Once upon a time...

I've done some things in my life that I'm not proud of. Sadly, there's too many to get into right now. But, my stint doing a children's play in Winnipeg, called "Danny, King of the Basement" is near the top of the list. The show was wonderful. The cast involved was great. But, it's tough to be 2000 km from home for three months. It takes some getting used to. And thus far in my life, the women I've dated have not gotten used to it. And so, there I was in Winnipeg, doing a childrens show. I had been there for about three weeks rehearsing the show (it was a really tiring, really gruelling 45 minute show - because I was 'Danny' and I never left the stage for more than 30 seconds). So, all was ready and then I got dumped the night before the play opened and I got properly drunk. And by properly, I mean well beyond the point of excessively. Anyway, this particular children's theatre had shows at 11am and 1pm. That doesn't leave a lot of time to sleep a hangover off. I stumbled into work (I threw up three times on the way) because you need to be there at least half an hour before the show start. After a great deal of cold water on my face, several advil, a litre of gatorade and half a croissant, I thought I was ready to jump into my costume. I was wrong. I had to throw up for another five minutes and then I got into my costume. Charming.

Acting is about being in the moment. All the lights, all the costumes, all the music and sound effects - they're not important. The immediacy of how you behave and think is what makes a riveting actor. The past is irrelevant and the future is supposed to be unseeable, so you can't go thinking ahead. Acting is about focusing on everything that's happening in the immediate area and encorporating all of those into the present. The text is the same every show, but what feeds it and fuels it, changes and - hopefully - improves the show by small degrees. At least, that's the theory.

Well, that's all bullshit. At least it's bullshit when you say your first line, burp and the taste of scope and vomit washes through your mouth. I'm sure you'll agree that it becomes difficult to focus on anything but the taste, the cold sweat and the churning, dizzy sensation that's running rampant through your body. I would liken this experience to getting on a subway about 12 hours into a bout of food poisoning. I knew I had 9 stops to make, but I also knew that 1L of gatorade, 2 advil and 1/2 a croissant were unhappy with their purchase in my stomach. What to do? What to do.

I did what any pro actor in such a scenario would do. I said my lines as fast as I could and when I finally got to run offstage for my 30 second break (about 25 minutes into the show), I vomited my soul into a garbage. And then ran back to the stage to repeat the process.

I'm not boasting about this. It's idiocy. It's lunacy. And I wish I could say it was the only time something like this has happened to me. But I'd be lying. Life is full of peaks and valleys. Some of us have sharper inclines than others. And some of us have sharp declines as well. And so many of my declines co-incide with childrens theatre. I don't know how teachers do it. Or parents, for that matter. It takes so much energy and patience and kindness to care for a child. They make me want to drink. A lot. And so, given the events that happened this past Monday, I hope the band makes it sooner rather than later. Because - as I look on my own personal horizon - I see a steep decline in the middling distance. You see, at the Chapter's where I'm presently working, they have a 'story time'. About 15-20 mothers and one or more of their children arrive and at 10:30 a nice person reads a story and sings a few songs to these kids. Well, that 'nice' person took a leave of absence last week and the store had no one to take over the story time duties. Guess who got conned into it? The girl who works in the childrens section picked out some books and handed them to me as I sat down in front of the kids.

I'm telling you, I now understand what 'Nam flashbacks are like. I sat in front of that restless, shifting, screaming sea of little bodies and the only line that went through my head was, "The horror. The horror." My lip and my eye were twitching and I had a strong craving for straight gin. Anyway, I manged to pull myself together and give an animated and heart-wrenching reading of 'Teddy Bear'. And after a brief discussion on teddy bears, I attempted a sing-a-long reading of 'Skip to My Loo.' Who knew that song had five bloody verses? If I didn't have the script in front of me, I would not have known that "Cows in the bedroom holler 'Moo, cow, Moo!" Anyway, I got through it. No vomiting. No booze. No sweat. And then I went back downstairs and immersed myself in the cd section - where I belong. And I thought, 'Thank God that's the end of that.'

Wrong.

My manager told me about an hour later that several women had requested that I do story time again. Apparently they were particularly moved by my rendition of 'Skip to My Loo.' Uhhhh. So, my manager has asked me to bring my guitar in to work on Thursday and charged me with another episode of 'story time'. I'm unsure how to follow up my inaugural performance. Zeppelin's too long, Pink Floyd's too out there, Raffi's too creepy and Hendrix doesn't work unless I can hump something and light it on fire (all unacceptable options with the children so proximal). If you have any suggestions, please let me know. And if you can't find me at Chapters on 10:30 on Thursday morning, check the bathroom or the nearest garbage can (follow the smell of gin). I'll be paying tribute.