a darn good day

Back in NYC. It's hella chilly out, but my room is super cosy. It was so lovely to be greeted by the pajama-clad Daisy and (previously unmentioned) Lex, and re-greet our Queens apartment. Previously, coming home from LA trips meant a cold, untended place, likely with something growing in the fridge. It took a few hours to get the fires burning again.

Perhaps it is easier than ever to maintain that inner-glow all the way across the country, because I had such a DARN GOOD DAY.

Here's the skinny. Last night, Russell brought up a discussion we had a few days prior about Lemonlime, the agency we've both been crushing on for several months now. With the tagline "Talent with a Twist," this amazingly awesome boutique boasts a roster of ultra-rad alterna-talent, and is run by two of my favorite twitter-folk: @ChaimMagnum and @AgentwithaChirp. They are Lemonlime, and though I don't know them personally, their 140-character perspectives on life & the business are something I look forward to whenever I log on. And some of their tweets have kept me inspired and motivated through a month of really scraping to find good quality work, and get myself as out there as possible.

Anyway, Russell suggests - nay, insists - that I follow through on a random idea of bringing a photo/resume by their office. Though I've already sent in an e-submission, and I have been told my whole life that waltzing in to an agency without an invitation is not only pointless - do it at the wrong place, and it can be very damaging. They may never call. I've heard all sorts of horror stories.

Nonetheless, Rusty points out, you love these guys, and you should go in there and Braveheart speech about how hard you work, and how hard you wanna work FOR and WITH them.

Me: (grumpy, resistant) I can't give a Braveheart speech to a receptionist.
Rusty: Well. You can write them a heartfelt note, and put the speech in there.

This morning, at 8:30, I was hardly more enthused. This plan was robbing us of sleep, and cuddle time, and I was going to make a fool of myself if I went through with it anyhow. But Rusty hops out of bed...makes me coffee...and tells me to get up.

Have I mentioned how awesome this guy is?

In the midst of packing and dressing, I realize that this is actually great. I am always striving to have greater courage, really grab the bull by the horns, and make increasingly bold moves. Rusty has presented the challenge, and I must accept.

Fast forward two hours, I walk in to the Lemonlime office with my note and my pictures in hand, and am greeted by an adorable Yorkie named Foxy. No receptionist - just puppy kisses! Shortly thereafter, Mr. Magnum emerges, I get up off the floor (yes, I will ALWAYS happily sprawl out on a strangers' carpet to better play with an adorable dog), and I introduce myself, saying something like:

Me: Hi! I'm Maggie - I'm actually on my way to the airport - but I wanted to stop by with my stuff cuz I have a huge crush on your agency.

(This is very very true.)

Mr. Magnum is super cool, and we talk about Foxy and twitter for a bit, and he says he'll give my stuff to the person who sets meetings (which I don't really read into), and I should send him a message on twitter so we can talk there. Sweetness! I was thrilled. I got back in the car, not even trying to analyze it all, just excited.

Through the magic of twitter, within the hour, I hear from Mr. Magnum:
"Maggie thanks for stopping in, I have your pic in my pile of people to set up for a meeting, see you soon ;"

And then he tweets to the general public: "Dont try this at home, lol, or at every Agents office, but @maggieLevin just stopped by dropped off pic and got herself a real meeting w/us"

Rusty and I go for lunch, and faux-tango in a Del Taco.

I fly out of LAX feeling loved and feeling the proverbial Love.

Auditions and writing and more to do in the New York morning, and it's already 4 AM EST. Gah! Bedtime.

xoxo
MaggieMoon

legendary

"But it doesn't really matter what a man does in his life. All that really matters in the end is the legend that grows up around him."
- Jerry Divine/Velvet Goldmine

In my community of theatre-makers, we have a kind of relegion, a unique brand of faith that helps us keep on truckin' through the stack-ups of rejection. Catch-phrases, susperstitions, dream boards, and positive visualization. Tarot cards, diary entries, poetry and emblems of the future. And constant feedback and support lent to one another, reinforcing the fact that we are deserving, and entitled to our own success. There is not a working day that passes me by where I do not think:

What have I done for my career today?

or run over the series of warnings and firestarters that my business teacher - the teacher I fancied the least during school but whose advice I valued the highest upon graduation - repeated to us on early mornings in the dance studio:

Only you can get in the way of your own success.
Get up every day and take a step.
Who are you, and why should I know you?

Nowadays, no matter what you do, if you are waltzing in the realm of the entertainment world, you have to be prepared for branding. My graduating class was packed to the gills with talent - 26 of us, rarin' to go take on the big bad world. The red doors closed forever in May 2007. It's September 2009 and I can count the amount of those left fighting the good fight on my fingers. And it all comes down to the wretched wrestling match between art and marketing. Creating characters vs. selling yourself.

Sure, you can play a mean Medea, but why the hell should I cast you?

I sound like one of those magnets I'm always tempted to buy from Barnes & Noble: Life isn't about finding yourself; it's about creating yourself.

Well, no shit. Why the musing, Maggie Moon?

Because, as I brushed my teeth tonight and thought about what I did for my career today, while a good half of it was actual art-making, the things I was most pleased about fell more in the category of self-improvement and self-sales:

A yoga class. A finely composed email. A perusal of a business deal. An outfit I felt fit to converse with important people in.

Yeah, I rehearsed, I made script cuts, I learned how to make a ninja mask out of a t-shirt. I picked out sound cues and had fun with actors. But my mind circles back to a moment, walking out of yoga with Daisy and putting my sunglasses on. Where for a split second, the weird little catch-phrasey law of attraction based faith I subscribe to works, and I feel like Maggie Levin, Writer Director Producer Extraordinaire, strong and sweaty and sexy, next to her best friend the Almighty Actress. And we walk off into the sun to get Starbucks.

What have I done for my career today?

Well, for exactly 30 seconds, I felt exactly like I want to feel all the time.

In other news, Rusty, my fella, is lookin hella gorgeous:

over on the left, there, with the long hair.

He's been rockin' out with Dizzy Balloon on their tour this month. I miss the heck out of him.

Til next time,
Ms. Moon

between love and hate

I had a weekend.

Such a weekend.

I've been ruminating and renovating my life, as well as repainting everything the color of a purple My Little Pony. Mom and I shuffled all the stuff around and now this place looks...well...very different. All that's left to do is walk around with a smudge stick, and I may have the aura of Man fully removed from my living space.

Love is such a strange experience. I am grateful to the universe for teaching me what it has, so far, about the L-Word, and I am grateful to whatever gene I got that allows me to fall so hard. I like feeling like I've dropped from a deathly height into a puddle. I'm still a little shocked that Man and I are DONE DONE and DONE. One expects that after a hard fall and a six year journey together, that it will not end in such an ugly, common fashion. But hey, it's all been real interesting. And I wish him major well-ness.


Back to the regularly scheduled Fledgling Director news. Which does relate to above item, regarding Love.

First off, Allies is coming along very well. First official table read is coming up December 2nd, and I will meet these lovely actors Foxfire speaks so highly of. Prior to that, I've invited Sessoms, Jive and Nelly over on Wednesday for an unofficial table read so I won't be unpleasantly shocked by anything read aloud in December. I had enough nasty moments during the table readings of US - realizing some deep, heartfelt monologue in your head sounds like absolute crap in the mouth of a great actor...well...sucks.

Saw a reading at the Lark last night with Stormy. It is definitely reading season - last week, Marty from At Hand hosted a reading of his show (which I can't help but call "School Shooting - The Musical!" in my head, but in truth, is title-less at the moment), then upcoming there's the Allies reading, Sessoms' play reading, the America reading (more on that later)....it's a readathon, folks. This reading was part of a Mexican playwright exchange thing, and the play itself was kinda like The Wire on the water (as Stormy's fella put it) or a Tarantino movie in boats. Afterwards, there was catch-up, good food and margaritas with Stormy & the entire production. Good times.

I carried on from there to meet up with Boss, and carried on...and carried on...until some ungodly hour.


I must speak of 'America' - this choreopoem I was given by a playwright named Kim Yaged. This woman is absolutely awesome, and I love this piece like I haven't loved a new work maybe...ever. It might be a years-and-years undertaking, but awesome. Bring it.


And since I haven't yet posted, please check out The Good Idea Gang in Paper Planes!