I’ve been involved with several staged readings lately. Back in August, my voice played the part of a jilted lover in Marin Gazzaniga’s In Ways Both Frivolous and Deep, directed by Alexandra Aron at Primary Stages. After several attempts to record in a studio, Alexandra decided to have me call her iPhone and leave my performance on her voice-mail. It apparently worked better. I had no idea that the actress playing my ex would be Jessica Hecht. I’ve always liked her work but couldn’t be there for the actual reading so it bummed me out a little to have missed that.

Next, I did a private reading of Robin Rice Lichtig’s Suki Livingston Opens Like a Parachute, directed by Tracy Bersley. Robin made a lot of changes since the script-in-hand performance we did back in March at Theater for the New City. The board room in the office where we read had an incredible view of the city’s eastern and southern territory. I played numerous iconic figures in the play including JFK and MLK jr, believe it or not. It’s not an easy play to write (it’s quite epic and very personal) so my hat’s off to Robin who is continuing to work on it.

Then I got to play a perfectly nice Jewish guy on a first date in Alexandra Beech‘s Little Monsters, directed by Michelle Bossy at Ensemble Studio Theatre’s Octoberfest 2010. There are something like 52 full-length plays being read in that so there is plenty of high-quality pieces to see. Alex usually writes more political pieces so it was nice to see her put out a comedy. Because of things coming together at the last minute, I only rehearsed my scenes in isolation and heard the rest of the play for the first time with the audience. I laughed through the whole thing during the scenes in which I wasn’t involved.

On Saturday afternoon, I’m reading the part of a magazine reporter in an untitled play that Aimee is directing. She was recommended to the playwright by Cusi Cram after Aimee directed Cusi’s short play in the 7even, 7even, 7even this summer.

Next up is this drama with comedic grace notes about a war veteran coming home from our recent war with Iraq. I play “Dutch” Wackenhut, a guy off his nut runnnig for Congress. I have a really funny monologue in this. Please check it out.

F U 4 Your Service by Eric Conger
Octoberfest 2010 at Ensemble Studio Theatre
549 West 52nd Street, 2nd Floor

Directed by Tom Rowan

Saturday, October 9th, 9 p.m. and Monday, October 11th, 7 p.m.

With J. Alex Brinson, Peter Brouwer, Rosalyn Coleman, Bill Cwikowski, Maria Gabriele, Chris Harcum, Debbie Lee Jones and Alanna Wilson.

Reservations recommended: boxoffice@ensemblestudiotheatre.org or 212-247-4982 ext. 105.

A phrase has been rolling around my head for more than a month. Aimee and I went to hear a talk at 92YTribeca with Peter Hedges and Jonathan Tropper about adapting novels into screenplays. It was less of a how-to lecture and more of a discussion of the ups and downs of taking a story from the more forgiving page to the screen where time and visuals are important.

I knew it was going to be good because I heard Hedges talk about theater when I was a college freshman back in the last century. He had gone to the same school some years before and was making the transition from being an actor to a playwright. I liked how he turned almost every answer he gave into a story by occasionally starting with something seemingly unrelated and blindsiding you with the connection. By his account, he wasn’t much of a performer and this was difficult for him to reckon with.

He told my class about being double cast with another actor in a Landford Wilson play and getting to watch that actor rehearse. In one scene, where Hedges was doing a lot of stuff to make meaning of what his character was going through, the other actor just stood and listened. That’s when the phrase “I am enough” came to him.

I’ve kicked that around for a number of years because as an actor you’re either considered AMAZING or not worth a damn and little in between. The system of training and what one has to do to get a job only compounds that 10000% so it’s tough to stay on top of your mental game. I find my relationship to the whole thing to be like what Jagger wails about in “Beast of Burden” so not only do I not feel like I am enough, I feel like I’m not wanted. “I am enough” isn’t saying “I’m the best” or “I’m going to succeed” but “I am going to face this and figure out how to handle it.”

It occurred to me that things have changed since Hedges published What’s Eating Gilbert Grape because of the rise of the internet and youtube and I asked if that has affected his writing. He talked about being in drama school and working backstage on a production of Henrik Ibsen’s A Doll’s House and how he’d follow along with a flashlight. “It’s amazing how he made every moment count.” Considering that this is a play from a 141 years ago–long before movies, tv or any of this interweb craziness–it is quite a feat.

Hedges said that should be our mantra: “make every moment count.” To have less conversations, but have them mean more. To have less interactions, but make them more important. To use that in writing and in life. Having spent many hours sitting in a less-than-comfortable seat watching something more than painful, I know not many people think about that concept. I think this is applied more often on tv than theater or film because of the nature and pressure of advertising revenue.

Using this, I can understand a little better why it’s hard for people sitting in a casting room to be civil and attentive after years of actors not making every moment count. I imagine the disappointment can be soul destroying. I also think the majority of actors are crazy from trying for so long and they use a put-on charm to compensate for a lack of being able to make each moment count.

Between the talk and the book signing, I approached Peter and told him about how I remembered being outside the cafeteria building late at night while he was there that week and how a dance major asked if he was ever going to finish that book of his because it was so good. He said it was about 1,000 pages long at that point but it would let him know when it was ready.

He had to get over to the signing table. I already had a copy of his latest, The Heights, and didn’t want to be in the way. I debated about staying until he was done to talk more. Part of me wishes we knew each other better because I do feel a deep kinship to him because of similar backgrounds. He makes sense of things in a way few people do. Part of me didn’t want to be a hanger-on. I’ve found it to be messy meeting people I admire. So we left. Half of me didn’t feel like I was enough, but the other half did.

I didn't know Arnie well. He was after my time but I did see him now and again during summer visits and holidays to Florida. Ben got him for my folks while our childhood dog was on a steep decline. God love her, Libby lived 18 years.

Dad wasn't thrilled about having a new dog in their house. Arnie was named after the golf legend to placate Dad, a golf fanatic. As a puppy, he was high octane and riddled with doggy ADHD. I called him Rat Boy because of his long thwapping tail, need for attention, and insane energy.

Libby was put to sleep. Her back was a mess and she going blind. She just looked sad. My folks had her cremated. It was the end of long era.

Arnie was neutered, much to Ben's chagrin, and became easier to be around. I realized underneath the spaz, Arnie was a sweet guy.

His health went bad over the last year. He had circulation and digestion problems and had to go outside a lot. He was on meds and a special diet towards the end. Dad would say how much Mom loved him but I knew he'd really miss him too, in spite of the high maintenance.

Mom called this morning to say they put Arnie to sleep because he was suffering too much. She was broken up. I know it will be weird for my parents. The house is empty now, except for the two of them, for the first time ever. I doubt they will get a new dog. They will be reaching retirement in the next few years and will probably want to be free of objects needing care.

In spite of having little connection to that dog, I feel sad. I know when I visit my folks again it will be a little empty there. I've never put an animal to sleep and my parents have done it twice. That can't be easy. So I feel sad for them too. Just imagining them getting rid of the doggy bed, toys, leash, food, and other things. Just sad.

Tomorrow begins week 2 of The Hypochondriac. I am looking forward to doing the final weeks of performances. I lost track of the days leading up to opening. We had a day off the Sunday prior but it was eaten up with work so I’ve been running on fumes for awhile now. My brain hit a wall first exactly one week before opening night. I was saying all the lines, doing all the blocking and looking people in the eyes but it was coming from someplace else, like a concert film simulcast in HD. Like being live, only not.

I’m for running the whole play as many times as you can before you face the audience. Some people like to wait to the last minute to get every moment. I like to work on things at speed to know what that really is, especially when there’s a lot of ground to cover. The big lesson I’m getting out of this show is conservation. I was anxious about elements coming together at the last minute but not really nervous about my performance. I burn things down to the point where there isn’t much energy left for nerves.

As the World Series played, I listened to the announcers talk about the pitchers and what they would need in terms of rest, focus, stamina, and chutzpah to get through a game. I did not advocate very well for myself on this project in speaking up about what I needed to get to the next level. Rather, I let it be dictated by the situation and the people around me. Since my character is onstage all but 3 or 4 pages of the play, I was at 99% of the rehearsals and working pretty much the whole time.

It’s been good to have 2 days off in a row. It feels like the cold I was dragging behind me like cans on a string tied my ankle is almost gone. The thoughts in my head are moving at a comfortable pace. The bags under my eyes are down to a reasonable, nearly human-looking swell. The bruises on my back, arms, foot, left butt cheek, and middle toe are vanishing. I miss the cast like I’ve been out of the country an entire summer vacation.

Best of all, the pajamas I wear the entire show have been washed.

We have our first preview performance in 10 days. Things are moving along but we’re in that place where they get worse before they get better. Actors getting off-book invert, confuse, drop, and muddy lines. Truthful energy from people’s eyes are replaced with a vague sheen of terror because the training wheels have been taken off. Rhythms are kind of sloppy overall. Moments that were getting laughs a week ago meet silence. Cackling instead at ad-libs and flubs signal either boredom or fear of a BIG HURDLE. A main actor was recently replaced. Some great moments come out of nowhere and then float off to the ether.

Tech coming up around the corner. Basically, we’re in The Messy Place.

I’ve started doing one of the things I despise most in actors, which is being defensive during notes. I have a friend who always would do a good job of saying, “ah, I see what you’re saying. I was trying this so maybe…” This would disarm the situation and progress would be made. I know of others who say things back in their own words to prove they understand the note to the director. Some smile and nod and appear to be writing the note down but instead scribble, “this prick doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I hate everyone. Why are they all trying to ruin my performance.” I just need to listen and roll the note around in my head and see if I can try to come close to it. Usually, I take a note and come back with something in a new place. The trick is doing this with grace when you feel hurt, annoyed, insulted, stupid, embarrassed, or confused by the note. I hate it when I’m a small person. It’s tricky though when I come out of hours of playing a small person who lets it all fly to be a polite note-taker. Sometimes getting lots of notes means you’re giving lots of stuff. Sometimes it means you’re terrible.

There are about 15 moments in the show I’ve yet to get underneath. I think I just need to break them down even more. I realized today I need to let go of one of the models I was using to create Argan. Because this is a realistic farce, I have to dare to not be funny. That’s what makes it funny.

I think when I dig further under what bothers me about certain things not working, it comes from an expectation that they will work. Everything 100%. No question. And that’s not how things happen. Sometimes I think I’ve done more than my share on something but am finding that I need to go even further to a place I haven’t been before now. I have moments of thinking this will be my swan song to acting altogether. I’m kind of a perfectionist so when something isn’t working I think, “I shouldn’t really playing this part anyway. I’m so wrong for it.”

I think I want a little audience to come see what’s going on so I can confirm some stuff. At this point I can’t go off anyone’s reaction in the room because they’re so over it. I don’t know how I feel about any of it anymore. I think I’m just getting sick of playing someone who thinks he’s sick but really isn’t. I think it’s just a 24-hour bug. It’ll pass.

We’ve started working our way through Act 1 of The Hypochondriac. It’s been an intuitive hunt to figure out the style and the world of this piece. I don’t have all the answers yet and don’t want to lock into something too soon. 2 big questions brought up today: how did Argan make his money and how did his hypochondria begin? Other things came up about the relationship with his wife and the basis of that relationship.

Matt, the director, feels my Argan isn’t stupid. This makes it difficult to get away with some of the trickier sections. I’ve developed a pretty sharp b.s. detector in real life so playing the opposite is tough. It goes against my instincts and comes off as being put on. Argan is being kept closer to my real age, which also doesn’t allow me to be dottering or foolish from having lost it upstairs. I believe he is addicted to the medications, the enemas and, above all, the attention. His world would fall apart without that. It’s what he uses to control a world he can’t.

What I’ve come up with for his back story is pretty sad. In the way that Malvolio’s story is sad if you think he is going off to kill himself at the end of Twelfth Night. As I was going through and analyzing Act 1, the obvious dawned on me. He’s getting his affairs in order. He’s paying off his medical bills, he’s arranging a marriage to a doctor for his only daughter and he’s writing his second wife into his will so she gets everything. He wants to have a child with his second wife but that’s not working out. His personal assistant keeps agitating him, making him think he’ll die more quickly.

He thinks he’s going to die soon from some mysterious illness no one has been able to identify. His time is limited.

Something about the hypochondria is being used to protect him and the people he loves. It’s a way of warding off something really bad happening. I don’t really get that either. I try to slog through any illnesses until I hit the wall. But then I did take a Zyrtec yesterday when I felt a scratch in my throat. I think Argan’s hypochondria came out of a depression when his first wife went away. Some think she died. I wonder if she had enough of him and left. But that choice might make him more suspicious of others.

Bottom line is I don’t know what I’m doing right now but I do know that this can’t be played for laughs or it won’t have legs. On the other hand, it isn’t Strindberg. For it to work I think he needs to genuinely care about his daughter and his second wife. When he feels betrayed by them, it should cut to the core.