Tumbling Tumbleweeds

Tucson, AZ; Sun-damaged hippies. Cactus. Cheap 'frop. Meth labs. Bikers. The air force base means bombers, fighter jets and black helicopters are overhead all the hours there are in the day. Lots of old, rich people, and the corresponding multiplicity of buffet-style eating establishments. Resorts. Casinos. Reservations and barrios.

Home.

For the time being, anyway. We stalled in Orange County--its hard to get a job there if you're not 23, blonde, and beautiful. The trips into LA proper were great, but it took a whole tank of gas to get anywhere. Then, our donut-eating cat, Charlie, showed a marked fondness for my aunt's fresh-baked banana bread, which had been left out on the counter--Aunt Doris gave Charlie the boot, and since we didn't want her (Charlie, that is) out on the streets panhandling and maybe turning to a life of violent crime, we packed up our things and motored back to Tucson, which is Lisa's home town.

I got by for a while working for a party and event decor company. Imagine show load-in and strike on the same day, with lighting insturments and ladders and platforms and the whole magilla. Now add 100+ degree heat. And you're outside. Or maybe in a tent. You get the idea. I thank my dark gods that I found a good temp agency that got me a gig at the University.

We're feeling a little adrift. When I left Chicago, I felt like it would be a cold day in West Heck before I ever wanted to do another play. I find it hard to believe how quickly I changed my tune. I have this crazy idea for an enviromental theatre piece out in the desert--Road Runner and Coyote--move the audience from place to place, plywood set pieces, do it at night and light it like day. Acme Flying Dynamite! But I digress.

I miss acting. I've auditioned for the one equity house out here, and am waiting to hear about callbacks. There's this mega-cheezy family melodrama dinner theatre that I'm totally in love with, but when I tried to get a house management job there, they got all uppity when I balked at the piss test. I keep an eye out for their auditions, but I fear that they will want a cup 'o' pee for acting positions, too. Don't even get me started about the various cowboy-themed tourist traps they got oveh heah--I talked to one of the stunt coordinators for Trail Dust Town; he told me I was grotesquely overqualified for his gig, not to mention the fact that when he described the level of stuntwork for the position, I could almost hear the sound of my bones snapping. Ah, for the days of my "I'm not gonna live to see thirty, so, yeah, let's do a little method combat do you want the chainsaw or the board with the nail through it?" artistic youth.

Sooooo--yeah. Here we are. At least I can post on this damn blog again.

This being my first post in quite a while, I guess I had better at least pay some lip service to our mission, rather than just blabbing about ME, ME, ME!

Politics: You can tell who everyone in this town voted for just by looking at their car bumper. I have never seen so many political bumper stickers in my life. Its tempting to do as the Romans do, but I think I'll just stay with the classic Old Glory and Jolly Roger combo.

Tech/Pop Culture: I managed to get Dungeon Keeper 2 to work flawlessly on a Windows XP machine with Service Pack 2. They said it couldn't be done, but never underestimate the abilities of a sadistic gamer who really, really likes to play the bad guy. Man, I love them Bile Demons!