Scattered Flurries

I think the rule should be if you’re wearing shorts, you shouldn’t hear Christmas music. I realize that would deny much of the world their most festive and important religious holiday, but bah, humbug!

So in terms of my TV watching, I finished the first season of NYPD Blue. Pretty strong right out of the gate, and you gotta love Sipowicz! (Short sleeves and a tie…classic!) It sort of just ended, no comprehensive season arc, which I suppose fits in with their mandate but feels odd for DVD watching.

I’m currently making my way through Buffy, Season 6. The consensus is that it’s the worst season of the show, which I can’t really argue with, and in fact, the reason I’m watching it now is I held off on buying it until I knew I was going to be on the ship and reasoned I would have hours to fill. That said, there was one episode where, even though I knew how it ended, I was hoping that somehow, it would end differently this time. Which is cool. And there’s an episode with an alternate reality (I’m trying to avoid spoilers here, but anyone who wants to know can ask) that is really compelling and bold. So goodness there.

In reading news, I’m nearing the end of Please Kill Me. A pretty good read, though I could stand to know more about the music, and of course, I’ve never quite been able to come to grips with the punk movement’s casual use of swastikas, so that’s caused the occasional empathy interruption. But I guess maybe that’s the point.

This week’s excitement on the ship was a GI scare. (Gastrointestinal, not a soldier.) So for most of the week, we couldn’t touch the tongs at the buffet and had to be served. It was a smidge frustrating, both in terms of class consciousness (this is how kings would eat!) and smaller heaps of food (how can I ask for a third scoop of ravioli without looking like a glutton?) But hey, any change in routine is cause for celebration. Plus, it was during this time that I stumbled upon the papadam station, which may be the death of me, but since that’s the way I want to go, no complaints here.

This cruise was my most rock star so far. Lots of people coming up to me in the hallways, taking pictures, etc. Very bizarre. I had a very fun moment in an elevator packed with seniors. I walk in, and one of them goes “Oh my, it’s Dan from Second City.” (Sidenote: that’s what’s really odd to me. I expected to be occasionally recognized, but I’m constantly surprised by how many people remember my name.) So there’s a small buzz, and then one of them says “Do you know where we’re going now?” I make the logical guess and say “Our show?” She replies “No, chocolate buffet. But then we’ll stop by.” Alright, so we’re a very particular kind of rock star. I’m thinking Lawrence Welk.

The shows went fine. I played this game Love Letters for the first time, which went pretty well. I haven’t seen in it in Toronto or Vancouver, as far as I can remember. I’ll have to introduce it, it’s pretty fun, and it’s a rare treat to find a new game at this point.

I realize as I write this that I haven’t been talking much about off-ship activities, but mostly, they’ve been of the not-too-fun-to-describe-though-reasonably-fun-to-live variety of mostly hanging out at the beach and swimming. But excursions are on the horizon, so those should be compelling. Read on, you readers!

Alright, so this is my favorite moment of the week that was: I’m having drinks with a dancer from France (a Francer, if you will…it’s a relevant detail), and we’re talking about the pros and cons of possibly extending our contracts. So that’s the topic, we’re going back and forth, there’s a pause in the conversation, and suddenly, she says “I miss cocaine.” I nod, with an awestruck expression on my face, and say “Alright.” Five seconds pass, and I realize what she actually said was “I miss cooking.”

Gold.

A bientot, tout le monde!

Dave Pearce and I, making magic

Here it is.  Let’s see if the wireless at sea can handle it.  Because the world must know that this show happened!  (And thanks to Marcel for the great pic!)

I do miss the Harold, I do.

Keep it warm, guys and gals.  Keep it warm.

(by which I mean like the way you’d keep a meal warm, as in I’m coming back, so keep the show warm for me.  That wasn’t a dig about the weather here versus the weather there.  Though I can see how you’d go there.)

Okay, apologies all. Not that I imagine you all sitting at your desks with bated breath, but still, I intend to write more frequently than I have been. (But hey, who noticed the pictures of me which now appear on the blog? Pretty sexy, no?) Anyhoo, the reason there’s been so much time between posts is I was doing some real writing.

I was mad-dash slapping together a play to submit to the Toronto Fringe’s New Play Contest. I imagine it’s quite the long shot, and I’m kicking myself for a typo I noticed sadly an hour or so too late, but I feel good for having done it, and fingers crossed. The cast here was kind enough to indulge me in a reading, and while it’s not where it has to be (definitely to mount, probably for the contest), it seems to have some potential. I’ll keep you posted.

Things of note that have happened since last I posted:

• Our producer, Nate DuFort, left us: It was sad. But, good producer that he is, he left us confident in where we were and what we were doing, so Godspeed to him, hope terra firma is treating him well.
• I experienced the very surreal goodbye song that the crew sings to the crowd at the end of the last Stardust theatre show: Just because a group of people happens to be from many different nations doesn’t mean singing “We are The World” won’t be horribly ironic. (That’s just one verse, mind you. There are more. I fully intend to commit them to memory, and share them with you in print, and upon my return, in constant spontaneous outbursts.)
• I saw Cirque Bijou: That’s the Cirque-de-Soleilesque show onboard. The spoken word parts are deliciously campy. (We think there’s an improv game in the pattern we’ve discovered. It’s essentially a mad-lib that follows the pattern: mythical creature, precious stone, phrase that ends rhyming with “oo” / action sentence, “at Cirque Bijou.”, e.g. “The dwarf with the ruby, his words ring true. / He pays the fee at Cirque Bijou.”) And the impressive parts are, well, impressive. It will bear repeat watching. (Especially as I make friends with some of the JARs, the dance company. It’s gotten to the point where a few of them even come over to engage me! For someone who hasn’t made friends in a decade with anyone who I haven’t performed with or who isn’t dating a friend, this is an exciting development!)
• I’ve done a bunch of shows: They’re going fine, thanks for asking. No train wrecks, and our last show was our best show, so that’s something. (I hate trying to describe improv, because it’s never the same, but Ashley and I did a Sounds Like A Song, where I was the carpenter and she was the carpenter’s long-suffering girlfriend. She sang a song about her biological clock, and then I sang a song about how I only wanted to have a child made of wood. Both songs had innuendo. It worked.) And the crowds certainly seem to be enjoying themselves, and we’re discovering things, so good on us.
• I’ve been to Miami twice: The first time, I discovered the Miami Library, which was having a big book sale. I bought eight books for two dollars. I can’t help myself. (I also checked to see if they had Brave New Play Rites to lend, which is another thing I can’t help but do. For the record, they didn’t, but the New York Public Library does have it, so there.) Then I called home. I’ll spare you the details, but suffice it to say, the politics junkie in me was very bitter at missing all the excitement. That Stephen Harper still has a job and Sam Mitchell doesn’t makes me sad.
• I finished American Gods. Fairly impressive tying together of loose threads at the end, but still, not recommended. That said, I think at some point, I’ll want to check out some more Neil Gaiman. I have started reading Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk, by Legs McNeil and Gillian McCain. (One of my eight new books.) The idea is to switch back and forth between fiction and nonfiction for awhile. Plus, given the demands of my current vocation, I’m feeling that my non-corporate side will need some private nurturing. So far, I’m liking it, though I can see myself around page 200 yelling “Alright, we get it already! You used to get stoned and act all crazy! Can’t you talk about anything else?!?”
• I moved: I’m in a big crew solo room now. It’s nice, but moving’s a pain, and I imagine it’ll be that much more of a pain moving back to the small room. Ah well, nature of the beast. On the plus side, I don’t have to wear pants nearly as often!
• I snorkeled in Tortola: It was pretty awesome. Between my not having contact lenses as a child and never really having had much opportunity to be in natural water that isn’t toxic, I’ve never really gotten the whole snorkeling thing. But I will definitely be doing it again. Oh, yes. The fish haven’t seen the last of me, and I certainly haven’t seen the last of them.
• I wrote this blog entry: Oooh! Meta!

Oh, and I think I might be on a new Bad Dog Harold poster, so that’s a warm fuzzy.

Cheers, don’t be strangers!

My title refers to something I forgot to mention this in my last post. It’s possible I repressed it, though my conscious mind seems to find it funny. Not much of a story, really. I sat down for my ID picture, waited a few seconds, the personnel lady asked me if my eyes were green or blue, I said they straddle the line but I usually go green. She nodded, and then handed me a card that said, yes, Eyes: Green, Hair: Bald. I mildly protested, but knowing that bald-and-in-denial is worse than regular bald, I acquiesced. But if this bad boy demagnetizes, I’m having it changed. Hell, there’s a guy on board who shaves his head, and his card had a hair colour!

I still maintain I’m balding, not bald. But daily rides in mirrored elevators do have me glowering with some frequency at my scalp’s flesh island, and the fact that I’m sunburnt at the top of my forehead where I went light on the sunscreen because of ostensible hair coverage also has me reevaluating.

So, not much more to report on excursions. I’m definitely pacing myself. My logic is why burn all the cool places to see in the first few weeks when I’m here for a few months? Plus, I’m racing to meet a deadline to enter a play into the Fringe New Play Contest. (Whether I make it or not is still up in the air, but I figure worst-case scenario, the attempt will make me productive. And there’s a month after that deadline to decide if I just want to submit on my own, so it’s energy well spent.)

There has been fun, though, lest you were concerned. Mostly of the improvisers hanging out with each other and nerding out variety. For instance, there was the invention and first round ever of “Toast Your Vacation,” most of the credit of which goes to director Matt Craig (though variations will developed with the cast.) In essence, it involves bouncing a crumpled-up napkin off the ceiling and trying to get it to land in a triangular upright menu on the bar table. It’s exactly twice as fun as it sounds.

There was also the night in the karaoke room, where we did a series of duets with entirely invented and usually wildly inappropriate lyrics. For the most part, the lyrics didn’t even match up in terms of timing with the originals, the exception being the chorus of “Constant Craving,” which of course became “Constant Raping.” Again, twice as funny as it sounds. My personal highlight of the game was probably a duet with Matt Craig where I was a baby abandoned in a dumpster (which he quickly changed into a baby born into a dumpster, with the lid slamming shut cutting the umbilical cord), he was the father, and the bulk of the song was the ways in which I was violated by products in the dumpster, mostly breakfast cereals.

In terms of less than perfect experiences, we went to Teppanyaki (the ship equivalent of Benihana). I don’t know if it’s a class consciousness thing, but I’m always extremely uncomfortable in situations where servers or chefs are forced to perform for me. The way I see it, they’re already performing a service for me, they shouldn’t have to pretend to be thrilled about it. (Feel free to observe me next time we’re in a restaurant and waiters have to sing “Happy Birthday.” Welcome to Cringe City, population: me!) Plus, noisy! (I realize there may be some projecting or cognitive dissonance at play here, but that’s a rant for a later night.)

One thing about the Teppanyaki experience that does bear sharing: at one point, sensing that we were a young, hip and ribald crowd, the chef created a fried egg manpart (complete with egg-shell testes) and a fried rice lady’s hoohah, and once that had been established, pushed the manpart into the hoohah, viciously chopping the egg as it entered. Misogynistic, perhaps. Horrifying, hells yeah!

Oh, and I did some laundry and discovered the crew ping-pong table. Small things, but they helped with the transition from “I’m in a hotel” to “I live in a hotel.”

Today was a big day in two ways. This morning, our director, Matt Craig, left us. He will definitely be missed. It’s interesting to see how even in the few hours he’s been gone how the group dynamic has changed. This is because he is one of the most naturally entertaining people I’ve ever met, and so many of our group encounters consisted of us just sitting back and listening to him tell stories, riff, etc. Nature abhors a vacuum, though, so I’m sure we’ll recover. But he’ll be missed.

We also had our first improv shows tonight. I’m aware that I should be writing more about that (and possibly less about egg-penises), but it’s late and I’m tired, and this is the part I’m writing in real time, and I’m not entirely sober. But they were fun, and as with the sketch show, you could feel the learning curve happening, and by the end of the second show, we seemed to really be discovering each other as an ensemble. So good times ahead, I’m sure, and hey, it’s not like I’m going to be running out of opportunities to talk about shows.

And for those who want to track my personal entertainment, I have finished Part One of American Gods, and am four episodes into the first season of NYPD Blue (you can really taste the Milch!)

Go to bed, you nutcases!

Oh wait, you probably are.

I’m going to bed.

Alright, everything that’s happened since last I wrote seems like a lot. The flight was uneventful, except for the fact I had to bail on a Sudoku; I choose to believe it was due to lack of sleep, but it still haunts me. And there was a guy at the Chicago airport food court who kept calling me “Boss Man”, which has stuck with me in a weird way.

Then on the boat. Which is huge. And confusing. But I’m figuring it out, slowly but surely. Complicating matters is my inability to keep time. My brand new and purchased specifically for the trip wristwatch has stopped working entirely, and my alarm clock for some reason is running ridiculously fast. Consequently, I’ve had my cellphone on the entire time. My only hope is that you don’t get charged for the roaming, but only for the using. Otherwise, I should more or less break even for this whole cruise.

Most of the first few days on board were somewhat harrowing, as we scrambled to get show-ready. Not too harrowing, mind you: I had faith in my producer, my director, my cast, and myself, but I still had some nerves, I’ll admit.

And, as usually turns out to be the case, the shows went fine. (Turns out the two shows a week tend to be an early and a late show, so it’s one night a week. Show biz!) The laughs were solid, I managed not to fall over during the office-chair ballet, and the other performers on board who saw it all had nice things to say, so a sigh of relief is heaved. (Also, a sad little quirk I’ve picked up over the years is that I tend to be more at ease with other performers once I’ve actually performed with them, so that’s nice.) I was also relieved that our Sounds Like A Songs (or Sing It, as Yankees apparently call it) went over well; I seem to be the weakest singer among those who are in it, but I choose to believe it’s endearing, and hey, it is, so there!

And then the next day, the cast hung out on the British Virgin Islands. The name is misleading, or possibly I just don’t know what a British virgin would look like…I’d assume a younger Mary Poppins…nevertheless, fun was had.

We did our hanging out at Nanny Cay beach. I personally spent the bulk of the time floating in the lovely water, and getting a mild sunburn through my suntan lotion. Not that I’m expecting sympathy, just putting it out there. It also made me a little homesick, as playing in the water has historically been a camping or cottage thing for me, and thus early childhood and more recent memories of fun with family came to me. Not crippling, but worth noting.  (Read it as “sweet.”  In fact, say “Awww!” and call your grandmother, or closest living equivalent…)

Along those lines, yesterday being December 1^st, I was able to X a day off a Dunkin’ Donuts calendar I got in Chicago with the purchase of an English muffin with scrambled egg. Not that I’m actually counting the days, but it seems like the thing (or at least a thing) to do. If nothing else, the experience of Xing out a day made me empathize with Conrad Black, and I never would have imagined that happening!

Coming up next: Our first improv shows and the departure of our director, Matt Craig. Comedy and tragedy, folks, comedy and tragedy. (Our producer, Nate DuFort, will also be leaving us, and that’s also tragic. Well, as opposed to comic. It’s only in parentheses because he leaves later, so I should be able to get in another post before that happens.)

p.s. If there are things you want me to cover that I’m not, ask! This blog is called “Scattered Flurries” for a reason, people!

p.p.s. Miss me yet?

p.p.p.s ‘Cause I miss you.

I will stop using the bullets at some point, I’m sure, but for now, they’re getting the job done.

Things I did:

• I had a visit with Chris Dingwall.  Sadly, just the one, on my first night in town, as he was skipping town for New York the next day.  But he was in fine fettle, and I was very glad to see him.  I now regret not taking a lock of hair.
• I saw the first of a chain of banks called Fifth Third Bank.  The name makes me giggle.
• I walked around Wrigley Field.  Literally, all sides.  Something that’s awesome is that it’s so residential, most of the apartment buildings across the street have set up bleachers on their roofs from which you can see the field.   Plus there’s one part where you can see onto the field from the street.  It feels like history, if only because I can’t imagine anyone ever building a stadium that would allow those things again.  Maybe I just haven’t seen enough cities…
• I started reading American Gods by Neil Gaiman.  So far, not the type of book I normally read, but I’m enjoying.
• Ashley and I have “discovered” our mutual love for the “Bumdiyada” Discovery ad.  At the least, we will make our cast mates love it.  But if we get ambitious, it will be everywhere.
• I saw Lauren perform in the Second City show.  Their gain is our loss.   I won’t spoil any moments for those who might be seeing the show, but Pat O’Brien (or, as some call him, POB…that’s right, Toronto, other cities have performers with acronyms too!) had some definite wish-I-wrote-it moments for me.
• Deep dish pizza turns out to be a bit of a disappointment.  I still love fat, though.  And the waitress was cute, and it was one of those restaurants where you write on the walls, so Nate and I got our names on a “painting” of John Belushi.  So a little bit of Chicago has been marked.
• I went up the Hancock.  I’d done it before, but still, quite a view!
• I saw “Messing with a Friend” at the Annoyance.  Fun little theatre.  I’m still not entirely sold on the Annoyance philosophy (though I think it’s a great tool to keep in the back pocket, and still think Mick Napier’s book is the best I’ve read on improv).  But it was great to see a show adhering to that philosophy performed by masters, and good times were had.
• I walked down Clark from Waveland to Oak, then walked down Oak to Michigan.   That’s where the Drake Hotel is.  I used their pay phone to call the family, then I sat in an inner lobby for awhile, doing a combination of people-watching and drifting off to sleep.  The people-watching was fascinating, a lot of families doing fancy Thanksgivings, some boors, but mostly cuteness.  I then walked down Michigan as far as Roosevelt.  Very scenic.  According to Google Maps, I went about 7.2 miles.  I enjoy Chicago.
• Americans seem to take their Thanksgiving quite seriously.  Damn near everything was closed.  In what would be ironic to someone with the racial awareness of Christopher Columbus, the only thing that was consistently open were Indian restaurants.  Thinking it might be awhile, I had some chicken tikka masala and nan bread for dinner.  Atraditional, yes, but tasty.

Well, that’s it for Chicago.  First thing in the a.m., we’re off to Miami and hopping onboard.   But before I go, I thought I’d introduce you to the cast.  Should come in handy for future posts.

Study it well: http://secondcity.com/?id=touring/ncl/jewel/cast

For setting up the blog in the first place!  (So if you don’t like it, blame them.)

• For someone who moves apartments and cities as often as I do, I’m an awful packer.
• In the scene I was given for my Second City callback, I played the Stephen Colbert part. And in at least one scene for the boat, I’m playing the Steve Carell part. I can only conclude that when I die and go to heaven, they’ll be my gay dads. To supplement my real parents, of course. It’s heaven.
• My fellow cast mates are as sweet as punch spiked with funny juice. Based on the first twenty-four hours. (And one is already on the boat yet, so I haven’t met him. But I hear good things.) An interesting thing: on our show poster, the Canadians are smiling, teeth a-blazing, the Americans not. A trend?
• Ketchup chips: chicks dig ’em.
• The first show I’ve reserved a ticket for: Messing with a Friend. It’s at Annoyance, the Chicago mecca that I haven’t yet been to, and it’s Susan Messing playing with Mick Napier and The Barinholtz Boys. I’ll be seeing other shows (including the Second City, of course), but that was the first where I said “Gotta have it!” And for $5, too!
• I’ve got a hankering for a deep-dish pizza. And we’re staying ridiculously close to Wrigley Field. Chicago!
• Toronto will be missed. By me, that is. I’m not prophesying any big disaster. But all Torontonians should be emailing me constantly, so that if disaster does strike, I’ll figure it out from the sudden lack of emails. (What the hey, better assure me of Vancouver’s survival too!)

And lastly, but far from leastly, and in fact, so far from leastly that I’m giving it its own separate bullet:

• It was brought to my attention by fellow cast mate Nathan Clark (not the Vancouver one…a Texas/L.A. one) that there’s a special event happening on our boat in February. It’s called Ships and Dip. It’s a bunch of Canadian icons coming to perform on the Jewel, including The Barenaked Ladies…Sloan…and…wait for it…Kevin McDonald and Dave Foley! In my dreams, they improvise with us. And then become my second pair of post-death heaven-based gay dads. Check it out: http://www.shipsanddip.com/http://www.antimusic.com/news/08/nov/03Barenaked_Ships_-_Dip_DVD.shtml

I realize the “Hello world!” post is intended to be deleted, but I’m appropriating it. I shall overcome!

This is my first foray into the world of blog. It’s a little odd for me, because I’m not one to normally divulge information about myself unprompted. Which may be why, for some of you, this will be the first you’ve heard of me working on the Norwegian Jewel, a cruise ship traveling through the Carribean, performing sketch and improv for the Second City. So if you hadn’t heard that yet, well, you should have asked me at some point if I was doing that. I would have said “Yes.”  (And as I write this, I am in Chicago for a few days of rehearsal.  In case you weren’t going to ask.)

It’s also odd because this will undoubtedly be a chronicle of disappointment. I don’t say that out of pessimism. It’s just that in my head, I will be returning to Toronto in April a wall of solid gym-sculpted muscle, a guitar virtuoso of such skill you’ll swear I took an excursion to “the crossroads”, a basketball player of such prowess that those who witnessed me attempting to play football (or “the football”, as I tend to call it) will hold the belief that I’m actually athletic in proper contexts, a guy who has read The Source (okay, not that impressive, but it’s long), and the author of a new play, a reworked pilot, a reworked show bible, a new original TV script, a new spec script, and, if I have time, the great Canadian novel and screenplay (and maybe a few more show bibles). Oh, and having fun. Watch me fail, everybody!

And it’ll be odd, because in my attempts to be interesting, I will say odd things. I had a whole rant about the unpleasant innuendo which can be found in the phrase “We (or I) shall overcome.” I took it out, but it’s early yet. As cabin fever sets in, and I become more desperate for your attention and comments, I will no doubt become more provocative. Just like Stalin.

Good night world! (with special attention to the princes of Maine, the kings of New England.)