Sleeping Like a Dog

Sshhh.

Baxter here.

My human will not be writing about 2005 today.  Her human friend died yesterday...her human friend who loved dogs even more than she does...and she found out this morning. She is very sad.

And when the going gets tough, she goes to sleep.

So, sshhh.  Don't wake my human.

Or I will bite you.*



*I bite because I love.

2004

I was so edged out at the top of 2004 that I moved to Woodstock for the winter.  Best. Winter. Ever.  (Thanks to my acting teacher having a guest house she gave me for pennies. THANKS, SANDE!) Just snow, and yoga and brilliant books as there was no TV and very little internet.

Did some tremendous work for which I was paid very little.  But being in the room with Charles Strouse and Lee Adams and Rupert Holmes and Mark Brokaw and Eric Stern made up for that. (Note: Must get hoover to hoove up all those names I dropped.)

Lived in a college dorm for the first since 1995.  Never again.  Oh, how quickly one returns to one's college antics.

Did a staged reading of a musical that would change my life...DROWSY CHAPERONE. I was hired because Ann Hathaway had to pull out for some reason and who do you get to replace Ann Hathaway?  You get someone old enough to be her mother.  But the quality of that show and my colleagues again made me change the way I look at work and my part in it.

Moved to England to do my favorite/best paid gig ever, ONE TOUCH OF VENUS. 

It was assumed that all the Americans in the production would just hang out.  And then, one day, the Brits took me in.  Fed me dinner.  And love. And I never looked back. A beautiful British Invasion into my life.

Was so terribly homesick before the British Invasion.  My brother was in London and I asked to be excused from rehearsal so I could visit with him.  They refused.  I then told them I would be going.  They still refused.  So I kinda quit.  They kinda rehired me and kindly gave me a couple of hours off.

I tore my gastroc.  And performed anyway. Ow. Ow. Ow.  Got better/more immediate/more relevant healthcare in the UK than the US.

I did not fall in love at anytime during that year.  I fell into a bit of obsession and...well...THAT was a bit of a mess.

2003

What's going to be saddest about this exercise is I will feel the urge to go to my performance website to see what I was doing professionally at the time.  But I'm not going to.  And THEN I'm going to see how far off I was.

And ain't going to be anything sequential about this...just diving in.

My friend Rusty died.

I recorded, did the arrangements, some of the orchestrations, and produced a CD of lullabies from around the world (14 languages, GAH!) that blew my mind (GAH GAH) and got me so incredibly stressed out I NEEDED lullabies.  So my mom helped me out with my first Xanax ever. Googoo gah gah... thanks, Nana. Nana, the Pusher.

Everything else on the CD was done exquisitely and at a fraction of the cost by beloved friends. Such a gift that I'm sure I still need to repay somewhat  'cause  I don't think there's enough good in the world to do those cumulative kindnesses justice.

I spent a month in St. Petersburg (the Russian variety) where a night in was 4 shots.  A bad night out was 8 shots and crikey, did I feel special the next day.  I think I wore sunglasses for 24 hours straight 'cause ain't nothing so bright as a St. Petersburg winter.

I was the worst date ever.  I haven't been that bad a date since.  I promise.

I sang in some AWESOME legit-ish concerts and made my Carnegie debut. 

I ran into a guy I'd been strangely involved with...near my apartment.  But he lived in California.  That was REALLY bad luck for him and proved once and for all that I am here to out lies and fears... whether I want to or not.

I had the best birthday ever.  Everyone had to bring a dessert or liquor.  Friends cleaned and decorated my house.  I supplied the sparklers and fireworks. 

I had three straight hours of the best kissing ever.  Soul to soul.  Bone and sinew.  

I worked in theater for 31 weeks straight.

I got stressed.  Again.  Every time I was in the city I would see awful things. That's when I realized NYC is a reflection of what you feel on the outside.

Life By the Decade

I'm not sure how it came up, but my brother's family shared that they look at life and decisions for the future in terms of decades. Decades are doable for them. 

Decades are a lot for me.

But they dared me to look back and see the person I was ten years ago, and all that has happened. Nine years ago.  Eight years ago. What has stayed constant.  What has changed.

I'm not sure what I'm going to find.  But I'm going to attempt to do a year a day.  Major events.  Major changes.  Tiny events that rocked my world.

I wonder what I'll remember.  And will I block anything?

I can't wait to see what happens.  What happened.

Practically imperfect in every way.

Imperfect

Practically imperfect in every way.

Take THAT, Mary Poppins.

If a Watched Pot

never boils, then an unwatched pot...

boils over, burns and smells like shite.

Game?

What game?




and...

scene.

I Only Met Him Once

Steve Roland.

But I went to his memorial service last night...out of love for his son** and respect for...well...the aged in my business? Someone who made a living doing this shit?  A life well lived?  

Attention must be paid...always.

And I was introduced to this...

An Everyman Thing of Beauty on the Ed Sullivan Show.

This is singing. This is singing live in one take.  It's warm.  It's wonderful. It's human.  It's SOUND EFFECTS.  Great guitar playing. Showmanship.

Despite the fact it's on TV, this is theater at its best.

Watch and wonder and learn.

**Warm, wonderful and showman as well, he sent his Dad out in a glorious manner.

Rumspringa

I'm on FaceBook hiatus.  Last time I went on hiatus from the Book of Face I landed me a show on the great Broadway.  I'm hoping it happens again.  Actually most any job would be welcome.

I shouldn't bitch...I'm only 2 1/2 months out and have worked on a web series that is one of the great joys of living.

But I'm on hiatus from the Book of Face and I had one of those days that just made me wanna scream my boobies off BookStyle and get twenty likes and some commiserating comments.

No piece of paper that passed through my life was proper.  Numbers off. Songs misplaced.  Copier snafus. Translation issues. 

And a Playbill of a production that just plain pissed me off.

No FaceBook.  But a good friend. A real person was there.  And that's waaaaaaaay better.

Rumspringa - Tizzy Style.

Ps Please stay tuned for Bax and the City.

Dog Gone Wild.

Dear Robert

Thank you for playing, "I'm in the mind of Tizzy."

Your statement today, "Do what you can, as well as you can. That's pretty much what's available, and asked, of all of us" is on the heels and in the heart of something that came rushing out of my head in class last night.

"You are enough."

I know. I know. We've all heard that one.  But there's an important addendum...

"But you have to be you."

Not a sloppy copy.  Not who you'd LIKE to think you are.  Not who you DON'T like to think you are, but who are you at that very moment.  

It's funny.  A friend of mine read my cards recently and there was an overwhelming message that I won't dive into at the moment, but a secondary...

"Let the devil out."

Really?

And I have been.  It took a real kick in the pants to jar the sucker but the devil has been out and playing about.  

And I ain't so sure the devil's so bad.

Let's see what happens...

So Far, So Good

No failure.

It might be because I've redefined success and failure for myself.  

I don't know what the redefinitions ARE but I know they have nothing to do with "perfect," "perfection" or "right" and "wrong."

When it comes to art, which is what life is if you're doing it right wholeheartedly, those words, and what they encompass, have no place.

Right?

Oops.

Success and failure also have no relation to what you think about me.

Right?

Okay...I have some work to do.

The World Showed Me...

I showed you mine and the world showed me "its."  That's not right, but I don't know how to write/right it.  I do know how to rite it.

Pardon My Homonym.

Within 15 hours of posting my Icarus Session,* I was pre-approved for a mortgage.

Within 22 hours, my offer was accepted on my Christmas present to myself (for 20 years coming)...a beautiful apartment.

Within 40 hours I had an attorney and the deal sheet was out.

Within 96 hours, the umpteenth draft of TOMB was off to its director.

Within 120 hours, I will have pitched a book.

Within 120 hours, I will have had a huge audition.

Within 120 hours, I will have broken-thru.

And the little dog had his fifth birthday. And I saw a beloved perform...for the first time. And I celebrated with many.

It's been a long time since I've slept this little. I used to borrow from a friend, "I'll sleep when I'm dead."  Considering my cholesterol levels, I give that phrase back to her...clogged-heartedly.

Sleep is necessary.

For all except the little dog's birthday (and the beloved), so much of this could fail.  But you can't succeed unless you are willing to risk failure.

Sleep is really necessary.

But I'm ridiculously excited.  I love movement.  I love jam sessions.  I love connection.

And I love Downton Abbey.

Let the games begin continue.


*Do one.  What could it hurt?

Today

Is the little dog's birthday.

The little dog is grace. 

My House

Will you build me a house,
A house that really will be mine?
Then let me give you my design:
A simple scheme of
The house I dream of.

Build my house of wood,
Build my house of stone,
Build my house of brick and mortar. 

Make the ceiling strong,
Strong against the storm,
Shelter when the days grow shorter.

But build my house of love,
And paint my house with trusting,
And warm it with the warmth of your heart.

Make the floor of faith,
Make the walls of truth,
Put a roof of peace above.
Only build my house of love.

--Leonard Bernstein

Trucking

And blogging.  And blogging and trucking. 

Gotta love this brave new world.

Santa has left some hints about my TiZmas present and I'm getting...getting...EXCITED!!!

And I haven't eaten red meat in a week so I just might live long enough to reach my jubilee.

Haroo!

I've Shown You Mine

Now you show me yours...

The Icarus Sessions

God, I look absolutely pained.

AWESOME!

On the 1st Day of 2013

I can't wait to finish that sentence...

On the Thirty-First Day of Christ*&^%$

On the Thirty-First Day of Christ*&^%$, TiZ reveals to you...

Thirty-one things I'd really dig in a deep manner in 2013...

Peace on earth.

Goodwill to all sentient beings.

A healthier economy for all.

A more cooperative government.

My Christmas present to arrive.

The world to discover the funny profundity of Wallflowers.tv when it arrives in March.

Great on-camera employment.

Great stage employment.

Ease.

Grace.

To perform and publish TOMB.

To publish THERE'S NO BUSINESS.

Volunteerism.

Love.

Dancing on the ceiling.

Recording. I love recording.

Health...physical, emotional and spiritual.

Yoga.

Meditation for all.

Honesty.

Clarity.

Increasing my income ten fold (though 2 fold would be not so bad either).

Laughter.

Singing my tits off.

Spam-free.

Reiki.

Nature.

Good baby habits becoming excellent grown-up habits that beget more excellent habits.

An integrated, socialized and happy Baxter.

Create things of great beauty and substance.

More days like today...filled with wonderful friends, delicious food, plenty, dog-walking, naps, work-outs, sauna, writing, laughter, appreciation, good wine, singing, acting, creativity, productivity and happy happy joy joy. Minus the head cold.

On the Thirtieth Day of Christ*&^%$

On the Thirtieth Day of Christ*&^%$, TiZ reveals to you...

30 Things Baxter didn’t tell you…

He doesn’t quite know what a puppy mill is but we think he came from one. No one else would be stupid enough to give a puppy away so young.

He’s racist.

He tries to jump Asian men.

He tries to jump Black men.

This is TREMENDOUSLY embarrassing to me.

He is reversed ageist. 

I walk him when school lets out and treat him every time he doesn’t try to jump a kid.

He’s allowed into the Gristedes if I carry him.

I love Gristedes.

He’s allowed into the bodega if no one else is there and I carry him.

I love the bodega.

He does not really like men except for a very special few.

He cries at the church door until Karen comes and pets him.

He thinks big dogs should be challenged at all times.

He likes to sit in my lap as I write.

I do some of my best writing when he is in my lap. 

He is not in my lap right now. Sorry.

He has made one “fuck you” poo.

He has made one “bite me” pee.

I’ve learned my lesson each time.

He insists on being in the bathroom with me.

We continue to work on the separation anxiety.

He gets to sleep with me the last hour of the morning.

After a walk, he runs around my apartment like a mad man, intermittently stopping and looking at me as if to say, “I don’t know why this is happening.  Make it stop.” Then he starts again.

He was so poorly behaved his first week, I wept, “You are the first being I’ve committed to…and it’s for at least a decade.  You have to be good.  You HAVE to be good.  No.  Don’t wag your tail at me.  I can’t even look at you.”

It’s been uphill since then.

He has killed my work ethic.  I would rather play with him.

He sits on my scripts when he’s done with my work.  His timing is in general good.

He has changed my life for the better in so many ways, you can’t imagine.

Maybe you can. I can only imagine you are sick and waaay overtired of me talking about my dog now.  I feel that way about people’s kids.  But you see, he’s mine.  Even though it’s taken a village and I love to share him, he is mine.  I’m the last of five kids.  I never really had much that was just mine.  The dog makes me real.  Or at least the dog makes me FEEL real.  And that’s important.

On the Twenty-Ninth Day of Christ*&^%$

On the Twenty-Ninth Day of Christ*&^%$, TiZ reveals to you...

Things I think it would be great if you all knew (if you don't already) ...

You are special.

So is the person next to you.

So is everybody.

In that we’re all special, we all have a lot in common.

My special is no more important than your special.

It would be great if we got along better.

We could make room a little better for everyone’s special.

There is enough room for everyone.

There is enough for everyone.

If everyone shares…just a little.

Don’t take things that don’t belong to you…be it props or someone’s significant other.

Don’t cheat.

Teach the important lessons in kindergarten…they will stay with you forever.

Even if it’s only “It’s okay to kick someone in the face if they’re looking under the bathroom door at you while you pee.”

Don’t look under bathroom doors at someone while they pee.

Unless they specifically request it.

Compliments are good.

But don’t let them define you…in the receiving OR the giving.

If people aren’t kind to you while they’re at the top, then you don’t want to know them…wherever they are.

If you can, give things away instead of just throwing them away. 

Don’t eat too much stinky meat and cheese.

Wine in moderation.

Puddle jumping is awesome.

Rain is better when there’s someone to share it with.

Alone time is good.

If you stop your inner monologue you can see and hear what’s going on around you.

Sometimes friends can hold each other back.

Fewer guns. More love.

When one door shuts, hundreds open…sometimes they're in the form of windows, portholes, cracks in the wall.    But they are there, if you open your eyes.  And they let in so much light.