Overheard in New York is one of my absolute favorite sites on The Internets, especially when they share things like this:

“Yeah, I like to eat out every once in a while.”
Coffee guy: Good morning, sir.
Sir: Medium coffee.
Coffee guy: Milk and sugar, sir?
Sir: Yes, please.
Coffee guy: …you go down, sir?
Sir: Excuse me?
Coffee guy: You go down? Down the town?
–Roach coach, Franklin & Church
Overheard by: Bailey Wier
New Yorkers: As Seen on TV
Woman #1: Excuse me, does the N train stop at Central Park?
Woman #2: Lady, go ask a fucking cystal ball, or learn how to read a damn subway map.
–Union Square station
Overheard by: Craig D
A truck driver is parked on the side of the road, honking at what appears to be nothing at all. A female pedestrian shoots him a dirty look.
Truck driver: Nobody’s honking at you, you dumb bitch!
–Bay Ridge

New York is more than a city, it’s a character in our National Mythology. These individual voices that emerge from the cacophony of the city tell an incredible story, and you don’t have to be a New Yorker to appreciate them.

If you’re reading WWdN via RSS, you may want to actually click into the entry from time to time, and check out the comments, because if you don’t, you’ll miss cool things like Letterboxing. Letterboxing, as far as I can tell, combines the treasure hunt of Geocaching, with the mystery of Codebreaking. It appears to be primarily an English thing, but according to the FAQ, it’s spreading across the USA.
It looks like fun. Has anyone done this in the Los Angeles area?

There are a lot of things I enjoy about acting, and there are a lot of things that I absolutely hate about the entertainment industry . . . but the joy of creating and the frustrations of just trying to get there are nothing compared to that feeling of “I’m part of this thing that’s bigger than all of us. I’m helping make something really cool happen.” Long after the brain cells that contain specific details of the day-to-day working are sent off to Guinnessland, that feeling of “belonging” will remain.
I’ve been in a lot of ensemble casts in my life: Stand By Me, Toy Soldiers, and Star Trek are probably the most well known of them all . . . they were all fun and rewarding, but in various ways I always felt like I was on the outside looking in. When I worked on Stand By Me, Rob Reiner always made me feel like I Belonged, like I deserved to be there, even though I was just a kid. But the other guys in the cast picked on me a lot, probably because I was sensitive and insecure. Corey Feldman was a pretty cruel fourteen year-old, so I spent a lot of that summer trying my best not to cry.
When I worked on Toy Soldiers, I was eighteen, and boy was I a know-it-all! I guess you could be kind, and say that I was passionate about my work, and that I cared deeply about the film, and you’d be correct . . . but jesus, someone should have knocked a little sense into me. However, when I look back across almost fifteen years, I can clearly recall how much fun I had hanging out with Sean Astin and Keith Coogan, and how Dan Petrie made me feel like I was a valuable part of his cast . . . but I was in sort of a dating nightmare at the time, so I wasted a lot of time dealing with that drama, and I wasn’t able to completely relax and appreciate the experience.
As I’ve written extensively in my books and on this blog, when I worked on TNG, I was a kid and they were adults. ‘Nuff said.
It wasn’t until my first ACME show, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Sunday Show, that I felt like I was fully part of an ensemble cast, complete with the goofing off before the show and the drinking beers afterward, and the good-natured teasing backstage, and the whole bit. It was awesome.
When we started ACME Love Machine back in December, I knew from our first rehearsal that this was going to be the best ensemble cast ever, and the last few months of shows have been incredible. I am so proud of the show, and I love the cast so much, I start counting down to our Saturday night performance shortly after I get home from the theatre early Sunday morning.
This Saturday is our final performance, and I am extremely sad. There’s an esprit de corps in this cast that is even more pronounced than we had in Crouching Tiger, and I’m really grateful for that. I’ve been told by several people who have seen the show that, as a cast, we have an obvious affection for each other backstage that translates into something intangible — but clearly there — when we’re on stage. I’m really going to miss that.
For the last few weeks, I’ve been rehearsing the next ACME show, ACME: A Day In The Life. Chris, Matt, and I are the only actors who are continuing on from Love Machine, and even though I know and like all the people who will be in the new cast, I’ve wondered: are we going to come together as well as my current cast? Am I going to have as much fun as I did in Love Machine? Will this show be as well-attended and critically praised as Love Machine?
We had an amazing rehearsal this Tuesday for Day in the Life, and for the first time since we started pitching material several months ago, I felt it. I felt the first twinges of that esprit de corps that I love so much about Love Machine. This is going to be a great show, and it’s going to be a LOT of fun to perform. This cast is so talented, and so funny, and composed of such amazing actors (who are insanely great writers), I can’t believe that I ever had any doubts.
On the way home, I thought about all the different ensembles I’ve been in over the years, and how my experience being in them has been more about where I was in my life, and who I was at the time, than about the actual ensemble itself. The fact that I am having so much fun in this current ensemble, and I’m looking forward so much to the next one makes me very happy indeed. Maybe I’m finally at a place in my life where I am comfortable enough with myself to fully enjoy being part of something bigger than me, because I know exactly where I fit in.
When I got home well past midnight, I dropped my bag (NOT A MAN-PURSE!) on the dining room table, and walked into the back of the house. Ferris and Riley snuggled together on Nolan’s bed, Felix was in Ryan’s room, and Biko and Sketch slept together atop my bed right next to Anne.
“This,” I thought, “is why I can relax and enjoy being part of the ACME ensemble. This is the best ensemble of them all.”

My latest The Games of our Lives is up. This week’s game is Midnight Magic on the Atari 2600:

Your dominance at the arcade is unequaled. When you walk through the doors, Sinistar’s hunger is mysteriously sated, the robots in Berzerk fall silent, and even the feared Wizard Of Wor dares not laugh at you. Your initials, “XTC,” sit atop virtually every high-score list in the building. The other kids bring you waffle cones while you play Galaga, just to stand near you. You are a god, with one small but significant exception: pinball. And there’s another problem: That guy who hangs around the high school even though he graduated five years ago is a pinball master. Though there are only three pinball machines in the entire arcade, you can’t touch him, and he knows it.
He may have a conversion van and a sweet mustache, but he doesn’t have Atari, and he doesn’t have Midnight Magic. Lock your bedroom door, crank up some Journey, and start practicing to kick his ass.

In this week’s issue, there’s also a really cool spin on the always-hilarious Commentary Tracks of the Dammmed: Commentary Tracks of the Blessed. Checkitoutcheckitoutcheckitout.

I was attracted to Geocaching because, even though I may not probably won’t find the cache, I’ll still get to enjoy an awesome Journey. Part of my fundamental philosophy of life is that it’s about the Journey, not the Destination, so hiking is a wonderful metaphor for me.
Over at blogging.la, I found out that the Los Angeles Times has created a bunch of really spiffy printable maps to some of the greatest hikes in Los Angeles County. As Robert says at b.la, hurry and grab them before the Times puts them behind their Cone of Registration.