a little supernatu naturalitee

I FINISHED THE GREEK PLAY.

Now to finish all the costumes for Footloose, all the performance of Metropolitan Operas, and attend all the first year final-scenes this week, without losing my mind, killing someone, or crying in front of Blackstone's. Again.

RTC was invited to a theatre networking event that I will post info about very very soon. I think all actors, designers, etc. should go to this thing - I was invited by Emily Oh, who, since Alice, has taken on marketing as her thang. And she's quite good at it too. You can check her out at emilyowenspr.com.

Also, after being very very wrapped up in Final Pros over at NP (where the whole gang is kickin' major ass - Sessoms, Daisy, Boss rock the house with full preparations; uber-sexy Stormy & can-I-drool-on-my-lap-over-him-any-more Swank play a married couple that hate each other; Sweetheart steals my heart, of course, as a very unusual bum)...I was thrown back into HAIR-ville today, after not thinking on it for a whole four days. That's a lot for me! I toured around Central Park with Stone, Man's best friend from Arkansas, who's been living here since the days when Man & I actually lived in one city. Throwback of all throwbacks. Much like Man & I, yet much unlike Man & I, he's with the same gal as he used to be, and still hackin' away at a theatre career. He did HAIR in Summerstock a few years ago, and just got back from playing Riff in an Illinois company of "West Side Story." Man recommended highly that I take him on, and although I was sorta full up on white boys, my instincts said this was a must-take. I invited him sight-unseen since 2002, and today, I realized why. We met on the corner of 96th, and from across the street, it was like "Oh, yep. There's my missing peg."

I can't explain it. I wasn't missing a character, or anyone at all. But Stone's got an energy that will complete the Tribe. So as far as I know, we're fully cast, and ready to roll on May 15th.



So other readers out there in Retroland...if you'd like to come see Final Pros, check out the Second Year website for all the info you'll need.

I'm in Metropolitan Operas, which runs on the 7th & 9th at 7:30 PM, and the 11th at 2 PM. It's a tico tico experience.

second morning

There's a thing I do that I think must be very specific to freelancers and people in the arts. It's called the Second Morning.

So you get up for the first time. You're running just barely on time to make a morning appointment for your Bread Job, an audition, a rehearsal, a something. The Something takes an hour or two, you finally eat something. You head home. Then, when you put your key in the door, the Second Morning begins. It's still very much daylight, and it's although it's 2 or 3 or 4 PM, the house is still in a state of 10 AM. You make coffee. Maybe you even get back in your pajamas. Take that shower you didn't have time to take when you breezed out for the First Morning. You check your email.

I love Second Mornings. I'm already on the go, so I'm more inspired to do all the personal work I have to do - theatre paperwork, character research and the like - but there's not that nasty time factor when there's a pressing outside world appointment impending. The outside world has been handled. Now all I have is a show to attend tonight, when the sun is down. The day is mine, and I can face the rest of it in sweatpants.

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The Playhouse time is fairly complete. I got a strange cameo role in the Final Plays - I'm the Madonna in a Pintauro short called "Fiat." I am slightly disappointed, but I think it might turn out to be a surprise. And I can't look a gift horse in the mouth here. I'm involved in three other productions that require my immediate attention, and I've totally neglected them in favor of being a Nei-Play slave. Now I've been given the time to work on these things. And get a real job. So, to add to the list I made months ago, 2007 shows now include:

#6: "Footloose" at Talent Unlimited High School
I will be: the costume designer

#7: Undetermined Real Theater Company Straight Play, starring Sessoms
I will be: the director/producer

and work for "Greece is the Word," (formerly known as "Untitled Greek Mythology Play") at Hunter Elementary, and the RTC production of "Hair" are in full swing.

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Mom & I are each other's primary collaborators. I usually have a second and a third floating around, and it seems the primaries in 2007 are definitely Sessoms and Swank. I got very lucky, because...they both kick major ass, for very different reasons. The things I have in development for 2008 and beyond seem so much more possible because of the two of them.

Last night, after our final Gary Ramsey presentation (oh thank heaven!), Swank, Sweetheart, Daisy & I met up with Sessoms at Blackstone's...in daylight, which was truly bizarre. The bar was full of suits, so we ate our food, drank our beer and headed up to my place. Boss & Metro are in Disneyworld, so it was a weird Maggie Moon-hosted party, and Swank became my co-host (I bought eggs to dye and halfway through our shared bottle of Hypnotiq, had a very difficult time figuring out how to hard-boil them, so he assisted). With Sessoms came the ever-mysterious Professor and another first year, Goldlist. Somewhere along the line, far into the alcohol, past the egg-dye, the SceneIt! and the altercation with my {gap-toothed lazy bitchass} next door neighbor, Sessoms & Professor are in the bathroom having one of their talks, Daisy & Sweetheart are thumbing through my Hippie book together, and Swank and I are dancing about. Goldlist exclaims, in frustration:

"This is just great. Here I am with the adorable redheads, the glam-rock biters, and the crazy drama couple. Great."

Later, when it was nothing but the biters hanging out, I spilled my life dream for Swank's perusal. He got a grin on his face that made me feel like a magician.


Today, I got a job at the Central Park Boathouse. Looks like Daisy, my old directorial pal Nikki, and me shall be hash slinging hostesses this summer. Unless something more lucrative comes along.

I'm imagining myself living in abundance...

i got the noise to make you scream and shout

I'm so excited. We had our second Hair rehearsal. Everyone is "Walking in Space." I can see this show taking shape already, like some weird dream I've already had and am now piecing together - plucking stars from the corners of my life, and putting them all in a pot together. They look so beautiful. They sound so beautiful. I'm expecting ecstatic madness.

Despite a touch of the Nei-Plague, and some weird schedule changes (Pinter was absent, which is very odd...perhaps the Nei-Plague really got him?), today was something of a significant step in the right direction. After leaving Sess's apartment (we had "Godot" rehearsal, which makes me SO ecstatically happy. She and I should really do the whole show, with Sweetheart & Swank as Lucky & Pozzo), I called up Man and gushed, as he and I are apt to do to one another:

"Dude, I am SO COOL!"

"Dude, you ARE so cool. And I am so cool!"

"I know!"

And we confirm one another's coolness, and we feel good. And then he has to go stand on an amp and be tech director again, and I have to get to my apartment and make some dinner and do my paperwork. It's a random, but life-affirming process.

But I'm not done gushing. So I call Swank, and as soon as he picks up the phone, I know he's got the same thing going on in his stomach as I do. He's listening to "Walking in Space," and reading Michael Butler's website.

"Can you feel this? It's happening."

"I know. It's really going to happen."



It's really going to happen.

Oh my God.

kissy kissy

"This is what I'm not thinking about over break," I say to Daisy, Sessoms, and first-year Spot. We're eating pizza at 1:37 AM, and I am about to make my journey homeward, after they return to Gooding's house party.
I hold up one finger. "Fairy princesses!"
Second finger. "The land down under!"
Third. "New Jersey."

The last week before break has been fascinating both years at Nei-Play. The first year, I concluded my scene with D with a crying fit and a broken window. The next day, I sat cuddled up with D & Beaux (who, at the time, was the unattainable object of my affections) in a flight suit. This year, as an homage to myself, I wore it on the same day. Only, last year, I can't remember that I did anything after the morning classes other than drink some of Mrs. Sugarman's punch, say goodbye, and go home to my apartment.

This year, I honored my budding alcoholic tendencies by hitting up the liquor store on the corner of 54th with a good portion of the Second Year class. Jersey, our class champagne-freak, ventured into the cooler and emerged with a sleek black bottle. My eyes widened. The night before had featured champagne as well, and it seemed like as good idea as any. Swank, already drunk off of two bottles of wine he & Jon ganked from the school's alumni party (and consumed during the afternoon video presentation in the theater), saw me hovering by the cooler and he and I dove in for the remaining two bottles. Then Jon, crowing to the crowd, led the way to his apartment.

Jon is one of my few male friends that I can honestly say I have never had any sexual tension with. We've never made out. We've never gone on any awkward psuedo-dates, or exchanged weird looks. Occasionally we joke around that we should just get married and call it a day. But the woman who marries Jon is gonna have her work cut out for her. He's a five foot powerhouse, uber-talented, for sure...but in that short, muscley frame (and underneath his newly shaved mohawk) there lies a bottomless well of pure Southern-bred male chauvinism, disrespect for all emotions that don't coincide with his own, and the staying-power of a sandcastle. I've heard him speak of a girl like he was reading me the gospel, and two days later, he won't even remember her name. This is all exceptionally bad news for Stormy, who is head over heels for every inch of our Mississippi boy, and every other weekend, is in his good graces. Then there are days like yesterday...

At Jon's {expensive as hell, but completely trashed} apartment, we get to drinking quick. By 2:00, everyone present is smashed. A second wave of visitors arrive to find me with my flightsuit around my waist, standing on Jon's coffee table, screeching for the Van Halen to be turned down so I can make a speech. I raise my champagne bottle and toast the class of 2007. Everyone cheers. Swank, Jersey, and Jon all make their own speeches. Sessoms and Boss are gawking.

"What in the world have we walked into?," Boss asks me, smiling. Out steps Kiwi, from behind her, with no other first-years in sight.

Oh no.

For the next five or six hours, at least once an hour, I will be informed "Man, that boy adores you." "Gosh, Kiwi really likes you." "Oh, it's amazing how much that Kiwi is into you."

I guess I'm coming to realize that.

But I'm not unhappy to see him, and I'm celebrating, so I slap him five, hand him a beer, and return to the fray. The fray starts peeling clothing off. Suddenly, there's a half-clothed orgy occuring on Jon's bed, and Swank, Jon & Sweetheart are running around imitating monkeys. Sessoms turns to me at a crucial moment, and says she needs to go home and shower. I take the opportunity to not get into further trouble - I've lost my champagne bottle at this point anyhow - and head out into the early evening, drunk as fuck.


I am coming to understand why so many people in our profession have terrible drug and alcohol habits. It seems like every single day, there's a gathering, and the liquor is a-flowin, and in certain rooms, so's the ganja & coke. Now of course, it is perfectly possible and acceptable to attend and not partake. However, you will then get to be witness to everyone else's blitzed-out behaviour, which, on certain nights, is amusing, but on others, not so much. The other option is to stay home. Which, on this final week, just didn't seem like an option at all.

Later, I will hear from Stormy that she is not in Jon's affections at the moment, and it's driving her insane. Later I will hear that Swank bit Sessoms on the back. Later, I will curse at myself for being so wobbly-headed, I left my scarf on the bus. I will comfort myself with a burrito.

The title of this post does not pertain to any feature of my own evening. Come second round of party, at Gooding's, I sat quietly and DJ'd, my eyes at slightly-hungover half-mast. It refers to the actions of my girlfriends. Sessoms and Spot. Daisy and Hugh. Martha and Jive. They are all beautiful, and deserving of their get it get it huggy kissy lovey lovey. I also just wanted to post that picture from long ago, because I think it's cute.

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Now I'm up in the serene hills of my hometown, rather freezing. I have two sweaters on. It's actually winter here, unlike the Pretend December happening in NYC. I blew way too much money on Scissor Sisters tickets - a stupid thing to do during the holiday season, but how could I help it! - and I have mass Christmas shopping to do. I keep querying the old Tarot Cards: what's to come of this career I'm trying to found? Looking back on recent posts, I seem only to document my party life, though most of my waking hours are spent working my tail off to make some theatrical headway.

Which means, some class headway? Some what? The work I've been doing at the Playhouse is solid, and I'm reasonably proud of it. But all semester, I've still been lacking in that "KA-POW" moment of fantastic, which certain people have been blessed with. Jersey turned to me at Jon's, after she'd been through her bottle, and said:

"Maggie, I just wanted to say, no bullshit, I think you're brilliant in this way that you just don't give a fuck. You get up and you take a risk, and whether or not it works, you just do it, and it's fantastic. I mean really."

High compliment yes. But strange nonetheless. Can I build a career based on risk-taking, with moderate success? No one can be a genius every day, but I'm not asking for that. I'm asking for a real day in the zone.

Then again, I think about the flow of life at Nei-Play and remember that those who hit their high notes in first semester collapse in the second. And since I've been doing steady and solid, maybe I'll peak just perfectly - and pull out all the stops in our shows for the public.

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Me and my ego aside, my class is brilliant. We've had a rather bad run-in with our more connected (industry wise) teacher, which makes me very sad because...goddamn. Everyone is so talented. So hard working. SO fun to watch. And when we shut up and act, holy hell. It's a force to be reckoned with. As Sessoms said, as she took in the crowd at Jon's, swigging back their drinks and singing the praises of one another:

"God. It's actually scary. Everyone in this room is going to be a star."

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This break is gonna be worth it. I have a feeling we're in for a tilt-o-whirl season, come January 3rd.