I've been off the myspace for awhile now, and want to update the "where to find me" links:

Facebook: I check this every day

Twitter: my personal account

Flickr: I dump photos here regularly. Mostly of stuff I see while taking walks

My blog: the only place (now) where I write long-form about me and what I am doing

My blog about Orlando: I update this regularly with stories and news about Orlando arts and culture

I am blogging exclusively now at my on my permanent blog. I will visit myspace to read your posts. The easiest way for you to read my posts on my permanent blog is to get an RSS reader (Google is the best and is free and I use it.). Once you have the RSS reader , click "Blog RSS" on my blog to subscribe to it and receive all my posts in your reader. This alows you to subscribe to a bunch of blogs and not have to visit each and every one of them, daily. Thy come to you in the RSS reader. If you have any questions about RSS readers please email me: email at markbaratelli dot com. I think we will all be using them eventually as we move off myspace. Happy blogging!

Lobby of the theatre I've been teching in. See the glass Xmas tree? That's all glass.

When you're watching or performing live theatre, you know anything can happen. Here's tonight's story...

Tonight I sang the recititive (or whatever it's called) and I first thought "Is there something wrong with the music?" because it sounded different. I continued and I just had this odd sensation about me. I focused on my junk and did my thing.

Then two guys stage right waved their arms offstage. I turned and looked, while still singing. Now, by this point, the audience was NOT laughing and I didn't know why. I figured I wasn't doing something right. The guys were pointing at their mics. I was still singing and pointed to myself to make sure they were talking about me. They were.

My mic was not working.

Now, usually when I am singing this song, the audio is blaring behind me. I sometimes can hear myself and sometimes can't. I just put my faith and trust in the audio guys and I go about my business. They're great. So when my mic went out, I had no idea. Someone approached me from stage left and my brain was like "You must make this work." And "this," was very vague. I didn't know what was happening.

But I said to myself "Do your job. Sing. Don't worry. People are gonna take care of you." So I took the mic from the actor and said "Thank you" as if nothing was odd about this. Someone in the audience clapped. That was my clue that they had not heard a single thing I'd sung until then.

I figured I should just plow forward. So I did.

During the song I walk while wearing a cape that drags the floor and that I can easily trip on, I drop the cape a la Marilyn Monroe, I run around like a cartoon woman and writhe on the floor on my back. It's kinda physical. So, when this mic thing happened, it put me in "Mic Navigation" mode. I was choreographing as I sang. So I had to remember the lyrics, the acting, the blocking and now, I was also making up choreography.

So that Marilyn cape drop moment... I had to think quickly "Can I do this without dropping the mic? Yes? Ok do it." Drop. I held onto the mic. Yes!."

By this point, I was just happy I hadn't screwed anything up further. After I got the cape off I was happy. I did a little, I am not kidding, booty-dance behind JC. Like, what Salt N Pepa did in the "Push It" video.. behind JC. Wow.

Also by this point I was confident I could make the rest of the song work. I have to say that when I am doing this song, I go into a trance. I am like this machine focusing on nothing but what I am supposed to be doing. Because of this, I am totally in character. I am this self-indulgent, immature, baby-like King who gets whatever he wants and is, apparently, also a fan of R&B.

So during that dance break, I could relax. During this time, I am supposed to clap so the girls move for "The king." I forgot to clap so I just screamed (and I mean screamed) "MOVE!" Someone told me they thought this was funny. I thought it was funny. I hope the performer felt the same. It didn't come from any place other than "I am in character right now" and I have given direction to boss these ladies around. It's not in my nature to do this, but when I am handed a handheld mic mid-song and giving you made-up 'ography, I somehow magically become the character they're asking me for.

Then I remembered I had to crawl to JC, turn my back to him and pose like a 1940s pin-up, then slide down onto my back and kick my legs in the air like a babay. When I crawled on the floor I wasn't thinking about anything other than "How do I sing on the floor on my back and then get up, holding a hand-held?" I made it through by making adjustments and just thinking as quickly as I could.

I know what you're thinking. "Mark, you do improv. You can handle anything." And yeah, that was going through my head, so I wasn't freaked out at all.

Until I had to rip the cape off JC.

I'm supposed to stand up, walk to JC, walk around behind him, yell at his head, gingerly slip the cape off him, put it on myself, all the while singing. I got to the back of JC and thought "What do I do with the cape? I can't put it on while holding a mic!" It is sitting on his shoulders.

So, one again I had to just trust that people would have my back. I picked up the coat off of JC and, while singing, threw it behind me center stage. This cape is heavy. It must be 15 pounds? Something close. So there goes the cape flying through the air and landing dead center, upstage. By this time I am like "Someone in this building owes me a Snickers bar for all this 'ography and quick-ish thinking."

I clomped across the stage in my gold boots, trying to stay in character till the end, and barely, just barely, squeaked out my final note, which is so far out of my range I have to focus and stand still to do it.

I got the note out, then reached for the pita bread I have to grab to put in my mouth for the final pose. I could not get the pita bread out of the bowl. Wow. Really? So I just, I don't know what I did. I just posed in some fashion.

The audience was silent.

I walked off stage.

I found this randomly. I took this picture at a NYC diner last summer in rehearsals for that piano show.

This is not a hotel. It's a museum of depression.
The hotel I have been staying in for a week is absolutely unbearable. I have to empty my own toilet (which they actually call a shit pot) out the hotel window, strip my own bed while the housekeeper waits outside, rent a rolling heater by the hour for my room, buy towels at Wal Mart to use, walk 10 miles to the venue, wear a woman's wig outside because it's the only thing that will keep my obese head warm and make love to the hotel bartender to pay for my bar tab which is well over $419.

My life is so completely miserable since I gave my daughter to the state. I miss her and wish I had her and my life back. I just want to staple wings to my back and jump of a roof into a boiling pool of facial scrub and Coke Zero.

But I can't. I have to work to pay off my gambling debts before they cut off my Grandma's other toe. I wish my life was simple like it used to be: knitting on the front porch of the ranch while my wife went to work and my kids ate hay in the barn.*

But I can honestly say I have one thing to be grateful for: I can dress better than David A's 12-year-old boyfriend.**

Funny
Last night we were talking about plastic surgery and one person said to me, "What do you want to have done? Calf implants?" Ouch.

It's the day of the show, y'all.
First time in front of an audience. Hope I don't suck. If you see me trolling around Orlando in my Grandma's car crying, you know why. Herod stank in New Mexico.

The Economy is retarded
I am so grateful I have a job. There are 4 million people on unemployment right now. And the new people that signed up this week is the highest amount to do so at one time in 16 years. I am an actor and I have job but all these skilled people are losing their jobs. How backwards is that?

*This is a lie, Summer.

**This is not, Summer.

The Herod from last year.
Same set and orchestration.
Different costume and I sing it differently.

Want to be
I want to be one of those "It's not the situation, it's how you react to it" folks. Knowing that, I am analyzing my morning to see where I went wrong, because by noon, I was angry. I don't want to be angry. I don't want to blame "being on tour" for my mood. It's not the tour, it's not having a roommate, it's not being in a strange city... it's me. It's you. It's the way you react to it all. Logically, I understand that. So why, then, did I get upset by the time morning was over? The day had just begun and already I was in knots. Her's a breakdown (literally) of what happened.

-Later today I am supposed to do Herod rehearsal on the set, with mics. This has built-in anxiety.
-I prepped for a morning walk and instead sat in the lobby talking for 2 hours.
-I drank a LOT of coffee.
-The hotel does not have it's wifi working, so I walk to Starbucks.
-Starbucks did not have it's wifi working, so I walk to the sister hotel.
-The sister hotel did not have it's wifi working, so I give up.
-Before my shower, I set out the clothes I was gonna change into, in the bathroom
-Housekeeping left my roommate and I one bath towel.
-I got dressed again, went to housekeeping, and collected our towels
-On the walk back to my room, I remembered reading if the room is missing towels, we have to pay for them. So I wonder if I will have to pay for these mysteriously-missing towels.
-I got my towels, went to shower, and realized I'd taken my clothes out of the bathroom.
-The shower was cold.
-I had to put a dirty shirt back on, in a towel, to retrieve my clothes off the couch, return to the bathroom and change.
-This is when I got mad.

I did not take any of this into rehearsal, thank you please. I did something productive about it instead of entering my work day with this mood hanging over me: I talked to someone. At first, I said I was in a tizzy and listed off all the reasons. Then the more I talked, the more I felt like none of this was of any consequence and perhaps the sole reason for my anxiety was my dreadful thoughts about doing Herod later today (a) on the stage which is raked and divided into little raised triangle platforms, (b) on mic and (c) with the full band, (d) all for the very first time.

Also, I need to take care of myself better.

-Do my daily walk. This is the only time I have to myself on tour. It is also the main time I catch up on news on my headphones.
-Only drink decaffeinated. I know it still has caffeine, but I'm betting it has less.

I took this photo May 08 with my phone backstage at the Spencer Theatre.

Day Sha Vooooo
It turns out all my "I think I've been to Alto, New Mexico before" thoughts were true. I came through here in May 2008 in the piano tour. The Spencer Theatre is a striking giant white modern stabbing cement angle jutting from atop a tree-less mountain. It's as dramatic as my flowery description when you first see it. The lobby's got an orange Chihuly Xmas tree, the house only seats an intimate 500, and my dressing room has a black fake leather couch. The show has the run of the theatre for the entire week. (Chihuly in San Francisco)

Saturday. Yesterday. November 15, 2008.
Tech rehearsal 1 was what I expected: a lot of sitting. I made the most of it, though: ate my Wal Mart groceries, drank the free coffee and talked to myself in Spanish. We've been warned that being so high up (I think it's 5,000 or 9,000 feet elevation) we need to stay hydrated, to expect some oddities in our body and when performing and singing to expect to lose our breath easier. So far I the only effect I have is I am tired. I am thinking stabbing holes my arms and running into rehearsals screaming "Stigmata! New Mexico gave me Stigmata!"

No support
I have a confession. I had the chance to attend the NYC Prop 8 protest a few days ago, the final day of rehearsals in the city, and I, instead of walking to the protest from the studio, Iwalked to Ruby Tuesday and gorged on their salad bar. I now see how retarded this was. I am sorry for not going and if I could turn back time, change my mind and vomit up my salad bar meal, I would. If I vomited now, it would not churn up salad bar. Just some Little Debbie cakes, a gallon of orange drink a carton of cigarettes and some paper towels. And a Barbie cowboy hat.

Dancing alone side by side with Beyonce
Go single lady! Watch this kid work it out to "Single Ladies" in his room while the Beyonce video plays side by side.

Nice ending to stank-ass day
Thursday was my last day in NYC and it could not have gone worse. I had some unexpected news fall into my lap Wednesday night that forced my Thursday into stres-ville. As I tried to take care of it, I was walking outside forever. The sky was overcast, it rained constantly... basically the city looked like gray meat on a plate of gray cardboard chips. I treated myself to a Broadway show after all that mess so my final day in the city wasn't a total disaster. I saw "Boeing Boeing" for $20. I'd go again because (a) it's cheap and (b) it's long. I could see Robyn P as the German chick and Murff as the Maid.

Travel Friday
I came home Thursday night after midnight and half-packed, leaving the rest for Friday morning. I woke up late and once I was packed, would not have made it on-time to the bus the tour provided to get us to the airport. And of course, I did not bring the company manager's phone number with me. So, I paid for a car to take me to the airport and waited for him to call me asking where I was. I was 3 hours early to the flight and was able to switch my seat from one in the middle of two people to an aisle seat.

The rich-people waiting room let me in because of my Platinum Am Ex, so I drank free coffee and ate free bagels and used the computer room for almost three hours. 4-hours to Dallas-Ft Worth (non-stop awesome convo with a brain surgeon), 1-hours to El Paso, 2-hour bus ride to Ruidoso, New Mexico. After a brief Wal-Mart run, I slept like a baby.

Saturday morning
I flew here with luggage full of dirty clothes, so this morning I rolled it down to the lobby, dumped it on the floor and rolled around in it. The front desk person asked me to stop but it was like I was in my own world. The company manager came downstairs and I stopped, then took it to the laundry room. He asked if I thought I was a cat and I said yes.

..

I found this on Lady Raptastic's blog


Stock down
I'm starting off this post with not-so-bad news. Each of my ten ten shares of Starbucks I bought at $16 are down to $9.78. I'm not selling. I think the chain will come back, not because they're gonna open 700 new stores in 2009 right after closing 600 this year in the US and Australia (why does this make sense to them?) but, um just because I think they will come up with a new reason for folks to buy.

I was in midtown yesterday and in one Starbucks I couldn't even get in the door. That means nothing of course, but it does at least say some people are still fans. It's like Mariah. She sold all those records in the 90s, then her sales dropped off when her material (and voice) went to crap. But, when her voice and material got good again (Emanicipation of Mimi) people flocked back. People who liked something at first, then dislike it when it changes, want to like it again, I feel.


Rehearsal
The hour-long work session on the number was fine. Then when it came time to do the entire show run-thru after lunch, I bombed. I was jittery, missed some staging and, worst of all, forgot a section of lyrics. If you know me, you know I beat myself up when I don't perform well. Holy hell I was sucking down the cookies yesterday. I have one song to do, and I forget the lyrics? Today (Wednesday) is the last run-thru in rehearsals. We go into tech next Friday and run-thrus during that period will be few and far between. Yes I am panicking.