The Hussey Bloggeth

A week hath past since I last bloggeth. I sincerely wish my life weren't so devoured by grueling rehearsals that may or may not be in dire need of my presence, an active social life, and the obligation of using my superior intellect to type last-minute papers for my professors. But my life would not be so damn interesting if I sat and ate Cheetos all day, so for that I am greatful.

I have had a very constructive week, though, I must say. Last Friday I was very pleased to attend the Atlanta Storytelling Festival in "Fucking Decatur" (it is not longer solely Decatur- it is Fucking Decatur because it's 575, 75, 285, exit 40 miles away. That's fuckoff forever) with Chris, who took the Lincoln towncar from the limo company he works for. I felt very posh and was saddened to be sans grey poupon.

I saw my friend Scottie Rowell's performance and it was phenomenal. I don't know much about him personally and so it was great to see him perform this story about him growing up and his relationship with his family. I could empathize and sympathize with him and I came out of the show feeling closer to my friend. I really love how storytelling is like that- making peaceful unions with people on person levels. Seriously, world peace can be acheived through better ways than protests, smoking pot, and recycling.

I also saw a very odd performance that gave performance art a bad name. I consider myself an artistically open actor and am very supportive of new enterprises and experimental works but I did not get it at all. His introduction of a mock Carol Burnett opening really drew away from the performance, and his four minute dance solos that took place to different songs I hear in elevators across America made no sense sequentially. One thing I did like, however, was his prerecorded story and the interpretive dance that went with it. It was like a flowing kibuki theatre tecnique where he would move fluidly and then when he stopped on a beat, it would be a pose representing the word stated in the monologue. That was cool- the rest was crap. I think he was looking for a venue. But- kudos to the guy because it does take guts to pour your soul into something and to have exposed to critics.

I then Saturday night attended Rocky Horror in Norcross, whoring it up with Lisa and Jess. We arrived and were part of a six person audience with the rest of the roughly 14 cast members. For their April Fools edition of Rocky, they had their drag show where "drag queens and drag queens at heart" could compete to win. I race up there and this guy who looks familiar (who we later mutually realized was my partner in the math class I dropped last semester. Last time I see him he's an ASP coordinator at Kennesaw and then I see him in full on drag- who knew?) and we are the only competitors for the competition. He picks me up and spins me around- something everybody in the world does because I'm tiny- and we crack a few jokes. So we have to tell what our drag names are and why we should win. He replies with something that wasn't cheeky enough for me to remember. Naomi, our EmCee, asks:

What is your drag name?
My reply: Patty O'Furniture

Everyone laughs for about 2 minutes and then she says:

I don't think I need to ask now but why should you win?
Because I choose style over substance.

So by a round of applause, we are rated by our audience and I received a resounding wave. I presented myself in my dress and heels and so did he, the real drag queen, and I won. Well, technically we both won because they had two bags of candy. It was fantastically fun. And now that I have Bruno running, I told them that I would love to join cast and would probably do so after Moby Dick was finished.

I guess I have dedicated this post to my adventures in performance so I'll continue on with the theme. Today I discovered by being on the Facebook page for Theatre in the Square, I received 2 complementary tickets to see The Little Dog Laughed on the Alley Stage. I originally wanted to take my mom but she had a scheduling conflict so I decided to ask Miss Kelly Belly Jelly, a good friend of mine, to accompany me on my gratuitous opportunity. She obliged and I am very glad she did because not only is her companionship always appreciated, but I didn't have to see a risque, awkward play where there are naked men fucking on stage with my mother sitting next to me. The play itself was exceptional; the actors were believable and had spot-on cominc timing. It's people like that I aspire to be. We both agreed that we loved it and were also big fans of the free food served at the reception afterwards.

Moby Dick is fishing along swimmingly and curtain goes up April 15. So fill out your taxes and come see me in a fat suit. I expect to see a lot of familiar faces or I will take a herring to your face and don't think for a second that I am kidding. We've worked extrememly hard on this show and I want at least 3 nights to sell out, even if I am not being paid for this. Come support the theatre majors because the money may not directly go to our pockets but to the production department that we live in. Also the set is amazing and you should at least see it with actors on it. I'll step off my soapbox now.

Until next week, adieu!