the booth

A lot of studios where I do voiceovers double as music studios. 

Part of me totally reverts to geeky teenaginess. 
Gawk at cute studio assistant rock boys. 
Check out the amps like I have some idea about them other than that looks sooo cool.  I bet that's an awesome amp.
(pause. look around.)

I'm totally recording this commercial about pediatric vitamins in 4/4 time with a driving beat.


thanks for all the blog fodder, Jake.

Facebook is deeply concerned about ABC's The Bachelor and my grade school friend Jake Pavelka's low friend rate.
SEVERAL times in the past few days I've received this message:

He only has 11 friends.
Although I could not find the otherwise-ubiquitous publicity shot of tanned lithe women holding champagne flutes in a please-pick-me backstabbing rayon-clad bitchfest, I get the feeling that HE'S DOING OKAY, FACEBOOK.


For when you have 20 spare minutes

Watch me and Jimmy Football in this charming romcom short.

You Shouldn't Have from Larry Ziegelman on Vimeo.

The emails I get

Subject line:

Are you an 18 year old woman who could pass for 12? Would you like to portray a 12 year-old victim of rape onstage? 

Ahh, The Industry.
Where you can get promised a job as a Cute Girl Model in Indiana, get that job taken away, then miss out on another job playing a statutory rape victim because you're too old, ALL IN ONE DAY.

come on seven days

Yes, I do have money in savings, I keep my money in savings, but still, no one likes to see this: 

Also a deep and heartfelt thank you to the 3 people who bought me beer, unsolicited, this month.

(whispered urgently)   I LOVE YOU

broke as a joke redux

oh, fuck you anyway, lottery.

I need to look at some SERIOUS nature to cheer up, especially if this keeps happening.
I'm getting sick of this Getting Rejected For a Living.  

(searches for number 1 google image hit for "peaceful nature")



WHAT THE F is peaceful about THAT?  The peace of resigning yourself to the fact that that tree is gonna yank out of the cliff in 5, 4, 3, 2....


ohh.  mm. 

women-in-laos-green-nature-farming-clm-mind-peace-pictures photos

Oh hey look, a picture of Laos came up.  I'm going there next summer.


Okay okay I couldn't help it! I had to look up Knut the German Polar Bear Cub!!!! LOOK AT HIM!


Aw, look at that!  He's so disappointed for me over getting released from the Hoosier Lottery campaign.  It's okay Knut!  It was a crappy AFTRA contract anyway and I wouldn't have gotten usage.
Knut, do you think I might have a shot at that national FedEx campaign?


Hahahaha!!!  You're so right! They can kiss it!  Thanks Knut! And THANKS NATURE!


not enough soup

A cousin had a tragedy this past week.  I would modify the word "tragedy" with words like "huge" or "devastating" or even "tragic," but no words could ever do it justice.  There aren't enough words.
Children should not die.
No parent should bury their child.
It goes against everything.
Everything, everything. 

They held an "informal shiva" so (after looking up shiva on wikipedia to make sure I knew what to do) I worked all day Thursday, bought the ingredients and made my #1 all time favorite soup late that night.

Somehow it only made this much.

Never has 32 ounces seemed so utterly pathetic.

I was so disgusted.
I wanted to bring a VAT of soup.
I wanted to bring a gigantic iron cauldron.
I wanted to pull up in one of these
and stick a hose through the kitchen window, flip on the pump, and flood the house with love-in-soup-form till it filled the entire place and they couldn't feel the awful absence of their little girl.

Even if I could, it wouldn't be enough.
Nothing is enough.
I pray that the gesture itself is enough - to convey my condolence, which is a word we have that only seems right in times like this, but still is not ever, ever, no, it is not anywhere close to enough.

oh yeah, I guess I gotta buy it!

ABC's "The Bachelor," my classmate from 2nd grade on, Jake Pavelka's facebook page.

Facebook suggested I "reconnect" with him this morning. 

Apparently I am one of his 11 friends.
I had forgotten I WAS friends with him as I wrote status updates like this when the news broke:

Lacy         JAKE PAVELKA? I went to freaking GRADE SCHOOL with Jake. EVERY GRADE or something. damn. he got hot.

which led to comment threads like this with other former classmates

No effing way. THAT Jacob Pavelka? His dad worked on my teeth!
October 14 at 10:40pm ·

I guarantee you it is blowing my mind as well. But it's kind of funny that the entertainment press is blasting him for being so boring ... it's awful but I remember him BEING really boring! Even as a little kid!
October 14 at 10:43pm ·

I know. That was my first thought as well. Still don't think I'll be watching the bachelor, but it's still funny...
October 15 at 6:58am ·

However, as one of his ELEVEN friends, I guess I really should stand by the guy a little more.

I'm sorry Jake.  You were always a genuinely nice kid and I remember drawing that mural of Texan Independence with you in Mrs. Smith's class. 
As I recall, you drew some pretty good Comanche. 

Say, what does he look like now? I don't watch The Bachelor.

Yup, still looks the same! Sweet face, pointy chin...


(spit take)



broke as a joke

Aw man.

Someone write me a song about union dues and the expenses of living in a city that would charge you for a sidewalk license if they could get away with it. 

Also the sheer stupidity of spending your precious-little expendable income on cans of spraypaint, second-hand barbies and glue sticks to make a little piece of art.

I met up with my cousin Andy last night. He moved away for 4 years and is back now.  He was the one soul I knew in Chicago when I moved here 9 years ago.  We tried to sum up our respective past 4 years for each other.

I said this was [maybe] the biggest lesson I'd learned:
Never underestimate others' insecurities.

He said this was [maybe] the biggest one for him:
The distance between where you are now and where you want to be is way smaller than you imagine.

I'm glad he's back.


we don't get screwed again

Listen, lottery.


I almost booked a big fat campaign for you in one state. You put me "on hold" then you let me go.  It hurt.

Now you're back and I'm on hold again.  Lottery commercial for another state.  I know you don't pay that much, midwestern lottery commercial BUT I AM GETTING A LITTLE DESPERATE.


So DO NOT release me again, because there will not be enough nature for me to LOOK AT.


Nature pic.



What if you went out one night to hear some music and this happened?

Things like this make me think I should never stay in again. 
Life isn't long enough.  It never could be.



What does it say about your ego if you think  __________?
  • that you have some decent perspectives on life and even some good advice
  • that the bullet point above is pretty moot because no one really would listen to you 
  • that if you know something, everyone else has probably known it for a while now so you're probably just stating the obvious

(pause for thought. Also pause to wonder if this is particularly incriminating.)

I guess that says you have the kind of ego that is well-suited to starting a blog.

A girl in my class mentioned that, on a recent trip back to her hometown, she passed her estranged father's house and saw him, through the window, for the first time in 7 years or so.  He didn't see her. 
She talked about how life was too short, and although it was kind of his place to make the first move, she was thinking of contacting him.

She didn't seem like she wanted to.  She seemed to feel like she was supposed to. 

We didn't have a lot of time, but I sort of whispered to her that I hadn't seen my dad in 16 years, just to tell her if she ever wanted to talk ...  it's nice to know you aren't the only one.  Her face really lit up. Then someone started acting and we all had to shut up.

So this is what I emailed her. It's unsolicited advice. I wish someone had solicited it to me, though.

Yes, life is too short to bear grudges, harbor resentments, all that. Everyone says that and it's true. 
But this is also true: life is also too short to chase after someone who isn't able to (for whatever reason) share themselves with you.  Sometimes, life is too short not to move on and focus on the blessings and love and beautiful people who are in your life now, and nurture those relationships that give you love and acceptance in return - not the ones that break your heart again and again. It's okay to leave those behind and move on.

That's it.
Maybe some successful advice on a shitty situation.
Maybe some shitty advice on an eventually successful situation.


my problem is myself and sausage

After extensive polling, I'm deeply humbled that we all seem to share 2 similar chief complaints.
Me, and too many sausages.

I've been taking a lot of shakespeare lately.
now the geekiness:
I cannot chuse but share Tutaj's video contribution on how to get to sleep:

4 plays in 4 days

In no particular order:

stunning and overwhelming
inscrutable but intriguing
delightful and inspirational
immensely frustrating but lovable

Not bad for $25.

(Although sometimes I wish I could just have an evening at home.)
(Evenings free in October 2009: 1, 4, 25, 26)



I'm having a hell of a time editing my "X person actually read this" comment bar  to say "X of you love it when I call you Big Poppa" instead.

Saturday night BUST.

Oh, also I saw a mime show that blew my mind and reaffirmed my belief that it's not a bad thing to be an artist's artist; an audience full of other performers is no less of an audience than an audience full of complete strangers.

BUT SERIOUSLY, the Big Poppa thing.  C'mon.


Poll Findings

The poll to the right is still active, but I just want to point out that a great many of us have a problem with Too Many Sausages.

Is this a problem we are somewhat delighted to have?

(mmmmmmaybe the next poll will tell us?)

how you know things

How you know you are hip to the arts scene:

You go see modern dance shows in park buildings with drag queens wearing Saran Wrap and Ronald Reagan masks.
And it's serious.  

How you know you are kind of a rube:

You actually don't really...  get it.

(Everyone else does. Some are moved to tears)


this makes me feel like pacman and a hamster.

Is it me, or do you *also* look at this and feel that it fire struck The Golden Nugget, that you may as well just lay down and wait to get trampled?

thanks nature.

I like this article.

Looking at Nature Makes You Nicer

I can kind of see it.  Maybe I need some new spiritual advisers.

I almost booked a huge commercial campaign, then it fell apart at the last minute.

Cherry blossom sunset by afagen.
What a peaceful place ... TO THROW MYSELF IN THE RIVER.
WHY didn't you want me, Ohio Lottery? WHY?  I WANTED THAT $2,000 - 3,000 to justify and finance my irresponsible lifestyle for another several months!
I had a $125 dress picked out to buy in celebration! Look! It's washable merino wool and wicks moisture while you bike!
Indie Dress, Ebony
IT HAS A HOOD, Ohio Lottery!  An A-Line Skirt AND A HOOD!

White Tigers, Singapore Zoo by Eustaquio Santimano.
Great. I'm just going to smear my body with a package of Jimmy Dean Breakfast Sausage and wait for these rare exotic tigers to finish me off. 

Smell that, tigers? Smell that distinctive aroma of spicy pork?  ...AND DEFEAT?????

White tiger's feet by Tambako the Jaguar.

Aww.  Look at your feets.  Who has the adorable white tiger feets?


Playing white tiger cub by Tambako the Jaguar.


Lazy white tiger by Tambako the Jaguar.

stop that. 

Chimp with Tiger Cub by jeffmcneill.


Damn your adorable fuzzy cuddles.

oh hey.

Look at that.



I remember that.  I still like those stories.  And those pictures are real neato. 
Maybe I *can* write a little.

(looks at sitemeter to see how many people read the Collective Lens blog)

Oh. Well. Maybe not, then. 
I always wondered if my partner just got too busy with work, or maybe he just didn't like my stories and didn't know how to tell me.
Back to this blog.



Dear Lacy,
Please post to your blog.
Your Blog.

Dear my Blog,
I got nothing.

Dear Lacy,
You burst into tears when someone asked you how you were today.  That's not nothing.
Your blog.

Dear my Blog,
Oh.  I just don't know how to write about it really.
Being an actor is hard.  It's better when I address the little items in my blog.  But everything feels so dramatic and major now.

Dear Lacy,
Promise to write a huge ridiculously dramatic blog post tomorrow about how ridiculously dramatically failureful you feel.  It will be so silly that it will make you feel better.
etc., etc.

Okay. I will.


just start a sustainable farm already.

A friend's facebook status/comment conversation.
He pretty much maxed out here in Chicago a few years ago - essentially became enough of a big fish in a little pond - and headed to NYC, with our love and admiration following him the whole way. Off to represent on Broadway.

[Lacy's friend] thinks these next 2 weeks cannot go fast enough.

[his friend] new love on the other side?

[Lacy's friend] naw - just finally starting rehearsal. it's been a rough many months of office work & waiting tables, so it's been a red letter day for a while now :)

[his friend] love of acting. Rock on.

[Lacy's friend] gettin harder to love every year. thinking of chucking it all and starting a sustainable farm. ;-)


my new least favorite thing

Plays in which an otherwise complex and interesting female character discovers, at the end of the play, that her REAL problem is that she never had a baby.

really good news

Mayhap you recall this conversation with this lady (presented here in a much shorter and way better version) :
Dear Dallas Travers, Creative Career Coach and award winning author of The Tao of Show Business,

I turned down a job today. Was that stupid of me? They wanted me to understudy. Nobody likes to understudy. Will anyone ever hire me again?

Yours in art,

Dear Lacy, amateur hack actor,
Lose some weight and get a haircut,
Dallas Travers, Creative Career Coach and award winning author of The Tao of Show Business

ps, you owe me $10 for telling you to lose weight and get a haircut.
They asked me to do a reading for their new play.

more ways to make money as an actor

Saturday night. Another unexplainable evening spent making $100 at a fancy private party.

My cousins Sarah and Laura work these things frequently as well. I mentioned I had one coming up.
Laura: What are you doing? Wait. Are you weird, or sexy?
It's true; you're always one or the other at these things.

In this one, I ceremoniously poured cold milk from a pewter pitcher on a young African-American dancer as he sat in a galvanized metal tub while goats brayed loudly in the background.
Also I was holding a toilet brush.

Not pictured and slightly to one side, Greg simulated giving birth to basketball-sized glowing orbs while Mia assisted.
Anthony: That's good Mia. Move slower though. Like an old lady from space.