Vintage Blog....

This is from my old Blog on Friendster.  I totally remember this!
Cutting and pasting at it's finest, too.

Upstate Acting Exercise

This past weekend I attended an acting workshop in Chelsea.
I know, you picture a bunch of film hopefuls sitting around a black box theatre weeping through a scene of “Agnes of God.” Methodically digging up personal skeletons of rape, abandonment, and lack of parental love of the past in order to really get in touch with character. Ah, the drama. Let me tell you that it was NOTHING like this. It was actually incredible, but that’s really beside the point. Allow me to introduce you to Danny.

Upon entering the bright acting studio (and I’m nervous mind you, I totally fear the unknown. Do not get this confused with unable to accept the unknown.) it’s painted all white, and is actually covered in windows whose view entails a lovely church, I see something that startles me. In the corner, a tall and lanky slender, older man stands.
In all black and grey
In dress slacks and shoes
In a calf length black leather jacket
Boasting a killer orange self tan.

“Hi I’m Danny, what’s your name?” (shit he’s one of those)
“I’m Tracey” (in an octave higher than my normal spoken tone)
“Do you live here in the city?” (Is this guy my equal in the class or is he an assistant?? I’m confused.)
“yeah, in midtown.” (help)
“Oh I’m from upstate and the city makes me nervous. Good for you, TRACE.” (Its official, I’m done.)

I proceed to hear him chat with everyone in the class as they enter. Its mostly about upstate and how he lives off highway such and such. I don’t know where that is. I can barely distinguish the state of new york on a blank map of the U.S. I jot down in my notebook “OH MY GOD. WHO IS THIS GUY?” I figure I’ve got 2 days with him, so I should sit as far away from his as possible. Done, good job Trace–the high road.

Sande (our instructor) starts handing out scenes. Now mind you, I was instructed to bring a Female/Female scene which I did. Legally Blonde. Funny. But before I know it she’s paired everyone and my brain is working overtime and I come to the chilling conclusion….
I’m paired with Dan the Tan Man??? The answer to my jotted down question became “He’s your partner, you bitch.” OH SHIT!!!

It only gets worse, “Go sit with your partners.” I cringe. He motions for me to come over and I (being me) shake my head and say, “why don’t you come over here.” The whole while he’s callling me TRACE. TRACE. Now, I love to be called Trace. By anyone but this guy. As the workshop goes on I supress his retardation of clapping after scenes, telling me good job when I sit down from my monologue help, and telling me he’s sorry when he flubs a line. I pretty much ignore him and answer in one word sentences. ie

“Ok”
“Sure”
“Uh, yeah.”

Then, I start thinking. He’s probably a lonely old man who is still looking for himself at 60. Its probably a huge step for him to come to the city and do something like this. His idiosyncrocies are just a way of dealing with anxiety. In a positive way. Positively annoying. But positively.

I start to smile and reached for a sip of water. As I lowered the bottle from my mouth I notice that something tastes sweet. I’m totally confused. Until I look down and see a mirror replica POLAND SPRINGS bottle to my left right by my bag, the same type I’m holding in my hand right now. It hits me. This is Danny’s water-bottle and the sweet taste has to be DAN THE TAN MANS self tan!!! I tasted the tanning lotion from his fucking lips. I’m gagging. I’m trying to breathe.

I put down the infected bottle and grab my own. 

I swish and swallow. 

I scrub at my lips.

I started laughing.

 t was that or vomit and that’s too messy. 

Jesus, Danny.