Please do not feed the actors.

As in, in the evening, before bed. I like to feel clean when I go to bed, and also I don't like the thought of the crap I put in my hair getting on my pillow and therefore onto my face. Not to mention how sweaty and oily-feeling my face can get throughout the day. So tonight, after a long and busy day, I turned on the water and climbed in, and I noticed a spider in the corner, down near the drain. In America we would call it a daddy longlegs. (Though I know that in Britain that term is designated for a certain spindly-legged insect, though I can't remember which one at this moment.) It was one of those spiders with a tiny body and eight thin, angular legs. I thought, Huh, another spider that's lost its way by coming in the house and will end up down the drain before long. I watched as it reacted to the first few drops of water. The spray from the shower head didn't directly hit it, and I didn't purposefully throw water on it, but it obviously felt a few droplets

Going on little sleep, I had one of those mornings today where my stomach took control over my rational brain.  The place where I temp has a convenient cafeteria with a plethora of breakfast substances, all for a small fee. This morning I thought I would treat myself to a bagel, and well, that's exactly what I did. It was probably one of the most unhealthy bagels in all of human history, but boy was it tasty. I tweeted as such, and promptly got a few friends practically begging to know what was on it.  I tried, I really did try, to fit it all into one tweet, but 140 characters is simply not enough space to give justice to the description. So I'm writing a blog. I'm writing a blog about what I ate for breakfast. Oh dear, what have I come to? Anyway, don't say I didn't warn you. Like I said, my fatigue-induced brain was being controlled by my stomach, and I had quite the seducing array of topping options. To start I selected the largest, choicest bagel (a sesame

Those who know me well know that I occasionally do freelance admin work for a man who runs his own business (a legal consulting firm) from his house. The setup is nice: I go in whenever my schedule allows it and organise the crap out of his office, calculate his expenses, pack away his old files, etc., and then invoice him at the end of the month. Sometimes, when my weekdays are especially busy with other temp work (an actor has to eat), the weekends are my only opportunity to stop in. One particular Saturday, when my work kept me late into the evening, George and his wife Jessica informed me that they would be hosting some neighbours for an indoor cookout and also to watch some big important match or something on telly. I said that it was fine, as I’d be tucked away in the office upstairs, and maybe I’d join them for a burger once I was finished. So I got to work, sat at the computer clicking away with my iPhone plugged in and playing music to keep me focused. Jessica, in her pe

Politics. What a good way to spoil a party. Yesterday British people had the opportunity to elect their local government leaders. In London , undoubtedly the most prominent election that took place was the mayoral one: the battle between “Buffoon” Boris Johnson the incumbent and “Red” Ken Livingstone in an attempt to reclaim his seat at City Hall. The votes are still being counted as of today. I have friends who shout from both ends of the political spectrum. A quick trawl through my social networking yesterday and I could easily find both “BACK BORIS” and “SACK BORIS” as well as “Anyone but BoJo” and “Not Ken again”. My own political opinions aside, these people are exercising their free speech and voicing their opinions, which is of course fine. But among those very same pages are other comments I’ve seen which remind me that I have a growing problem with another kind of people: those who don’t vote. A lot of my friends do, don’t get me wrong. Some of the comments

Write in this blog more.

To me, not just as an actor, but an all-around theatre person, the most important thing to do while on stage is tell a good story. All other aspects of theatre are still important, but if the story is missing or flawed, those aspects are irrelevant. For example, you can have a wonderful set design or cutting-edge lighting and sound, but without a story to support, you might as well be in a museum. You can have amazing choreography or someone with an exceptional singing voice, but without a story to tell via the dance moves or through the lyrics, all you have is someone showing off their craft. You can have outstanding actors with the ability to evoke any emotion on demand, but without a story to tell, well, they’re just being pretentious. (There’s actually a word for that kind of theatre, but it’s a bit rude so ask me later and I’ll tell you.) The same applies to other works of art as well, film and TV particularly. If you’re not telling me a good story, I’m changing the channel