I came into the world an actor, who got funny enough to turn into a comedian, who got physical enough to become a burlesquer, until burlesque discovered I could talk and turned me into an emcee.

I gave up the cruel world of stand-up for the bedazzles and $50/number of burlesque, until one fateful night and a "win one for the gipper" speech that turned my tides and let me to take a vow to do 365 stand up sets in 365 days.

Will I be lured back into the world of fans and feathers, or will I stay with drink minimums and Comedy Central Specials? Only time will tell.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

With Liberty and Equity for... Equity Members Only

So after the run in with RENT, I've decided to give have a Tanya Harding style wack at the world of musical theatre. I've been studying with the most amazing voice coach of all time (shout out to Shelly "The Singing Siren" Watson) and my voice is healthier than ever... which does call into question my impulse decision as a child to never ever take voice lessons because I didn't want my voice to sound "trained" and chesty like all the other sun'll-come-out-tomorrow kids from Miller Marly, Kansas City's local place to be for kids who gotta dance! and can't wait to book that regional tour of Hairspray. I took one lesson once when I was somewhere in the ballpark of ten years old, and I cried and refused to speak. Even then my need to be different was clear, and though I now have some real vocal damage and am ten years behind where I could be in terms of vocal strength, I must stand by my decision. Sure, I could have been a thousandaire by now having booked multiple tours and a small part on Broadway, but who needs that?

I do. Thus, the voice lessons.

From voice lessons have come plenty of gigs where I get to sing, mostly in the world of Cabaret, and still stripping when stripping is due, but mostly singing, and I love it.

And then there was RENT, which broke my heart. Shelly said an experience like that can only be described as being left at the altar. One minute everything's fine and they just like you for just who you are, and the next minute, they're gone, and you're all dressed up with nowhere to go. Continuing in the same direction, RENT has assumed the position of my ex. I thought we were going to spend forever together, she left me, I hated her and reveled in the mixed reviews she got without me, but part of me will always love her.

And until they fire whatever nonsense Miller Marley slut-bag they hired in my place, it's time for me to start looking at other shows.

So here I am, waiting in a long line of belters and ballers and girls in awkward audition dresses who can hit a hi-e, but only just barely, and it's mostly through their nasal cavity, which is neither pleasant nor satisfying. I sauntered in pretty late in the day for an open call for "Toxic Avenger" and took advantage of my girlfriend's West Village real estate to take a nap on lunch break. There is almost no chance they're going to get to me on the list, but I figure if I do this long enough, I'll get the hang of it and maybe even book a show. In the mean time I am blessed with an endless buffet of 16bar karaoke of all the greatest hits of Broadway, Mo-town, and songs that have been recently covered on American Idol or GLEE.

Stereotypes abound, from the kermudgeny monitor to the gay boy with a guitar and high school girls traveling in pairs signing up for everything. Tomorrow I get to do it all again for a Connecticut production of Cabaret. I feel good about that one, as my actual life is that of Sally Bowles minus Berlin and the abortion... though I was just asked to come back and host Berlin Burlesque at Galapagos in Brooklyn where I am pretend German and cover Mein Herr as my opener. Next stop, Connecticut! If thy could see me now....

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