It's back...

http://laceylaceyanne.blogspot.com/

I hate working.

I don't like working.

I really don't. 

Going the same place every day, doing the same mindless, easy job. I hate it.

And I take any excuse not to do it. I am hopelessly lazy. All I want to do is write, or audition, or just read scripts, and research how I can possibly make a "living" doing the things I love. And even though I so clearly need to work to make money to pay rent, bills, food, booze, it really does not take much effort to justify giving away my shifts and spending the day pretending that there is someone else who it worrying about where the money is going to come from. I am the worst adult ever. It's truly pathetic. Yet though I know this, I still make no visible effort to change it.

I desperately need a new headshot. Enough with the junk food. Crash diet time........

Learning to Love Insomnia

There has been a shift.

Instead of fighting this insomnia that has overtaken me, I have embraced it, and am not discriminating between 3pm and 3am. Rather, I choose to enjoy a tasty beverage and Flight of the Conchords. Still brilliant after all this time. The question remains though, will the second season live up to the genius that was the premiere season? (By the way, what the hell is Lisa doing during "A Kiss is Not a Contract"? Is she stoned?) AND, side note, the actress who played Felicia is in "Forgetting Sarah Marshall".  Which was a lovely movie FYI.

I am taking a lesson in simplification. Though I recognize that when I am in a frenzy of activity, from rehearsals, social engagements and various projects, I gain a momentum that lends more to my mental health than I would like to admit, other more pressing obligations have come to the front lines, demanding my attention and energy. There is a jealousy present to be sure, when seeing others close to me living the life I had become so dependents on, yet an odd satisfaction knowing that I am growing and moving forward. Accepting a responsibility I have to myself is horribly grown-up and I guess there is something to be said for that, but that does not make it any less overwhelming and scary. I have discovered a clarity over the last few months that seemed out of reach for a very long time, and with that clarity comes the need to destroy the walls I had reinforced with such intensity and  care. Both excitement and terror accompany each waking moment, but the awareness of change promotes the optimism necessary to maintain my nerve.

Though I miss having Josh here, there is something to be said for having an empty apartment to myself again. As I begin my work on "Cute Girl", the privacy I have available to me is greatly appreciated. I look forward to pushing myself to the limit for a piece that will surly test my boundaries, while also allowing the terror of the intimacy this requires to keep me on the edge of  raw creation.

Let me offer this question up for those of you still reading. Is New Years Eve not a "couples holiday" for the most part? I'm trying to settle an argument. With myself.

Awake.

I awake at 7:15 to the sound of a chainsaw ripping its way through the innocent tree out my window. What kind of hotel hires a man to do that at this ungodly hour? Oh. The Economy Inn in Dresden, TN. Right. This is what you get for $50 a night, even if you do flirt with the little man at the front desk for the AAA discount. Lying in bed for 20 minutes, I ponder if it is worth it to try to roll over and try to sleep through the bloody murder of my leafy friend, or if I should brave the freezing cold world outside my scratchy sheets and lumpy pillows. Eventually I choose the latter, to continue my fight with YouTube over uploading videos, and enjoying some microwavable oatmeal that I stole from the Days Inn two weeks ago when I was lucky enough to enjoy a continental breakfast. As my last week on tour begins, I feel as if there should be some wisdom I have attained and can now share with the bright and shiny world........ I'm sure there is, but all I can do at this point is to gaze longingly out the window at my decapitated friend and wonder just how hard I would have to hit the asshole with the chainsaw to get him to shut up.

Counting down

7 days until home

5 days until Chicago

5 days of shows

3 days till John

17 more shows

8 more schools

2 more hotels

wow.

Is Your Cat Trying to Kill You?

http://www.catswhothrowupgrass.com/kill.php

Nashville Gone Wild

I have now tried about 5 times to write a witty opening to this entry, setting up the events of last night, and I don't seem to be able to. I blame the cheap ass shitty canned beer I was drinking last night, but hey, it was free so I didn't complain at the time. 

Nashville is quite beautiful, along the river front (the Tennessee River I believe) you could not go 10 feet without running into a street musician with a guitar, fiddle, or some variation of the two. Live music everywhere you turn. While Beale Street was home of the blues, country and bluegrass were everywhere. Walking down the streets line with bars, music streaming out of everyone, it was clear that this was geared primarily for tourists, rather than locals. I purchased a $2.50 can of PBR, and settled in at Layla's Country and Bluegrass Inn. The band was rockin' and the lead singer looked like a cross between Axel Rose, the lead singer form Korn and Jerry Lee Lewis circa 1966. He put on a hell of a show, hanging from the ceiling, playing the keyboard blindfolded, and generally behaving like he was on a whole lot of uppers. 

Moving down the street, most other clubs seemed to require a cover, so we moved on to a place called Printer's Ally, which was literally a tiny little alley that consisted of a guitar bar, a karaoke bar, a hotdog stand, a "haunted" room where some guy was stabbed to death back in the 20's, and a strip club that boasted naked karaoke. Big sign out front said NUDE KARAOKE. We chose the guitar bar, beer and shots were consumed, and enjoyed the band who specialized in Journey, Air Supply, and REO Speedwagon. I continued to be intrigued by the idea of naked karaoke, did not have any trouble getting Nick and Steve to consider heading over in that direction. Ladies got in free, but the boys shelled out $15. No liquor was served, but we were able to purchase canned Bud Light in the alley, and bring it inside. Once seated we discovered that the karaoke did not actually begin until the after hours party, which was at 3am. And after hours, there was no more nakedness. At first I felt very let down, but then the leggy blond on stage threw off her g-string and broke out into Mariah Carey's  "Always Be My Baby". 

From that point on we continued to make friends with many of the girls, heard some crazy stories about "the biz", even hit the stage for karaoke at 3am, politely declining the bouncers request to take off my shirt. And all other details I will leave for another time. Some things have to be told in person to have full effect.

This trip will without a doubt leave me with enough stories to ALWAYS win Never Have I Ever.

And that makes all the difference.