Archive | February 2010

posting a lot.

been more regular than usual lately, but i write if i think there’s something worth putting down in my blog. this may not be of rosscoe’s fried chicken importance, but it’s still up there.

when doing monologues, and learning material for the first time, you’re often taken aback by some of the words affecting you. emotions of trauma, happiness, anger, etc they hit you hard. now as an actor when this happens it’s pretty cool (cuz it makes you think you can act…) then, when you do things over and over again, sometimes the emotions start to run dry.

now i’ve had this. you get up on stage, or in front of a group, and that monologue that would reduce you to rubble doesn’t tug at anything when you’re doing it for real. fuck. there are a lot of factors to this, some involve your peers watching, nerves, lack of preparation and lack of sleep. for me, i sometimes feel as though if i don’t use the triggers as often, then when i do the material, i’ll still have some fuel left to burn for the performance.

i’m starting to realise i’m doing the opposite of what i should be doing. i should be OVERPREPARING them, and OVERUSING them. so that i know the material so well that the words can affect me naturally. so that i’m not thinking about the monologue on the page, and not worrying about my preparation. i should know the material so back to front that i can get up, and let whatever happen happen.

r.

homework list.

i decided not to go out tonight so as to stay home and get some homework done. here’s a quick list.

styles – definitions of all shakespearian language
acting – off book (scene memorised), six steps paper, play report
voice and speech – off book for new contemporary monologue, transcription of new monologue, scansion of previous shakespearian monologue
alexander technique – alexander paper
physical acting – personal paper for alexandra
theatre history – study for quiz on tuesday

if i can get some good work done tonight, ill reward myself by watching the football final tomorrow between manchester united and aston villa.

r.

27.

it’s great to be here.

someone came up to me and gave me one of the biggest compliments ive ever had. they said i was one of the most authentic people they’ve ever met. coming from this particular individual, it floored me. at first i couldn’t really take it. i’ve been full of shit for a lot of my life.

then i realised something. since ive been here, everyone has met and gotten to know ross the actor. and being genuine and real for me is not something i have to try to do. this place (as far fetched as it sounds) has brought to life the most honest side of me.

im in a place where i wake up and get to be me every day. and love it.

r.

masks.

i did an exercise in movement today which involved moving between four quadrants of a given space (each of which representing a different emotion) ranging from happy, sad, angry and afraid. all this is done with a neutral white mask.

it was an exercise in being abe to use your body to express your emotions, and also accessing your emotions internally and quickly. i struggled to do either. well i struggled to do the latter which made the former of using my body seem inauthentic. faking it, is just bad acting, and a good acting teacher will jump down your throat if you try and bullshit them.

trying to find a resolution.

r.

too many waffles.

chris finally took me to “rosscoes” the other day. now this place is notorious for a number of things. not least of all, black people, chicken and waffles. from day one, chris had been going on about how great the chicken at this place was (i couldn’t help but have dave chappelle in my head for this one), and being the chicken addicted boy i am, got excited.

there are some weird combinations in the world. cross country skiing and alpine shooting a gun, the phone and the camera (let’s be real when nokia first did it in 2002 people wondered wtf?), tuna and peanut butter, and now apparently the norm at rosscoes… fried chicken… with a side of waffles. really?

ok so i sat down and we greedily ordered our food after looking at the menu and deciding everything looked good. i sat rubbing my hands for a total of about four minutes before the food was brought to us in a rush. A+ for service. looking around people were going to TOWN. they were eating this chicken like it was going out of fashion.

so when they brought out the plate two things struck, bothered and upset me.

1. who the hell has fried chicken with a side of waffles?
2. there were two pieces of fried chicken, no bigger than if you were to put your index and middle finger together and cut them off at the knuckle. and the waffles (fucking two of them), were about the size of your hand outstretched, and an inch thick.

cmon fuck you. the chicken was absolutely delicious. but by the time youre done with the waffles you barely have any space for the chicken. and you dont just want to eat the chicken and fill up on waffles. thats ridiculous. mind you my experience was somewhat also dampened by the fact that the ball of white stuff on my waffles were not ice cream as i suspected, but instead butter as chris so quickly informed me as i smeared them around.

now, the price to make waffles is no doubt exponentially less than making fried chicken, so from a business stand point its clever. give people some good taste, then just fill them up with fodder. give someone a great drink and then water it down. but i couldnt help but feel ripped off. im the type of person that doesnt like to waste food, so i made it my business to finish the waffles. but paying $15 for something when all you really want is say $6 of filthy bird from KFC is just beyond me.

note to rosscoes: im fucking on to you.


the chicken was not this big for me.

r.

explain this.

i had a dream last night.

i was at a festival of sorts. and it looked remarkably like i was at barker college oval, and sitting next to me was ollie (hey bud, you got a mention). and he says to me, “ross i’d really like a chocolate bar”, and with that he disappears, and it starts to rain heavily and the festival begins to clear out and people begin to leave. for some reason i decide to stay where i am a little while, and when almost everyone’s gone, i see a chocolate bar on the floor that i could’ve sworn was mine, and pick it up and begin to leave.

now, just as i turn to leave, this tiny turkish woman (i’ve no clue how i came to this conclusion of her being turkish, but for some reason, that’s what my dreaming mind came up with, so let’s just go with that) about three feet tall appears in my way. she’s ugly. i mean, she’s REALLY ugly. she’s got one of those “wicked witch of the east” noses and she’s staring at me. i say to her… “is this your chocolate bar?” and i hold it out to her.

no answer.

i offer it to her, and she continues to stare at me. angrily.

no answer.

so i kinda back away and decide to start walking off. now as i do so, the rain gets a little harder. i turn around, and this woman is following me. she’s walking a little bit faster now (voice courtesy of alexandra billings, those people reading this not in hollywood, forget about it) and so i start to walk faster too. i look back, and sure enough, she’s starting to jog now. she looks angry as hell, and i stop suddenly as she’s freaking me out.

“is it the chocolate bar? is it the fucking chocolate bar??? ANSWER ME!?

no answer. but she’s still looking at me pissed. i offer her the chocolate bar again and she doesn’t respond so i just start sprinting into the building ahead of me. it’s like a school. in fact, those reading this from barker, imagine running up from no.1 oval and into the classrooms near the assembly hall. i run up the stairs as fast as i can, and turn back sure that i’ve outrun a 3-foot mutant turkish woman. nope. no such luck.

not only is this bitch legging it up the stairs, she’s running faster than i am and catching me! what the hell??!?! she dives for my feet growling at me like a rabid dog and just as she’s about to take a chunk out of my leg…

i wake up.

ok freud. explain that one.

i had a dream. so did martin luther king. but i’ll bet he didn’t dream up that shit.

r.

valentines day post.

i found some australian coins in my travel bag this morning. i haven’t seen australian coins in about 6 months. i put them back into the back immediately and tried to forget i found them.

r.