"...My dad, who deserves much better than what I give him onstage, is sending a care package...."
I'm Sick!, Dec 5, 2000
Absolutely everything hurts. My legs ache, my head throbs and my fingers are numb. I got a flu the week before Thanksgiving, took it California, brought it back to New York, where it rested for a few days in the form of sniffles and then made a bull market comeback today.
When I landed last Monday, my cellphone peeped. I had a message. "Guess what," said my agent, "Karen from Aspen wants to see you for a final-final callback on either the 7th or the 8th." Great news! Oh, shit, I'm supposed to be in Albuquerque on the 7th and the 8th. I called the booker and explained.
"If it's Friday the 8th, then I'll have to cancel the weekend, but if it's Thursday the 7th, I'll come in a day late if you can get someone to cover for me."
That was agreed upon and then it came down to Thursday the 7th, so I paid a 384.00 fee to change the departure date of my plane ticket (departure changes are where they really rape you) and now, on Friday, in a few days, I will fly from New York to Atlanta, then Atlanta to Dallas, then Dallas to Albuquerque, pop off the plane and do two fifty minute sets. If I don't still have the flu, I will most certainly be menstruating. Also, I did the math and I'm losing fifty dollars to keep this gig.
Gee I hope I get Aspen.
I had my usual pre-showcase week of misery, trying to shoehorn my new chunk of dad jokes into something useful. I have a few more spots to work it out before Thursday at 10:30 pm. My dad, who deserves much better than what I give him onstage, is sending a care package. Tonight, according to his email, he has overnighted a few vials euthanasia (which I am hoping will be echinacea), herb tea and two apples. Fed-Exing two apples is the kind of act that makes my dad the best dad in the whole world and also the worst money manager. Rockefeller and Carnegie never Pony Expressed apples to sick daughters, especially ones who lived a two minute walk from three apple carts.
The second apple is for Gennady, who is also sick.
"Stay out of the kitchen Hon," he shouted from the sink, his stomach gas getting the best of him.
That's hard to do in a studio.
I took a seminar at the Learning Annex on Thursday night. Joe Pantaglione, the actor who played Cypher on the Matrix and a lead role in a series whose cancellation my mother still lamets, EZ Streets. The topic was "How to Maintain a Successful Acting Career."
Maintain is the key word, because I can't coast off the laurels of my non-union $500.00 commercial forever. How, dear reader, shall I keep this gravy train rolling?
Joe didn't have to many concrete ideas. He was funny and he told great stories, but he said up front that he didn't know how to do it today, what with the internet and all. But I was glad I went. Even successful actors are always haranguing their agents and worrying about how they'll make their nut that year. It never ends.
Gennady also took a Learning Annex class, Vocal Awareness. Gennady, who has always made his voice available to anyone within a three mile radius, is on a self improvement kick. If it's not nights on the iBook with Mavis Beacon, his typing whore, it's Tuesday morning with Doris, his writing teacher or mornings in the shower, practicing his vocal exercises.
"La, la, la. How do I sound? Softer, Puzzycat?"
"Much."
"La, la, la."
