Crazytown

WHEN THE BAD BOYFRIEND DOES GOOD

AKA I fell in love with theatre again this weekend.
By Kathleen Choe (actor/singer/writer)

Amy Poehler said to treat your career “like a bad boyfriend” and that “…it is healthy to remember you can always leave and go sleep with someone else.”

I feel the theatre has been a “bad boyfriend” as of late. I love it and I always will, but it’s been on the outs with me: the lack of diversity in the stories being told, lack of diversity in casting, the unwillingness to pay actors a living wage, the defensiveness of members of the community when any of this gets called out. When I tried to talk to it, it refused to listen and shut down all the arguments, smiling and repeating over and over, “But it’s getting better.”

So Iike a bad boyfriend I pushed it to the side, loving it but needing space. Until last Friday when it asked me away for a long weekend.

Last Friday, I went up to the Geva Theatre Center to work on a devised piece based on the idea of the American Dream—what it is, what it has become, if it still exists. For four days, I got to be in a room with nine other very talented people:

Got to be in a room that looked like this.
Missing: our awesome Stage Manager, Becca Poccia.

...to hash out and exchange thoughts over this idea to create something completely new. At the end of the process we put up what we had devised in front of an audience to hear and exchange ideas with them.

To add icing on top of this very delicious cake, I even got paid to do it.

And what d’ya know? I fell in love with the theatre again.  I remembered what excited me about theatre in the first place. Collaboration. Conversation. To be sure those two are not always comfortable when put together, but when they combine something beautiful almost always emerges: possibility.

How to devise a play in four days = Good people + coffee + laughter 

Theater is not just feel-good bedtime stories for rich people, it’s not just where you go for the experience of being part of a standing ovation in the audience at the end. Watching a fellow human being in front of you and seeing their story unfold has a power that can open perceptions, and as a wise man once said, with great power comes great responsibility.

To entertain is only an iota of what the theatre can do, and yet these days it seems that’s mostly what the theatre is being used for.

To engage an audience with a diverse cast and different stories is possible, yet the struggle to see diverse casts or hear different stories goes on.

To pay artists for to what they love—create—is possible, and yet the resistance against doing so persists.

So, bad boyfriend. You reminded why you’ve made me happy in the past, of your potential, of what you’re capable of when you pause, and stop, and listen. That you have the ability and capacity to treat me and my fellow artists well.

Thank you for that.

Let’s see what else you’ve got.

 

KATHLEEN CHOE is a NYC based actor, singer, and writer. www.www.kathleen-choe.com
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CONNECT, G*D@##!T

Follwing the advice of the (annoying) higher self.
By Kathleen Choe (actor/singer/writer)

I'm sitting in my apartment after a day of working from home on my computer, spending my breaks reading awful news headline (cabinet appointments) after awful news headline (Walter Scott, Ohio...). I look at the clock. 3:53pm.

I signed with my agents a few months ago. I love them. It’s almost time for their holiday party. I feel dejected and gross and the last thing I want to do is make small talk with people I don't know.

Connect, goddamit.

I text two of my friends. Ugh. Not in the mood to make small talk with strangers. Just want to stay home and stay in my comfy schlubby clothes watch Netflix.

Show up, they say. It will be fun. You don’t have to stay long. Watch Netflix when you get home.

Oddly, saying (or texting) my social anxiety makes me feel better. I remember that I had emailed another one of my friends to see if she was going—also signed with the same agents—and she said yes, so I know there will be at least one friendly face. And wine.

Connect, goddammit.

I pick out some funky earrings, some makeup, look in the mirror and feel better. Also, skinny jeans still fit after Thanksgiving (woot).

Presentable. Yay.

En route I buy some gloves and a hat at Duane Reade because my agents are collecting clothing items at their holiday party to donate to charity, because they’re cool like that.

I show up. It’s packed. When I walk in my agents greet me warmly and point me in the direction of the bar. I get a glass of red and look around for my friend and realize she hasn’t arrived yet.

I busily fill a plate with hors d’oeuvres and take a gulp of wine. The “gah-awkward-dork-in-the-corner” pit takes root in my stomach. I stuff a shrimp (or two) in my mouth, sip (gulp) some wine, and decide that I’ll stick around for thirty minutes, then exit.

Connect, goddammit.

I scowl. Shut up, I tell the inner voice.

Then I see an old classmate. I smile. I know from Facebook she’s gotten her MFA in Acting and has been working steadily since then, but actual live conversation hasn’t happened for...wow. A few years.

She: How have you been?
Me: Honestly? Still trying to get over this election.
She: (grimaces) Same. (lifts glass) To Nasty Women.

We drink. We laugh. She introduces me to her friend who she’s come with, and they tell me about the show they were in, and life, and I relax.

Wow. I’m enjoying myself.

Connect, goddammit.

Her friend has just sampled some of the booze-laden cake which he encourages me to try, but I never make it to the table to get a piece because my friend shows up with another friend of ours and the booze-laden cake can wait. Yet another mutual friend shows up and we all chat together. I make my way over to the bathroom, and run into someone who works in the office, who introduces me to another person in the office and some other people he’s talking to…fellow actors, writers, artists. We all talk, and laugh, and talk.

Connect, goddammit.

My friends come to say goodbye and I swerve on my feet and realize that I should probably head out too. 30 minutes has turned into 2+ hours, but I’m in a much better frame of mind than when I walked in.

When I’m down, my usual MO is to isolate and disappear. I didn’t this time. I’m glad. As angry as I've been about the state of our country and as worried as I am about the future, on top of everything else that comes with being an artist in this city…this. People. Being around and engaging with your fellow human beings, community. It never fails to remind you of what’s important.

Pretty Cool People.
(And some random finger photobombing)

Connect. OK.

Happy Holiday Season, y’all.

KATHLEEN CHOE is a NYC based actor, singer, and writer. www.www.kathleen-choe.com
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GRATITUDE - ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME?

No, I’m not. And I'll tell you why.
by Kathleen Choe (actor/singer/writer)

Practicing gratitude in times like these is tough. In the past, being told to “be grateful”--especially when the world knocked me down--has had way too many negative connotations for me. First off, it was usually uttered by someone speaking from a place of privilege, making me feel dismissed. Second, it was attached to disappointment, not being good enough, and being told that I was a horrible person for not being able to get past whatever it was that had happened.

I’ve come to realize that it isn’t true.  Gratitude doesn’t mean you accept things that you don’t like. Gratitude is just a way to take stock of what is working. What is good.

Gratitude doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be upset about the stuff that's bothering you or be complacent with whatever situation you might be in.  It does allow you to be happy in spite of all of that.

And so, what I am grateful for this Thanksgiving holiday:

1. That I live in a country where vocal, active dissent is a right. My great-grandfather was thrown into prison for organizing dissent against the Japanese during their occupation of Korea. He died shortly thereafter. What’s happening in our country right now--albeit painful, maddening, and frustrating--is freedom. So I’m grateful for that. I’m grateful for freedom.

Don't like it? Speak up. Speak out.

2. My family. Though it might not always be a source of great understanding (Why don’t you have stable job? Why aren’t you married?), it has always been a source of unconditional great love, laughter, and inspiration.

3. My friends, or rather, the family I chose where there is great understanding, as well as great love, laughter, and inspiration.

        
My family. Most of them. Both of them.

4. My health, and those of the people I Iove. Health scares for myself and my loved ones have been very real for the past few years. For now, all is well.

5. My home. I was born in one of the most amazing cities in the world, and right now live in one of its most diverse boroughs. I have friends in my building and in my neighborhood that I can borrow a cup of sugar from or stop by for a glass of wine. I have a warm, safe place to sleep at night that’s mine. I’m very grateful for that.

6. That I know what I love to do: Act. Create. Though the business side of it can suck my soul at times, there’s no way to fully explain the joy of doing it and going after it with everything I have.

7. That there are masters of creation who keep creating, inspiring me to do the same.

Miyazaki. Creating worlds since 1963 and still going.
Never stop, please.

8. Running water (there's a reason I don't like camping).

9. Electricity (see above).

10. That the abundance of food is a problem for me, instead of a dream.

                      
          Black and White milkshake, courtesy of Joe's Steaks + Soda Shop in Philadelphia, PA.
                           Many extra gym sessions were required in burning this off.
                     A problem that is good to have.

KATHLEEN CHOE is a NYC based actor, singer, and writer. www.www.kathleen-choe.com
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PURE JOY: THE HOPE IS REAL

Cubbies win. Blocks get knocked over. A woman is elected into the White House.
By Kathleen Choe (actor/singer/writer)

Though I'm a baseball fan, I didn't watch Game 7 of the World Series. I had an audition to prep for, and on top of that, a headache, and on top of that...just couldn't deal seeing the faces of Chicagoans should the Cubs lose. I woke up the next morning to headlines and videos littering my Facebook feed of pure joy. After 108 years, the Cubs were the World Series Champions.

 

Chicago headlines this month: WORLD SERIES CHAMPIONS!!
Chicago headlines in 9 months from now: RECORD NUMBER OF BIRTHS!! 

I cried. I don't know why. Maybe because of the drama of baseball, of loyal fans getting their long sought-after prize.

Photo credit: David Dermer/AP

Maybe because of the looks of absolute elation, of everyone being in that moment of wild, unbridled Pure Joy.

Bill Murray is crying, y'all. Feel all the feels.

Pure Joy. Kind of like this when my niece built—and then knocked down—a tower of blocks taller than she was.

Build! Laugh! Smash!

Maybe I cried because seeing their expressions, I was reminded it's been awhile since I've had that moment of Pure Joy; that fleeting, rare moment when everything is good in the world, wildly happy, and perfect. It's untinged with any other emotions that usually make life complicated. They're rare and wonderful, and meant to be savored.

I know it'll happen again, but I miss it. I keep hoping for it, though. That moment of booking a job is one of the sweetest there is, but it's not the only way I experience Pure Joy. I'm hoping for it next Tuesday, when this crazy election is over and we'll finally see a woman in the White House.  When millions of Americans prove they have sense enough to not vote a madman to lead our country.

I'm with her. Without a doubt.

Here’s hoping. In the meantime, Cubbies and Towers of Blocks it shall be for some, and I’ll just look on and smile, glad for their moments of Pure Joy. 

Until November 8th, then.

 

KATHLEEN CHOE is a NYC based actor, singer, and writer. www.kathleen-choe.com
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WHAT'S GOOD - A PRAYER FOR THE HARD DAYS

Repeat and remember when it’s hard to put one foot in front of the other.
by Kathleen Choe (actor/singer/writer)

What's good? What's good?

Art
Laughter
Snuggles from children
Hugs from loved ones
The changing of the colors
and the wind through the trees
hot soup on a cold day
cold soup on a hot day
and cookies anytime
anywhere.

What's good? What's good?

Katherine Hepburn on TV
Anything on the BBC
Seeing the elderly owner at the deli give a fist bump to his young employee
Remembering this time last year I was by the sea
Oh wait that's sad
But sad can be good
Like when an old love texts you go say how proud he is of how far you've come
And you're sad because you had that love once
but good because you did have it once
and you know that good love is like
and it's possible to have that again.

What's good? What's good?

Everything is and can be
even on the days when it feels like nothing is or will.

Remember
Laugh
Show up
Do it over again.

What's good will come
this is only but a moment
and moments come and go.
What's good will come over and over again.

Amen.

What’s good?

 

KATHLEEN CHOE is a NYC based actor, singer, and writer. www.kathleen-choe.com
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NO CALLBACK? NO GIG? NO PROBLEM

Live your Golden Life.
by Kathleen Choe (actor/singer/writer)

Wake up. Check email. The project you were in final callbacks for has released you. That’s the second one this month. There’s still no word on that audition you felt really good about. You breathe, you sigh, you care and you don’t care. Well, you care. If you didn’t you’d be an android.

Ok. Fine. Let it go.

You see another email about your student loan payment being debited from your account and another email from the credit card company informing you payment is due. You see two other emails from jobs you applied for thanking you for your interest, but turning you down. You hop on Facebook. Someone booked this. Someone booked that. That part you were called back for was cast with a tall blonde…not you. Someone else is taking a fabulous vacation somewhere you’ve always wanted to go.

You catch yourself from falling down the rabbit hole of what’s it going to take so tired so frustrated so sick and tired of feast or famine this life is so damn hard is any of this worth it? 

You make breakfast. You look out the window. You’d rather go back to bed, but you put the dishes in the sink and then job hunt online. You see ones that you’re qualified for but make you want to pull out your hair. You apply to them anyway because that’s what part of being an adult is.

You make yourself put on your workout clothes and go to the gym and chuckle at the irony of keeping your gym membership in moments like this. You take the class you signed up for. The instructor tells you to challenge and push yourself and you do. You feel good, pat yourself on the back after class, then realize that you’ve lost all sensation in your arms.

Right. Hydrate. 

You shower and put on a dress, put on makeup, because why not, you’ve decided to treat yourself to a solo artist date at a museum where it's pay what you can.

Food for the soul today: The Met Breuer.

On the way there, a cute man checks you out in the street and you smile back. You don’t go after him though, but hey…you look good today.

The exhibit there is called Unfinished: Thoughts Left Visible. You see this:

Arrow of Time (Unfinished Life), by Tatsuo Miyajima

…and this:

The Hand of God, by Auguste Rodin

and are inspired by these unfinished works by Monet, Manet, Klimt, Rodin, and Twombly along with others. You discover an artist new to you, Berthe Morisot. Their unfinished art speaks to you because finished or not, they’re still beautiful.

You end your visit by walking through an exhibit of photographs by Diane Arbus. This photograph makes you smlle:

Five Members of the Monster Fan Club, NYC
by Diane Arbus

You take the bus uptown instead of a subway to visit a friend, because why not. It’s a slow day. Your stomach is growling but you don’t want to buy food because there’s food at home that will cost you nothing. It’ll be awhile until you get back home though, so you buy a $2 protein bar, because you can afford that, so why not.

You meet your friend and the two of you realize last time you saw each other in person was 6 months ago. You’ve both had big disappointments, but also great joy. You talk. You vent. You groan. You laugh. You help them with an audition that they’re working on and for a 10 glorious minutes you get to be an actor with someone who you love, and it’s utter happiness.

Remembering what's important.

You look at each other’s lives and realize that even though it might not feel like it, you’re both ok. You’re still in this game. You have no plans to quit acting anytime soon, because you love it that much.

You get on the train to go home. That class you took this morning at the gym is starting to hit you. You were planning on going to the gym again today in an effort to lose those four pounds you’ve put on, but your stiff arms and swimmy head laugh at you and say that’s a bad idea.

You scan the seats, waiting for one to open up. One does, but there’s an elderly man who needs it more. You gesture to him for him to sit, even though he makes the sign that he’s fine. Another seat opens and you sit down, but another man walks on with a cane and so you stand and give it to him. You’re tired but you’re healthy. He smiles in gratitude and your heart opens up a little more.

You’ll sit when you get home.

You get home. There’s food in the fridge. You make yourself a snack. There’s also the milk stout that your sister and brother-in-law brought over and so you take a little nip of that, because you look at the clock and it’s 5pm and why not.

You sit, and breathe, and think.

It’s hard. It’s so hard right now. You choose to live in hope and have faith that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, because there has to be.

You have food. You have shelter. You have health. You have a set of skills that people need and will pay for as your day job.

You have something you love to do down to the marrow of your bones. You have people who love you and believe in you.

So endeth this day. No callback, no gig, no problem. It hurts. It sucks. You sigh. You cry.

But no problem.

Live your Golden Life.

(And remember to hydrate).

KATHLEEN CHOE is a NYC based actor, singer, and writer. www.www.kathleen-choe.com
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WOODY

I take photographs from the internet and then write short stories about them!
By Paul Pakler (Actor, Writer)

(Photograph from ????)

        Friday is payday.  The White Horse cashes your check - no waiting!: six bits on the dollar, and you get a free beer.

        Some workers drink their wages away.  Other workers have some sense and go home with some cents.

 

        Saturday, the workers who can't work don't.  Too old, too sick, too dumb, or too smart - they go to The White Horse.  You get a free corned beef sandwich.

 

        And that's how it goes.

 

        One time, there was this guy comes in.  Dressed like a longshoreman but with a guitar.  He orders a beer and a sandwich.  Ernie, the bartender, snorts and says it's on-the-house if the guy plays us a good song.

 

        The guy grins and thinks for a second.  He plays "Keep My Skillet Good and Greasy," and we laugh and laugh.

 

        The guy tells us about this time when he was riding the rails, and he had a dog named Petey.  And one time, this railroad bull started hassling him and Petey, and Petey bit the bull's ass!  I never seen Stan laugh that hard in my life.

 

        The guy asks us if there's any songs we want to hear.  Everybody shouts out a song, and, one after another, the guy plays them all.  Stan named about a dozen songs, and the guy played them all.

        Ernie says, "You drink for free, friend," and the guy says, "Well, all these fellers are singin' with me, so can my band drink for free?"  And that's how we all got free drinks on that Saturday.

 

        As it was getting dark, the guy says he has to keep movin' along.  Everyone stood up to shake his hand.  And, with a big grin, he shook everybody's hand.  Stan and George and Frank and Lou and Ernie and me.

        I hope he'll come back.

 

PAUL PAKLER is an actor and writer living in New York City.
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BOHEMIAN DREAMS: RAQUEL ALMAZAN

Discover NYC's most talented starving artists - before they're rich and famous. This week meet performance artist Raquel Almazan, and hear what she has to say about Butoh dance, pornography, and being a vegan.

 by David Davila (playwright / songwriter)

Performance artist, playwright, and actress, Raquel Almazan, has been making people laugh, cry, and think for several years on the downtown theatre scene with shows like SHE WOLVES: WOMEN IN SEX, DEATH, AND REBIRTH, and DEATH OF THE DOLL which explore modern female sexuality and social power.

Originally from Spain, the Spanish/Costa Rican artist moved to the US at an early age and lived in every Hispanic part of the country from Texas to Florida before setting her roots in NYC. I first met Raquel at the weekly Salon at INTAR THEATRE where artists share new works for a group of non-judgemental peers. Almazan was presenting a comical look at the her mother's travels through a racist, Southern, USA and I was rolling on the floor with laughter. Now she's presenting a new one-woman show at Dixon Place for one night only that explores a porn star's journey from celebrity to outer-space refugee using mixed-media and Butoh dance that has me intrigued to say the least.         

Porning the Planet Trailer- Sizzle Reel from raquel almazan on Vimeo.

I caught up with the avante-garde performance artist, and hilarious stand-up comic, over soy-lattes at our local Brooklyn Bagel in Astoria to talk about her involvement with Butoh dance, its correlations to pornography, and how she wants to be Orson Wells...

Here's what she had to say:

(David Davila) How did PORNING THE PLANET come about?

(Raquel Almazan) The play was inspired by the book “female chauvinist pig movement”, by Ariel Levi. For fifteen years I’ve worked with marginalized women and girls (including sex workers) in schools, prisons and centers. This lead my work to demand a political process. Holding interviews in strip clubs and pornographic environments. The platform for my current piece comes from five years of processing with women, research, and public art presentations. I am now armed for the ultimate challenge of embracing and unearthing pornography in all its forms.

The piece strives to connect ancient women’s mythology with modern media, pornographic images, and how women’s sexuality is used as a weapon against themselves. I’m working to fuse today’s whore as the power symbol in finding ways to honor the virginal whore that refuses to go mainstream porn but instead redefines what it is to be feminine. (Cont.)

THE HARDEST THING ABOUT BEING AN ACTOR

It’s not memorizing all the lines.
by Kathleen Choe (actor/singer/writer)

 

I’m treating my friend to a tall glass of iced tea at my neighborhood café for helping me put up shelves in my new home.

A clean, well-lighted place.
With a side of tea.

I love hanging out with this friend: aside from having the warmest of hearts and a wicked sense of humor, she's also an insanely versatile talented artist, from designing sets to drawing to making stop-motion movies.

Conversation turns to when we both decided we wanted to be artists. “I was six,” she says. 

I ponder the question. “I don’t know,” I say. “I think I was sixteen.”

“What were you thinking of before then?”

“A librarian. Or a lawyer.”

She laughs. “You would have made a great lawyer.”

I laugh too. I would have, or at least according to the aptitude/profession test I took in the 10^th grade. Among the careers it said that I would be best suited for was psychologist, lawyer, librarian, and puppeteer. My mother nixed the puppeteer, since the school it recommended I attend was in Prague (aw Mommmmmm). Years later while backpacking through Europe and on a lark, I went by the school.  Moseyed by the road less traveled, as it were.

What school could have looked like, in an alternate timeline.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately; other professions I could have pursued. Not that I’m planning on quitting acting anytime soon, but financially it’s been a rough month. On top of moving costs, day job work has slowed down considerably, and I’m anxious about hitting my “number”, the amount I need to make in order to stay afloat this month. I’ve been cobbling together lots of small jobs, but I don’t know if it’s going to be enough.

I had a week of a lot of good auditions, followed by a week of the phone not ringing and trying to shake off the rejection. I know that they were good auditions and that casting is a puzzle that I have little say in.  I recently saw who they cast in a pilot that I was called back for. They went with a tall blonde. I am many things, but I am not that.

Tall blonde.
Nope. Not that.

I know that in my head. I keep repeating it over and over to my heart when I find myself going down the rabbit hole of depressing thoughts.

I’m the first and only actor in my family. They along with a lot of my friends who aren’t in the profession ask me what the hardest part of being an actor is, their first three thoughts being 1) memorizing all the lines, 2) staying in shape 3) memorizing all the lines. None of those things are easy, but they’re not the hardest part of being an actor.

No, the hardest part about being an actor is this: the lifestyle.

It’s the life and I chose it. Why? Like anything we make sacrifices for, because I love it. Really, really love it. I love the magic of collaborating, of being on stage, on set, connecting to new material and to a fellow actor. The joy I get from this job when I’m lucky enough to have one is indescribable.

But it comes with a cost: constant uncertainty and instability.

That uncertainty and instability never end, even as you go higher-up in your career. A very well-known actor I know had to decide between a play that would pay him for the whole run what a Hollywood movie would pay him in a day. He chose the play, much to the chagrin of his team. Another one I know had a slew of back-to-back projects in the 90s, only to have a 10-year period of constant auditioning and no work after.

I love what I do and I’m going after it with everything I have, and I’m not planning on giving it up anytime soon. But still, sometimes I wonder where I would be if I had gone to law school or librarian school. Times when I’m frustrated and tired because…well, because sometimes this life of uncertainty and instability can get to be a bit much. Times when I wish more than anything I didn’t have to worry about if there’s going to be enough money in my bank account.

Times like this, I need to remind myself I’m lucky. I know what I want to do with my life. There are people who never find that.

This the life and I chose it and I want to keep acting because I love it, and so I’m here right now, managing and treading in this deep water. I know my head will come up at some point, it always does.

Right now I’m anxious and impatient for when.

But that’s the life.

I chose it.

 

KATHLEEN CHOE is a NYC based actor, singer, and writer. www.www.kathleen-choe.com
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JESUS BE A RAINDROP

"Hot enough for ya??" said the 787th person I encountered on Saturday.
By Jennifer Anderson (Actor/Singer/melted)

Crazytown, this week I'm coming to you from sunny Florida, where it is exactly the same temperature as it was this past Saturday (97,653 degrees with 567% humidity).

When I tell people I'm from Florida and then make commentary about the summers of New York City, the response I usually get is "aren't you used to this type of weather? Isn't it always this hot where you're from?"

Okay. Here are 2 very crucial factors that separate the kind of heat we experience in Florida to the type of heat we experience in NYC:

1. In Florida, there is central A/C everywhere. EVERYWHERE. Even in the port-a-potties. I'd never seen a window unit until I moved here at 25.
2. You drive everywhere. EVERYWHERE. There is no waiting 30 minutes for a train in the 9th circle of hell known as the 36th street station in Brooklyn, where you get on a packed train and are forced to share sweat with a dude who looks like he's run a marathon through Death Valley. There's taking a 30 second walk from your air conditioned home to your air conditioned car that takes you to your air conditioned destination.

So the next time you New Yorkers encounter a southerner who looks like they might keel over into a lane of traffic, remember: the heat is different where we're from. Take pity on us poor souls who grew up in ice boxes from March until November.

To celebrate the heat, I present to you my favorite summertime video. Enjoy!

 

JENNIFER ANDERSON is an actor and singer living in Brooklyn. If you've never had to wait for a train at 36th Street, consider yourself lucky. www.jenniferjanderson.com
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