Andy is in some distress during the fight. He's looking for some kind of padding for his knees, because the deck is really hard and he spends all of his time on it.

I offered an old set of knee pads that I have. Someone expressed a little surprise that I had them, and I said, "What can I say? I'm actor: I spend a lot of time on my knees."

posted: 11:43:07 PM  

We've worked each act at least once through on the set now.

I am tired all of the time. I'm catching little cat naps at the theatre when I make it across town after work with some spare time.

I am starting to feel some pangs of panic, as we open a week from Friday. There are a couple of brief passages where I'm still fighting for words, and the acting just isn't happening because of it. There are other bits, like the monologue that starts "You don't have to take it out on my typewriter," that were working okay until we added business with the toasters, and now I'm back to trying to walk and chew gum at the same time.

Opening the champagne threatens to be my downfall, although John is making adjustments so that the bottle is partly opened. I think it's cheesy to work with a half-opened bottle, but there just isn't enough dialogue to cover opening the bottle and the other business that John has given me in that beat.

The set is going to be serviceable. It's not going to look as stylish as Andy's original design.

I think my costume is worked out. I don't know how I'm going to keep my second act clothes tidy from one day to the next. I got my shoes settled, some Bass tassel loafers that were literally collecting dust in my closet. Usually I get my shoes figured out long before this.

And then there are bits that are going pretty well. Andy has turned out to be a good scene partner. He's still adding bully-brother stuff. John says that the two of us have a good brotherly chemistry.

Playing a brother is perhaps the only stretch for me in playing Austin. Otherwise, Austin is just a fussier, more ineffectual version of me. We share an absent alcoholic father; in Austin's case, he actually knew his father and resents him the more for that. We are both college educated; and we both have genuine doubts that we are leading honest lives of integrity. My Austin manages a Circuit City in Hayward and commutes three hours a day from Petaluma, so in that respect his life is more stifling than mine. (Getting his script produced is his "only shot" at escaping the smoggy rat race.) But when I slam the smashed typewriter down on the kitchen table when Austin says, "There's nothing real down here, Lee! Least of all me!" I mean it.

posted: 11:29:53 PM