So I've been trying to write more lately to varying degrees of success and failure. Most recently I've been writing a story told from the point of view of Gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson as he travels to the afterlife after his suicide by shotgun to the face. Here's what I have so far. Please rip it to shreds. Its not much but its mine dammit!





"I have reached the off season. There goes any chance for more punts or more first downs. All the old pigskin pushers have been put out to pasture. There is only the after party now and the inevitable stench of morning hangover. Welcome to the eternal reception.
It took me a while to settle into my new surroundings. After the initial blast of the shotgun I could only taste metal in the salivary glands and there was a great howling like a fisher cat in heat. I could feel my eyeballs retreating back into the skull until the sockets looked like two white windows in the dark. When you die you can literally feel yourself fall back into the cool embrace of the beyond. Surely, I thought, I would be roused out of my death sleep by scores of naked sweaty virgins ready for the sideways shuffle while I ate grapes on satin sheets and watched angels play baseball. There would be no pain but a constant stream of contentment that not even the best drugs in South Beach could secrete. This was the escape from the daily stomache pains of my living life. It would be smooth sailing and shirley temples from now on. Beautiful.
I woke up on a fucking rusty steamship. Huge. Crawling. Massive. It was like a giant fucking cow tongue licking the back of the water in some strange game of coitus. Holy monkey Jesus. The ferry to farewell town. Ticket bought. Ride taken. Where are my grapes and virgins dammit? This was not part of the contract. Someone was going to answer for this."

Thats just a random song I stumbled across lately. Good stuff.

Greetings from the fringes

Hello World! Its me Nicholas! Glad to see you have been spinning at your usual glacial pace (trust me, you don't need to spin much faster. You look svelt.) Where have I been this past week or so? Good question. Booze is a wonderful thing my friends. Here's to Bacchus!
I must say, not having a phone, while at times frustrating, is the greatest thing ever. I can relax and get much more thinking done. I've also had limited to no internet access. Yeah I know. I like to live in on a little place I call "the edge".

The days have been filled with visiting sick and injured friends, work, work, work, and 48 hours of insanity while making a movie with friends. This has lead me to believe that madness is contagious highly potent when you're surrounded by your buds. Or in the immortal words of one man I shall only call Ballou: "Tits or get the fuck out!" Brick babies indeed.

In other news, my mind has been racing at a fever pitch. I've been coming up with more ideas for books and stories and plays than i know what to do with. So far i've thought of creating:

-a graphic novel that takes place during the Chicago World's Fair and follows a group of travelling circus performers who have to solve a series of killings happening around the city. It would end up being some sort of social commentary in the vein of Alan Moore or Iain Sinclair.

-A play centered around the true story of Lope De Aguirre, a conquistador in the 1500's, who embarks on an expedition to find El Dorado, the lost golden city. He ends up killing his 15 year old daughter Elvira and rebels against the rule of King Philip of Spain. Think Macbeth meets Richard III meets Heart of Darkness and Apocalypse Now.

-A comic book/novel depicting the afterlife. I started thinking about the land of the dead as an ever expanding universe where dead and extinct peoples and cultures are stacked right on top and next to each other. This would make some kind of huge metropolis where you could look at different cultures bumping up against each other. It could be a bunch of short stories connected only by their location. I've also thought of a very intricate story of Napoleon deciding to take over the underworld. This all came out of a play a abandoned writing last year that was much less science fictiony and more philosophical.

-Baby Noir! started off as a joke between me Oreilly and Jonny after we were insane for two days but I'm starting to think it could be a really funny story. And strange. Very strange.

Various other things. Thinking about how I would play Hamlet, Macbeth, or Richard. Its got to happen someday.


I've also been reading a great book called "The year of the King" by actor Antony Sher. Its a journal he kept detailing his life during the year that he gave his breakthrough performance of Richard III at the Royal Shakespeare Company. I've begun an online correspondence with him and he has been a wealth of inspiration.

I'll probably edit this later for details but so far thats my life as of right now!

Alan Moore knows the score.

In this little video writer, philosopher, and comic book creator Alan Moore expounds on his ideas of art, writing, science, magic, and a host of other topics.

So I know its long but this guy is a genius and one of my favorite authors. There's plenty of weirdness in there but some genuine good stuff as well.

Random Rant about stupid shit.

If you're a hateful, piss and vinegar filled maniac like me or just a guy, there's one thing on this rocky planetary protuberance that you can't stand: talking on the phone. Here's something I get quite frequently: "Nick I TRIIIEEEED calling you and you didn't answer ME!!! WHAT THE FUCK MAN!?" Oh I'm sorry Mister President, I didn't realize the missiles were being fired while I was out filling up my life with the mere trifles I call an existence. I apologize that I don't sit in my lazyboy touching myself all day in the hope that you might decide to call my cell phone. Just because I have a cell phone doesn't mean you can reach me anywhere, anytime. I own a cell phone for my convenience. Not yours. Amazingly, I am not sitting around keeping my plate clear so that we can chat whenever you get the notion to call. I have a life. I occasionally go into cars, bathrooms, tunnels, the dentists, auditions, dwarf tossing competitions, great drunken debauches and other places I don't want to talk to you. That's why voice mail was invented.

If you get my voicemail, it does not mean I hate you. It means exactly what it says "leave a message and I will call back". That's not "hang up and I will psychically deduce it was you and call back in the next 3 nano-seconds". Calling six times in a row does not magically summon me. I am not a person who needs to have my mastication muscles constantly gabbing away into oblivion. I need my "me" time (after all I AM a scorpio. Oh yeah and fuck astrology too!)

So yeah I just felt like typing something and there it is. I could have just called someone to tell them all this but, well, you know...

BOREDOM!

Ambition: To own or build a castle


Bad Habit: I have a real mean streak in me I suppose.

City: Well, born in Boston, raised in Boston. Moved to the good ol' prison town Walpole. Go to school in Franklin. Work in Norwood. If you're dedicated you can now stalk me to your heart's content.




Drink: Chocolate Milk. I could seriously drink that stuff all day every day and I frequently do. When I feel like imbibing liquids of the more alcoholic variety I can really dig the guinness and bailey's. I also like grateful deads THE stereotypical college drink in the parlance of our times.




Education: AA in theatre and about to receive my Bachelor's in theatre as well. Did a short stint as a psychology major at Suffolk University where I had to attend and give advice at group therapy sessions. I've probably left irreparable scar tissue on the souls and minds of many a mental patient.

Food: Tacos. As soon as you even mention tacos my mouth waters. I also love corned beef and cabbage and potatoes. Also breakfast food. The best meal of the whole goddamn day. Eggselent!


Guilty Pleasure:

Hometown: Boston Mass. Specifically Jamaica Plain in my mom's old apartment next to the baseball field.

Ice Cream: i'm a simple guy when it comes to dairy. chocolate or vanilla. Fuck off all those other pansy fruity mintberry fucko ice creams.


Jonesing For: a sword I can use to practice. A night of drinks with the friends on friday. The forth of july.

Kryptonite: Can't resist: Candy and sweets. I have a large and in charge sweet tooth.

Shit that brings me down: Nothing. I'm' invincible.


Look-A-Like: Okay like most people I will say that I do not agree to any of these but I've been told I resemble Tobey Maguire, evil James Dean, Steve Mcqueen, and Jack Nicholson. Meh.


Movie: There's too many to name but my absolute favorites are: Brazil, The Long Good Friday, Snatch, A Clockwork Orange, Once Upon a Time in the West, and Inception. I could go on and on.

Nickname: Nick, Wakely, Wakels, Nicky, Sir Nicholas, Kenny, Nico.

Obsession: anything. I'm an obsessive person and once I'm hooked on something I will pursue it to its utmost. Over the years this has involved everything from drugs to books,to music, to acting, and beyond.


Perfume: excuse me? Fuck you. Perfume.






Quirk: I have to constantly be moving. I can't think unless I'm walking around or doing something. This office job i'm currently at is driving me crazy.


Regret: not joining the military. But oh well.

Starbucks:ehh I don't really like the gourmet coffee shit. Regular or black from dunkins is fine thanks.



Thrift Find of the Year:

University: Deanie beanie. In the future? Who knows? I've been looking at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in London but we'll see.

Vacation: my perfect vacation would have to be just driving around in like Europe or something. Just by myself.

Wine: is for when you run out of the good stuff.

X: Hmmm can't think of x words. Sorry!





Years: 22 of em!

Zen: I met my former Sociology teacher in high school, Mr. Waisgerber, at a coffee shop during this summer. He is indeed the wisest mofo on the planet. I asked him what the meaning of life was and as he was paying for his beverage he said: "well Wakes, lots of cream; lots of sugar. Ciao!"

Super Important!!!!! (not really)

Okay lords and ladies after quite the absence from this godforsaken hunk of blogness adrift in the maelstrom of the interwebs I've decided to post something new. I mean I'm sure no one reads this thing anyway so I'm basically talking to myself. Frightening! Okay so as you know acting usually requires the actor to change his appearance to suit the needs of the character and this time its no different. "What does this mean Nick!?" you just asked yourself loudly. It means mustaches. Yes bitches I must grow that emblem of manly machoness for the sake of the part. But a bigger philosophical question remains: what KIND of mustache? I present to you, the reader, a bevy of beautiful face rags and invite you to choose which one I should end up growing.

The frank zappa 'stache. For those with a penchant for the avant garde. Nothing says "fuck the man" quite like a "Mustache of Invention".

Adventure away!! This mustache, worn by the late great actor Errol Flynn, epitomizes the swashbuckling savois faire of a gallavanting gascon. Live by the sword, die by the sexy stache!

Hello, Dali! The surrealist painter sure knew how to sport a foxy facial piece thats as striking as his painting of melting clocks (yes its THAT guy). Can also be used to impale and hunt for food.

Who needs to speak softly and carry a big stick when you have THIS hot mama of a mustache? Teddy Roosevelt the 26th pres of the US of A ladies and gentlemen. If you want a true illustration of badassery look no further than those presidential set of mouth curtains!

The Groucho Marx mustache! A stache so wonderful it wasn't even real! This one would definitely save me a ton of time and energy. And dignity......oh god the shame.


And now for some more!

Did someone say mental floss?

Its like it wants to give you a hug.

OOOOO!!!! :)

AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!! :)

Oh ummmm......oh god this is awkward.....

Much better! :)





Choose wisely cautious readers! My facial fate is in your hands!

No acting, please.

My friend Nik randomly gave me two acting books the other day during our oh so stimulating AMT class. He told me to skim through them because there were a lot of useful exercises inside that help actors. It was 9 o'clock in the morning and I was half asleep so I didn't really think about just how random the whole situation was but fuck it right?

In one of the books entitled "No Acting Please", there was an entire chapter devoted to the idea of "Being". Basically the entire idea behind acting is being. You don't pretend or imply or indicate emotions on stage but rather go for as close to the real thing as possible. Thats not to say that you relive your worst memories while on stage but you enter a state where you can be as free as possible to go with the flow of the playwright's words along with your fellow actors.

After reading pages and pages of all this great info about how to achieve this state, I realized how far I had strayed from the "the way". The acting atmosphere at Dean is not perfectly conducive to perfecting the craft of acting or at least doing it the way I believe is the most honest and truthful way. We take too much time to go over petty insults and he said she said crap without actually focusing on the reason we go to school. Acting problems are usually life problems. If you have difficulty exposing some aspect of yourself off stage, you'll have even greater difficulty exposing it on stage. I block myself repeatedly when I perform with all kinds of outside obligations and shit that doesn't have any place on stage. Did I do all my homework? Did I study? Did I eat too much? Too little? Shit did I have dairy and now I'm going to be singing? Car payments. Work. Papers. Friends. Family. And on and on and on.

Thinking about all of this is really what has been holding me back. I'm a pretty cerebral guy and can usually think myself to death which helps in some cases. In this case it gets in the way of BEING. Too much thinking and not enough doing in life. Too much dishonesty and representational crap in performing on stage. Richard Burton once said that he was more concerned about the odyssey of Richard Burton than he was about his acting career but I think he knew the truth: it's all one and the same.

The point is, I need to just free myself from these restrictions and focus on the doing rather than the thinking


Time to go do stuff. :)

"It. Is. A. LADLE!"

So I just read on that new fangled invention ,the internet, that the earth is running out of the lightest element on the periodic table and the one that is the most fun: helium. Thats right kiddies, the gas that balloons pass is on its way out to greener pastures. "Why should I give a shit Nick," you ask? Well I don't really know but it got me thinking (or drinking....whichever). If the element that gives millions of kids and adults with mommy issues joy is leaving the planet, does that mean there's just a little less happiness in the world? Stupid pompous fucking question to ask but it just kept going around and around in my head. No more balloons. No more sucking the air out to get your voice to sound like a chipmunk. No more helium. No more fun. Then I realized that no Nick thats just stupid. There will still be the same amount of fun but it will just be in a different form. It will be in ipods and iphones and macbooks and bikes and all sorts of other things. But most of all it will still be in human beings. So I guess the point to this stupid little puddle of thought is that we only got ourselves to keep us nice and happy. So yeah. Sorry you had to read all that. Lets move on.

The Odd Couple by Neil Simon has officially ended its tenure at the Dean College School for the Performing Arts. It was great having friends and even some family come to see me and the rest of the talented cast and crew do what we love to do. I'm already sad to see it go but I'll have Producers filling in that little hole (thats what she fucking said).

Its good to know you have good peeps in your life and baby I got a shit ton.


I've noticed i'm just not good at writing coherently so sorry if this sounds like just a mess.

Tune in next week true believers. Same Nick time. Same Nick channel!

"INCEPTION!!!"

Writing to you now while buried under a veritable mile of snow, nestled deep within my temperature controlled bunker, entrenched in an ocean of blankets, surrounded by a forest of canned food, wrapped up in a gaggle of surplus survival equipment I bring you, the reader, a blog of astounding proportions!!!

Damn right I work in advertising.

Winter refuses to relinquish its deathly grip upon our New England lands and I for one am fed up with seeing nothing but grey and white. Yes, I know I said a few blogs ago how I liked how the snow made everything look cool. But fuck that noise. I was drunk anyway! I'm tired of this shit!

Also Odd Couple is in full swing. We open in two weeks. I will be happy to have a live audience and also grateful when the final curtain goes down. I've never had a character take over my life the way Felix Unger, the neurotic obsessive compulsive depressed news writer, has. My director, Craig, always says that the script works on an actor and eventually starts to creep into their real life. I've always found that to be true to varying levels depending on the role. Its interesting and sometimes alarming to find yourself saying a word the way your character would or even physically moving differently than normal. Usually I can keep these lapses in reality to a tolerable and fun level. Not this show. Felix is one potent character and I've noticed the toll its taken on me this semester. My thoughts are much more manic and melancholy. This probably helps explain why I had a case of the blues during winter break. I've had the script since december and its been burrowing inside my head for two solid months. Just like Inception! The script planted the idea in my head and now its taking hold. Woah snap. In the show, Felix is getting a divorce from his beloved wife, Frances, who he seems to absolutely love and hate all at once. I've been trying to carefully keep that part of him far away from my love life. Its been hit and miss on that front. Rereading all of this makes me sound like some kind of deranged loony who needs happy pills but other actors who perhaps read this will know exactly what I'm talking about. I need to start practicing leaving my work on the stage. Bad bad nicholas!

Thankfully, after this show I'll be playing a smiling happy fun loving homosexual hippie. Wait. Homosexual?! Oh shit.

"Sit yo five dollah ass down before I make change!"

Oh well here we are again. You. And me. Together. Simultaneously. At the same time. Ahem. Awkward turtle.

Well back to the important news at hand. Festival. Thats right kids, its one hell of a Messtival of Festival!! Please do try to contain your enthusiasm. I'm competing in the Irene Ryan acting competition with my amigo Chris O'Reilly after months and months of working on just two scenes and a monologue ad nauseum. I'm not really even all that interested in winning the damn thing I'd just be perfectly happy to move on to the next round or make it to the finals. Anytime I've done the Irene Ryans I'm always struck by a giant "who gives a shit" mood. Acting competitions? Really? Who cares? Its not a goddamn competition. No one can settle on who the best actor is (settle down Marlon Brando fans) because its all so subjective anyway. Oh well I'll have fun either way I just felt like filling up my "yelling at stuff" quota.

Its currently snowing outside. Yay. More snow. Aren't there like starving eskimos right now who don't have any snow because we're taking it all from them? Poor poor eskimos.

Stay tuned for the exciting (and hopefully better written and more coherent) conclusion of the Kennedy Center Theatre Festival 2011! We shall either return as champions or retreat as chumps! Tally ho!!

Weekly Gratitude

So I guess there is this thing that some bloggerific people are doing where you write about all the things you're grateful about for the week. I decided to give it a shot to offset the cathartic but irritating bitchiness of the last post.

1. FINALLY beginning rehearsals for our production of The Odd Couple.  I can't say enough how having a character to work on has lifted me out of the depression of winter.

2. Friends. this sort of goes along with the last one. Seeing all my theatre peeps again has been great.  Nobody makes me laugh more than those insane thespians.  My old hometown friends are also still around kicking ass and taking names.  Yeah, friends are definitely the shit. I highly recommend them.

3. Food. Yes food. I have not eaten this much in one week in a looooong time.  Food of all shapes sizes and tastes. Burgers, chinese, tai, pizza, donuts, more chinese, pub food, lots of beer, cake, oranges, bananas, apples and so much more. Yay for having a fast metabolism!

4. A roof over my head.

5. The Ma who is the most insane lady in the world. No one else has a mom that was an honest to God nun, a world traveler, a lunch lady, and a nurse who wears polka dotted raincoats and swears at little children.  Ann Margaret Kennedy indeed.

6. Hair. Yeah I know weird but I noticed a lot of bald people this week who were quite challenged in the follicle department. So yeah go me for having hair!!

7. Actually being excited to go back to school. I don't know why I am but shit its better than hating going back.

8. Getting the chance to FINALLY get to see a certain ginger who I kinda missed. I mean its tough being in an interracial relationship and all but I can deal with the stares I get for attempting to date a "soulless" redhead.  Hopefully all goes well.

9. Blogs. I am really digging this idea of blogging. I like getting all my thoughts down and I can't wait to actually start really writing some good stuff once my new schedule gets underway.



I know I've missed a ton of stuff to be thankful for but it would go on for pages and pages and pages. Be thankful I stopped at nine.

"Mobilus in Mobile"

    Winter break: its the curtain drawn between the autumn before and the spring preceding. I suppose to many its a time to see family and friends and re-center yourself after a semester of pen marked pages and furrowed brows with a liberal dose of alcoholic intake.  For me its always been a somewhat melancholy reminder of things that once were and things that could never be.
    I see many of my high school friends dead, in prison, completely submerged in the haze of addiction or else stuck on a track to absolutely nowhere at 100 miles per hour.  A few of us have managed to make it out of the town unscathed and every break we return to eat, drink and gloat about how us "chosen few" crawled atop the backs of the dregs of Nowhereville.  We laugh while we joke about how Walker went AWOL and now works at a liquor store. How Brendan led police on a high speed chase through three towns before being caught for stealing a black pickup truck. "Stupid fuck," we say, "He was always the dumbest one of the two twins".  Cue laughter. Applause.  We all make fun of these fallen comrades hoping to somehow reassure ourselves that we'll be okay. But I dunno. Neither do the other guys.
   The isolation that occurs over my winter breaks from the lack of friends left always makes me itchy. Itchy to work. To get moving. To keep moving.  My whole life even, I've always had to keep moving on to the next big adventure or joke or character to play or person to meet.. The Ma (my mom for the uninitiated) always said I wasn't born but "blasted out of a fucking canon". I rushed onto the world and I've been rushing around ever since. My next semester will be filled with playing two characters at once (the psychological implications of that are just now beginning to frighten me) planning for a production of Richard III, auditioning, learning lines, schoolwork and on and on and on.  Story of my life.  My body is constantly pacing and moving while my mind within is grinding its gears in a manic fury. Mobilus in Mobile: movement within a moving thing. I just wish that for once I could sit back and relax and just not move but the fear of following former friends into the abyss is too great. Every joke is just a brief jab at the oncoming depression and failure that looms around the corner.  I know one day I'll be able to settle down and who knows perhaps have a FAMILY?! Hell will freeze over and thaw on that day.  And i'll be laughing except the laughter will be full of joy and contentment rather than fear and worry.

I don't even know if what I just wrote makes sense. Bed time. Nighty night!

Fancy meeting you here...

Well this is certainly exciting. Starting a blog of all things? I must say I rather like this blog. Its roomy, comfortable and is just the right temperature. Feel free to make yourself at home. No, really, go ahead. There's my nice comfy couch.  There's drinks in the fridge and a nice fire to warm yourself. My house is yours.

 Its snowing outside and apparently the world is going to end. Death by white crystalized rain. I can think of worse ways to go. There is nothing better than waking up and looking outside the giant window of my house and seeing the world outside look like one big black and white movie. Everything becomes completely still and quiet and you can daydream like its no tomorrow looking outside that window.

I'm not quite sure what prompted me to start writing in this but I'm sure it will soon be filled with the ravings of your friendly neighborhood Nicholas.

Until next time true believers this is Wakely signing off and riding into the sunset.