You are. And that is enough.
On Tuesday, I was helping out as an extra for another movie because, well, why the heck not? But this time was a little different: we were filming at The Gay 90’s, I was in costume for the first half of the day and I heard two phrases I never expected to hear in my entire life:
“You’re the tallest drag queen in captivity.”
“You look much better as a man.”
“March of the Penguins” is in theaters now and I imagine the documentary is based on scientific theories to explain why it’ll walk 70 miles to knock up another penguin or waddle around with its young ‘uns huddled between its nonexistent legs (which essentially means they’re buried in its crotch). But why bother with scientific theories? Why not just ask the birds themselves?
“Excuse me, Mr. Penguin, why are you waddling around with your young ‘uns buried in your crotch? Is it to protect them from the elements?”
“No, I do it because it’s really frickin’ cold out and I’m trying to keep my nuts warm!”
Tonight, Minnesota Citizens for the Arts (MCA) was having coffee with Pat Pariseau, our state Senator, discussing public funding for the arts—given that Minnesota has had a deficit since forever plus another year or two, they have to go through some budget cuts again. Thus, there were about a dozen locals sitting in a circle, introducing themselves to a person who could destroy their lives with a single finger, pushing a “NO” button during a Senate meeting. Ain’t power a beautiful thing?
Some of the people were members of an orchestra or choir, some worked for the city of Lakeville directly within the arts programs, some just did stuff like quilt-making on the weekends for a little added income. Then there was me. I introduced myself as “somewhat of an enigma” within that little group of people. After all, I haven’t had any direct contact with the arts since I was back at Kenyon, singing in the community choir and with Company, a musical theater group there.
Still, I told her about how I’ve been involved in a multitude of programs in the past—I’ve acted, I played piano and saxophone, I sang in the choir and performed musical theater, I’ve dabbled in writing on the side (yeah, dabbled… you can see how I’ve only been dabbling in here). I didn’t mention that my not currently being involved in the arts meant I eventually dumped all of the programs I was in, but I told her I went to law school, so I wasn’t going to graduate school for art or sewing quilts—nothing like that.
Why was I there? Because I know how important the arts are, both for people’s livelihoods and how they develop a person’s character. I’m probably a bad example when it comes to art benefiting someone’s character, but I imagine it works for other people…
But Pat had one question: even though I said I wasn’t involved in any of those programs, do I still sing in the shower? “Well, yeah, but it’s not publicly funded.” I suppose she could destroy that practice by pushing a “NO” button for budget cuts if they involve cutting off the utilities to my house, but if that happens, well, there were plenty of others at the meeting who support the arts and who probably have showers in their own bathrooms…
There has been a large consensus that Richard’s behavior on Beauty and the Geek is merely an attempt to break into Hollywood (his ultimate plan is to be to become an actor, though given the choice and execution of his antics, becoming a “comedic” actor is questionable). I, on the other hand, plan to stick around here in Minnesota, though it seems I haven’t fully escaped the realm of movie cameras and spotlights. My “credits” have moved beyond my three-minute appearance on The WaZoo! Show—now they include working as an extra for an independent film.
It was basically a favor for a friend. Matthew Feeney sent out a mass e-mail because a film he’s involved with (Fall Into Me) was having a shoot on Thursday night from 7:00pm till Friday morning at approximately 7:00am. (It turned out to be closer to 4:30, but you get the idea…) They needed people who’d be willing to work the night shift to fill up the background. I figured, “Hey, I haven’t got a set schedule, why not help them out?” Continue reading “I swear to God, I’m not making this into a career”
Since I just posted all the entries regarding the WaZoo! crew’s journey to Los Angeles, I thought people might want an update on what’s happened with the Festival Cut since then. While it may not have won an award out in L.A., there are other film festivals out there (with judges who have much better taste in comedy shorts). More specifically, there is a WorldFest-Houston (The 3rd Oldest International Film Festival in North America!). Whoopee… Still, this was the 38th one, so I guess they’ve been around for a while. Plus they nominated us for an award. Whoopee!
Perhaps the best part of hearing about our nomination in Houston was that it came via e-mail. No, that’s not the reason—I don’t mind hearing false rumors as much when they come from attractive Australian women swimming in pools in posh hotels. I don’t think I mind, anyway… it’s hard to say when I only have one episode to base the entire theory on. Anyway! The reason it was cool was because the e-mail included this sentence:
“Unlike other festivals, we nominate only the four top entries, and we give Platinum, Gold, Silver and Bronze awards, thus you are assured to win one of these top awards at the Gala Awards Dinner!” Boo-ya!
I doubt that appearing in one more film festival and winning an award will lead to my dream of signing women’s body parts, but… oh, what the hell, I’m gonna go to bed now so I can dream of it some more. G’night…
On Saturday, I went out with the parents to see the musical revue Swing! (No, it wasn’t that exciting; that was the name of the show: “Swing!”) It was put together by a local arts company that gets its funding in part through admissions fees, “dinner and a show” tickets and silent auctions.
For those who don’t know how silent auctions work, it’s basically just a bunch of items laid out on tables with sheets of paper in front of them. People wander around, see something they like and put their bid on the sheet. You want that thing more than they do, so you put down a higher bid and so on. (At a show last year, little brother Justin won some tickets—six games of bowling for five bucks—that eventually expired because… we never went bowling.) But this year, they had some different prizes being auctioned off.
At the beginning of the intermission, the announcer got up on stage and asked all the men, “What day is it on Monday?” (It was Valentine’s Day. I yelled out “Monday!” He didn’t acknowledge my answer.) Apparently, there were three items that “would make great Valentine’s Day gifts”—thus the pop quiz—and he wanted to point out that with a few minutes left before the auction was over, the highest bids on all three… were women. Hey, as far as I’m concerned, they should appreciate the sacrifice the men are making with dinner and a musical revue. After all, some might consider power tools extremely romantic…
