I never seem to have stress dreams about shows I'm in; it's always just after the show has closed that it seems all the ideas of what might or could go wrong crowd themselves into my sleeping mind and terrorize me. In "The Real Inspector Hound," which closed on Saturday, I had an ornate 1940's hairdo, involving hair rats and liberty rolls, that I developed through hours of watching Youtube instructional videos. I was incredibly proud of the results and always began preparations by 4:30 on show nights. Naturally, last night's dream had me waiting until the show actually started to begin my preparations backstage, with disastrous results.



I loved every minute of this production; it hasn't quite sunk in that I won't be getting my hair into an elaborate updo tomorrow night. Or, will I...? Hmmm.

Yesterday, Kyle and I were invited to brunch at the home of Joy Cutler, the incredible woman who wrote last year's "Pardon My Invasion." We went out to get on our bikes, since Joy lives in a fairly inaccessible (to us) part of the city, and discovered that Kyle's bike simply was not there. It's been so long since we've taken a ride, that it's impossible to say how long it's been gone. A mystery indeed. So, we cabbed it to brunch and then walked home afterwards -- a nice leisurely walk behind Boat House Row, around the art museum and over the Schuylkill River, past the gorgeous Victorian turned frat houses that are sprinkled around University City. And brunch itself was lovely, with conversations about plays being written and short stories being peddled, and bread and chocolate and vegetable stew and quiche. A comfortable way to start a brand new year.

Last night was the last night of a challenging and complicated year. I'm not sorry to see it go, even though there were wonderful days, weeks, months of it. I had a play written for me, was directed by someone I've hoped to work with for years, played one of my heroes on the stage... but there was also the tragic death of a co-actor, family health scares, things that can make you realize how much you take for granted, and how sometimes the best moments are those when you share a beloved movie with a friend, a good book with your dad, or hold your husband's hand, or split an ice cream sundae with your mom.

Goodbye, 2012; may 2013 be full of sparkling moments and beautiful memories.

This is the final weekend for the original play I've been performing in Philadelphia at the Papermill Theater, 2825 Ormes Street. Performances are today and tomorrow, the 3rd and 4th of November, at 2pm.

The play takes place in a hotel room in Paris during the final leg of the Tour de France in 2005, when Lance Armstrong is about to score his 6th consecutive victory. With Lance being in the news so often these days, the play is unwittingly quite topical, and the pacing makes it feel like we're racing to score the victory ourselves.

John Rosenberg wrote the play with me in mind for the role of Joanna, and the part covers so many emotions, from giddy happiness to heartbreaking despair.





If you're in Philadelphia and catch one of the final performances, it would be lovely to see you there!

Before I post about my new show that opened on Saturday afternoon here in Philadelphia, I want to point out that tomorrow, October 16, is Ada Lovelace Day, and you should celebrate women in the sciences; maybe go to a local science fair or get together with a sister or niece and set off rockets, or go someplace like the Franklin Institute and marvel at how far we've all come.

I was featured on the Ada Lovelace Day site last week.  I think it came out beautifully - click on the link to see a short video of me reading lines from "Childe Byron" and then some rehearsal footage Kyle Cassidy took as I talk about the challenges and rewards of bringing Ada to the stage.

<a href= http://findingada.com/blog/2012/10/09/childe-byron/>Finding Ada on stage</a>.

I'll miss this show very much, but it helps to go immediately on to a new project.  After a marathon performance schedule on Saturday, Kyle and I hosted a cast party that went on into the wee hours... and were joined by Amanda and Eric, who were in town for a house concert.  She serenaded us on the ukulele with "Delilah", which, I have to say, was one of the most moving and spectacular ways to end the evening.

Sometimes, I have to pinch myself. Hard.

Last week, I was interviewed by Eric Smith of Geekadelphia as Geek of the Week. In the interview, I discuss Ada Lovelace and the challenges of bringing her to life on stage, as well as the Philly arts and theatre scene.

Opening weekend was a thrill. Our friends, Jeanine Cummins and Carolyn Turgeon, who both have new books scheduled to come out within the next few months, came down from New York for opening night, which was also my birthday, and we were able to spend time with them the next morning over an Ethiopian brunch.

And now, I start rehearsing for the next show, while Ada simmers slowly in a corner of my mind until Friday....

I've been really busy... which is why I never seem to post anything aside from show announcements these days. I've worked really hard on this next show, which opens tomorrow night at Allens Lane Theatre. The subject has captured my imagination, as she can not fail to capture yours, if you know anything about her life. Ada, Countess of Lovelace, was the legitimate daughter of rockstar poet, Lord Byron, and mathematician, Annabella Milbanke... and a gifted mathematician and scientist in her own right, widely credited with being the first computer programmer for her work with Charles Babbage on the Analytical Engine.

She was a complex and gifted woman who died of cancer at the age of 36... the same age Byron was when he died, and the age his father was before him. The play takes place on the last day of her life as she wildly tries to make sense of her life and the life of the father she never knew.

Chris Braak plays Lord Byron, and Shamus Hunter McCarty plays him as a young boy. More pictures of other cast mates to come soon.

I spent my childhood in Laramie, Wyoming... but left with my family ten years before Matthew Shepard's brutal murder in 1998. It's a subject that haunts me, as it has haunted countless others in the intervening 14 years, in part because of my own conflicted, adolescent feelings for Laramie itself.

I've been back to Laramie a few times, both in imagination and reality... the last time being in 2003, when I was in rehearsals for "The Laramie Project" outside of Philadelphia. I took a roadtrip from Denver, up through Wyoming to my grandparents' farm, stopping in Laramie on the way back to the airport to visit my dad's brother and sister. It was largely as I remembered it growing up, particularly the main area by the railroad tracks and the university itself, with its lovely gardens and walkways, where I had once played as a child.

Perhaps it was being in a production of the play at the time that made me feel so disconnected from the events there... as if it were nothing more than a theatrical event from which I could disengage. I didn't recognize myself or anyone I knew in the characters portrayed on stage; and it was a technically complicated production that served to create a barrier between the words and feeling... and so it seemed the play could be about any town but Laramie.

So here I am, nearly ten years later, about to open a production of "The Laramie Project: 10 Years Later," and it's a shock to realize that I see myself in all the characters. The play itself is a work of great simplicity and maturity, as much as the original play was a work of youthful energy and idealism. Perhaps it's that maturity I respond to; the writers and original performers had the confidence and sensitivity to step away from the subject enough to let it speak for itself, without forcing it to be anything but a contemplation on the nature of fear, denial, and healing.

And for the first time in years, I listen to the final words of the play, as I stand on stage, and I can see Laramie stretching out below me, the Gem City of the Plains, in all its wonderful and terrible complexity.

If you're in the Philadelphia area, I hope you can stop by and catch The Laramie Project: 10 Years Later. It's conveniently located in center city at Plays and Players Theatre at 17th and Delancey Streets, and is produced by Quince Productions.

For the schedule and tickets, Click HERE. It runs in repertory with other plays during GayFest in August. I think it's an important play to see, and an important story to remember. Regardless of where you live, it's part of our history.



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Photo by Kyle Cassidy, with Ryan Walter and John Schultz

Last Friday, our friend, Autumn, head designer at Heartless Revival, was the headlining designer at Stomp the Runway, a benefit to aid victims of domestic abuse. I would link to the website, but it's not browser friendly and has really loud music, sadly. The venue was "Trust," a gorgeous old bank in Old City that has been used as an art gallery and even home to The Real World: Philadelphia, and the event was incredibly lush, with every kind of fashion represented on and off the runway, dozens of photographers stationed in the entryway, models wandering through the crowds, towering above us like exotic long-limbed birds. And we were both so proud to know such an amazing designer.

Here we are, as caught by photographer, Jeff Coen, in front of a canvas representing Paris; I'm wearing my Heartless Revival cocktail dress and Kyle is wearing his kambriel cuffs.



Such a wonderful, magical evening.

I'm filled with pride and happiness! The book is a work of art.

Originally posted by kylecassidy at And so it begins

Last weekend, our good friend, Carolyn Turgeon, was in town to promote her latest novel, The Next Full Moon, which is her fourth book, but first young person novel, a magical tale of swan maidens and coming of age when you're a girl who's not quite like everyone else. I loved it! And we were so happy that things and schedules worked out in such a way that we could host another book reading/signing for her. I really love these afternoons; it's such a wonderful way to gather intelligent, sensitive, articulate people together for a few hours of literature, music, discussion, comraderie.

When Carolyn and I were discussing the reading a couple of months ago, she mentioned having discovered a local violinist/vocalist, Monique Canniere, whose sister owns a bookshop outside of the city. I looked at Monique's website and listened to some of her music and agreed that she had to be part of Sunday's event. However, even having previewed her music, I was completely unprepared for how stunning and talented she is. She improvised a Snow White piece, in honor of Carolyn's next novel, which is about Snow White's evil stepmother, and then played traditional Irish pieces with her partner, John Salmon, who's in The Divine Hand Ensemble with her. It was so beautiful and moving and we were all wreathed in smiles.

The house was filled to near-capacity with friends, family, children... including Michael Swanwick and Marianne Porter, fresh from their Russian adventure, the fabulous petitbout, our friend Karen, who was wearing a new dress she had made from a gorgeous 1912 slip pattern, the incredible actress, Emily Gibson, who had just returned from her Italian theatrical tour... and it was wonderful.

Here I am with Monique and Carolyn after the reading/concert:



We then went back into the house and watched "A Tale of Two Sisters" and much terror and screaming ensued.