I write you this evening from TOWN HALL BREWERY, where I have eaten a pre-concert meal with my compatriot Nick. Now, on to the Triple Rock.

Twittering ALIVE from the Yeasayer concert. STAY ATTUNED to this man’s Twitter feed, if you care about anything at all.

Doors opened an hour ago, and the openers haven’t even taken the stage yet. I’m COLOSSALLY BORED. And tired. That is all.

I dig CHAIRLIFT, the opening act. Kinda trip-hop, new wave, atmospheric, and Fiona Apple.

I am next to the DANCINGEST MAN at the Triple Rock.

I bought a Chairlift “Compact Disc” and a Yeasayer “tee” style SHIRT. Awaiting the main attraction now.

WHERE I STAND, my crotch is precariously close to the corner of a handrail. This may result in COMEDY. More as it develops.

Between buying “MERCH” & a Summit Extra Pale, I was recognized by a man who looked familiar & called me “the Fading Moment guy.” He’s right.

Did we work on “Fading Moment” together, or did he just see it?

It is beginning. And it is beautiful.

Posted a photo on Facebook. Awesome light setup.

(Here’s the photo I took.)

Guy in the middle looks like Arthur Simon. He’s also a mad scientist hunched over his dials and buttons.

Their set is over. Have they an ENCORE? Maybe not. By the way, this t-shirt is organic!

No encore. I am still happy. The bassist looked like Kid Rock. I’m happy he chose the art-rock route.

And there you have it. It’s just like you were there, except you heard no music. I hope you have enjoyed your deaf (and def, for that matter) concert-going experience.

The Triple Rock’s website describes Yeasayer thusly:

Yeasayer (pronounced “yay-sayer”) takes place in the future, somewhere in the Middle East where citizens wear turquoise robes, live in crystal towers, and overindulge on Peter Gabriel albums. Live, this group brings out the boogie, radiating heat waves and rhythms. Songs once laid to tape are constantly restructured and reworked, show to show, for a new experience.

You can see why I like them. By the way, it was a fantastic concert.

I’ll conduct a blog experiment, or…a blogsperiment, if you will.

Actually, forget I said that. That was shit.

Anyway, my experiment is to Twitter from the road, then dump each day’s Twitter posts on the ol’ blog here. So here you go — you can experience our GTC tour in realtime. If you have a Twitter account (it’s free!), you can follow me! My profile is here: http://twitter.com/cwethern

Sitting in a Target store in Andover, MN
Shooting a recruiting video for
Target Technology Services
Got here at 5:00 AM.
We’ve watched darkness give way to the dawn
And employees arrive for work
Sitting here in the closed in-store Starbucks
Munching on craft services and waiting to be called for our shots.

I’m just an extra here,
Mining my extensive personal experience as a Target shopper.
You should see how I carry a shopping basket.
Brilliance.

This afternoon, we move to a distribution center in Fridley,
Where I get to play host
And wear a suit
And dazzle viewers with facts about my TTS team.

I like running into friends and former castmates at these things.
Sheena’s here today.
Tomorrow, Emily F. and Santino are on the bill.

The sun is bright now,
And the store will open soon.

Onward!

Newsrooms
and chat rooms
and living rooms
Genre bending
Gender bending
Mind bending
Metatheatrics
Infotainment
And sex crimes
In capsule form.

Listen to the radio.
Become a member.
Get a totebag.

SadGrrl13 opens Saturday night, y’all.
Read the character blogs before you go.

See you at the PWC.

St. Mary’s theatre facilities impressed us,
And I don’t think we’ve ever been in a nicer green room on tour.
Sinking into the overstuffed sofa, I absent-mindedly fiddled with a stack of brochures on the coffee table.
After a moment, I noticed what they advertised:
St. Mary’s Arts & Cultural Management MA program
At their Twin Cities campus.
That’s Kat’s program.

A theatre student passing by poked her head in the door and started to say something to me,
Then realized that I wasn’t the particular theatre grad she thought I was.
It’s the hair and the glasses, she said.
I commented that I guess it’s a pretty common look,
Particularly among twenty-something white male actors.
Despite the fact that I wasn’t her friend,
She stuck around and chatted with us anyway.
She’d been painting a set next door.
Noting the brochure in my hand, she said, “Are you thinking about that program?”
I said, “Huh? Oh, no. It’s my ex-girlfriend’s program, actually.”
“Oh, so you’re just stalking her.”
“Exactly,” I said, letting the brochure fall back onto the coffee table.
I pretended to be offhanded and nonchalant about it,
Though I couldn’t stop looking at the brochure.
Acting!

The show was run-of-the-mill.
The crowd was a little subdued.
Admittedly, we were a little low-energy as well.
But all the elements were there.
After doing so many shows with Jen, it was jarring to perform with Amber again,
For the first time since August.
(Not in a bad way.)

…

We’re in the blocking stages of rehearsal for The Sign in Sidney Brustein’s Window.
It’s going well, but we lost an actor yesterday due to illness.
If you or anyone you know wants to play a conflicted, light-skinned black man, let me know.

…

Had my first day of shooting for The Spooner Sisters,
The feature-length horror movie I’m working on for JP Wenner.
It went as well as can be expected.
I’ll be happy to shoot interiors this weekend though.
This is no kinda weather in which to be standing around wearing a jean jacket.
Pretending that we’re dressed appropriately.
Pretending that it’s only in the 40s, instead of the single digits.
Acting!

…

Currently doing some brush-up rehearsal at NTC with Mike.
We’re bringing Mad About Money back to life for a two-day stint in Wisconsin next week.
Like riding a bike.
A loud, ridiculous bike.

…

As soon as Wisconsin’s done, I’ll start rehearsing at the Science Museum,
Which I’m pretty excited about.
The show’s called “The Value of Life,” and it accompanies “Deadly Medicine,”
An exhibit about the Holocaust and the “science” of eugenics.
I think I said all this already, but oh well.

The scene depicts a couple at home in Nazi Germany.
The woman expresses misgivings about what their country is doing.
The man desperately rationalizes it, maintaining the comfortable pretense
That their country is doing the right, moral thing, and that it’s for the good of Germany.
As I type this, I’m starting to wonder what makes me so castable as racists.

…

This Monday, I’ll start attending the “Actor’s Workout” with Raye Birk at the Guthrie.
I’ll admit it, I’m intimidated.
This class is just what I need.
Raye even said I’m perfect for the class. He used the word perfect.
And it’s perfect for me.
I’m still having visions that I’m not even going to have the chops or the brain power to deal with this class.
Hopefully, I can get past this feeling of being a fraud,
Being unskilled, a big pile of suck.
27 is way too old to be this green and helpless.
And maybe I can start elevating the caliber of the work I do.
At the risk of sounding simultaneously egotistical and self-loathing,
I feel like I have talent and tremendous potential,
But am incompetent when it comes to actualizing it.
I feel like I could be great, if I just knew what to do with myself.
Aptitude without skill.
If that makes sense.
Or without focus. Or specific knowledge.
Or maybe just without confidence.
I never did really learn how to do this Life thing.
At least maybe, in an acting class, I’ll learn how to simulate it.

We’re headed straight home from a show at St. Scholastica,
Another “Strange Like Me.”
Last week, I was impressed by Damian’s performance
of what we refer to as “The Meanie Man monologue,” or simply “Meanie Man.”
Originally intended for the white male actor, but now played by whoever wants to give it a shot,
Meanie Man is a torrent of words that kicks off the show
With a stream of invective and racial epithets aimed at the audience.
The aim is to use specific audience members, engage them, and get the whole house involved.
I’ve always been timid about it though, just rattling off the monologue like a bad audition piece.
I’ve only done it well once or twice.
Damian’s extensive interaction with the audience last week,
Even getting them to contribute actively to the piece,
Is exactly what is needed, and exactly what I never do.
Wearing a dress shirt that he borrowed from me,
Damian rocked the piece like I hadn’t seen before.
He even had one guy stand up and become the lightning rod for his vitriol.
He asked for racial epithets from audience members, and got plenty.
Wearing the same shirt tonight,
I did the Meanie Man, and probably better than I have before.
I credit the shirt.
It had been infused with the power.

I actually had fun, particlarly mocking the audience’s shocked reactions.
As vile as it is, the material no longer shocks us,
So their gasps did genuinely strike me as funny at the moment.

As with most of our larger shows, we wore body mics tonight.
When he handed me my mic, the tech guy said,
“You’ve got Al Franken’s mic.”
Last night, that space hosted a DFL function of some kind,
And Al Franken participated.
The wireless mic I used to verbally assault freshmen
Was used 24 hours earlier by Al Franken.
As with the shirt Damian wore,
I figured Al Franken’s mic had been infused with power.
We had a good show.

One noteworthy event:
During the talkback for “Linda, Ted, and Al”
(The show’s first real scene, jampacked with sexism and racism discussion points)
A white kid named Walt challenged Toussaint (playing Al, the black male).
Al is supposed to be super standoffish.
Walt wanted to really communicate.
Eventually Walt said, “I’d like to come down there and talk about this with you.”
Toussaint said okay.
Walt joined us at our “cafeteria table” set, toting a bag of Twizzlers.
I gave him my seat and milled around while he and Toussaint talked.
During this fellowship, I helped myself to Walt’s Twizzlers.
It’s in Ted’s character to do so, I decided.
Plus, I was hungry.

Now we’re in the car,
Ruminating on the particular idiosyncracies of tonight’s talkbacks.
We always find some students’ specious logic hard to believe.
How can they not see the cognitive dissonance in what they just said?
Why is the idea of white privilege so unbelievable for some white Minnesotans?
Why is Linda a bad guy for wishing Ted had told her that Al was black,
But Gary should have told Rich that he’s gay?
Most of these people have probably never talked about this stuff out loud,
And not with so many other, different people.
Prompting the dialogue is the thing.
And we watch it work wonders.

I’m enjoying gas station French Vanilla cappuccino,
A guilty pleasure of mine for the past decade.
To me, it’s inextricably tied to cold, late night road trips.
Although, to me back then,
“Cold” meant 40 degrees,
Now it means 5.
It’s just a matter of perspective, I guess.

Thanks to steroids, my skin has mostly recovered from an allergic reaction to medication,
So I’m not a hideous, speckled monster for the show.
Still, it’s good that this is the diversity show,
And not the one with all the making out.
For Jen’s sake.

Flew into St. Louis yesterday evening, and had dinner at the usual spot.
A Vietnamese place call Pho Grand.
My pho was just that.

Three hour car ride from there to our Holiday Inn in Carbondale.
We talked movies, laughed a lot, and made copious masturbation and dead baby jokes.
And I’ve been indulging in my favorite touring tradition:
Watching Mythbusters like a fiend and bathing a lot.

Been thinking a lot about the past lately.
Thinking about home, family, old memories.
Taking stock.
I don’t know why that is.
Been spending a lot of time in my own head,
Not exactly withdrawn, but definitely someplace else,
And by myself.

Looking forward to the weekend.
Nick’s picking me up from the airport, and we’ll maybe hang out.
Gonna start rehearsals for a show.
Going to a brunch.
Seeing people I very much want to see.

And hooray! Good news.
I’ve successfully rescheduled the Guthrie class audition I missed due to my deformity.
That makes me happy.
So do the sunshine and upper-30s temp here in Carbondale.

In the car now.
Gonna bring the diversity to the people.
Schoolin’ Whitey.

On Saturday, between back-to-back auditions and a read-through, Kat and I broke up.
So that’s pretty momentous.
I’ll refrain from inflicting any moping on you right now.
I’m intentionally not making this a post all about that.
But that’s pretty much the biggest deal.
She got me fleur-de-lis cufflinks for Christmas.
I don’t think I could ever wear them without feeling ashamed.
Okay, no more emo kid, I promise. (At least, not here.)

Rang in the new year at the Brave New Workshop with Kat, Nick, and all the BNW folks.
Saw their holiday show, had some champagne while sitting and standing around super-awkwardly,
(I’m a blast at parties.)
Then watched the midnight improv set.
Their “first improv set of 2008.”
It was very good, and very long.
The set had four solid, brilliant endings, but the lights just kept staying on,
So they kept on a’keepin’ on.
The whole thing was solidly entertaining.

Nick turned my age on Monday.
We went to Green Mill Saturday night and enjoyed the fuck out of some pesto & cream cheese pizza.
We spent Monday evening at Ed & Kaylea’s,
Watching Battlestar Galactica, eating Popeye’s, and drinking Surly.
We ooze class.
Incidentally, I also ooze pus.
(The others don’t. At least not right now.)

By the way, if you haven’t done so, you should watch Slings & Arrows.
From now on, I’m going to model myself after Paul Gross’ character.
Just so you know.

I auditioned for the Red Eye’s Have You Seen Steve Steven?
And got called back, but not cast.
Right before the Red Eye callback Saturday morning, I had an audition at the Science Museum.
That one, I got.
I’ll be performing in a short piece about the Holocaust for a eugenics exhibit.
Happy!
The other actor in my role is Bob Malos, and we’ll be performing with Stephanie Long and Jen Scott.
Randy Reyes directs.
That’s gonna happen in February and March.
Hooray for paid acting work.

Saturday night, I attended the first read-through of a Henry IV, Part I staged reading.
It’s going to be a fundraiser for leukemia, lymphoma and myeloma research and patient services.
That’ll be March 10th at the Lowry Lab in St. Paul.

I was a reader for GTC callbacks last night, which was fun.
Then I ran to a read-through of The Spooner Sisters,
A feature-length horror film I agreed to do.
I’ll let you know how that goes.

Next Monday, I’ll be doing a Playwrights’ Center roundtable reading.
Then, the following Saturday, rehearsals begin for The Sign in Sidney Brustein’s Window.
Need to get cracking on my memorization.

Sorry this post is so damn boring.
I’m not a writer, and I’m not feeling terribly creative.
So you get a laundry list of what I’ve been doing and am about to do.
(There’s other stuff I could get into, but I’ll exercise discretion.)
I’m just writing this crap down for my own records.
I know this isn’t entertaining, nor do I think anyone should give a damn.
Blogs are wasting our lives.

After we loaded out, we all went to Colin’s.
It was a ton of fun.
Wii, music, wine and cheese, and more Wii.
And I have discovered that I’m no good with a blowgun.
Colin had received one as a gift from family,
And we took turns target-shooting,
With varying degrees of success.
I sunk as many in the wall as I did in the target.
At least we didn’t kill any of the cats.
Blowguns are silent, vicious and frightening.
I want one.
For when I become a crime-fighting vigilante.

Wow.
I’m having lunch at Bewiched in the North Loop.
Dominique Serrand just walked in.
Okay, so that’s not a big deal,
But I thought it bore mentioning.
Maybe I can ask if he wants to go to Target,
With me and Josh Hartnett.
We’ll pick up plenty of ladies.

Rehearsals will begin soon for The Sign in Sidney Brustein’s Window.
Also, I have a callback for Red Eye Theatre tomorrow,
Immediately after an audition for the Science Museum.
May the Force be with me.

Went to a party last Saturday night.
Theatre people playing Rock Band.
It was fun, but I probably hurt plenty of ears.
Singing Police songs is hard.

Dominique is pacing in front of me now,
Waiting for his damn sandwich.
This should really have more side light,
And his movement choices are really uninteresting.
Oh well.
I still liked Don Giovanni.
He got his sandwich and left.
Well, that was predictable.
I feel unsatisfied.

On the tarmac in Chicago, between Minneapolis and New Orleans.
(well, not on the map)
It’s always strange to get on a plane headed to New Orleans.
I find myself scanning the rows for familiar faces.
(I once ran into an ex-girlfriend in the Houston airport,
I think I was going from Minneapolis to New Orleans then too.)
Hearing people talk, hearing that distinctive, peculiar New Orleans accent,
Which, despite my upbringing, I can’t imitate.
Also, you hear non-New Orleanians enthusiastically discussing plans for their trips,
Exchanging restaurant advice and misinformation.

Checking into the Bourbon Orleans hotel tonight.
It’s strange to stay in a hotel in your own hometown.
Tonight is Brad’s bachelor party in the Quarter.
Expect many familiar, high-school-vintage insults and one or two guys sulking like preteens.
If we go to the Cat’s Meow and sing “It’s the End of the World as We Know It,”
We’ll have to get the video or webcam pics,
To go with the ones we got seven years ago.
Same guys doing the same thing, seven years later.
How odd, to have adult memories that are already seven years old.
Seven years ago, seven years felt like a long time.
Now it just sounds like a long time.
They’re de-icing the wings, and we’re about to take off.
It’s in the seventies in New Orleans.
Just so you know.

Just got above the clouds, emerging from the wet, gray day Chicago is having,
Ascending into clear, blue skies.
Maybe I’ll see Jesus!
The sun’s beating on me through the windows, and I welcome the warmth.
I forgot to mention: I’m wearing a suit.
I look like a business traveler, especially with my Frappuccino and my Blackberry.
Little do they know, I’m a starving artist in disguise.
People will ask why I’m wearing a suit:
I’ll need this outfit on my trip, and it’s easier to wear it than pack it.
Wearing a suit is fun; It’s like playing dress-up.
Fortunately, it’s a good, suprisingly hip look for me.
White shirt, black suit, black tie, and my new glasses and short hair.
Maybe for the bachelor party, I’ll keep it on and drink martinis all night.

Really feeling like a man without a country here.
I’m nowhere – not in Mpls, not in NOLA,
And not really feeling like I’m from either of them anyway,
Or truly belong to either in any real way anymore.
An actor looking like a business man.
A New Orleanian that you wouldn’t guess is from New Orleans unless he told you.
Someone inconsequential in both places.
Skirting along the edges of places and groups of people,
Without attachment.

I’m going to miss the read-through for The Sign in Sidney Brustein’s Window,
As well as three or four auditions to which I’ve been invited,
Because of the timing of this trip.
The director dropped off the script with me yesterday, and I just finished it on the plane.
It’s good, and I think it’s a great role for me.
I’m going to start learning lines now.

Last night’s Santaland was great.
My girlfriend and several friends were in the audience, and I could hear each of them laughing.
My own performance was more relaxed and well-timed than it had been, and it felt good,
Like I broke through a block.
I’m glad that’s the show they saw.
I feel like I’m beginning to identify what has gotten in the way of a good performance.
I really hope I can get into that Actor’s Workout class at the Guthrie.
Dropped my application in the mail yesterday.
Fingers crossed.

Well, they’ve turned off the seatbelt sign.
Time to pee.
Good day.