Jeez Jon

Disappointment -- Now Tempered And Level

Sen. Obama has a great interview with the Advocate about his recent addition of Rev. Donnie McClurkin to his gospel tour of South Carolina. He has stated that he's against Rev. McClurkin's views on homosexuality, and has said this can lead to dialogue. Now, at this point, I do think that Sen. Obama is being sincere with his feelings and intentions of wanting to bridge the gaps between church goers and the LGBT community. Not that Rev. Donnie McClurkin has backed off from his views during his tour.

I think it's the fact that Obama did react swiftly to this tempest-in-a-eapot that impressed me the most. While I'm disappointed that Rev. McClurkin was still involved, I no longer feel disappointed with Obama. He's still in the running for my vote.

Smoke Gets In Your... Well, Everything

The wildfires that have been ravaging Southern California have left the bulk of Los Angeles alone for the time being. So, for all those who have inquired as per Tom's and my status, we're fine. The air quality, however, is awful. I got a cold a week ago, and all the crap in the air is not helping at all. I lost my voice over the weekend, and it started coming back Monday, when the fires kicked in in earnest. The cough has been lingering, as you can imagine. Like others, I've also been getting headaches, some congestion, and some lack of sleep. One of other weird effects of all the fires around us is that everyone now and then, I'll get an intense scent of burning wood. Other times, the sky will just be full of smoke and haze, and not just the usual LA smog. I think the red sunset we had on Tuesday was by far the eeriest sight I've seen in a while.

One side effect of the fires is that the farm where we get our weekly veggies is in the evacuation zone. So, no big bag of carrots, bok choy, and radishes this week. Obviously, I hope everyone on the farm is okay, and that there is no damage to it. If you guys want to help, the Los Angeles Times has great listing of organizations helping fire victims. That can be found here.

Disappointment -- Now Somewhat Tempered

Barack Obama is going to go on a tour with well-known homophobe Donnie McClurkin.  Keep in mind this is after Obama has actively courted the gay and lesbian community with his appearance on the Logo TV Debate forum.  Very disappointing.  So much for him disavowing  the politics of triangulation.  It's sad that he's trying to court some votes by throwing us gays and lesbians under the bus.  Unless he disavows McClurkin's homophobic comments, there is no way I can vote for him.  And with Edwards saying how he's uncomfortable with gay marriage (but perfectly fine with civil unions), I'm rather uneasy about voting for him either.  My choices amongst the Dems are really starting to dwindle. 

Sigh.

UPDATE: Obama has issued a statement saying the following:

"I have clearly stated my belief that gays and lesbians are our brothers and sisters and should be provided the respect, dignity, and rights of all other citizens. I have consistently spoken directly to African-American religious leaders about the need to overcome the homophobia that persists in some parts our community so that we can confront issues like HIV/AIDS and broaden the reach of equal rights in this country. I strongly believe that African Americans and the LGBT community must stand together in the fight for equal rights. And so I strongly disagree with Reverend McClurkin's views and will continue to fight for these rights as President of the United States to ensure that America is a country that spreads tolerance instead of division."

Well, that makes me feel a bit better. It's still up in the air if Sen. Obama will still tour with Rev. McClurkin. Also, apologies to Mr. Hutchison earlier for swapping his name with Rev. McClurkin. My bad.

Me, Myself and Eye

Twice in the last 3 weeks, awful things have happened to my right eye.  Not my left, mind you... just the right.  I've been wearing my contacts a lot lately, which resulted in the first incident.  My eye got really dried out.  So, I took my contacts out while I was at work and my right eye was in a good deal of pain.  I put some saline solution in it, and that seemed to help. However, when I tried to go to sleep that nigh, the pain returned... as a stabbing ouch right below my iris. Ouch. I couldn't sleep, and I had to be up early the next morning to do my small role in the indie film I'd booked. At one point, I was sitting on the couch at 12:50am with a warm compress on my ouchy eye. Our cat Floppy jumped up onto the couch, sat next to me, and started purring. While that did make me feel better emotionally, the pain was still there. Since I desperately needed some sleep, Tom and I decided we'd make a trip to a local (but suburban) emergency room so I can have someone put a drop in my eye to take the pain away so I could get some sleep.

We arrived at the emergency room around 1:15am. I saw the triage nurse at about 1:30am, and she said that I'd be seen in about 2 hours. Not ideal, mind you, but I decided to stick it out. We sat there. And sat. And sat. I paced. I used the bathroom. I would start to drift off, but the pain would return if my eye was closed longer than 5 seconds. I kept asking when I would be seen, and the receptionist was doing her damnest to get me in there, but to no avail. Once 4am rolled around, I was pretty mad, and did nothing but pace. Another nurse was summonded to talk to me, as I was pretty fit to be tied at that point. He bitchily assured me that they were doing what they could but they were slammed that night. Slammed? Really? At no time did anyone come into the waiting room with gunshot wounds, stab wounds, heart attacks, etc. They must have been slammed because they were understaffed and they didn't want to say anything. At 5am, I'd had enough, as did Tom, since he had to be at work by 10am. I complained for the umpteenth time to the receptionist, who at that point gave me the phone number for the manager and apologized. Since I was very, very, very tired and in a lot of pain, I went into a mini-tirade about how frustrtating it is that in the richest country in the world that people are treated in such a matter, though I took great pains in telling her she'd been great. At this point, another nurse came in, and dished me a ton of attitude, saying how there was only one eye room open (?) and I'd just have to wait.

Me: When I went to the ER in Chicago, the longest wait I'd had was half an hour, max.

A-Hole Nurse: Well, sir, this isn't Chicago.

No, I thought, this is only the second largest city in the United States, the largest city in California, which on its own is the 7th largest economy in the world. Therefore, it should be better.

Me: What awful thing would have to happen to me to be seen tonight? A broken arm?

A-Hole Nurse: Maybe. Maybe not. You could go to another ER and wait 13 hours.

At that point, I yelled at him at how ridiculous this was and how awfully treated we all were in the ER. The woman who had earlier vomited blood, the baby with the nasty ear infection who was alternately crying and sleeping for 4 hours, the teenage girl who was in so much pain that she couldn't walk upright -- all of them had waited almost as long as I had. Tom and I left, and we drove back home. During my intermible wait, I called the 2nd AD for the indie, telling him what happened. He pushed my call time to 9am so I could actually get some sleep. I took a mess of ibuprofen, slept for a couple hours, and then went up to the shoot. Which went fine, by the way. I've been wearing my contacts very sparingly since then, and while my eye's been a bit dry, it hasn't bothered me.

That is until yesterday. We had some of the gaming crew over, and as is my wont with our veggies, I made a fresh salsa with the mess of tomatoes we'd received. I picked up some jalapenos from the store in order to give it some semblence of a kick. Can you see where this is going? Yeah, I made the salsa (as I've done lots of times before), and as I went to take out my contact lens with my thoroughly washed hands, some stubborn pepper oil had stayed on my fingers and went right into my eye. Holy moley, it was awful. I then spent in the next 10 minutes alternately flushing my eye out with saline solution and swearing under my breath. Tom then helped me with my other contact lens and then I continued with the flushing. After a while, my eye returned to normal. My fingers, on the other hand, were now burning. And they burned constantly for the next 7 hours. I washed them profusely, hit them with rubbing alcohol, bathed them in milk, bathed them in orange juice, soaked them in olive oil -- nothing really worked. I woke up this morning, and they were fine.

Let's just say that the next time I make salsa, I'm using rubber gloves.

PC To The Nth Degree

You may have heard of a middle school in Illinois that recently banned hugging because the principal found it inappropriate and apparently, it was making kids late for class.  The salt in the wound here?  It's my middle school alma mater.  Talk about embarrassing. 

I mean, it's hugging, people.  Hugging.  Is hugging now considered the gateway gesture that leads to a slippery slope of side hugs, high fives and -- God forbid -- group hugs?  Seriously, there are more things to be worried about than kids hugging. 

(I'll finish up the tale of Evil Swine soon, I swear.)

The Legendary Tale Of Evil Swine, Part 1

Question: Do you have any friends?
Answer:  Yes.
Question: Do you have any enemies?
Answer: Of course I do. It's a sign of character.

-- A favorite exchange I heard many moons ago. 

Like so many stories of foes, the man I will hereby refer to as Evil Swine started as a friend... well, a business associate.  ES was the producer of the first professional play I did once I had graduated college.  I was offered the Male Understudy, meaning I learned the parts of the three male actors in the show.  Each of them was playing 3 roles a piece; by doing the math, yes, I had to learn 9 roles.  But as an eager young 20-something, it was a task I was up for. 

Evil Swine: It's a lot of work, but we'd love for you to do it.  And you'd have guaranteed performances.

Me:  Well... if I can be mercenary about this for a minute--

Evil Swine: Please.

Me:  Will I be getting paid for this?

Evil Swine: Of course you would.

I said yes.  It was fall of 1995, my first real paying acting job, and I threw myself into the job with gusto. ES appreciated that.  And since I was being appreciated for my hard work, I worked that much harder.  This turned into a solid working relationship with both ES and our director, Ann.  We did 4 plays together, including one of my few leading roles in a satirical late night show.  We were all working on the same wavelength, making each other laugh, and entertaining the tens of... people who would see our plays each night.  It was quite nice, to be perfectly honest.

As is the situation for the majority of theater artists... well, anywhere, we all had day jobs.  Mine at the time was temping.  ES's was working in publicity for a promotions company. It was the perfect job for ES -- he was one of those few people born with the gift of knowing what to say to the right person at the right time.  He excelled at this. But, like with most things, Evil Swine hit his ceiling and wanted to try something new.  At this time, I had finally signed with a couple agencies in Chicago (you can be with multiple agents in the Windy City -- LA has a different set up.  --Ed.).  One of the younger agents at one of these agencies (let's call her Betsy) sent me my first commercial audition with them, and I booked it.  This impressed her, and I did my very first commercial -- hugging a big plant puppet. I struck up a friendship with Betsy, cemented with me bringing me some veggies and homemade peanut sauce as a thank-you for the booking.  She had had the peanut sauce at a party ES threw the previous weekend, and raved about it.  She became good friends with ES, and then one Christmas season, she and ES were at Tom's and mine apartment on Ashland in Andersonville for a holiday party.  In the kitchen, the two of them cornered me and said that they had something they had wanted to ask me.

Betsy: We're opening our own small agency.  The two of us.  And we'd like you to sign with us.  Exclusively.

Evil Swine: We'd love to have you.  No, Jon, we need to have you on board.

Me: Well... hell yeah! 

We all clinked glasses.  By now Evil Swine was more than just a business acquaintance. He was a friend.  We'd gone out to eat together, hung out together, chatted, debated, listened to each other's issues... we'd run the gamut.  He even did publicity for the one-act play I produced and directed.  And this great opportunity fell into my lap -- an agent I really respected and a friend of mine were going to be handling me exclusively... I couldn't lose! 

Well, I didn't lose, but I didn't win, either.  They did get me some good auditions -- one for the Brian Denehy production of Death of a Salesman.  I had one of the best auditions for my life for the role of Bernard, but I was too young.  I'd some small triumphs -- a few non-union commercials here and there, but the amount of auditions I was getting was pretty pitiful.  I was doing some theater, including some work in Jean Cocteau's version of Oedipus (which requires its own blog entry, trust me) that I was pretty proud of... which neither Betsy nor Evil Swine saw.  See, there's an adage out here in Los Angeles: if you're an actor here, there are 20 people who look exactly like you.  Well, I'm different.  I have a very specific look.  So, really, there are about 5 of us who look alike.  But in Chicago, no one looked like me, which meant for as a conservative a market it is, they didn't know what to do with me.  I'd hit my ceiling, and that's when Tom and I decided to move out west.

At the same time, ES had hit his ceiling as well.  He really wanted to give LA a try... as a manager. For the uninitiated, an agent is your legal representation for the submission of auditions and negotiations of contracts.  Technically, they are supposed to handle the day-to-day submission process for their clients.  Managers, on the other hand, handle fewer clients but are more involved. They serve as the go-between from the agent to the actor, and help guide their clients through the big maze of Hollywood. They tend to go for the long-term view of their clients' careers, and this is what ES wanted to do.  Knowing he was moving out to LA a few months before I would,  I asked him if he could manage me.

Evil Swine:  Jon, it would be my pleasure.

Tom and I moved out here, got settled, and I contacted ES.  It was May 1999, and little did I know that within about 2 years, we would no longer be talking to each other.

One of the few good things ES did for me was get me auditions with agents.  In my first two weeks out here, I interviewed with two commercial agencies.  One was huge and the other was a lot smaller and more personable.  True, it had a skeezy vibe that I couldn't quite place my finger on (or would want to) but I felt less like a cog in a wheel there, so I decided to go with them.  They hip pocketed me, which meant they were representing me without having me sign a contract with them.  In most cases, this would have been bad for me.  It wasn't. (More on that in another post).  So, after two weeks of landing in LA, I was out on auditions.  This is big, guys.  A lot of actors I know took years to land an agent, and I did mine in 2 weeks, thanks to ES. 

So, during this honeymoon period, I was going out on auditions, landing a few jobs, and making myself and ES a bit of money.  ES had a stable of actors, about 14 at the time.  We would hang out together, help each other with auditions, moving, even doing workshops with casting directors.  This was all ES's idea -- we would for a small group that would stick together and help each other.   Considering the all-for-one attitude we had when we did theater together and since that had worked out well for me, I bought it.  Hook, line and sinker.  We were all working together to help each other, be a team. You know...  like a cult.

One day, Evil Swine called me to his apartment -- that's where his office was. He sat me down.

Evil Swine: Jon, I have to tell you something.

Me: Okay...

Evil Swine: I'm going to have to back burner you.

Me: Okay... why?

Evil Swine:  Well, it's really hard for me to get [TV/film] casting directors to see you, 'cause you aren't SAG.  I have to focus my time on my other, union clients. 

Having a SAG card in Los Angeles is the key to the city -- once you have a SAG card, you can do Union work, and that's 90% of the paying work in this town that can actually sustain you.  And while I had landed a couple commercials, I hadn't gotten that card yet.  By this time, I was SAG-eligible, meaning I had one SAG job under by belt but I didn't join the union yet... by paying the $1200 initiation fee.

Back to Evil Swine.  With this information in my head, and his past history, I bought what he said.  "Sure, ES, that's okay.  I understand.  I'll try to do better."  Looking back now, I'm thinking "What an idiot!"  I mean, what the hell was my problem?  Did my self-esteem completely leave me?  But no, I bought it.  So, while his other clients were starting to get more attention and more jobs, I was off on the side.  Sure, I was taking classes and yes, I manage to land a few stray TV/Film jobs, but I was languishing. 

Summer of 2000, ES had done his one last good thing for me: he got me an audition with my current commercial agent.  The other one and he weren't getting along, so he was in the process of having us all leave Commercial Agent #1.  He got me the audition with Current Commercial Agent, and it worked out beautifully.  I read copy for them, and they made me an offer on the spot. On the third audition I went for them, I booked my 2nd union commercial,and joined SAG... 3 days into the SAG commercial strike in 2000, thinking it would be over in a couple weeks.  It dragged on for 6 months.  So, I didn't work, except for a one-line role on Boston Public that my new (and current) TV/Film Agent got for me. 

I went the next year busting my ass.  I did commercial auditions, workshops, acting classes, TV auditions, you name it.  And Evil Swine was lavishing attention on the other clients.  My calls started not getting returned. I'd call him on it, and he'd swing around at me, saying how difficult it was for him as he was doing this on his own, no assistants, etc.  My parents have owned and operated a business out of the house I grew up in since I was 7, so I knew where he was coming from, and he knew that about me. 

Summer of 2001 starts off.  I'm logging for Project Greenlight and am really enjoying myself... as much as I could for that job, I mean.  It was a nice steady income, and a job where I could come and go to any audition without a problem.  By this time, I had grown pretty annoyed with Evil Swine's lack of attention, so I started to look elsewhere, looking for a new manager. Up to this point, I was defending him to people, like a battered spouse.  "Sure, I know he hasn't returned my calls for a couple days," I'd protest.  "Maybe he's tired."  But, I'd had enough.

One day, out of the blue, he sent an e-mail about to all of his clients, saying that he wasn't going to take commissions off of our commercial residuals anymore.  Thinking that he was doing what was right for him, I said "Okay."  I find out later that out of his 12 clients, I was one of two who did say yes.  Apparently, agreeing with what he wanted to do was the beginning of the end. 

About a month later, out of the blue, he e-mails me, saying that we need to talk and what was my schedule like.  This put me on edge, considering that he knew what my schedule was like.  As I was only working about 3 miles away from him, I said I was working from 9 to 6, but we could always meet for lunch or after work.  A few days go by and nothing. 

Then, on a Friday afternoon, I come back to the office from a "smoking break" with my colleagues at Greenlight.  By "smoking break", it was our twice-daily break where we all took a walk around the block to get some fresh air.  I get settled back at my desk, and check my e-mail.  "Wow," I thought.  "Why did Evil Swine send me a 10k sized e-mail?"  Innocently enough, I open the e-mail.  You can see this coming, can't you? 

Evil Swine started off by saying he didn't have a lot of time 'cause he was going out of town, he was super busy, etc.  He then went on to say that due to his lack of resources, he was cutting client base by half, losing 5 of his clients.  I was one of them.  He went on to say how he agonized about this decision, how difficult this was for him considering we had known each other for so long, etc.  He ended the e-mail by saying I could call him so we can meet up once he got back, but his cell phone battery was dying, and it would be difficult for him to answer calls.

I sat at my desk, just staring at the monitor.  Everyone else was working away, watching footage, typing in what they saw into a proprietary version of FileMakerPro.  I was just so mad I didn't know what to do.  I slowly got up, and walked out, saying I had to make a phone call. The instant I got outside, I called Tom and told him what happened.  Have you ever been so angry you don't really feel much of anything?  That's where I was.  After all this time, after how long we've known each other, after how many times I've gotten his back and defended him, he does this?  To me?  Tom consoled me, told me what an asshole Evil Swine was, and we'd talk about it later. 

I walked back up to my desk, quietly fuming.  I replied to Evil Swine's e-mail, telling him he handled this poorly and it was a very shitty way of doing things.  Evil Swine responded to that e-mail, apologizing further, saying he'll talk to me later.  I fumed the rest of the night.  Tom and I were supposed to see Moulin Rouge! that night with our friends Sam and Bonnie, but we got to the theater too late and it was sold out.  Bonnie had received bad news about her job and I was beyond angry about what happened with ES, we all decided to go eat something horrible for us and just vent.

I was mad all weekend.  That Saturday was one of the few times I've woken up angry (I don't recommend it.).  ES had gone out of town, and had proceeded to tell everyone that yes, Jon is no longer one of my clients.  So, I did the same - I told my agents that  ES and I were no longer working together.  The funny thing was when I told all my friends and family about what ES did, they all had the same reaction:

"You know what, Jon?  I never liked him anyway."

About a month later, I was a commercial audition where I bumped into another one of ES's clients... one of the ones he had kept.  This guy, however, I had always liked and we'd always gotten along great.  He asked me if I was joining him and ES out for bowling that night.

Me: Oh no.  That would involve ES actually trying to talk to me. 

Cool Actor Friend:  Oh. I take it things didn't end well, huh?

Me: No, they didn't. ES dropped me through e-mail.

His jaw dropped. He didn't believe it. He offered to talk to Evil Swine and give him "a what-for", but I said no.  I just wanted to move on.  After that audition, it galled me even further to think about what happened. Yes, Evil Swine told people that he dropped me but he conveniently left out how. 

Next, I'll tell you how we met up again... for the last time. 

What? Is It Christmas Already?

Conservatives Consider A 3rd Party Run. Wow, James Dobson, thank you. I didn't get you anything. You really are a giver.