For My Therapist

I have had the feeling of being inferior once before. I was in the house of an ex-girlfriend and her brother was over and it was a swank place on the Lower East Side and she had just made some Indian food and was nervous about how it came out.

It was my first time meeting her brother and everyone was talking about things I didn’t know. They were speaking English and I could understand their words but they smiled at things that made me wonder why I wasn’t smiling, too. Took things seriously with faces that didn’t move, and tilted their heads when they were curious or suspicious which only seemed to be when I was speaking.

When the food Continue reading For My Therapist

The Effects of Auditions

Had my audition for Fifth of July, by Lanford Wilson, at the T. Schreiber Institute.

My audition time was at 3pm. I stopped at the Antique Cafe and ordered a green tea. Two men came up beside me and spoke to a man wearing sunglasses, seated at a table. From the way the two men greeted the man wearing sunglasses I thought he was famous or just a very important person. A person in front of me, holding a plate of salmon, over rice pilaf and sauteed vegetables, paid for his meal and mentioned something about the jar of fudge cookies smartly placed right by the cash register. He mentioned it to a woman who was in front of him, who looked like she had some work done to her face and I only noticed it because I thought she was wearing too much make-up (I judge people), and out of nowhere I got this feeling like I was dressed in rags at a posh dining affair. It was a feeling Continue reading The Effects of Auditions


If you’re ex-girlfriend became an escort and wrote a tell-all book about her life and when you scoured through “said” book looking for the chapter she dedicated to the influence you had on her life and found….

“I went to New York to visit my actor boyfriend who had just got his first acting gig; a role in a musical where he appeared naked.”

I would expect you to write a blog, too.

I read 40 pages of the book entitled The Price, {you took that name from Arthur Miller, anyway you look at it, it’s a lack of creativity. If you wanted to title your book with some kind of reference to ‘what it cost’ for you to go from a young ingenue Continue reading Bratalie

The Wrestler


My heart hurt watching this movie.

Firstly, I was alone in the cinema but for a man in a wheelchair.

Toward the end, there is a camera shot of a little hallway of light surrounded by darkness. This was meant to be the place where the stripper who followed him all the way to his match in Wilmington, was watching. The hallway was empty, signifying she was no longer there. And he smiled and sobbed when the camera went back on him, before he took his final leap onto the mat. He knew he was a “fuck-up,” a “loser,” “un-loved” by the real world.

What set him off, or the very tipping point of the film, was someone recognizing him at Continue reading The Wrestler

How the economy has changed what men are saying on the New York City subway line


“Can I have your attention? I am not here askin for money. I know a lot of you out here, lost yours jobs. Those of you that don’t have jobs– those of you on this subway car that aren’t working… I feel you. I know where you at. Those of you that still have your jobs. This is goin out to those of you that are going to work, or leaving work early, if you have anything to spare, I would greatly appreciate it. I am hungry, and homeless. I have not eaten since yesterday. I have no place to live. I will take any food you do not want. Pretzels, any nibbles you got. Maybe a sandwich, tuna, somethin you brought in ziplock bag, thought you were gonna eat, now you not hungry. Continue reading How the economy has changed what men are saying on the New York City subway line


Having just changed my child’s diaper, I watched a documentary on the Phelps family, and it took 7 minutes of me, smelling my hand and thinking (it’s not so bad), then smelling it again (yeah I smell it, but it’s not terrible), then smelling it again (yes, I can definitely smell it, but I’m watching a fascinating documentary), before I realized that indeed, my hand smelt more like ‘shit’ than ‘hand,’ and forced myself to wash it with warm water and soap.

This just happened

A man walked down the three stairs of his apartment building, opened the recycling receptacle, threw out some garbage and it slammed shut and walking by I said, “douchebag,” a little too loud.
What d’ya say man?
I kept going.
What d’ya say?
I stopped. I turned around. I walked right up to him.
I said, douchebag.
I saw you close the bin with a slam and picked up on bad energy.
Well, he’s some good energy (he extended his hand) Mani.
I’m Elan.
Where you from Elan?
Just moved to New York?
No, I lived here 9 years.
So, you thought I was giving bad energy?
Yes, the way you closed the bin. Maybe it slipped out of your hands.
I didn’t even close the bin. I let it go. My hands are cold and wet.
I think… I’m going through a judgmental period.
Did I get you wet?
Just bad energy?
Well, wasn’t my intention. I’m glad we talked. Have a good night, Elan.
Yeah, Mani. You too.

Circle in the sand

PhotobucketYou know that stupid quote or story or I don’t even think it was in the bible but it’s like a picture and there’s writing underneath it in italic and the picture is always different, sometimes it’s footprints in the sand sometimes it’s clouds, sometimes it’s just a shore, but it says something like this guy dies and he’s in heaven and he’s looking at his life as footprints in the sand and he notices a patch where there are only Continue reading Circle in the sand

Washington McNeely

I did it. I performed a 90 year old man.  Three times.

First, standing staring off into nothing, then sitting in a chair addressing the audience, and lastly, to the two other actors on stage.

The best was when I did it the 2nd time. I felt connected, vulnerable, mostly in character, but more importantly, I felt (from the very beginning) that this monologue isn’t talking to one person. It encompasses Continue reading Washington McNeely