Goat times; ain't we lucky we got 'em? (AYLI 4)
So tonight we were to cover my few scenes with Audrey. I arrived really early, as I'd forgotten my watch. When Linda showed up, she had me try on some "Albanian" pants (left over from an opera she'd done). They were poochy around the hips and tapered on the legs, and both sets were in ridiculous fabric patterns. I love 'em. If she can't find the Pagliacci hula-hoop pants she'd wanted, I'll be wearing those.
Two small children arrived. They were some sort of dark ethnicity. The mother looked Indian, the father looked Mexican- the kids were a nice brown color. I remembered Linda saying something about Phebe and Audrey having sheep and goats, and I thought "how cute- these kids will be adorable in little goat costumes". No- the kids are the pages who sing with me. Beth, the lovely butch soprano from last night, and Paul, an equally homosexual tenor, will be playing Audrey's goats.
The kids are loud, and have every note crystal clear. I should actually start learning the music at some point, I think. As it was, I'd neglected to bring my uke, because we hadn't actually had an official music rehearsal yet. Linda pointed out that this was to have been it. It didn't actually say so in the rehearsal schedule, but she assumed since these were the scenes with the songs, we'd know that it was time to rehearse and/or know them. We've scheduled a new vocal rehearsal for me and the kids for Thursday.
I ended up leaving the scene to bang it out on the nearby piano, as Audrey and Her Goats (that's a band name) blocked their "simple country dance", which was quite cute, from what I could see. The song's much easier to play on the piano than on the uke, as I suspected.
After their scene, the kids left and we got down to some serious fun. I'm doing all sorts of pratfalls; the goats are mischevious; the sexual tension with me and Audrey is fabulous. I'm glad I mentioned that I was a homo when we drank after the read-thru. It sure made the blocking faster than I think it would have been otherwise. She still let out a screech when I grabbed her ass sooner than she expected, though.
David was there for the Jacques scene, and he's nice to work with.
There was all sorts of subway trauma today, so Charles coudn't make it in to play Martext.
Paul (the goat) is sort of cute, and there was a little bit of "so, what are you?" tension (particularly in the scene in which he head-butts me in the crotch), which still hasn't been resolved. I like to keep 'em guessing.
Afterward, David was hungry (he hadn't eaten since breakfast- he'd just come from one of his Agamemnons), so I offered to go eat with him. We went to the Playwright's restaurant (which I thought was apropos in light of my early-morning news. Apparently there are two "Playwright's restaurant"s within blocks of each other. David prefers the food at the 49th street one, he says. I'm so glad there are two- I thought that I was more geographically inept than I actually am. It's no kind of landmark if there are two of them. I had a Guiness and the french onion soup. Magnifique.
We ate and talked for about an hour about all sorts of playwrights, Topdog/Underdog, David's plans to direct King John, David's concept of doing The Tempest as Gilligan's Island, my plays, how Patrick evolved from the character based on me in Eskimo to the character he's become in Dick and Jayne... and various other things.
A nice guy, he is, David.
Two small children arrived. They were some sort of dark ethnicity. The mother looked Indian, the father looked Mexican- the kids were a nice brown color. I remembered Linda saying something about Phebe and Audrey having sheep and goats, and I thought "how cute- these kids will be adorable in little goat costumes". No- the kids are the pages who sing with me. Beth, the lovely butch soprano from last night, and Paul, an equally homosexual tenor, will be playing Audrey's goats.
The kids are loud, and have every note crystal clear. I should actually start learning the music at some point, I think. As it was, I'd neglected to bring my uke, because we hadn't actually had an official music rehearsal yet. Linda pointed out that this was to have been it. It didn't actually say so in the rehearsal schedule, but she assumed since these were the scenes with the songs, we'd know that it was time to rehearse and/or know them. We've scheduled a new vocal rehearsal for me and the kids for Thursday.
I ended up leaving the scene to bang it out on the nearby piano, as Audrey and Her Goats (that's a band name) blocked their "simple country dance", which was quite cute, from what I could see. The song's much easier to play on the piano than on the uke, as I suspected.
After their scene, the kids left and we got down to some serious fun. I'm doing all sorts of pratfalls; the goats are mischevious; the sexual tension with me and Audrey is fabulous. I'm glad I mentioned that I was a homo when we drank after the read-thru. It sure made the blocking faster than I think it would have been otherwise. She still let out a screech when I grabbed her ass sooner than she expected, though.
David was there for the Jacques scene, and he's nice to work with.
There was all sorts of subway trauma today, so Charles coudn't make it in to play Martext.
Paul (the goat) is sort of cute, and there was a little bit of "so, what are you?" tension (particularly in the scene in which he head-butts me in the crotch), which still hasn't been resolved. I like to keep 'em guessing.
Afterward, David was hungry (he hadn't eaten since breakfast- he'd just come from one of his Agamemnons), so I offered to go eat with him. We went to the Playwright's restaurant (which I thought was apropos in light of my early-morning news. Apparently there are two "Playwright's restaurant"s within blocks of each other. David prefers the food at the 49th street one, he says. I'm so glad there are two- I thought that I was more geographically inept than I actually am. It's no kind of landmark if there are two of them. I had a Guiness and the french onion soup. Magnifique.
We ate and talked for about an hour about all sorts of playwrights, Topdog/Underdog, David's plans to direct King John, David's concept of doing The Tempest as Gilligan's Island, my plays, how Patrick evolved from the character based on me in Eskimo to the character he's become in Dick and Jayne... and various other things.
A nice guy, he is, David.