Today’s soundtrack: Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band
Today at 8:02pm: definitely not downloading illegal MP3s




The Feast of San fucking Gennaro finally closed up shop. Holy christ. Every year Little Italy turns into what looks like a co-ed prison riot. I wouldn’t mind if there was an actual cultural component to the festival, but it’s mostly boozed-up Camaro pilots from Tenafly with no volume control on their voices.

Speaking of which, my new favorite website in the world is officially Njguido.com. I don’t know if you have to be from the tri-state area or have been brought up with Guidos to appreciate it, but oh my god is it funny. Not to mention fascinating from an anthropological perspective.


After the “Movie Talkers” rehearsal the other day I raced home for Wendy’s thing. She’s written another short she’s sticking me in and needed to shoot some test footage of me for blocking purposes.

Wendy asked me if I wanted to Get Serious. About acting, that is. She says she thinks I could do it and be good at it. Holding me back is a) the fact that I hate actors, and b) the fact that I’d probably have to take acting classes or something, and nothing could possibly appeal to me less.

The idea of taking acting classes is unattractive on multiple levels: everything from the wasted time to the wasted money to the thought that I might actually get in touch with my feelings (yuck) to the people I’d have to be around. I find actors, as a class of people, to be super-uninteresting, self-involved vanity cases.

Of course I’m speaking in generalities here, but that’s the beauty of journaling; when I’m face-to-face with people I have to filter things through a socially-appropriate censor, and the things that come out the other end are polite but only partially true.

But yeah actors and people who are really into their looks are totally annoying. I have no patience for those who require you pay attention to them, based on their supposed inner fabulousness. I think if you want people to look at you, you should be constantly doing backflips or picking your nose or something.

You meet a lot of “actors” in New York. As it turns out, most of them are obligated to read you the daily specials.


The reason Wendy asked me if I want to get serious is because she’s been using me for her little shorts, but she also works with pro actors and it’s becoming obvious I don’t have the training.

As much as I dislike actors socially, most of the ones in regular circulation are, of course, good at what they do, and that something is something I suck at.

I can’t pretend to feel “wonder” or look at a strange girl across a table with loving warmth at an audition, this has been proven. I also can’t pretend I like people when I just want to push them down a staircase, or maybe an escalator that’s going up (because then it would take them twice as long to roll to the bottom. Fun with physics).


So I have to ask myself--why am I doing this? Partially because these were fun and interesting little side gigs, partially to help Wendy out. But when push comes to shove, or more accurately when push comes to “Let your feelings flow across your face--cut, let’s try that again,” I have to say this isn’t my bag.

I told Wendy I’d think about it, but I have a feeling in the end she’s gonna have to go with pros. I don’t want to study the Meisner Technique and I don’t want you to look at me. I want you to read me the specials and let me eat in peace.