(Raises hand)
Umm...some people are not looking at other people who have solos--soloists, I believe they're called--during their solos, and instead, are choosing to sort of stare off into space or look osffstage where apparently something more interesting than art being made is happening, I guess? You do want us looking at the beauty and wonder of art being made rather than at the stage hands making gross shadow puppets on the back wall, right? I realize that some people may not want to look at the beauty and wonder of art being made because they want to be the ones making the art, but they weren't chosen to make the art, and now they have to respect that and watch other people make art, because what's the point of making art if other people aren't forced to watch you do it? Am I right?
. . . . .
(Raises hand)
I still need money for a gift for someone who may or may not be the director and if that person doesn't get their gift and other people are not getting their names on a card that may or may not be given to the director. 'kay?
. . . . .
(Raises hand)
The prop sword I brought out tonight is about five centimeters shorter than the prop sword I normally use. Do you know what happened to that original sword? Because I really felt comfortable with it, and I just don't feel comfortable with this new one. Like, when I'm sticking the new one in John, I really feel like I'm not sticking it in deep enough, because of those five missing centimeters. I realize I'm just sticking it in his armpit, and it's coming out the other side of him, but I really think those five centimeters make a big difference and I think John notices them too when they're not there. John, don't you wish I had those five centimeters back when I'm sticking it in? John? Why is everybody laughing?
. . . . .
(Raises hand)
When we do the slide across the stage into the spin, you don't want us to punch each other in the face, right? Because I punched someone in the face tonight, but I actually think it sort of worked, and I was wondering if maybe you'd like me to do it again so you can see it this time and maybe you'll like it? Any thoughts on that?
. . . . .
(Raises hand)
Ummm, so, soooome people are eating the bean burritos they sell at the restaurant across the street in the dressing rooms, and--there's really no good way to say this--it smells like a hog's patootie backstage. Seriously, I have already come close to throwing up on my dandelion costume for the 'It's Just Dandy in Kalamazoo' number because it is a rank tank of madness back there. Plants have died. Mirrors have cracked in half. I went to do a vocal warm-up, and I nearly passed out. It is a serious problem. Now, we're all adults here. I think we need to agree to only eat after the show, and if you're going to eat the 'Not So Fast' Burrito, please do it in the janitor's closet where you won't risk killing your fellow cast members. It's a serious problem. Am I right?
. . . . .
(Raises hand)
Tonight I heard God tell me I should be a taxidermist, but I plan on finishing out the run of the show unless He tells me not to.
...I just wanted to share that with everybody.
. . . . .
(Raises hand)
So, since this is Day Four of notes, I was wondering if anybody else feels like the energy during today's note session is less than the energy we had during yesterday's note session? I felt like yesterday we were really listening to the notes you were giving us, and writing them down with a lot of passion, and then today, we're just sort of like, okay okay look at how my fingernail looks like a glass eye blah blah blah, and we're not really into it, and don't you think we should really try to give these note sessions everything we have because, I mean, that's why we're here, right? To do what we love and then get notes about doing what we love so we can do it and love it even more and take note of that. That is crucial...right?
. . . . .
(Raises hand)
My character tried a turnip puree for the first time tonight offstage but within the world of the play...and didn't like it. Didn't like it at all. Is that a problem, do you think?
. . . . .
(Raises hand)
Ummm, sooo, soommme peeeople, whose name may or may not rhyme with Fennifer Tosenfelt were definitely standing within seven feet of the spotlight that other people who may or may not have had solos--soloists, I believe they're called--which tends to distract, I think, from the person chosen--some might say, by God--to be in that spotlight. Don't you think it's not enough to actually stay OUT of the spotlight, but rather, you have to stay at least eight feet AWAY from the spotlight or else you risk pulling attention from the chosen one's solo and risk stealing some of that holy light and basking it onto your unworthy self? Am I right?
. . . . .
(Raises hand)
Offstage tonight, I made love to a total stranger that wandered in from the bus stop on someone's dandelion costume. And I'm proud of it. That's right, I'm proud of it.
. . . . .
(Raises hand)
Do I have time to get a pizza between Scenes Two and Three in Act One? Because my blood sugar tends to really drop between those scenes, and I mean, I could snack, but snacking doesn't really make me feel secure that my blood sugar level is going to stay up, so I prefer to eat a pizza, or at least, most of a pizza, but then I have to time when I call, and make sure there's someone here to get it, and tip the guy, and check and make sure they didn't forget the sausage, so do you think there's some way somebody else could handle all that for me so that I don't pass out and die onstage and not make it onstage in time for Scene Four, where I have that great line about Mr. Fielding being here, you know, 'Mr. Fielding is here,' because I don't want to miss that line because I really feel like it's crucial. Right?
. . . . .
(Raises hand)
Either my character is pregnant, or I am...or both...or neither...did I say or both? Okay, well, or both.
. . . . .
(Raises hand)
Ummm, sooooooooo, soommmmmme peeeeeeople coughed during a certain person with a solo's solo tonight--you know, the soloist--and that person may or may not have been Fennifer Tosenfelt, and I would just like to say, that true professionals do not cough onstage, even when their envy is so large and full that it crawls up out of their burrito-filled stomachs, past their larynx, and out of their mouth, which by the way, has an upper lip that could use a wax. A true professional sucks that cough of jealously back down into themselves and waits until they are chosen to have a solo even though we all know that day is never going to come. Am I right?
. . . . .
(Raises hand)
Do you think my character ran over a drifter on the way here...or something? And if that particular character did, and they called the police, is it a hit and run if they wait a few days to do it...or something?
. . . . .
(Raises hand)
Do you want me to fly? Because I could try to fly. It's not impossible. Nothing's impossible when you have a dream. Do you want me to fly right now? I can be on the roof in five minutes. Seriously, do you want to see me fly? I can do it, you know. You don't know that I can't. You don't know that I can't handle a lead. YOU DON'T KNOW THAT I GO HOME AT NIGHT AND CRY!
...By the way, was that thing I did at the top of the show working for you? Because I can do something else.
. . . . .
(Raises hand)
Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, soooooooooooo, soooooooooooooome peeeeeeeeeeeeeople are eating a burrito right behind me, and I just puked on all my notes, so now we have to start over.
I hope some people are happy.
I really do.
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