Do I ever owe you guys an apology. Here goes: Sorry!
These past weeks I've been running around like the proverbial headless chicken, only with nicer clothes*, in a misguided attempt to square away midterms WHILE editing Aisle Six WHILE getting all my ducks in a row to spend next semester in France. This last charming bit is a process that involves giving various institutions just a few simple forms summarizing your intent to study abroad, plus a $600 program fee, plus a $400 intent to pay the program fee fee, plus a $200 making snotty remarks about those other fees in your blog fee, plus all your medical records, financial documents, blood, phlegm, chromosomes, etc.
More on this important subject soon. I swear on the Lady with Stoat.
In the meantime, for those of you in the NYC area as are interested, Aisle Six's initial reading has gotten pushed back to Dec. 3. More on that important subject soon, too.
* And even this really depends on how late I woke up.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
The Da Vinci Stoat
I kid you not. Here she is: "Lady with Stoat."
See, I always knew art had to have SOME redeeming value.
See, I always knew art had to have SOME redeeming value.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
A good excuse! I swear!
The new post below, the one on auditioning, is something I wrote almost a month ago. Since then, I've been absent from the blogosphere, for which I apologize. I'd much rather be here than ... liiiike ... learning and stuff. But academia is, for once, not the only reason for my silence.
Some may remember that my first-ever Snark post dealt with my stirring experience as a Valued Employee at a supermarket, the summer before I began this kollidge thing. For whatever reason, the supermarket theme never really took its leave of me, and about a year later I began evolving the book, lyrics, and music for AISLE SIX (your one-stop supermusical).
Fast-forward to now: this fall, AISLE SIX will receive its first readings at the Players' Club in NYC, featuring myself and other actors as yet to be cast. Naturally, this has had to take daily priority along with the usual academic hoo-ha, hence the Snarklessness of late. The first reading takes place in a few weeks, and will function as sort of a test-run, to work out the kinks in front of a small audience. The real-deal reading will take place in December -- more about that once I know more.
So, in the meantime, while I'll do my gol-dangedest to keep posting this fall, I may be guilty of more long lapses. In the meantime, my apologies for the blog famine. And clean-up in Aisle Six!
Nicola
Some may remember that my first-ever Snark post dealt with my stirring experience as a Valued Employee at a supermarket, the summer before I began this kollidge thing. For whatever reason, the supermarket theme never really took its leave of me, and about a year later I began evolving the book, lyrics, and music for AISLE SIX (your one-stop supermusical).
Fast-forward to now: this fall, AISLE SIX will receive its first readings at the Players' Club in NYC, featuring myself and other actors as yet to be cast. Naturally, this has had to take daily priority along with the usual academic hoo-ha, hence the Snarklessness of late. The first reading takes place in a few weeks, and will function as sort of a test-run, to work out the kinks in front of a small audience. The real-deal reading will take place in December -- more about that once I know more.
So, in the meantime, while I'll do my gol-dangedest to keep posting this fall, I may be guilty of more long lapses. In the meantime, my apologies for the blog famine. And clean-up in Aisle Six!
Nicola
Awesome, Dude
Now here's an issue that's sure to raise the hackles of any decent citizen with a working set of hackles and too much time on his hands. I speak - as you have no doubt surmised - of those e-mails I keep getting post-audition.
For those of you outside the "biz," I should explain that a theatre audition used to be a relatively uncomplicated affair. Post-audition was a particularly nice time, when, bathed in the afterglow of the occasion, you and your audition would snuggle up together and smoke cigarettes, maybe get the munchies for some ranch dip. But that was the last you and your audition would ever see of each other, and this --
WARNING WARNING WARNING: WE ARE NOW APPROACHING MY POINT
-- is my point. Gone are the days of the commitment-free, love-you-and-leave-you-style audition. Instead, somewhere along the line, those behind the table* got the idea that -- even if they do not wish to cast you, even if they would undergo self-performed appendectomies via butter knife rather than ever look at you again -- it is their duty, as eminent persons behind tables**, to come after you, a few days later, with the Warm 'n' Fuzzy Rejection E-mail. It goes like this:
Dear [YOUR NAME],
Thank you sooooooo much for coming out to our recent auditions for [SOME SHORT PLAY FESTIVAL NO ONE WILL EVER HEAR OF AGAIN, FEATURING ENDLESS 5-MINUTE POLEMICS EVIDENTLY WRITTEN BY DRUNKEN HAMSTERS, PURPORTEDLY ON FEMINISM, ALTHOUGH ACTUALLY THEY JUST CONSIST OF PEOPLE HOLLERING ANGLO-SAXONISMS FOR DELICATE BODILY PARTS AT EACH OTHER, AND, IF WE ARE AT ALL LUCKY, WHIPPED CREAM (DUH, FOR TO REPRESENT OUTRAGE, STUPID)]. Unfortunately, we cannot use you for this production, but just know it doesn't mean you're not awesome!!!
Best regards,
[ARTISTIC EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR WHO SPELLS HER NAME IN ALL LOWERCASE LETTERS, AS A PROTEST AGAINST THE RAMPANT USE OF IRREGULAR BAR CODES ON INSTANT PUDDING]***
It doesn't mean you're not awesome.
Suffice it to say, it would not bother me in the slightest if I were never to get another such e-mail proclaiming my awesomeness again. In fact, I can say honestly that if a genie offered me the choice between endless riches, immortality, or never getting a you're-awesome e-mail again, I would definitely kick him in the genie crotch and take all three while he wasn't looking. This is a no-brainer.
But my point is, these e-mails have got to stop, okay, persons behind the table? I am NOT awesome, capisce?**** I do not EVER want it suggested that I am REMOTELY awesome. In fact, I routinely spread pestilence throughout pediatric wards, set fire to cute bunnies, and I NEVER UNPLUG THE TOASTER WHEN I AM FINISHED WITH IT. So THERE.
And yet - who am I kidding? This won't stop you. Nothing can stop you, short of a phaser. And I doubt even that would do the trick. No, in all likelihood, the smoky essences of your vaporized persons would simply swirl through the air to the nearest computer and write me a you're-awesome e-mail. Your power is too great, persons behind the table; I give up, you win. But in the meantime, quit sticking your wads of gum under there.
Tell you what: I'll throw this one over to you, my thespian readers. Am I off base? Hacked off at nothing? You can tell me. I might not agree with you, but if I don't, it doesn't mean you're not awesome.
* The people auditioning you are always behind a table. Actually, I suspect this is always the same table, complete with the same wads of gum under it.
** Don't scoff. Many of them hold terminal degrees in sitting behind tables.
*** When will the madness end?
**** Italian, literally, "panini."
©2009 Nicola McEldowney
The Snark Ascending
For those of you outside the "biz," I should explain that a theatre audition used to be a relatively uncomplicated affair. Post-audition was a particularly nice time, when, bathed in the afterglow of the occasion, you and your audition would snuggle up together and smoke cigarettes, maybe get the munchies for some ranch dip. But that was the last you and your audition would ever see of each other, and this --
WARNING WARNING WARNING: WE ARE NOW APPROACHING MY POINT
-- is my point. Gone are the days of the commitment-free, love-you-and-leave-you-style audition. Instead, somewhere along the line, those behind the table* got the idea that -- even if they do not wish to cast you, even if they would undergo self-performed appendectomies via butter knife rather than ever look at you again -- it is their duty, as eminent persons behind tables**, to come after you, a few days later, with the Warm 'n' Fuzzy Rejection E-mail. It goes like this:
Dear [YOUR NAME],
Thank you sooooooo much for coming out to our recent auditions for [SOME SHORT PLAY FESTIVAL NO ONE WILL EVER HEAR OF AGAIN, FEATURING ENDLESS 5-MINUTE POLEMICS EVIDENTLY WRITTEN BY DRUNKEN HAMSTERS, PURPORTEDLY ON FEMINISM, ALTHOUGH ACTUALLY THEY JUST CONSIST OF PEOPLE HOLLERING ANGLO-SAXONISMS FOR DELICATE BODILY PARTS AT EACH OTHER, AND, IF WE ARE AT ALL LUCKY, WHIPPED CREAM (DUH, FOR TO REPRESENT OUTRAGE, STUPID)]. Unfortunately, we cannot use you for this production, but just know it doesn't mean you're not awesome!!!
Best regards,
[ARTISTIC EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR WHO SPELLS HER NAME IN ALL LOWERCASE LETTERS, AS A PROTEST AGAINST THE RAMPANT USE OF IRREGULAR BAR CODES ON INSTANT PUDDING]***
It doesn't mean you're not awesome.
Suffice it to say, it would not bother me in the slightest if I were never to get another such e-mail proclaiming my awesomeness again. In fact, I can say honestly that if a genie offered me the choice between endless riches, immortality, or never getting a you're-awesome e-mail again, I would definitely kick him in the genie crotch and take all three while he wasn't looking. This is a no-brainer.
But my point is, these e-mails have got to stop, okay, persons behind the table? I am NOT awesome, capisce?**** I do not EVER want it suggested that I am REMOTELY awesome. In fact, I routinely spread pestilence throughout pediatric wards, set fire to cute bunnies, and I NEVER UNPLUG THE TOASTER WHEN I AM FINISHED WITH IT. So THERE.
And yet - who am I kidding? This won't stop you. Nothing can stop you, short of a phaser. And I doubt even that would do the trick. No, in all likelihood, the smoky essences of your vaporized persons would simply swirl through the air to the nearest computer and write me a you're-awesome e-mail. Your power is too great, persons behind the table; I give up, you win. But in the meantime, quit sticking your wads of gum under there.
Tell you what: I'll throw this one over to you, my thespian readers. Am I off base? Hacked off at nothing? You can tell me. I might not agree with you, but if I don't, it doesn't mean you're not awesome.
* The people auditioning you are always behind a table. Actually, I suspect this is always the same table, complete with the same wads of gum under it.
** Don't scoff. Many of them hold terminal degrees in sitting behind tables.
*** When will the madness end?
**** Italian, literally, "panini."
©2009 Nicola McEldowney
The Snark Ascending
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