Hooha!

It's almost Christmas time. Jenny and I are off to Mississippi in just over a dozen hours.

Here's another drawing for you. Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, Fantastic Festivus, Stupendous Solstice, etc.! Happy Holidays!

COLD

It is 43 degrees outside, "feels like 39" according to Yahoo! weather, here in Cumberland at 4pm. Tonight it should hit 2o degrees. The house where many of the actors stay doesn't keep out the cold -- last night, along with the sheet, two blankets, and a comforter, I wore sweatpants, tank-top, sweatshirt and a hoodie to bed! The heat seems to work in small, very selective parts of the house, none of which are remotely close to my room. I hate, hate, HATE being cold!
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Last night was our "official" opening night for Twelfth Night. We had good-sized crowd, and they overall seemed to have a pretty good time. At the reception that followed, a gentleman said that he loved the show and that I had done a great job.

Then he asked me if I played Feste, the clown.

I currently have a goatee. Andrew, who plays Feste, does not.

The gentleman said I look very different in person.

It must be because as Orsino I wear a suit. Yes, that must be it.

I'm Dreamy, and I Smell Like Peanut Butter Cup

Twelfth Night opened yesterday, with a matinee and an evening show. The audiences were small, but so I'm told that's normal for the Wednesday opening shows, because everyone in town knows the cast is still bumping through it a bit. I've heard Friday should be good.
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My face was feeling dry, so I went out and got some lotion, which happened to have cocoa butter in it. Esther (Viola) said she thinks her character is attracted to Orsino because he's "dreamy and smells like a peanut butter cup."
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And I got to meet another celebrity, who I found out is from this area: William H. Macy. From our brief meeting and according to our director, Mr. Macy is a really good guy, friendly. He was impressed that we put this show up in a week (true, that's no small accomplishment). After the evening show, Bob, the Stage Manager, told the cast "someone wants to meet you." My first thought when I came out was, "Huh, that guy look like Bill Macy." My second thought was, "Oh, that's because . . . ."

Happy Tofurkey Day

A rough sketch from last year, but it still works.

Penguins Can So Fly

I managed to work myself into a good blue funk for a while today. When I got over that, I drew this for you:

Ego

A happy accident: Jen and I went to a Starbucks for a snack. Jen dug through that bin that people drop their pre-read newspapers in, and look-y what she found on the cover of the Washington Post Weekend section:
Yeah, that's me dressed as the King, with some kids who had just seen Sleeping Beauty. At the exact moment this picture was taken, I was plotting with the kids on how we were going to raid the lobby area and take all the cupcakes for ourselves. For the moment, you can also find the pic HERE and the related article (with a picture of Margo Seibert, SB's Aurora) HERE.

Orsino-ful and Fasch-less

I've been avoiding my blog. It's a dangerous time right now. Too much space around me.

Sleeping Beauty closed on Sunday. It was a great experience, and I miss those folks. I want to work with them again.

I am ready to return to more adult audiences now, after listening to the little ones laugh for a while. The batteries are feeling refreshed. With that in mind --

I'll be playing Duke Orsino in Twelfth Night at Cumberland Theatre -- a quick run, opening Dec. 6 and closing Dec. 17. He's a fun, lusty, egocentric character, and I'm very ready to play in that territory for a litle while. Also, on Nov. 27 at 7pm, I will be in a staged reading of Voodoo Today Here Now 5, by Joe Musso, at Rep Stage / HCC, in the recital studio in the new performing arts building.

So I guess that's all good. But it's not all, not quite. See, I recently had an audition for Bach at Leipzig, and I didn't get the role. Life of an actor, yes . . . but this one I worked very hard for, pushing for the audition, and memorizing and working and reworking and reworking two long monologues and a couple scenes. So I was very disappointed when it went to someone else (even though I like the guy), because this role meant a lot to me. It's taking some time to wash away. Odd. I have the most success with the auditions I'm casual about ( tho' not, NOT, apathetic!) -- which is why I've been really successful with commercial auditions, because I'm absolutely incapable of taking them too seriously.

Well, well. Sometimes I hit, sometimes I miss, sometimes Republicans win, sometimes Democrats (and boy-o-boy, the R's earned the drubbing they got this go 'round), and throughout it all, the big blue world keeps turning regardless. That I love.

Bang for a Buck

Yesterday morning, while driving on the DC beltway, I saw this in my rearview mirror:

A police officer pulled out his pistol and shot a buck.

The buck was lying on the side of the road -- apparently hit by a car, severely injured but not yet dead. The officer was doing a good thing. Still, it's a heck of a way to start halloween morning. I heard the shot, too.

Fat Dog, Nice Flower

What's been taking me so long? I've been busy -- that's my lame excuse. I think I had a true day off about a month ago. I'm tired, but happy, and not sitting around twiddling my thumbs. Imagination Stage has been keeping me busy. Along with Sleeping Beauty and the reading for The Christmas Doll, I also took part in their fundraising Gala, which involved the SB castmembers and a few dozen kids of various ages, scenes and musical numbers (I sang solo for the first section of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and sang and signed in a presentation of "Aurora's Song," which featured a member of the Deaf Access program), some awards and presentations and the dedication of the Christopher and Dana Reeve theatre, featuring a touching speech from a video-taped John Lithgow. The part that amazed me most was during the reception that followed -- a number of the kids gave me hugs before they left, and I realized that they enjoyed being a part of the Gala immensely. One of the kids, Elijah, dragged me over to the piano player (Glen, I believe) who was playing in the newly named Reeve Theatre, and he made me sing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" with him again! Soon I noticed that a number of people had crowded around for this new, impromptu performance. Elijah continued, singing songs like "Paper Moon" and "Margaritaville" with the pianist -- I managed to escape after "SOtR."

Monday two weeks ago I went to a general audition at Center Stage in Baltimore. Last Monday I did a photoshoot for an online "English as a Second Language" training program (through a series of 70-some pictures, I portrayed an occasionally bungling street cop). I had a couple of commercial auditions on Thursday and Friday. Last night I had an audition at Rep Stage for Bach at Leipzig, and today I drove to Cumberland for a general audition at Cumberland Theatre.

Wee!!!!!! And Sleeping Beauty has one more week to go. Not sure what happens next.

And below is a picture for a dog food commercial that made me laugh out loud. I first found it at Neatorama (where you can also see another funny commercial from the same company), and you can see a bigger copy of it HERE.

I made a quick trip to Wayside Theatre Friday a week-and-a-half to see their production of Othello. It was a wonderful production, some great performances from some of my favorite folks, fantastic set (I want it in my house, but it won't fit), great direction. If you didn't get out to see it, too bad for you, it's closed. I suggest you send notes to Warner, saying things like, "Do more Shakespeare! I promise to see it! And don't you think Peter would make a wonderful Richard III?"
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Did you ever notice that the difference between "denial" and "Denali" is just a move of the "i"?
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I have a little dream of creating my own mini-zoo. I already have an aquarium with 3 frogs and a few fish. Frogs are cooler than fish. I also hope to have a little ant farm soon, either by building it or buying it.
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And by the way, I'm enjoying the heck out of Sleeping Beauty at Imagination Stage. After playing a number of serious roles in war time plays, it's a great change of pace. Hearing the laughter of little kids is wonderful. On Sunday, I saw one little kid and his granddad sitting on the floor, watching our show. How BEAUTIFUL is that?!

(And what you see here is a little cartoon of a very young Aurora - a.k.a. Sleeping Beauty - already inspired by "girl knight" Brandamant, a.k.a. Bradamant.)

If you ain't busy, you should check out The Christmas Doll Tuesday the 3rd at 7 pm at the Round House stage in Silver Spring, MD. This ain't purple dinosaurs-style children's theatre. This has some dark stuff in it. I think it's a good show.

And if you're not at this reading, then you'd better be watching Carl Randolph at Round House's Bethesda stage, where they tacked on a couple of extra performances of A Prayer for Owen Meany, including this particular Tuesday. I can't think of anything else worth doin' an a Tuesday night.

Busy Boyer!

Friday at 1:00PM, tune in to 88.5 in the Washington DC area for WAMU's Metro Connection, and listen for some talk about Sleeping Beauty! The cast went to the WAMU studio on Tuesday and recorded parts of a couple of songs, and a little bit of dialogue. We'll be toward the end of the program, which will also air on Saturday @ 5:00am and 2:00pm and Monday @ 2:00am. It will also be available as a podcast.

Also: at 7 PM on Tuesday, October 3, swing by the Round House Theatre in Silver Spring, MD, where I and some other good folks will be in a staged reading of THE CHRISTMAS DOLL by Joan Cushing, based on the book by Elvira Woodruff, directed by Kate Bryer. This reading is FREE TO THE PUBLIC!

Death and Life

Patrick Quinn, former prez of Actors' Equity who was slated to become the new executive director, died of a heart attack at 56. Here's the NYTimes article (registration may be required).

I also found out that my fourth-grade teacher, Edna Jarvis, died, at 63. To be honest, I don't remember much about fourth grade, but I do remember seeing Ms. Jarvis on occasion years later and that she was very nice.

This is all a part of life . . .
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. . . but also, life is a part of life --

My older brother, Phil, just turned 40 on the 24th. His young sons wished him a happy birthday a day earlier, apparently because they thought it was more fun to say You're gonna be old as dirt than to say You ARE old as dirt.

And my younger sister Tenneil is pregnant! She and her husband John seem to be happy about it, and I shall gear up for my 10th uncling (uncle-ing) -- 4 via older sis Laura, 2 via Phil, 3 via marriage / Jen's bro Barry and his wife Sara, and sometime next year (knock wood) a newbie via T&J. I'm goin' into double digits.

Sadness and joy, rain and rainbows.

All's Quiet on the Western Blogosphere

A few items, as I haven't written in a while. Bad blogger.

1 -- I am a couple of weeks into rehearsals for Sleeping Beauty at Imagination Stage. Rehearsals are going pretty well. The other members of the cast and the director are all good quality folks and fun to be with, so my recent work life has been a treat. I think it'll be a good show. Check it out, especially if you have little ones!

I'll also be part of the annual Gala at Imagination Stage on October 21. Last year Jane Goodall was there! This year should also be very exciting!
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2 -- My heart swells with pride, or perhaps it's my glory-loving head, for I now have my own category on Larry Dahlke's blog, titled "That's Wierd Peter" (and I noticed just now that there's no comma between Wierd and Peter . . . hmm).

But there's a couple of things I must say -- first is: Larry, you need to write something new. I'm becoming self-concious my being the first thing I see on your blog. And why haven't you written about Othello (currently showing at Wayside Theatre, directed by "blogfather" Warner Crocker, with Larry playing Cassio)? Inquiring minds want to know! And second: I guess I'd better get to work on some more TWP, if it is to be a worthwhile category . . . . hmm . . . .
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3 -- And speaking of people needing to write, Carl Randolph's blog has been strangely silent of late. He's in a production of A Prayer for Owen Meany at the Roundhouse Theatre. And then there's Malia Arguello, stage manager and knitter extraordinaire, whose blog and myspace pages have also been quiet. Darn it, I'm trying to live vicariously! Write, people!

Wow-love

A tremendous match. Andre Agassi vs. Andre Pavel.

Men's tennis. First round of the US Open. Agassi will be retiring from tennis after this, so many eyes are on him, including mine.

Agassi has been having chronic back problems for a while now, and you can see it in this match. A little hitch-step here. An unusual turn of the body there. An unusual number of errors. A couple of times he skips like a little kid, but I see something else. I think he's testing his back, seeing how it feels.

I like Agassi. He has a tremendous work ethic, and by reputation he is a very nice guy. He and I are very close in age, 36; he's ahead of me by only a couple of months. Also, I've had a back injury similar to his, so I understand why he does those little hitch steps, the unusual turns; I can see that there's a price paid for every time he has to make an extra reach for the ball. It's a hard court -- the surface offers no give, no forgiveness.

But Pavel started having ankle problems during the third set. The match becomes not just about standard ability, but how each can overcome their own issues while using their opponents issues against them. Not just about ability but also about willpower. And still, some amazing work from both.

There is honor here as well. On a controversial call, Agassi thought he hit a serve that went in which the officials initially called out. Pavel sided with Agassi, so Agassi challenged the call, and the challenge sided with Agassi -- but Pavel showed honor, because he could have feigned ignorance very easily. The audience, no surprise, is supporting Agassi, to the point of being occasionally rude to Pavel. A shame: he deserves their respect for his play. He's not being a jerk.

The first three sets went to a tie break. Pavel won the first; Agassi won the next two. Agassi came back from 0-4 to win the third set. (And I'm up late, this match is going to 12:35am, and I only got 4 hours of sleep last night, and I just started rehearsal for Sleeping Beauty last night, and I had an audition just a few hours ago, I really need some rest.

Fourth set. After Agassi's comeback in the third set, Pavel finally started to fade. Agassi quickly took the lead.

A brutal, tough, beautiful game. 6-7, 7-6, 7-6, 6-2. Here's a quick NYT article HERE.

Puedes Oir Los Elephantes?

I think my neighbors are teachers, of a sort. Many months ago, it seemed that they were trying to teach me a bit about the Spanish language. Now I suspect they want me to learn more about the physics of elephant communication.

They used to play their music quite loudly -- the latest Latin pop hits, clearly audible in every room of my apartment. My Spanish is good enough to recognize the language, but not good enough to translate much of it -- which of course means they were just trying to inspire me to learn more. But the timing of their lessons was a problem -- irregular days, frequently early in the morning. I would occasionally knock on their door and talk to them about this, saying things like, "EXCUSE ME BUT COULD YOU PLEASE TURN THE MUSIC DOWN WE CAN HEAR IT IN EVERY ROOM OF OUR APARTMENT."

They eventually moved on to new lessons, and new times. The lessons are more regular now: every Saturday and Sunday, mid-mornings and afternoons (but sometimes late afternoons on weekdays, lately). The lessons are one to four hours in length. The overall volume is less, but they have some sort of bass boost thing going on, so now (in every room of the apartment) you can hear some variation of boom-BOOM, boom-boom-boom, boom-BOOM, boom-boom-boom . . . .

Here's the deal: the soundwaves of low tones have longer wavelengths than those of high tones. Low tones can travel farther than high tones because longer wavelengths are less likely to be deflected or absorbed (it's the same idea with red sunsets in polluted Los Angeles -- red light has a longer wavelength than the other colors we can see, so red isn't as easily absorbed / deflected by the particulates in the air).

Elephants use low tones as a means of communication -- they can reach distances of up to 10 km (just over 6 miles) using infrasound: sound lower than we can hear. They can hear it, and they can probably even feel it in the sensitive pads of their feet. Know what else? They can generate a volume of up to 112 dB (similar to a construction site) and have a vocal range of up to 10 octaves, with up to 6 octaves of variation in a single call! A good (human) singer might have 3 octaves, and supposedly Julie Andrews at one time had 4. Learn more here, and once you get to the site, click on "Acoustic communication."

To express my appreciation for my neighbors' efforts, I have sent a letter to the rental office saying essentially, "Could you please get the neighbors to turn down their bass." We'll see what lessons come next.

Ant Go Boom

Last night I dreamed of being stuck in a sewer with rats. The water level was very high, and the rats were very good swimmers. I also dreamed of finding rats in a basement that had been temporarily (until I moved a wooden board, oops) sealed off. I got a good luck at a very light colored rat with glowing eyes, and he got a real good look at me, too.

Not one of the most pleasant dreams, partly because at the time it felt very real. Some dreams are like good summer entertainment, you know? You can just go along with it without getting too involved. This was one of those dreams where everything is vivid, not just visually, but by touch as well. I woke up abruptly, and not wanting to slip back into Ratland, I forced myself up. My body wasn't ready for that. Getting myself out of bed was like . . . imagine being an orange trying to peel yourself out of the rind. It was like that.

Now then, some time ago I mentioned some time ago about exploding ants, yes? I erred -- they're not from Madagascar, they're from Malaysia (although Madagascar does have the "Dracula Ant," check that out here). I sifted through a massive amount of search engine pages (I would say "googled," but apparently Google doesn't like their name being used as a verb, even if it is a huge amount of free advertising), I couldn't find a site that really gave me all the info I wanted. But here's one that gives a touch of explanation (you'll have to pay $20 to get the whole article) and there's apparently a cool book that'll tell you about this and other weird animal stuff -- the name of the book is (surprise!) Exploding Ants. The gist is this: some of these ants have a couple of glands that release some chemicals. When these chemicals mix, they will cause these ants (or at least their heads, apparently) to explode, spraying out this nasty chorosive chemical stuff. So when the colony gets invaded, most of the colony will run away, but a few of these guys will wait for the enemy. The enemy arrives, these ants explode, taking out them and a bunch of the enemy as well. Yee.

MANATEES! (The final frontier.)

Finally, the last of the Wedding Saga series (except for occasional anecdotal and pictorial visits, okay). Upcoming entries will probably be not-so-longwinded. What follows is a poor account of the second tour we did while on honeymoon:

Friday, June 30.

Okay, if you’re gonna go to San Pedro, you have to see some ruins (which we did!), and you have to go snorkeling! Uh, unless you have some scuba training, which we didn’t. So: snorkeling! But before that, manatees!

Okay, this is one of those touristy things that we set up at Mata Rocks. This goes through “Seaduced” (company and boat) again. Leon is with us again. Ricky (that guy I called Ray, from the Lamanai tour? His name’s actually Ricky) wasn’t. Our tour guide was uh, uh . . . Okay, we’ll call him TG, ‘cuz I can’t think of his name. And by the way, snorkeling equipment is not included, so ya better rent that first. But that ain’t hard, ’cuz there’s plenty of dive shops in San Pedro.

So, we’re off on “Seaduced”! We speed along in our fast boat to where are likely to find manatees. I don’t sit quite as close to the front this time; it’s only been two days since that spanking I had. It’s a beautiful day! Sunny! Now, there will be a sunburn after this; every silver lining has its cloud. We end up going to a little park marked by posts in the water. There is a $5 BZ (that’s $5 Belizean, which is equal to $2.50 US) charge per person for going into the park, which you give to the park ranger. The park ranger is in a little shack on posts in the water:

This park is where you are almost guaranteed to see manatees, and, no surprise, you can’t run your boat motor there (potentially extremely harmful / deadly to manatees, doncha know). You have to use a pole to move along. Okay, here’s why manatees like this place: manatees eat the roots of turtle grass. The silt in this spot is fairly soft, so the turtle grass is easier to pull up. Hey, it’s a buffet, like a Golden Corral for manatees.

We sit quietly in the boat. We wait. Every once in a while, someone sees a manatee nose 40 or 50 feet away and says, “There!” And then everybody looks, just in time to see the ripple that remains when the manatee dives down again. We theorize that the manatees are screwing with us. And then one of us (me, actually) says, “There!” and even though this manatee dives down again, it’s close enough for us to pole closer, and then we can see the body shape, and this manatee is nice enough to come up for air often enough for some of us to get pictures.

Leon said a manatee looks like a smiling potato. Judge for yourself:
I think it looks like a smiling gray potato. Regardless, I HAVE SEEN A MANATEE!

But wait, there’s more. We head off to Goff Caye, which is a tiny island next to the reef. We wade into the water, put on our snorkle equipment, and start swimming. AMAZING! The water is so clear! Amazing coral, very colorful fish. We swim to where it suddenly gets much deeper. This is where the reef is. And here, we hit a jackpot: by pure luck, there’s another manatee! It’s a gorgeous animal (okay, a gorgeous gray smiling potato with a broad, flat tail). It’s maybe 20, 25 feet away from me, below and in front, roughly at a 45 degree angle. At first it’s looking in our direction, and then it turns and slowly, gracefully, swims away.

On the return swim, we see more fish, coral, neat stuff! I try to follow a small crab, but it buries itself in the sand -- very near a shiny faux-gold earring. So, no fan of litter, I pick up the earring. And as I'm getting ready to climb out of the water, I take one last look -- and find myself within 10 ft. of a stingray! Gorgeous creature!

We do a second quick snorkel after lunch -- more plantains and rice & beans and rum punch, all yummy. This time we see a couple of nurse sharks and a bunch of rays of some sort. You can sometimes touch the rays, which I do. They feel . . . soft and slick. Once again, amazing, beautiful creatures. This is a sort of "cheap and easy" snorkel -- they throw some bait over the side and the sharks and the rays come to us. The shy nurse sharks don't stick around long but the rays ain't so shy.

A marvelous time. Snorkelling is awesome! On the tour we also meet another newlywed couple from Seattle -- Mike and Gianne. If you look at the picture of the ranger station, you can see the top of Mike's seriously sunburned head. Gianne, I believe, is hoping to teach scuba diving in the future, once she's certified. So if you wanna learn and you're in her area . . . .

More of the Wedding Saga

What good trilogies are out there? Matrix was pretty good, but I thought it lost some of the magic as it went on. Star Wars was essentially two trilogies, and the first set (Episodes 4-6) did pretty well, if you don't pay too much attention in Episode 6 to the Ewoks or the dialogue. Lord of the Rings! Ah, there we go. Well, our ceremonies are kind of like that, but without the, oh, orcs, the baalrog, without Christopher Lee, and without quite so much sword play (of course, there was some, this is me and Jen, you know).

And so, it's time for Peter and Jenny Get Married, Part III: The Final Ceremony!

Saturday, June 24, 2006

Imagine: seats are set up for a ceremony in front of a quaint light house, and nearby a tent is set up on the grass field between the Maritime Museum and the Decoy Museum. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, it's warm but not too warm, it's a beautiful day for a 6 pm wedding ceremony!

Well. It's beautiful until about 5 pm. Hmm. The clouds roll in, and let's just say the angels above were crying tears of joy for the union of me and Jen. Ooh, and they cried a lot. Apparently they were quite joyful.

So we move to the backup space, the Maritime Museum. But in a way, this worked out well for us. You know how, with weddings there's so much energy into making sure everything is "perfect"? Well, we didn't have to worry about that anymore, so I think it made things a bit looser and free form. And fortunately for us, everybody who was there for the wedding was ready to "go with it"! First, the guests that were already there carted in chairs from outside and set them up inside. Meanwhile, I set up the laptop and some speakers and made sure it was working right by playing -- what else? -- Niel Sedaka's "Laughter in the Rain." (My friend Laurie Felton took over as "wedding DJ" for the remainder of the evening.)

Jen arrives. I could tell not because I saw her, but because I saw a whole bunch of women with very large umbrellas (obviously, protecting the dress!) arrive at the front door. So we got into place. People sat. Up center (you theatre folks know what that means) was Reverend Barry Male, Jr. (a Methodist minister, and Jen's brother). The music starts -- Somewhere Over the Rainbow / What a Wonderful World by Israel Kamakawiwo Ole'. Groomsmen (my little bro Matthew and friend Tom Felton) escort mothers and bridesmaids in (Jen's friend Paula and sister-in-law Sara), and then comes my best man Phil (aka my big brother) and Jen's maid-of-honor Jamie (aka her cousin). And then the flower girl, Kate, comes down the aisle. Kate had sprinkled most of the petals early on her walk, so in those last dozen feet or so she started "sprinkling" petals one at a time, so that she wouldn't run out too soon. Then Jen came in, escorted by her dad. A vision of beauty (Jen, not her dad, though he is a handsome man in his own right) in a cream white dress with accents of green.

By the way, I wore a nice white button-down shirt with French cuffs, green slacks, and . . . sandals! The groomsmen also wore sandals, as instructed. Ties were not worn by us, and were generally discouraged for the witnesses. A joyous occasion should be a comfortable occasion.

(Is that what the people attending are called? Witnesses? Sounds like a trial. Insert joke here.)

Okay -- Rev. Barry begins the ceremony. Things went fairly traditionally and simply, but with a couple of variations. During the ceremony Jenny and I said a few special things to each other. People laughed, they cried, they liked it better than Cats (really, people laughed and cried. And none of them had decided to go to Cats that day). The other fun little thing was Kate, who was not in the best spot to see the show -- she was "on stage" with us, next to her mom, Sara, so she could only see Jenny's back -- so Kate kept stepping forward an in to see better, and then Sara would pull her back. I thought it was cute.

(The picture up top is of Kate with her finger up one nostril, the day before the ceremony.)

Okay, we finished the fun little ceremony, and (Rev.) Barry presented us to the crowd. Applause, pictures galore, and cheering! Many of these folks are theatre people, after all. We walked down the aisle, followed by the "entourage" -- people didn't hear our exit music at first, not until the applauding and cheering died down. And then they heard The Rainbow Connection by Kermit the Frog. A perfect song, for us.

Finally, the reception. Still rainy, and under a tent that was too small (the rental place said the tent was big enough for 80 people to sit comfortably, but they were wrong). But everyone had a good time. Maybe it was the good food. Maybe it was the excellent Boordry's Vidal Blanc, or the Coronas. But I think it was the beverage that was served in a fountain: Lynchburg Lemonade. Mmm, yummy. Although my dad seemed to be most fond of the Boordry's. Thanks to Pat for driving.

Coming soon, the final chapter of the Wedding Saga: Manatees!

Fardleblah

("Fardleblah" is my own word, at least I think it's mine, essentially meaning "nonsense" or "absurdity," but with a more caustic, epithetic sort of feeling.)

Sometimes I'm too busy to blog, and the rest of the time I haven't felt motivated. Perhaps its the moronic spewings after Lieberman's loss in CT -- gee, I guess the talking heads can't handle the thought that, in this war-thing we have going on now, those in charge have really dropped the ball time and time again, and so people are now thinking of dropping those in charge and those who support them? Perhaps it was referendum on Lieberman? And could we stop with comparing the Democrats to the Taliban?

(By the way, I don't trust either party, generally. I think most of the politicians are more interested in power than in this thing called democracy. If Lieberman respected democracy, he would have said something along the lines, "While I disagree with the choice the majority of voters have made, I shall respect their choice." And then there's Bob Ney, and Tom Delay, and "Duke" Cunningham, and that guy who was keeping money in his freezer, and "the internet is a bunch of tubes" . . . man I'm tired . . . look, I'm very in favor of term limits for congressmen, and I'm often anti-incumbent.)

And then there's the Floyd Landis debacle. I was so inspired by his comeback during the Tour de France. So now, supposedly, he had synthetic testosterone in his system. There's a few possible conclusions to this, none of them good: 1) He did it on purpose, so now he's lying. Our good, American, Mennonite-raised, adversity-overcoming guy is lying. 2) Somebody did something that put something into his system without him knowing it. Which means someone's screwing with the players without their knowledge. 3) Somebody doctored the urine samples, so that the tests would come out bad. Which means someone's screwing with the players without their knowledge. 4) There's something wrong with the tests, so the tests came out twice with a false positive. Which means the tests can't be reliable.

See what I mean? There's no way I'll be able to watch the Tour again and be happy about it! Are there any scandals yet with tennis / marathon / triathlons / chess? I can still happily watch those, yes?

Meanwhile, a couple of minor local triumphs, Jen guessed that the antagonist on Stargate: Atlantis was actually a Replicant before it was actually revealed, and I predicted that a certain minor character on Stargate:SG-1 was about to bite it right before it happened (he got attacked by what looked a big mutant bear-boar thing).

And there you go. Merry Christmas.

Koalean Pondering

I'm eventually going to talk about whether koalas spend their lives in a permanent state of "whoa, duuuuuuude," but first I need to introduce the concept of TWP.

TWP stands for "That's Weird, Peter," coined by friend, fellow blogger and fascinating personality Larry Dahlke, whom I worked with in The Killer Angels at Wayside Theatre. One day I mentioned to Larry that the metal content of pennies had changed around 1982, which I'd learned by flipping pennies in the air as a bored teen -- pre-'82 pennies made a different (and more satisfying) sound that post-'82 pennies. Larry thought that was wierd and did some research. He posted his findings (zinc is to blame) on his old blog, with the heading of "That's Wierd, Peter."

A second TWP was recently added (and now oddly I'm copying my words from his blog):
"TWP: In order for a non-Belizian to leave the country of Belize, you have to pay an "exit fee" in US dollars. You can not pay in Belizian dollars. This is when you are in the Belize International Airport, talking to the Belizian staff. But they do take Visa and Mastercard."

Larry and I recently chatted about TWP, and he said that if I contributed 2 more then TWP just might get its own subcategory. So I mentioned that I'd heard koalas spend their lives high because eucalyptus leaves contain a mild narcotic, and maybe that would qualify.

So I researched koalas and their potential drug addiction. The results are . . . undetermined. First, none of the scientific stuff I read said that eucalyptus for sure acted as a narcotic on koalas. And second, for something to be high suggests that there must also be a norm, right? If koalas are always high, then that's their norm, which doesn't make any sense. So, I thought, not high. But then I thought of this: koalas spend about 22 hours a days sleeping. The scientific rationale for this is that eucalyptus doesn't have much energy content, and so koalas conserve their energy by sleeping. Okay . . . but consider this: pandas eat bamboo, which digests poorly and so doesn't give them much energy, either, so to get enough energy, they eat all the freakin' time! So why don't koalas eat this way? Well, obviously: because they're high, so they're sleepy! But then again, if they were high, wouldn't that give them the munchies?

So, is this a TWP? Well, what is a TWP, really? I'm still trying to feel it out, but certainly a TWP is some sort of odd fact, odd in such a way that you respond to it with something like "hunh" and by cocking your head slightly to the side, the way a dog does when it hears a high-pitched noise.

*Sigh*. I guess the high koala doesn't qualify as a TWP, because it's difficult to be sure of the facts. So, Larry, I think I shall look elsewhere. Well, there are the exploding ants of Madagascar.

Oh, by the way, to the ladies out there: Larry is a wonderful man and phenomenal actor who, I think, deserves to be stalked in a gentle, affectionate manner. Swing by Wayside, see if I'm right.

Pelicans, vultures, Mayans, oh my!

Time to revisit the honeymoon! After a couple of days of pina coladas, and one day of rain, we went into full tourist mode and went to see some ruins! Here you go! --
_____

Wednesday, June 27, 2006: Lamanai

Awoke just before 6 AM. Horrible weather, very heavy rain and wind. If the weather stayed like that, we would not have been surprised if the whole trip was cancelled. Chagrined, but not surprised. Well, the rain declined and went away by 7 AM, and the wind reached a much more manageable level.

Our boat, “Seaduced,” arrived at around 7:30, and we were off. Our pilot, whose name might be Ray so that’s what we’ll call him here, was also our “tour guide” for the first leg, accompanied by Leon, who used the wind to dry out a pair of pants. Before we turned inland we saw islands of mangroves. Ray told us they protected from erosion from heavy waves and winds and from hurricanes. I caught a great picture of a pelican by accident, when I snapped a photo of a short, narrow passage we were about to pass through:

As we headed inland, along a narrow river, Ray told us more about mangroves, and about some other flora and fauna. The mangroves are a fascinating plant: because of their importance to the country, you can’t cut them down, even on your own property, without governmental permission. They handle salinity very well, but need the nutrition from the silt. A mangrove will send out a “finger,” a single branch (of a sort) that will reach downward, until it touches water. Then it splits into more fingers, continuing down to take root in the silt.

We stopped in the town of Bomba -- a group of small shacks, a few people, some dogs.
(Yes, the dog's leg is like that. Apparently it had been that way for a long time, because he got around quite well.) In Bomba we got onto an old school bus, driven by a guy named Ernesto.

Along a bumpy road we learned that electricity s just starting to reach towns like Bomba, and that in each of these towns there is a school -- generally Catholic, the main religion in Belize -- and that parents can get arrested if their kids don’t attend school, and that the kids always wear uniforms. We also stopped where we could buy roasted cashews for a couple of bucks. Good cashews.

About cashews: the cashew seed -- the nut that we eat -- is outside of the fruit, the only fruit of its kind. Apparently the fruit is quite edible. But it is very acidic, according to Ray, and tough on the fingernails. The smoke from roasting them is also, over time, harmful to those doing the roasting, though I didn’t catch how.

Along our way we passed the Maruba Resort, which, according to Ray, is a rather hedonistic destination. We also saw a cattle farm (“grass fed, lean beef”) and numerous vultures.
Some time later, we boarded another boat. Ray and Leon were still with us, and Ernesto stayed behind. Our new pilot and tour guide was Eduardo -- “Eddie.”

As we headed down the New River, we saw the Saw Palmetto plant (good for the prostate, in case you hadn‘t heard by now) and the Northern Jacana -- a beautiful little wading bird, also called the Jesus Bird because it looks like it walks on water.

We eventually came into a lake, stopped at a pier at the Lamanai Archeological Park.

But first: Lunch! Rice and beans, fried plantains (taste-wise, the yummy love-child of fried apples and bananas), salad, and a choice of Coke, Fanta, water, and Belikin Beer -- the only Belizian beer. Of course, I had the beer. And then we hike. “Lamanai,” by the way, is a mispronunciation by the Spanish, said Eddie. The Mayans probably said something more like “Lamanain” -- “la-man’ a-een’ .” Lamanai(n) was built on a bunch of rocks -- the Mayans carted in a heck of a lot of rock to create a platform for the city comfortably above the level of the water (no flooding, great view of the countryside) and then built the city on top of that. The first thing we saw was a good-sized pyramid, so I thought --
--but later we came to the big temple which rose to 107 (?) ft. above the platform. And we could climb it! -- which, of course, Jenny and I did, accenting our climb with a quick romantic kiss at the top, and a moment to appreciate the view. The angle of the pyramid, with the height, was enough to kick in a slight fear of heights, so I didn’t mind coming down. But that was a thrill, and I’d love to do it again.

At Lamanai we also saw a toucan and a family of howler monkeys! Unfortunately the battery on my camera gave out before I could get a picture of the animals, or the big temple, or the *** palm (can't recall the name), which has the biggest leaves in the world* -- up to 35 ft., said Eddie [*actually, I researched this and he's incorrect -- the Raffia palm in tropical Africa has leaves up to 80 ft., but still . . . ]. Humongous palm leaves! Huge!

The return trip to San Pedro was also lovely, but fairly uneventful (except for a brief stop on the bus trip to view a juvenile alligator from a distance). We were tired tourists, relaxing and drinking rum punch. Going from the mainland back to Ambergris Caye we hit some choppy water. I, of course, sat in the front of the boat to feel the wind in my face and get the best bounce as we sped along. I felt like a giddy 12-year-old. Or a happy Labrador. The boat slapped the water hard enough that the next day my rear felt like it had gotten a spanking. Heh.

Still to come -- the final, legal ceremony, and manatees! And maybe a touch more after that . . .

The Blessing

It's too good to not share it, so here's the blessing my Mom said during the handfasting:

"May these things be featherweight and fleeting in your union:
Annoyance and anger;
Jealousy, possessiveness, envy and distrust;
Boredom and indifference.

"Let them go, let them flit away, they're gone . . .

"May these things be long-lived and deep-rooted in your union:
Honesty, acceptance, compassion and forgiveness;
Contentedness, comfort and ease;
Touching, tenderness, attentiveness,
Excitement, passion;
Romance, delight, and most of all,
Laughter.

"As you grow old, and older, and older together,
May your love stay forever fresh and young.

"May you ever look upon each other with clear eyes and an open heart,
And thereby know love;

"For all arises from Love and seeks to return to Love;
Love is the Law, the teacher of wisdom, and the great revealer of mysteries."

Tanks, Tecumseh! I'm all tied up!

Jen and I took a trip this past weekend to see some friends in the outdoor drama TECUMSEH! If you happen to find yourself anywhere close to Chillicothe, Ohio (about an hour south of Columbus), between now and early September, go see it. It's a great show!

And today, while returning from a commercial audition, I saw something odd on the Baltimore beltway. On the back of a broken down, big rig truck, on a sort of modified flatbed, I saw what looked like the back end of a tank. And when I passed it, I realized it was a tank, painted in desert camouflage (fortunately, I was not in desert, cuz then, I might not've been able to see it, right?). It just seemed strange. First, how much does one of those things weigh? And second -- it's odd to see such a representation of might and power, of irresistible force, just stuck there on the side of the road!

And now, without transition, I shall tell you about the second ceremony, the handfasting:

June 20 -- The Handfasting

Okay. A “handfasting” is a Celtic-pagan sort of ritual. Why did we do this? Well . . . We wanted something a little different, something a bit more free-form. We wanted something for some of our local friends. We wanted something in which my mom and my sister Amy could play important roles. To be honest, that last one was the most important reason for me.

The ceremony took place outdoors, late in the Tuesday afternoon (mid-summer’s eve, the day before the Summer Solstice), at the small octagonal stage at Howard Community College. Many of those who came are HCC students and alums, people who have gotten to be friends through Yo Mama’s Cookin’ (the improv group that Jenny co-directs with Bruce Nelson) or through productions that Jenny and I have been a part of -- Christmas Carol (an adaptation that Jen directed and I made masks for), Love Hurts (the fight / dance show that Jen directed and I was head writer and asst. dir. for).

Sue Kramer officiated. Sue heads the HCC Student-Alumni Arts Association and is a friend of mine and Jenny’s of a few years now. Amy was my best “person,” and Michael Wood (a friend and HCC’er of many hats) was the “man“ of honor. Sue brought some “props,” you could say. A true theatre person, she is! Items, to indicate the directions.

Mom, who is the de facto expert in pagan matters, created a circle for our ceremony.

Okay -- the ceremony begins. Sue is onstage. Amy and Michael walk down the aisle, then Jen and I. And then Sue goes to the script (supplied by me and Jen, like in the first ceremony). She starts by describing what a handfasting is, which, uh, Jen and I figured out by researching online, and much of our text was pretty much pirated. Then she honors the four directions. Then my mother does a blessing, a marvelous blessing for our union, wishing us plenty of love and laughter. Then, we exchange rings. Amy held the one that I put on Jen’s hand, and Michael held the one Jen put on mine. And then Sue ties us up.

Kidding! KIDDING! Okay, here’s where handfasting gets its name. Amy and Michael also carried cords, which I made from colored floss, the same sort of stuff used to make friendship bracelets. The marital union is a binding of two souls and the cords are symbolic of this: that 1) we will honor and respect each other, 2) we will share and seek to ease each other’s pain and 3) we’ll share each other’s burdens and seek to grow together, and 4) we will share each other’s laughter, each other’s brightness, and each other’s “positivity.” A cord is tied around our joined hands for each.

And once we are “bound,” Sue presents us to the attendees, the audience, the “gathered throng.” And we walk down the aisle again, to cheers and to the flashing of cameras.
And then we went to a bar called The Judge’s Bench to celebrate, where there were drinks and many appetizers, and at one point a special performance by Tinted Windows, the marvelous and funny two-person band comprised of Ashanti and Candace Cooper.

King Pete and Palm Trees

I LOVE BEING A PROFESSIONAL ACTOR! I’ll be onstage soon again, in SLEEPING BEAUTY at Imagination Stage, where I shall play the King and Pete. We start rehearsals in late August, open Sept. 22, and will run through Nov. 5. I’m very excited. I get to sing again, some good solo stuff, too. For the first time in a while, I WON’T be playing a 1800’s military man! I hope I can hold off on the desire to salute someone.
_________________________

To heck with chronological order. Here’s an entry from my journal -- when Jen and I started the honeymoon in Belize:

Sunday, June 25, 2006

Up at 5 AM. Ugh. On the road at 6, heading toward Philly. Arrived at the Phil. Int’l. Airport at just after 7 -- on the way, I spilled bottled “frappaccino” (sp?) on my pants, so I changed into a fresh pair in the “economy parking lot” at the airport. Checked in, passports, x-rays, take off your shoes, still plenty of time, quick breakfast, flight to Dallas.

Dallas: short lay-over, but long enough for lunch. Last chance to make calls -- message left on Pat’s voice mail -- and off we go! Window seat, Jen in the middle, pudgy teenager in the aisle seat. The p. t. copied the lyrics of a song he listened to on his CD player (with ear buds), then showed the lyrics to Jen, suggested that he had created those lines all on his own. Meanwhile, I took pictures of clouds.








And then, I looked at the expanse of water that I assume is the Gulf of Mexico. And then: land! Belize! Coastline! Trees! Lots of trees! Little roads, and little villages, in expanses of trees. Jungle! Landed at Belize International Airport -- so small, compared to the standard American fare. Palm trees! I laughed like a giddy kid. Passports checked, then get the bags, go through customs -- “Anything to declare?” -- “No” -- Picked up boarding passes, printed on regular notebook paper it seemed, with specific info penned in. And then into a 17-seat Cessna prop plane. Jen is a bit amazed by this having never been in plane like this before, not really, but I’ve flown in 2-seaters with Phil before, so it doesn’t grab my attention so much. I just keep looking out the windows at the palm trees, the water, hey what kind of bird is that? The plane drops off a few at Caye Caulker -- a neat little island, not as touristy as Ambergris Caye, more laid back, not as much to buy there. Off we go to Ambergris -- San Pedro! A little airstrip, in a not too big town (from a tourism info mag: “At the height of the Maya culture about 2 million people lived and traded on the Ambergris Caye. The population in the entire country of Belize is about 250,000 today.”). Our taxi is a little Toyato van, with a green license plate. Apparently all the taxis in S. P. are Toyota vans with green license plates. We go along an impressively bumpy dirt road to our hotel: Mata Rocks. (We had considered renting a golf cart during our stay, but with roads like that, what’s the point? We later learned that a grater periodically smoothes out the road). Along the road, we go by a stray dog who seems to love a particular pothole as a place to bed down -- the dog partially moved out of the way for us, then returned to the pothole, making a golf cart go around him without any notice on his part.

Mata Rocks Resort : A cute little place. The rooms are alright, not stellar (the oddest part was that there’s not much place to put your clothes, so it all stayed in the suitcases), but it has a nice beach, and hammocks, and a cool little tiki bar, where we could (and did) get pina coladas and laid in the hammocks and looked out on the Caribbean Sea. We chose Mata Rocks because of the hammocks and the beach and the view, and because “mata” is a Shawnee word (it means “no”), and we thought that was neat.

More to come on ceremonies and honeymoon soon . . . .

Warner‘s 50th, and Raybud in a Suit

Warner Crocker just turned 50. Warner is the fearless leader (a.k.a. artistic director) at Wayside Theatre, where I was recently in a production of THE KILLER ANGELS. There was a big party for him this past Sunday, and I was fortunate enough to swing by for a bit. There were a lot of people! It was grand to see so many -- Thomasin (who set up this shindig for her husband, and major kudos to her for that), Malia, Natalie, the one and only Larry Dahlke, Carl and Andrew, the Galbraiths (who housed me when I worked there), Tamara, Ray (great suit!), and so many more. Most of these folks I haven’t seen since I was out there last fall. I only worked out there for 7 weeks, but . . . well, when I saw these folks there were big hugs all over and excited greetings, it felt like old friends. And, of course, there’s Warner.

Now, most of these folks know him better than I, having worked with him more than I have. And I suggest you check out Larry and Carl and Malia’s blogs to see what they say. They talk about his passion for the work, his mentoring. His grand laugh, of course. Read what they said, they can tell you more than I can. So what can I say to add to their comments? Well, let me tell you about what he did when he saw me at this celebration. He gave me a hug. But not just an ordinary hug. A bear hug. And in this hug he wrapped an arm around my head and held tight and close. This was not one of those faux-proper, cordial, pat-ya-on-the-back-three-times guy hug. Nah, this hug had value. This is one of those guys who, when he calls his theatre friends “family,” he really means family. God, I love that. Why do so many people like and admire him? Because he loves the work, and I think he prefers to have the same sort in his company. (And check out Warner's site, too!)
__________________

Now, I’d said I’d talk about the wedding ceremonies. Each ceremony was very important for its own reasons, and I don‘t consider any of them to be more or less important than the others. It was a lot of work, but I’m very happy with how they all went. Here’s the first ceremony:

Friday, June 10, 2006. The outdoor stage on Sugarloaf Mountain in Chillicothe, Ohio. This is where the show TECUMSEH! is staged, and Jen and I have a lot of history there. It is a great show, performing every summer, and if you have a chance to see it, do so. The ceremony took place a little after midnight (okay, that technically makes it Saturday), shortly after the opening performance. Raymond Speakman (a.k.a. Raybud) officiated. Raybud is a very good friend to me and Jenny. He is a real mountain man, big guy, red hair and red beard, actor, hunter, proud father of Caleb (who is one now), former competitive arm wrestler, pyrotechnics expert, and a great guy. For the ceremony, Raybud wore a suit, which is a very rare thing.

We positioned ourselves center stage. Near me were Demetrius Thomas, who plays the lead this summer and on this night was my best man; and Donald Leffert, production stage manager, and Marion Waggoner, the executive producer, both groomsmen this evening. On the ladies side: JJ Cobb, who had played Tecumapese for a number of years, and who became Marion’s wife a few years ago and mother of his second child Kane (yes, they are raising Kane now, heh-heh). JJ was the maid-of-honor this evening. Bridesmaids were Annelise, who is playing Tecumapese this summer, and Raina, who is now the head costumer. The other witnesses to this ceremony were this year’s castmembers and a few friends from other recent years.

Jenny entered by canoe (the stage has a pond behind it) to music from the show and to the cheers of the witnesses. A simple white dress, flowers in her hair. Marion escorted her from the canoe to her place on the stage. And then Raybud began the ceremony, reading from a script that Jen and I had put together earlier. Ray said a few things beautiful things about marriage and about us, and asked other people for a few words of their own -- we hadn’t warned them in advance, so Donald wasn’t quite sure what to say. I think he said something about love being like scotch, because I tongue-in-cheek offered that as an idea for him. Marion said something brilliant that I can’t recall most of, but I do recall it began with “Love is 10.000 pounds of thrust . . . .” Marion is an aerospace buff. Then Jenny and I said a few special things to each other, and there were tears and the sounds of “Aaaaawwww” from the people around us. And then Raybud launched into some wedding lines taken right from the show itself. It was great!
The ceremony concluded with Raybud presenting us to the witnesses, concluding it with God help us all!” And then we had cake and champagne. It was a wonderful, fun night.

More to come . . . .

Officially Unsingle

I now have this ring on my left hand, and I have some stories to tell, stories of the ceremonies, and stories from our honeymoon in San Pedro, Belize -- where we did not have any Coronas, but we had a few pina coladas, and we did get caught in the rain, but not nearly so much as the NE US did while we were away. And we saw Mayan ruins, and manatees and rays and monkeys, and we relaxed in hammocks while we gazed out onto the Caribbean Sea. I will tell you about these things, in upcoming entries. However, the world decided it would continue turning during our blissful unawareness, and upon our return we found we had A LOT TO DO. Hence, the delay.

Wierd: there are a couple of comments that have appeared in my blog that seem to be from some French person trying to sell me on "Miami Telecom," or something like that. I don't know why, but perhaps it has to do with both entries using the word "callback." Check out the comments sections from May 15 and 22.

Good: a couple more comments have appeared regarding Colin, and I have added them to Colin's Page.

And about the picture at the top: that was taken from the patio of the room we stayed in in San Pedro on our first full day there. That's someone kite surfing, with a rainbow behind him. I believe that at the same time NE US was getting pelted.

Hoo boy!

Woof. Jenny and I have already had 2 ceremonies, and on Saturday the 24th, we'll have the 3rd and final, which shall make us legally married! On Sunday morning we head out to Belize for a week long honeymoon. Our lives have been insane for months, and I am looking forward to Monday the 26th -- when hopefully we shall be laying back in hammocks, looking out across the beach toward the water, drinking Coronas, and not doing much else.

A New Link

Okay. I didn't want what was written about Colin to fade away as I continue blogging. So I've created a page for Colin that includes what I wrote as well as the comments that followed. Feel free to check it out at the link below; I've also added it to the "Links" to the right of this page. If anyone would like to add a thought or anecdote, please, feel free to put it in a comment to a recent posting here, and I will put on"Colin's page." Also, if anyone would like to create a page themselves (I didn't know Colin but so well), feel free to copy and paste from what I set up. There are various places to create it for free, and I'm willing to help if I can.

Thanks to all who have written.

http://www.geocities.com/coyote_sings/colin_arrick.html

I haven't posted in a while, in part because I wasn't sure how to follow the May 29 entry. If you haven't read it, please do, and please read the comments from that entry! There's some great little anecdotes and messages there -- from Tina, from Krys, from Samantha, from Karen, from Bill. Look at them! Each of us lives within so many others!
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And how do I "change the subject" after this? Well . . . well, here's something that I think Colin would actually be interested in knowing about: my "significant other." See, she played Doc Susie in Cripple Creek Christmas Carol the second year it was performed (2003, I believe), so Colin knows her. She was already my s.o. by then. In fact I seem to recall that he was one of those that gave me a hard time about "making it official" ("Hey, Peter, so when're you gonna . . . ?"). Well, it's finally happening, this month. Her name's Jenny, by the way, and she's a cutie. I'll talk about her more in upcoming posts. If you're lucky, I'll show you a picture.

ps -- wish me luck -- I have a few auditions this week.

Colin

Most of you who know about this blog right now don't know the person I'm going to tell you about, but I want you to hear about him anyway. His name is Colin Arrick. He died a few days ago.

Christmas of 2002 and 2003, I was in Cripple Creek, CO, performing the role Thomas Crocket (based on Bob Cratchett) in A Cripple Creek Christmas Carol. Colin played Young Gooch (based on the young Scrooge). I believe Colin was around 15-17 at this time. In the summer of 2003, I believe it was, Colin went to Stagedoor Manor, a "theatre training program" for kids, mostly teens, where I was working as a director and instructor. He took my swordfighting class.

A couple of days ago my friend Chris Armbrister called me and told me the news. He said, even though I don't believe any of us ever knew, that Colin was at risk of epileptic seizures, and that perhaps this was the cause.

Here's what I want you to know about Colin: he was a really good kid. He was very dependable, and was always fun. He was one of our go-to guys if something needed to be covered quickly. I remember when he covered for Chris Sorensen as the voice of Franco the monkey, he did a really good job. He was funny! When he took my swordfighting class, he was the only one I trusted with the weapons. I remember watching him play chess in a coffeeshop with a friend. I remember wondering if he was interested in / dating one of the teenage girls in the cast. I rembember we occasionally gave him a good-spirited hard time, and he gave it to us, too.

It's not right, but then that's not the way the world is. That's something we try to bring to the world. Colin should have gone on to . . . what? Go to college, pursue a dream, fall in love, become a dad, grow old. Maybe he would have become a leader or a teacher or a coach, he certainly had it in him. He was an excellent young man.

Tennis and Gender

I just caught an article in the NYTimes that says, "For the first time, the women's champion and men's champion will be paid equally" at the French Open. At first glance, that seems like "Yeah, sure, that's how it should be, equal pay." But: in Grand Slams, the women's game is best 2 out of 3 sets, the men's game is best 3 out of 5. So the men have to work a lot harder to get the same dough. The minimum number of sets for men equals the max for women. Also, because the women's game doesn't require the same endurance or the same amount of time, many of the women that play singles will also play doubles, which means they can make more money than the men in the tournament.
I've read about a number of women players demanding equal pay, but they never seem to demand equal play! Why not? Make the prizes equal and change the grand slams to best 2 of 3 or to best 3 of 5 (3 of 5 is my fave, but I like games of stamina) for all players. Until that happens, I don't see how there is equality.
Go ahead and make a comment, if you like. I'm up for a debate.
Some links:

NYT article

Sharapova article

SI.CNN readers reactions

Fishing and Soymilk

I'm currently drinking coffee with some soymilk instead of regular milk. It seems to give it a slightly nuttier taste (go ahead, make a joke, you know you wanna).

[And thanks to "proofreader" -- your moniker looks familiar for some reason -- for the comment from May 22, re Shenandoah backstage. I'd forgotten how interesting backstage theatricals can be, so I'll try to talk more about that with future shows, whenever those may be . . . .]
___________________

In the news: Ken Lay and Andrew Skilling have been found not just guilty, but WAY guilty. Good. Lay's defense of "just because I was in charge doesn't mean I had any clue what was going on" didn't fly. Hopefully this translates into more prison time than for someone caught smoking pot (cuz they caused a lot more harm). No link, cuz this news is easy to find.

From NewScientist: getting a good night's sleep isn't just good for you, it can help you lose weight (or: not gain it):
http://www.newscientist.com/blog/shortsharpscience/

And here's a silly drawing I did during the run of Shenandoah :

Sticky

I was originally going to post a picture of an "architectural model" of an ant "nest," made by pouring orthodontic plaster down an ant hole (I originally read about this on BoingBoing). But I thought this (from NewScientist) was cooler (more cool?) -- a robot version of a gecko:

It's called a Stickybot. And it sticks to walls and other surfaces the same way a real gecko does, using "an intermolecular force called the van der Waals force" (vdW force is neat stuff, but I'm not going to try to explain it right now, lest people's eyes glaze over). Stickybot comes from Stanford U., and the article also mentions that "The Pentagon is interested in developing gecko-inspired climbing gloves and shoes." The Pentagon, heck! I want some of those!http://www.newscientisttech.com/article/mg19025526.500

But if you still want to see ant nest, which is pretty wild on its own, go here:
http://www.bioone.org/perlserv/?request=get-document&doi=10.1672%2F1536-2442%282004%29004%5B0001%3ATNAOTF%5D2.0.CO%3B2#toclink6

The Sun Sets on Shenandoah

Oops. Carl noted that I didn't mention what my callback was for on 5/15. It was for The Foreigner at the Olney Theatre. I read for Froggy and Charlie. My Froggy reading was good; my Charlie wasn't anything special. I haven't heard back from them re further callbacks, and the grapevine has it that casting has been finished for that show. 'S okay -- I felt a bit young for Froggy, and perhaps they felt the same. Meanwhile . . . .



Shenandoah closed yesterday. I don't really feel it yet, but I've been going pretty hardcore these past few weeks, with the show plus 18 hours of commuting per week plus various auditions plus teaching part of an acting class plus a couple of other little projects, etc. It's Monday, which has been my official "day off" for the past 15 weeks, though this is the first time in a number of weeks it has behaved like a day off. I could very easily spend the day staring into space and in a quiet monotone repeatedly muttering "hwuhhhhh." I'm exhausted.

What a ride it's been lately! Hooboy! Does Shenandoah have a future after this? There have been murmurs of a Broadway run or a tour, but currently there's only murmurs. This might be the "end" of it. But it might not. It would be a kick for it to have a second life. Right now, though, I'd love something with more meat to it for me personally. I'm itching to chew on some scenery.
_________

And in the news: Prince has been voted the "sexiest [male] vegetarian" in a PETA online pole. I can't say I'm jealous, because I eat seafood, and therefore don't qualify. Besides, he's vegan, which takes a lot of dedication.
http://www.goveg.com/feat/sexiestveg2006/

SIX SQUARED

That's me. Six squared. This is a long one, so if you don't want to read all of this, skip to 5/14.

Much has been happening lately --
5/8 (Mon.) -- a callback audition for Back at Leipzig at Rep Stage. The callback went poorly -- I thought I gave a pretty mediocre audition.
5/9 (Tues.) -- taught the last of a basic acting class at Howard Community College (I took over the last month of the class when the original instructor had to go to NYC for a show. Unfortunately, this means there's no rapport with the class). It was the final presentation of scenes. A few of them did okay, i.e. they remembered all their lines and their blocking (sense of character? Uh, never mind). From there the remaining scenes gradually descended into tragedy. We had a show that evening.
5/10 (Wed.) -- Toured the White House (the cast received an invitation from the "Office of the First Lady"). Well, just of the White House -- the East Wing, a couple of floors. Saw the Blue Room, the Red Room, the Vermillion Room, the Green Room, a couple of other rooms, lots of paintings of past Presidents, First Ladies, relations, other influential folks, lots of antique furniture, pictures of Presidents with their dogs, a picture of George Bush (I) with the Queen of England and Angela Landsbury. It was all okay, but oddly, not as spectacular of a tour as you might think, but now I can say I went to the White House by invitation. Another performance that evening.
5/11 (Thurs.) -- Two shows, noon and 7:30. Between shows, I graded stuff from the class (wee) and had a brief nap and looked over lines for industrial. Got home at 11:30 PM, which is normal.
5/12 (Fri.) -- Got up at 6AM, drove into Baltimore, filmed an industrial (for Sylvan Learning Center) for two hours, which was delightfully quick. We used teleprompters. So when I was talking to Todd (the actor playing the "Sylvan representative"), I was actually looking over his shoulder at a screen that had the script on it (Supposedly, the audience never knows this, because of the angle of the camera). It's wierd trying to respond to someone that not directly looking at. Actually, this was kinda fun, since I'd never done it before. Evening performance -- Andrew, who plays James (one of the brothers), was out with a hurt back, so (dominoes) three understudies went in. We eventually found out that he has a bulging disk in the lumbar region. He'll be out for the remainder of the run, which is a shame. Welcome to the magical world of theatre.
5/13 (Sat.) -- My dad, my stepmom Pat, and my little brother Matthew came out. We had lunch in Historic Ellicott City, and they and Jenny saw the show that evening. There were a lot of hiccups in that show, but most went unnoticed by the audience, and the relations had a very good time.
5/14 (Sun.) -- IT'S MY BIRTHDAY, IT'S MY BIRTHDAY, IT'S MY BIRTHDAY, IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!!!!! 36, aka (for the math geeks) 6 squared aka 3 squared x 2 squared. For the more spiritually (?) inclined, this is the year of the Dog (that's me), and 3+6 = 9 = my "life number." This all means that great things should be happening for me RIGHT NOW. Right? We had two shows today. It's a good thing I like my work -- I actually had a very fun day, even though I have a bug in my system that's playing havoc with my voice.
5/15 (today) -- I have a callback audition in an hour and a half. No time for proofreading, so please excuse the typos. Gotta go!

Slacker!

Why, you ask, hasn't Peter posted in so long? Because Peter is . . . a slacker. I have some lame excuses: show, understudy rehearsals, visiting relatives, car issues . . . but, really, I coulda posted 1 or 2 or 3 by now. Anyhoo --

News:
1) Relations. My mom visited for a couple of days. She saw Shenandoah on Tuesday the 25th and said she really enjoyed it. I introduced her to a few people there, like so -- Me: "Hey, _____, this is my mom." Mom: "You can call me Marge." This intro eventually became -- Me: "Hey, _____, this is my mom. You can call her Marge." Mom: "Hi!" Then Jen's mom and dad (Terre and Barry) came to visit, arriving hours after my mom left. They stayed through the morning of May 1. I didn't get to spend much time with them, because of my work. But they saw the matinee on Saturday the 29th, as did Jenny's aunt and uncle (Leslie and George -- George and Barry are brothers). Everyone seemed to be fairly impressed with the show, and we all went out for an early dinner afterwards.
2) Callbacks. I have a couple of callbacks coming up soon. First, Bach at Leipzig at Rep Stage, where I might see my good friend Carl Randolph, who also was called back. Then, a week later, a call back for The Foreigner at the Olney Theatre . . . where I might once again see Carl! So, wish us luck. Cross your fingers, knock on wood, etc., etc. Carl and I were both in The Killer Angels at Wayside Theatre (directed by Warner Crocker, who as far as I know was not called back for these shows, but then, he didn't audition in the first place. So there you go.).

Malia, the Muse

Haha!! This blog has made a difference in the world! (Sort of.) Malia Arguello, the amazing, knitting SM (that's Stage Manager, not Sado-Masochist, though I have no proof that she isn't) has finally updated her blog after long last. (Okay, I sent her and a few others an e-mail to let them know that their blogginess had inspired me to start my own. Yes, deep down, I'm a conformist.) Malia, for those of you poor souls who don't know, is the SM (Stage Manager) at Wayside Theatre. She has a rapier wit, and a dangerous beauty. She looks stunning in black. She probably looks stunning in other colors, but, uh, she usually wears black. Which probably makes mixing and matching her wardrobe easier. So, Malia fans, check out the latest Malia-news at "Malaysia's Musings" --
http://maliaarguello.blogspot.com/

Good Friday

Yesterday was the anniversary of Lincoln's assassination. Yesterday was also Good Friday -- and guess what? The assassination also occurred on Good Friday (I heard someone say that some people back then were critical of Lincoln when he decided he was going to a theatre instead of to church on G. F.).
Well, during yesterday's performance, I was quite aware of the significance of the date. And, to be honest, I kept feeling as if ol' A.L. himself was watching us from that famous box seat. And I kept feeling like he was really enjoying the show. Well, Abe, just so you know, that made me feel pretty good.

Watch It Wiggle . . .

Heh. One of these days, I'll have to explain the Tofu Dance. (Check out the comments from the previous entry. Those of you who know me from Wayside Theatre will understand.)

Today we had a 4-hour understudy rehearsal (before the evening show). The first two hours was dance, and thanks to Noah, the dance captain, for his patience. The next two hours was also fairly physical. That, plus the evening show, plus not quite enough sleep, plus a good workout the day before . . . and I'm tired.

But here's some important info that must be passed along before I collapse: apparently there's a mathematical formula to evaluate the quality of a female bottom. According to David Holmes, a psychology lecturer at Manchester Metropolitan U., "The perfect female derriere has firmness to the touch and a resilience that prevents undue wobble or bounce, yet looks soft with flawless skin," and, ' "Slender thighs and a hip-to-waist ratio of 0.7 will frame the perfect bum, well perfectly." ' This article is a must-read for those with and/or interested in the female posterior:
[Note: the weblink for this has been removed because it was messing up my blogpage.]
Unfortunately, for those with and/or interested in the male posterior, you're out of luck. And that's a shame, because Jen thinks I'd score well.

Examining the Brain

Well, this is called Peter's Brain, isn't it? So I felt it would be proper to share the following tidbit with you.

I recently received the following e-mail from my older brother:

My six year-old son Ethan just said to my three-year-old son something full of extraordinary profundity and gravitas: '…then you go to high school, and then you’re a man. Then you’re an old man. And then… you die.' My next thought was, 'Damn. I’m already two out of four. Maybe three out of four….'
Phil

This is my response:

Wait, wait! I think you're safe. We just need to dig into the true meaning of these words. Okay:
1) "…then you go to high school"
2) "and then you’re a man"
3) "Then you’re an old man"
4) "And then… you die"
The key here is #2. At first I was thinking, Well, by 'a man,' Ethan probably means 'a male grown up,' a statement of mentality rather than physicality. 'Male grown ups' are easily identified in society by their lack of toys. These men often pursue such careers as accountants, politicians, and TV evangelists. When they become 'old men', i.e., 'old grown ups,' they start telling stories about 'when I was your age I had to walk 47 miles uphill both ways in the pouring rain and snow to get to school' -- and they believe these stories to be true (as opposed those who tell these stories for the sake of personal amusement, making the younger ones roll their eyes while they wish you'd shut up so they can borrow the car. These are not 'old grown ups,' but they occasionally like pretending to be one, cuz it's funny).
But then I thought I should check the dictionary for the word 'man.' Knowing that the dictionary is put together by lunatics and communist pinkos, I skipped definition number 1. Definition number 2a says a 'man' is "a feudal tenant: VASSAL." Realizing that Ethan is extremely intelligent (due to the quality of his parentage), I knew that this was probably what Ethan really meant.
Either way, Phil, I think you're safe, and have a good chance of living forever, or nearly so.
Logically yours,
peter

By the way, if you still wonder about my brain, I suspect that on closer examination you would find that it looks and feels like wrinkley tofu. But now I'm just guessing.

Gobble, gobble.

Today we had a 12 pm matinee and a 7:30 evening show. 12pm matinees are for school groups, and this is the second one of those we've had thus far. And so far, both 12pm matinees have been preceded by me walking the hallways, waving my hands above my head and saying, "Screaming teenagers, woohoo!" Because that's what they do whenever guns are fired, and during curtain call. Actually, I've rather enjoyed it. They've been good audiences.

By the way, Shenandoah has been extended to May 21, though Scott B. will be leaving after April 30. Brian Sutherland will be taking his place for the remainer of the run (he's a good guy, and I heard a rumor he was in the original production of Cats). AND -- we got a good review in Variety magazine.
http://www.variety.com/review/VE1117930133?categoryId=33&cs=1


Meanwhile . . . here's proof that things can get better in the world, to wit:

1) Charles "Find My Picture In The Dictionary Next To The Word Corrupt" Taylor is in prison and will be tried for crimes against humanity. And why not? I think he's earned it.

2) Tom "Oh, Hammers Can Be Used To Build Things? Who Knew?!" Delay is resigning his seat -- uh, because polls have shown he has only a 50-50 chance of retaining his seat in the next election? I thought he liked a good fight. I think there's more to this than that claim. We shall see.

3) A new dinosaur has been discovered in Utah: Hagryphus giganteus, which means "giant four-footed, bird-like god of the western desert.” It is believed to stand about 7 ft. tall, and it supposedly looks like a giant turkey. I don't know why, but it seems to me that Utah is the perfect place to find a 7 ft. tall, prehistoric turkey. Happy Thanksgiving.
http://unews.utah.edu/p/?r=040306-2

I'm in the Post! I'm Famous!

In the Sunday 26th Washington Post, this ad appeared:

The picture is from the prologue of the show. The guy furthest right is me (with added-on moustache and goatee. The eyebrows, though, are all natural). Here's me close-up:

Ju suis l'omelette du frommage

My apologies to all my adoring fans . . . and anyone else who reads this blog . . . anyone? . . . . For the lack of update. Lame Excuse: always tired / don't have a fun picture ready / don't know if anyone's reading this / my pinky hurts (okay, the last one isn't true, but I did recently get a cut on my hand during a run of the show because of a partly broken prop. I told someone I was getting a Jesus complex, so I was starting to develop stigmata).

Fear not! I'll get back to it. In the short term, I have a couple of recent dreams for you: 1) I dreamed that Scott Bakula was directing a show. I wasn't in the show, but I was understudying all the roles -- which was odd even in the dream, because I'm a union actor, but all the roles were non-union. Nobody would explain this to me in the dream. Also, Scott wanted me to make a "prop" spinal cord, and he wanted me to make it out of a 2x4 that he handed to me. 2) In this dream, Richard Frederick (a castmember, who portrays the Marauder) couldn't be there for a show, so his understudy had to go in for him. BUT . . . (in the dream) . . . Richard also had a solo number at the beginning of Act 2, and it was suddenly decided that I was to cover the song. For this solo I had to dress as a Frenchman, with a curly wig and thin moustache. And I was to walk on the beach when I sang. I was very concerned, because I didn't know the song and no one had ever given me the music for it.

And there you go. Analyze that, I DARE YOU!

Kiwa hirsuta

You may have heard by now there's a new crustacean in town: Kiwa hirsuta. It is also dubbed the "Yeti Crab," which is just about right. Check it out: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/4785482.stm .



Today is my day off. SHENANDOAH is in tech rehearsals now, so we're finally on the stage. It's wild -- there's hills on the stage steep enough to slide down, which I get to do, during the show. While carring a rubber rifle. What a life. But today is a much needed day off -- we've been working and reworking a lot of the more physical aspects of the show, and I ache all over. Previews start in 4 days, and we open in 9. Woohoo!

WWJD?

Today rehearsal went . . . fine . . . but I felt like I was running of 5 cylinders out of 6 (not 3 of 4 or 7 of 8; 5 of 6). And I didn't have as much fun as I should have. Really, I play dress up for a living! It should be fun!

So, for tomorrow's rehearsal, I plan to ask myself, WWJD? No, not that J. This J:

That's right, tomorrow, I plan to bring a bit of Jack to work.

You should try it. Tell your boss that you brought Jack.

No fish fashion here.

Today we had a fairly easy rehearsal. It was an evening rehearsal, and most of us only had to be there for the last hour-and-a-half to work on music. But the change of pattern in the schedule made us, uh, a bit unfocused. Take "regular folk" and give 'em all ADD -- that's what actors are like. This could be an interesting week: we're gearing up for tech rehearsals and orchestra rehearsals, and the schedule will get wonky for the next few days.

Meanwhile, here's some good things to know:

1) Exercise is good for your brain --
http://www.sciencenews.org/articles/20060225/bob10.asp

2) Fish and turmeric (a curry spice) are also good for the brain (if you eat them; there was nothing in the study analyzing the effects of wearing fish or turmeric) --
http://www.sciencenews.org/articles/20060304/bob8.asp

3) FREAKY -- Ambien (a prescription-only sleeping pill) may be linked to "sleep-driving" --
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/03/08/business/08ambien.html

Great Scott!!

I suppose I should comment on Scott Bakula, who plays Charlie Anderson in SHENANDOAH. Scott, for those of you who don't know (and even for those of you that do), starred in the TV shows QUANTUM LEAP and ENTERPRISE. He did a few other things as well, but that's what he's most known for.

It turns out that Scott's a good guy. We had rehearsed for a week-and-a-half before he joined us. His first rehearsal was a fight rehearsal, and he jumped in just like a professional should. The scene that he and I "share" is very fun for me -- Scott looks me in the eye, and he reacts to what I give him (hopefully I return the favor). He has never given any sense that he is above us. I don't want to sound like I'm fawning -- he simply behaves like a pro should, and his fame doesn't seem to have gone to his head.
___________________

Meanwhile . . . I am really enjoying reading about quantum mechanics (and didn't realize until just this moment about that similarly-named show Scott was in). I like it because it's kinda magical in how it works. Because, in its smallest details, we live in a wild, wild, wild universe. Technically, according to QM, I could walk right through a cement wall. Really, it's not impossible; it's really, really, really, really unlikely, BUT IT IS POSSIBLE! I can't test this idea myself right now because I'm, uh . . . busy . . . but if anyone out there would like to give it a go, please feel free. Let me know if you have any success.

A New Theory of Everything

Hoo, boy.

So, there's some familial, uh, entertainment going on -- the husband (though hopefully for not much longer) of a family member has finally revealed some less than admirable qualities . . . involving cocaine, crack (probably), bad checks, thievery of credit card numbers, and, worst of all, some heavy-duty spousal abuse. There had been some suspicions that he was a bad seed, but nothing as impressive as this. The stories that I have heard reach such levels of absurdity that it's difficult to imagine someone actually being this way.

The good news (?) is that now this is a known thing, and he is being monitored and kept at "arm's length."

Add to this that I've discovered that Scott (Bakula, the star of SHENANDOAH), Jeff (the director), and Evan (one of the performers) all love the TV show "Project Runway" (on Bravo). Jenny loves it, too. I can't stand it.

Meanwhile, I've been reading "The Elegant Universe" by Brian Greene. A good book, though not a fast read. First, he explains the theory of relativity and what it implies. That is difficult, though not impossible, to wrap one's head around. Now I'm reading about quantum mechanics. Woof. Fortunately, Greene starts off by saying that you shouldn't be worried if you don't "get" QM, because even those who specialize in it don't really get it. Here's a good description of QM: imagine if the master designer of all things subatomic was Pablo Picasso. With Salvador Dali covering PP's days off. (Favorite sentence from TEU: "This is wierd.")

So today I have come up with my own theory: The universe is a piece of jazz music, being played by an infinitely large band with all the instruments that mankind has and has not imagined, and the band leader is Miles Davis.

That's right. God isn't the big, white, old, bearded guy on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. He's a little guy with a raspy voice, dark skin, really amazing eyes and a trumpet.

If you really consider my theory for a moment, you should see that it makes a lot of sense. As much as anything.

Introducing Ernst Trent Malby

Since our big fight day, rehearsals went much more easily. Today it's almost absurd: I have the day off. Little bits are being worked, and none of them involve me. I must say, while it's nice to have a bit of free time (so I can look around the apartment and look at the stuff that needs doing, and then avoid it entirely), I enjoy working. Sometimes just because it makes me feel valuable.

Yesterday we had a good sized break during rehearsal, long enough for me to swing by the Woolly Mammoth theatre and audition. I performed a monologue from DADDY KNOWS BESS by Trent Malby. In this monologue, the character Sam confronts his wife, Harriet, with his recently found knowledge that she originally slept with him because of a bet she lost in high school (which caused a pregnancy and a lousy marriage), and that she is currently having an affair with the poolboy. Sam then uses this information as leverage, proposing that Harriet have have a second child with Sam, for him to raise. Trent Malby ( full name: Ernst Trent Malby) by the way, is a pseudonym. He is me. Well, more accurately, I am him. As far as I can tell, he's a fun guy who enjoys being a touch subversive. And he's a good writer, although my opinion may be a touch biased. Anyhoo, they seemed to like the monologue. It was a satisfactory audition.

News worth knowing: there are electric cars (with lithium-ion or lead acid batteries) being made now that'll do 0 to 6 in as little as 3.6 seconds. 3.6 SECONDS! This ain't your daddy's golf cart! They're still too expensive (hundreds of thousands of $) and not practical for long distance (ranges of a couple hundred miles), but think of this: just a couple of decades ago, the most sophisticated yet affordable computer was Atari, with Pong and Breakout. Give this another decade or two. Check out this link:
http://www.wired.com/wired/archive/14.03/play.html?pg=5