Sadly, our last performance of OLEANNA will be this Sunday, Dec. 6th. I am at a loss for words, mainly due to pride. Sunday represents the closing of nearly a year’s worth of work, all of which has been entirely rewarding. I am so grateful to have had the opportunity to throw myself into this play, but I’m not quite at the point where I can look on the bright side. I’ll be happy to give my body a rest, only to quickly become restless.
In my attempt to stay distracted, I found this awesome old timey cartoon.
This holiday season, save a little bacon fat… for the war effort.
1,000 Words (er… less)
November 19, 2009
Oleanna is set to close January 3rd, so if you wanna see it, now’s the time.
Go to www.oleannaonbroadway.com to purchase tickets!
(That’s me in Argentina last year)
Manic Monday
November 6, 2009
This Monday, November 9th, I’ll be performing in the 24 Hour Plays on Broadway.
Slightly different fare from OLEANNA. Check it Out.
If no one Tweets about it… did it make a sound?
October 23, 2009
The other night outside the theater, a woman asked me to sign her Playbill. Before I could ask what she thought of the show, she offered, “He should have killed you.” I thought that might make an interesting Tweet, if I had a Twitter account, which I don’t.
“Julia… Is being told what it is to be an insufferable human being.”
But again, no Twitter account, so I awkwardly mumbled, “those are some strong words” and let her reflect on what exactly about my character in Oleanna fueled them. Of course, I understand that the end of the play is intentionally harrowing. Carol is unrelenting, and both characters suffer the consequences. And I’m glad to see a strong response, an investment in the story. But why so much anger?
Quelle Fashionista
August 18, 2009
I started a clothing line!
Despite what the Daily “News” would like to stir up, I am not dissing anyone in particular. I think a lot of celebrities mentioned in that article have the best intentions. If anything, I am poking fun at those who are totally out of touch with the rest of the world, and at myself- “Save the Last Shants?” Come on.
The Mark of Cain
August 16, 2009
I didn’t think I would be writing about baseball again this season, because it’s too painful too watch. But it just got more painful… literally.
The Mets have an outrageous number of injuries, and are generally playing like chickens with their heads cut off. The trade deadline passed tradelessly, and Omar Minaya confirmed their decision to throw in the towel by essentially saying the team isn’t even close to making the playoffs. I won’t even get into problems higher up in the organization.
Then Giants’ pitcher Matt Cain has to go and pick on the face of our franchise. He lobs a 94mph fastball inside with the count 0-2 at David Wright, who immediately collapses on the ground. I understand protecting the plate, but that effing guy has some balls. I don’t care what anyone says, you don’t throw at someone’s head. And if he lost control of his mechanics, he should fall on his sword and apologize. I never heard the words “I’m sorry” in interviews after the game. When asked if he would call Wright at the Hospital for Special Surgery, Cain said he might, or he might “just see him at the ballpark.”
Then the M-effing guy describes his immediate reaction was to wonder how bad David Wright was hit. Really? I mean, really? In a split second Wright dropped to ground. This was so fast, it was obviously not a conscious decision- his body gave out because he caught a 94mph fastball in the temple. That kind of collapse is pretty telling.
As if that’s not enough, esse chingadero (Matt Cain) explained in interviews why he tipped his cap to booing NY fans as he walked off the mound by simply shrugging, “New York.”
I’m not a believer in tit-for-tat, except when it comes to baseball. And I applaud Johan Santana; not for hitting Pablo Sandoval and Benjie Molina later in the game, but for answering reporters with aggressive aloofness. Did he hit Molina by accident? In Santana’s words, “I feel like I have to protect my teammates, you can call that whatever you want.” But did he retaliate on purpose? Maybe his first answer wasn’t clear enough: “I don’t have to explain anything.”
Damn Straight, Johan.
Nos Vemos, Los Angeles.
July 28, 2009
Or, Back in the New York Groove.
When I decided to crawl out of the eighteenth century and start this blog, I promised myself I would not vomit irrelevant musings like Narcissus would if there were a Narcissus Blog (even the word blog itself is repugnant to me, to be honest). But here I am, enjoying not the sound of my own voice, but the sound of my own keyboard. And I have some time to kill before Oleanna starts in New York, so I’ve been letting my mind wander. I don’t pretend my insight is, well, insightful, I just hope it is at least worth a chuckle. So indulge me.
Did you know there is a National Yogurt Association? I was reading my yogurt container today… (yes, I have that much time, and I feel irrationally guilty about it because I am, essentially, a New Yorker)… I was reading my yogurt container and noticed it said “meets National Yogurt Association’s requirements for live active cultures.” This had me thinking, who exactly comprises the National Yogurt Association? And do they spend their working hours looking at thousands of petri dishes full of yogurt samples? Petri dishes full of thousands of yogurt samples, full of billions of live bacteria? What do they do when they are not working, and can they ever eat a cup of yogurt again? Curiouser and curiouser. (FYI, with a bit of reconnaissance, I discovered the NYA WEBSITE! Did you know that yogurt has a publicist? Thankfully, those good little active bacteria are no longer misrepresented).
Before I stumbled on this new information, I attended a Yoga class for the first time since being back from Los Angeles. The class did what it was supposed to, I left feeling limber and a tiny bit Buddha, but not before I noticed the many things one could buy at said Yoga Studio. There were books and CD’s and leotards and outfits and seminar packets and audiences with gurus. My idle thoughts sufficiently controlled, and my $18 clarity reached, it seemed ironic that an ancient non-material tradition could become so glaringly profitable. God, I love New York.
The Morning After
June 13, 2009
Doing a play is an exercise in Zen Buddhism, I am convinced.
We are about to enter a five show weekend (Friday evening, two shows on Saturday and Sunday), our first since a successful opening (more on what that actually means later). I arrive at the Music Center, a beautiful Lincoln Center-esque complex with three performance spaces including my place of employment, usually in the early evening. I witness the many well-dressed folk, milling about the fountain and food stands, ready to enjoy their evening of entertainment. They are on dates, with family and friends, sipping wine or careful not to smudge their lipstick, but they have all put their obligations behind them. I, on the other hand, am just getting started. (I’ve been sleeping late on this theater schedule, but not that late… I’m talking about alertness, standing at the gate before the gunshot).
The Play’s the Thing.
May 23, 2009
Here’s an article from the L.A. Times on OLEANNA.
A girl could get used to this city.
Not that I disliked L.A. before, but I had never really felt at ease here…and I did participate in that bad New Yorky habit of dismissing it right off the bat. Let’s say my feelings about L.A. could be summed up in three stages:
Delgado Loves That Pepsi Porch
April 17, 2009
Check out the Wall Street Journal, I wrote about The New York Mets for their weekend section.
