I’m presently experiencing the next best thing to driving around South Africa, oogling up-close rhinos on an experimental “do it yourself” safari tour.

I’m in a Starbucks. In central Hollywood. Four feet away from me… there are actors rehearsing.

Now, I’m not talking Broadway “star” types, that would be far less exciting  – and you wouldn’t find second-string Simba or The Phantom running lines in a commercial chain California coffee house anyway. These are Brand NEW Actor-Types (BNATs), obviously going to the Super Method Acting School around the corner from here (I know, because I went there for a spell before getting kicked out for non-conformity), where you pay $600 a month to essentially join a cult and cry once a week in front of your balding, over-the-hill classmates.

These BNAT’s are only table away from me — dressed in every piece of black they could find in their wardrobes, have matching little “artist hats”, and are theatrically flailing around brand new (uncreased, unread) Drama Book copies of whatever basic play they’ll be attempting scenes from. I’m trying not to stare.

…

Aw, to hell with it, let’s name them!

We’ll call the guy… Trundle… and the chick… Gertrude. YES. TRUNDLE and GERTRUDE.  Now, I’m going to directly transcribe a few of the idiot dribblings that are being flung from the mouths of these creatures. No editing. Here we go:

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Gertrude: So we’re in the car in this scene. We’re driving. Should we, like, move around like a car?

Trundle: Maybe. If we want to establish truth. This is Method.

Gertrude: Right. Method.

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Are you listening to this? These two are seriously discussing — and I mean, “like, for-seriously!” — discussing whether to mimic the movement of a VEHICLE during an acting class.

No offense to the mentally challenged — because I’ve volunteered for the mentally challenged — but ARE THESE TWO PEOPLE RETARDED?!

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Gertrude: So… like, there’s a kiss in between these words, here. Do we have to do the kiss in front of, you know — like, the class? Like in front of the teacher?

Trundle: Well… not many girls are going to go that far. Not many girls have that much invested in this character — I think we should show them, like in the room, that you’re really invested in Blanche’s character.

Gertrude: Really? You think?

Trundle: Yes. I do. I mean, this was one of the greatest novels of all time, so we need to do it justice. For the the guy, you know, the poet who spent half his life writing it and other things… for our careers, you know, for your character…

Gertrude: Blanche?  I’m playing Blanche, right?

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Oh… my… goodness.  I’m about to throw up into my triple shot Macchiato… did Trundle just refer to A Streetcar Named Desire as a NOVEL, and Tennessee Williams as a poet?!

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Trundle: The way I’m sitting right now… you know, the way I look right now… do you think this is a good look for the scene? You know, the black and stuff?

Gertrude: Yeah!

Trundle: You know, because I grew up in like, Connecticut, but the bad part of the Connecticut… like, I have a lot to give. I’ve seen alot. That’s why I became an actor. I want to show the world my pain. Like Pucino.

Gertrude: Wow… you have so much to show an audience, like, experience…

Trundle: Yeah, I don’t even really need to be in this class.  I met an agent from ICM on Facebook the other day.  He really thinks I should be out there just working, you know?

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THIS is where I accidentally let out a snort that’s so explosively loud, the two of them turn around and stare at me. They’re both so collectively offended I can’t hold it in anymore. I begin laughing. Uncontrollably.

Trundle’s eyes are like fire.
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Trundle: Let’s go rehearse at my place, Chrissy, this obviously isn’t a good WORK ENVIRONMENT anymore.

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At this point I’ve put my Starbucks cup over my mouth, and I am laughing INTO it. Good work environment, Trundle? IT’S A @#$%-ing STARBUCKS!

Trundle and “Chrissy” (I’m still of the opinion that Gertrude is more fitting), huff and glare as they loudly gather their things, slamming and crushing scripts into Actors Connection branded messenger bags, and scraping the chairs against the floor as they roughly push them in.

And finally… glowy, exfoliated chins vaulted higher than the Nora Jones blasting ceiling stereo system, the two young Almost Method actors march out of the Starbucks,  simmering and visibly attempting to kill me with their bad energy.

I smile into my mocha.

Sorry, guys. Even with three Basic Meisner classes under your belts — you still can’t even pronounce Stanislavski properly, much less successfully mind slaughter me for laughing at your idiocy.  Good effort, though.

I love actors.

Happy Sunday.

– Ashley Avis

©2012 AshleyFlys.com - tales of travel, torrid affairs, and a hatred for DELTA. All Rights Reserved.

Wow.  So a friend of mine runs a PR company that I helped establish (do the webdesign, help out with marketing, etc) that is targeted towards actors.  The amount of money they charge is a pittance compared to any of the other PR companies in town (100 bucks, 200 bucks, compared to the thousands upon f-ing thousands demanded — and rightfully so — by 42West, Workhouse, etc).

©2012 AshleyFlys.com - tales of travel, torrid affairs, and a hatred for DELTA. All Rights Reserved.