Bright Lights.

I had not sweat so much in a long time, sans one short-lived stint with jogging. In my reality I wasn't capable of sweat, the act was nothing but a secondhand observation of human life. Yet there I sat, onstage, saline bullets cascading down all sides of my head. It wasn't until this night I realized how long it's been since I've been in a play, actually casting my craft into that sea of silhouettes hoping for a love connection. I am so out of shape, even for playing a robot.

I play Walter, an advanced programs system designed to protect my inventor's wife. It's quirky, at times tongue-in-cheek, and I get to play a robot. Thanks Mike, Tony, and Marlo, I've been getting a lot of commendation on my animatronical physicalization. More than those things it's real live theater and these days, like never before, I appreciate the value of real live theater.

The Elephant In The Room, a short play festival, runs July 29-Aug 14, 7:00pm at 13th St. Repertory Company. I also wrote one of the plays. Come and support!
Photographed: Michael Hodgson and Brian Lonsdale in Lee Hall's The Pitmen Painters at the National. Photographer: Tristram Kenton

Subway Observations #4

3:58pm
Lady sleeping next to me, her head falls onto my shoulder. I don't fight it.

2:15pm
Man playing yazz flute.

2:18pm
Guy doesn't hold on and falls down when the train moves. n00b.

5:42pm
Crocs with leather tops...and shoestrings.

11:27am
Girl asleep, Brandy blasting from her headphones. Das ma girl.

2:40pm
Just caught myself acting out a Gabe Bondoc song, but it looks like nobody noticed. Oh wait...no the lady across is staring.

9:47pm
Full car. I mean absolutely full. I grab hold of the top bar and stand at ease. My eyes look downward to notice a nice woman forced to sit directly in front of my crotch. I look at her, apologetically.

10:05pm
Acid wash jeans. Nuff said.

11:39am
I spot a Christmas gift bag with Marsupilami on it. Filled with words of joy to share I follow the hands up to discover the face of an old woman, tired and trying to get some shut-eye. Alright lady, you've evaded my conversation this time...

12:09am
I notice a familiarity in the air that reminds me of that summer in Italy, which I then identify as the smell of European sweat. Just then the guy standing by me with his arm reaching up to grasp the rail above my head speaks with a British accent. There it is.

Well, this is embarrassing...

A month after I declare regular blog posts I haven't procured a single one aside from a four-line poem. I apologize for the inconsistency, as consistency is the theme of the year for me. Let me divulge just a bit on how I've been these days…these very warm days…


I was sufficiently warned about winters here in the city, but to be honest I'm having a harder time with the summer. The digits are like California, but with the humidity and walking it's more like the Philippines. It's hot as a motherland out here. The power button on my air conditioner has been a heckling test of self-control. What makes the season worth it, though, are all the free events going on. The parks really come alive this time of year, with free movie showings, Broadway concerts, Al Pacino in The Merchant of Venice, and just people coming to hang out. Last week, I saw Ozomatli with the girlfriend's brother and the girlfriend's brother's girlfriend at Prospect Park in Brooklyn, and just as exciting as the superb music were the people picnicking, throwing the beach ball around, hula hooping, and dancing salsa on blankets. If you get the chance to join in someday, make sure that you don't let the energy buzz dull your frugality, or you may end up spending $14 on bland fair food chicken and disintegrating cornbread.

I recently took on an internship at the 13th St. Repertory Theatre for playwriting. It's a great community of about 15 interns, all working together to produce some good in-house material including the short play I just finished, which will be performed in our upcoming festival. The whole experience has been a bit of a whirlwind, and really where all my writing energies have gone lately. It was on a Monday I heard about their internship program, the next day becoming an intern, and by that Sunday I had written the first draft of my first play. A fellow actor heard that and exclaimed "how on earth were you able to do that?" I told her "I really have no idea, but I guess you don't know what you're capable of until you're given a deadline."

Deadlines, deadlines, deadlines, a writer always needs deadlines. So from now on you'll hear from me every Friday, even if it's just a few words, a tweetsworth if you will. And yes, it'll be more than just talking about how I miss home!