Last night I finally went to this acting class thingy I've been meaning to for about a month, but have been putting off for reasons ranging from being hungover, being depressed, held up or having a huge zit on my chin which my vanity wouldn't allow to be seen amongst theatre types. Last night I had none of these excuses, well the laziness was present, but not strong enough in the face of my determination to finally go to this thing.
The class was taught by some Australian dude, in the Meisner Technique, which is all about truth, and keeping it real, and it's something I wasn't familiar with. It was all men, except for myself, there are other women in the class but none of them showed up last night, so I was like a lonely little petunia in an onion patch in a way, except I'm not a petunia, the class wasn't held in an onion patch and I wasn't actually lonely, seeing as I was in a room full of people.
I watched some of the others do their exercises, at the end me and the other new person did a beginner's exercise together. It was kinda interesting, actually the most exciting event of the year for me so far, but that isn't saying a lot. The group seems relatively organized*, and want to put on production and do films and all that jazz, so this might blossom into something more for me. And if it doesn't I have a few other leads. And if they don't turn out to be anything then I'm sure something else will come up. And if nothing else does, well, who cares.
*For Prague that is. Or rather, the expat community with which I'm familiar.
3.06.2007
Total sausage party dude
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7 comments:
When you say you were depressed, do you mean just fed up, or the real, I don't want to get out of bed in the morning, feeling? If it's the latter, then you have my sympathy. I don't remember if I made you aware, but for the first time in my life towards the end of last year, I was diagnosed as depressed, albeit not chronically so. But it was no joke. I signed off work for two weeks (actually, I was given a choice - time off work or take a job in Prague... same difference the doc said) anyway [oh my fucking god, I'm rambling... it's a sign of something but I forget what] I hope you're feeling okay now.
So... to the main point [be honest now, do you hate me when I bang on like this... or do you just hate me period?] this is an interesting post, apart from me not knowing the significance of 'sausage party' [oooerr sounds a bit rude]. I have a thing about creative types, whether they be actors, musicians, or writers... or even jugglers I suppose. It's not a groupie-like thing though, just an interest in their thoughts and ideas. It comes from being a frustrated Artist myself I guess. Anyway, what I want to know is, did the exercises provide any benefit? Did you go in to the group a cowed and diminutive figure, but come out a colossus, like Olivier strutting the stage?
Is it tricky acting with onions?
Arrrggh you ask too many questions...
First, I have never suffered clinical depression, I was just a bit miffed at something one or 2 of the nights I was intending on going to this thing, or rather I used the excuse because I was lazy.
2nd. Sausage party refers to the number of males in the room.
3rd. Er.. no and yes. Um, it was ok. I felt when I came out much as I did when I went in.
Too many questions? I was being sociable that's all...
OOOO...a sausage fest, what a treat. Me like sausage. I would love not to have to deal with crazy women for awhile. everyday crazy fucking women. At least men are repressed and don't usually try to rip you apart.
we are simple creatures! most of us at least!
I'd actually like some female company for once, I'm a little tired of hanging around nobody but men all the time, though the class was a reasonably pleasant experience. And in my experience everyone is mad. I don't think I've ever met anyone who isn't, present company excluded, though I've never actually met any of you, you're all highly intelligent, responsible, together, wise people, with a wicked sense of humour to top it off, whatever your genders...
Something always comes up. Sometimes it's not always good or fun; sometimes it's surprising and wonderful. But stuff just keep coming up until the day you die.
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