"Actors - when you want them to say something, they have nothing to say."

I'm sitting in a massive black box space with one old-timer acting as teacher, 3 fellow actors, 5 handheld cameras and about 40 aspiring film directors. I'm sitting there, in a blanket of sweat, presenting a scene from the Layabouts film as part of this I-want-to-be-a-director course on the USC campus. I'm sitting there, with this dude's face popping up on the monitors at the other end of the room, and - well - that dude is me ...

... and this was just the beginning of our long, bizarre, thrilling, fulfilling and all-around exhausting week here in Los Angeles, leading to 8pm bedtimes, endless tape measurements, and the traffic nightmare that was Oscar Night.

WEDNESDAY
Joanna works on her hands and knees, starring in a one-person short film about a woman whose garden is torn apart overnight and decides to rebuild it on her own.

The director pays her $120 in quarters for laundry.

THURSDAY
Joanna and I head out to several auditions:

• J goes gansta in an indie film audition, in which she gets to deliver the line, "You the one who be rockin' them Levi's like they Sean John's..."
  
• B snags a role in Two Face, a student short about two men with two malicious motives
• J's cast in the silent student film Check, revolving around a chess game of love
  
• B's also cast in Clean, a short film about a 17-year-old who may be charged with rape

And, after a battle with the elements - driving through the rain with a near-empty gas tank - Joanna makes it in time for a seminar with One-on-One Productions. She got to chat up and read a scene with casting director Will Stewart, who casts the popular TV shows Grey's Anatomy, Private Practice, and Friday Night Lights. Stewart enjoyed Joanna's reading until he found out she was a Tarheels fan (he's a native Duke-r himself), at which point he kicked her to the curb without refunding her $.

On a different note, ex-New-York-roommate Ethan (we'll call him Ethan) and I go to see the acclaimed indie, The Killing of John Lennon, which ends up being a chaotic, character-based mess. We wash down the poor film-making with double cheeseburgers and fries at LA's famous In-n-Out Burger.

FRIDAY
I sit in a Santa Monica Starbucks all morning and wrap up The Reader, Bernard Schlink's unique Holocaust novel, in preparation for the big audition. Afterwards, Justin and I meet up, talk about his upcoming directing project with his production company (check them out at www.acornpictures.com) and play Wii Golf like 6-year-olds on summer vacation.

Meanwhile, Jo teams up with the crew at the LA Film School to film Cabin, a zombie thriller in which Joanna - verbatim - "pees in a bucket in the corner."

B: "You're not getting paid to pee in a pail?"
J: "No - I get meals and credit."
B: "What's the credit? Girl-Who-Pees-in-Pail?"

Onset, Joanna cries on command and is given the glorious nickname The Phoenix. Of course, this inspires all of us in the house to don new nicknames that fit our various personalities.

Brian: The Woodpecker
Brendan: The Pelican Brief
Cooper, Brendan's S.O.: The Seagull
Scooter: The Owl

SATURDAY
Joanna and I wake up CRAZY EARLY. I drop Jo off at the USC campus for a rainy day Check shoot before heading to who-knows-where to audition for The Reader, a staged reading adaptation of the bestselling book. An incorrect address on the audition notice puts me at a construction site on a hill near the Univision headquarters, but thanks to the handy-dandy iPhone, I'm at the ACTUAL location with time to spare. The audition rocked - fingers crossed.

And the BIG news ... Jo and I have found and secured a new apartment!

Blog-Readers: "Ummmm. You just moved into a new apartment."
Me: "Well, we're renting from someone."
Blog-Readers: "Uh-huh."
Me: "So it's not OUR apartment. This will be OUR apartment."
Blog-Readers: "You gettin' an attitude with me?"
Me: "No. No-no, I was emphasizing."
Blog-Readers: "Uh-huh. Smartass."

The new place is, well, down a flight of stairs and about 20 steps to the west. It's apartment 305, and it's cheap, and - even better - it's what we've been looking for.

Our renter has returned to LA much earlier than expected. Turns out a feature-length script of hers ("the female version of Animal House") has received some serious attention and could be picked up and produced! $$$! So she's anxious to get back into her old home and prepare for her incoming paychecks as we get set for our March 1st move down the hall and to the right.

So soon, we know, but SO perfect.

SUNDAY
As most of our furniture is in our apartment in New York, it feels a bit like starting over again, which can be rather expensive and a pain-in-the-butt. So we've been surfing through the Los Angeles Craigslist ads (Don't know Craigslist? Live under a rock? Visit www.craigslist.org), seeking out $30 entertainment centers, $15 pot and pan collections, $20 bathroom vanities and a 4-piece (2-dresser, 2-nightstand) bedroom set for $25. We've zigzagged through local streets for garage sales and torn through the clearance racks at Bed Bath & Beyond, claiming a 10-piece glassware set for $9.98.

Fo' sho'.

Our goal is to furnish the entire place for under $400. No, Moms, we can't make that into a movie, but thanks for thinking of us.

Hope ya'll enjoyed the Oscars. Being the long-time Coen Brothers fan that I am (footnote: see Raising Arizona, see Barton Fink, see Big Lebowski, see Fargo, see O Brother..., see The Man Who Wasn't There), I've been rooting for them for ages and I'm more than thrilled to see them snag the awards. It's long-deserved. Scooter was thrilled too. Silently thrilled.

p.s. Some marvelous unnamed reader caught Scooter's initials at the end of last week's blog ("sg") and asked what Scooter's last name is ...

... well, we adopted Scooter from the folks at the Brooklyn Animal Foster Network. Who knows who named him, but he responded to the name and seemed to like it. Regardless, being parents, we thought we should at least give him a nickname or - better - a middle name. We came up with George. Scooter George.

'til next time,
b & j & sgl-w

"Hello, Police? I think there's a President in my apartment..."

Yes, it's that time again. A time to laugh, to weep, to squawk, smite, shrug, empathize, pasteurize. It's a time to remember what we loved about the old, now long-expired dudes with perfect, parted hair who built this nation on sound principles and morals. And a time to reflect on the more recent ones who didn't even know what -

Well, I'll leave it at that. After all, we're here to celebrate.

HAPPY TAFT DAY!

While Joanna and our dear friend Julie take a luxurious lunch out on the fire escape and have girl-talk, I've been quarantined in the apartment with a Bumblebee tuna sandwich until a new blog's been posted. Cause we've got big news...

Yes, indeed, after much sitting around and checking our watches and cursing the stars, our roommate has arrived! Brendan (we'll call him Brendan) has driven cross-American, checked in, moved in, settled in and built a big white Target shelving unit in the corner, now adorned with books, CD cases, pastel-colored decorative cubbies, a stuffed panda (whose fur is more French Vanilla than pure white) and a **SAFE**.

I do intend, once I've earned his trust, to inquire about the **SAFE**, about the contents of the **SAFE**, and the purpose of the asterisks around and the reason for the random capitalization on the word **SAFE**. Or I could have Jo bust into it with the skills she acquired on the set of CSI: The Video Game. Speaking of which,

HAPPY EISENHOWER DAY!

No, Brendan is not single, ladies, so please practice some restraint.

He too is an actor, relocated from the Big Apple, aiming to strive and starve out here in the Big Peach (the "Big Banana" sounded wrong somehow). Last week, Brendan and his girlfriend Cooper invited Jo and I out for a Valentine's Day Happy Hour at the elegant Edison Hotel. Located downtown, this rockin' joint features 1920s-style decor, overpriced martinis, darkened corners, silent movies projected above our heads and sweet potato fries good enough to bathe in. Speaking of bathing,

HAPPY VAN BUREN DAY!

As far as our ever-changing careers, Joanna had a wonderful audition with the super-selective folks at One-on-One, a group that connects actors with casting agents via workshops and master classes, after which an actress like Jo can sit down with the dude who casts One Tree Hill or the woman who casts Grey's Anatomy and talk to them (here it comes...) One-on-One. It's quite clever.

Meanwhile, having auditioned for a couple projects since last week's well-attended Blog Pity Party, I found out last night that I have been cast in a USC grad film! Layabouts centers around these four college kids, all of them from upper class backgrounds, who are bored to death with their at-their-disposal lives and consider robbing something to spice things up a bit. After much to-and-fro and deliberation on what that "something" will be (humor-humor-humor), the gang decides on a liquor store. Sadly, they find that the liquor store of choice is closed, so - feeling desperate and a bit wired - the group settles for a newsstand, which might have something like thirteen dollars to its name. It's a riot.

I've been cast as Harry, the so-called leader of the group and the brains of the operation (what a stretch!). And with a few more auditions lined up at the end of the week, it seems that the tables have turned and the curse has been lifted. I guess helping that old woman cross the street was worth it after all. And, speaking of old women,

HAPPY JAMES BUCHANAN DAY!

After catching The Bucket List this past weekend, Justin and I passed on our Red Mango Frozen Yogurt (Justin: "Dude, we can't have Red Mango AND beer.") and ventured to Molly Malone's, a well-known hang-out for Irish-blooded LAers, where we ate french fries, checked out a couple bands we'd never heard of, caught a glimpse of The Foo Fighters' lead singer, Dave Grohl, and drank more than our share.

Also on the "exciting" radar ... Jo and I had our first out-of-LA expedition last week. We hopped in the car with the top down and drove to Orange, California, where Jo was scheduled to audition for a student film called Transmission.

Jo: Orange, California? Is that like the O.C.?
Brian: (clueless:) Yup.
Jo: But it's not even close to the water.
Brian: Uh, (still clueless:) this is rural O.C. Rich people who don't like to swim. Like rich farmers. Oil farmers. Like that...

We didn't learn much about Orange, seeing as how we scurried out of there as soon as Jo's Chapman College audition was over, but we did get the gist of their simple suburban existence that in NO WAY resembles the ostentatious, dramatic lives depicted on The Hills.

I insisted on making a pit stop at Knot's Berry Farm, as I had been there as a child but had no recollection of the place whatsoever. We didn't have time to enter the amusement park, per se, but we did appreciate it from outside its cream-colored barricades. There were no berries or farms to be found - false advertise, much? - but we found comfort and cheese bread at a popular, corporate-owned restaurant with a name that was better than the food but that neither of us can seem to remember.

Musical entertainment this week comes from the throaty Willy Mason (If the Ocean Gets Rough) and the folk singer-songwriter Gillian Welch (Time the Revelator), as well as selections from Kings of Leon and Rufus Wainwright's Release the Stars.

And now Joanna and I are off to Starbucks to work (assuming she approves what I've written), and good thing too, cause I'm about through with this third box of conversation hearts...

HAPPY BUSH DAY!

Oy vey.

love,
bpl & jfw & sg

Read this after reading our latest blog...

http://www.variety.com/article/VR1117980463.html?categoryid=1066&cs=1

"I know! It was Joanna, in the parlor, with the salad tongs..."

"...or perhaps it was Brian, in the kitchen, with the lint roller!"

Yes. It's been confirmed. Joanna is now the star of a CSI Video Game! For all those hibernating bears out there, CSI stands for Crime Scene Investigation, and it happens to be a R-rated show (due to sassy crime scene language) on CBS featuring William Peterson and that I-don't-take-no-bull redhead. The game will be released who knows when, and it's bound to be AWESOME. We expect all of our blog enthusiasts to go to amazon.com right this second and purchase the game in advance (just kidding - that's not even possible...).

Shoot locations took Joanna to a $$$$ hotel on Ocean Avenue (I tagged along and read a book on the beach - score!) and a creepy casino 'til 4:30 in the morning. And, thanks to the magic of cinema, Joanna's monologue was shot in front of a green screen, which means that the techies can splice in a digital background image: a room full of snakes a la Indiana Jones, a small town circus, Darfur, etc. Her monologue was so successful (or - strike that - executed so well) that, at the end of her speech, the director turned to the five pompous, sunglassed producers behind him and said,

Director: "Now that's a Tisch education."
Joanna: :)

For the fans of video games out there (and even those who are not but have wonderful imaginations), the casino scene will act as the menu page. In other words, when Chuck - we'll call him Chuck - gets the CSI video game for Hanukkah (Chuck is not tied to any particular religion but celebrates Hanukkah because he's allergic to pine needles) and sticks the CD into his D: drive, this casino scene will pop up. Chuck will see Joanna and her co-actors standing around in the casino, tossing their hair and checking their nails and being "normal" ("normal" at 4:30am, that is). And if Chuck desires, Chuck can click on Joanna's character, and the camera will zoom in on Joanna and go to her green screen monologue, with a Prince of Persia backdrop, accented with Moroccan pillows and rugs and shirtless, chiseled men lying around carelessly, feeding themselves grapes off the vine, or something like that.

So now Joanna's too cool for school, as you can imagine. She drives to Trader Joe's in Lamborghini's that she rents by the hour and gets the peasants to pick the apples for her...

No, not at all. Joanna's the same old Joanna, except she's now an official LA actor with her first paying gig. She's quite the star. We (i.e. I) are/am so proud.

Other than Jo's $ gig, she's been tearing up auditions left and right, reading for the girl next door, the girl who the boys nearly collapse over, and the girl who might have killed what's-her-face. In this town, they call that RANGE.

As for me, I've been finding new modes of entertainment around the house:

1. Teasing Scooter with a string.
2. Watering the plant.
3. Reading a collection of short stories called Bang Crunch.
4. Teasing Scooter with headphones.
5. Showering.
6. Teasing Scooter with Boar's Head deli meat.

While Joanna's been called in 10-12 times since I last checked in here, there have been no auditions for me. And there's no rational explanation. And there's no "fixing" it. After all, there's nothing to fix. It's all a game, in some respects, and part of winning the game is knowing how to stay occupied during the off-season. Sure, it's a bummer, and it does wear on a person's self-worth and self-esteem, but I'm blessed. See, I have Jo to tell me that those little voices in my head are totally bull, and then she takes me out to a vegetarian lunch, and I can't help but smile.

Writing has kept me plenty busy, partly due to our crappy parking situation: I take 8am street cleanings as an opportunity to drive over to Starbucks, park at the cheap meters and write for 2 hours without interruption or distraction. And while I was adventurous this week, testing out the skinny mocha (in essence, a sugar-free cafe mocha), I won't ever get it again, that coffee was foul, I swear, like drinking straight out of the utter, done and done.

Let's pause here for our *Question of the Week*:
Q: Which flavor of Orbit gum does Brian like best?
A: Raspberry Mint, with Mint Mojito a close second.

Joanna and I now use the gym to keep up with the Democratic race, swapping between CNN and MSNBC as we vary the incline on our ellipticals. Although our state favors the Clintons and our Governator endorses McCain (Brian's been working out more often for fear of getting drafted come Nov. '08), we both are Obamans. We support his policies, but more importantly, we subscribe to his all-around positive attitude, his charisma, his innate sense of words and language and his understanding of the American people and his desire to change....

(disclaimer:)

...BUT WE LOVE ALL CANDIDATES. LOVE LOVE LOVE. TO AVOID CONFUSION, OR POLITICALLY INFUSED EMAILS, PLEASE UNDERSTAND THAT WE LOVE THEM ALL, ISN'T THAT RIGHT HONEY?

Joanna: We sure as heck do. We love that them there Baptist minister and his little church-going posse. Why, I wish they all could be president together. The priest and the white lady and that black fellow can all shack up in that big ol' White House, like that episode of Three's Company I love so well...or was that Blazing Saddles...?

Brian: (turning to Scooter) Now that's a Tisch education!

(end disclaimer)

No movie recommendations this week, but I have been listening to Iron & Wine's The Shepherd's Dog and the new Sigur Ros 2-disc set, and both come highly recommended to those who appreciate my music taste. We just got home from our local pub, Busby's (our Miracle Mile location pictured at right), where we watched Duke embarrass the Carolina Tarheels (shame, shame, shame). Sadly - because the Lakers game wins the Popular Vote here in midtown LA - we're forced to listen to the game in silence, reading the coaches' lips, interpreting their Scorsese-style mannerisms and whatnot. But no trouble there, as Joanna slams her fists against our corner table at each free throw and knocks over beers in between periods, grabbing the attention of our waitress Chuck (we'll call her Chuck) and our fellow Lakers fans, almost as a declaration, like,

Joanna: "WE DESERVE TO BE HERE, TOO! SO THERE!"
Brian: "Yeah, and I'll take the check, thanks."

Good news - straight from the trenches - is that Jo has a few auditions lined up for the rest of the week and I have one as well! Hers include a Korean mock-umentary (enough said) and another one that (based on the title) is either about 'how well cars drive' or 'what drives our lives' .... we'll keep you updated.

Mine is a USC graduate student film. I'm auditioning for the role of Adam - a kid who grew up on the wrong side of tracks in South Boston. Adam, who's now 24 (but "weathered like 30," the scripts tells us), spent 3 long years in the slammer, and though he wants to "do good," he now finds himself acting as chaperone to an out-of-state drug deal that goes terribly wrong. In my sides - i.e. my audition material - I'm trying desperately to get my friend Deacon off the thinning ice before it cracks while the third member of our blow-dealing crew keeps me at arm's length. Or gun's length. Oh, and his name is Shotgun.

Yes, THIS is my first audition in a week. Beggars can't be choosers. Welcome to LA.

love and hugs and stuff,
b and j and s