"Here you come again, just when I'm about to make it work without you..."

You know what that is? That's my hairy fuckin' hand come back to life is what it is.

The blog has returned. I don't know why. It just has.

Since my last blog post my finger has been broken and subsequently healed, THE BLACK SUITS has become a homeless bastard child, and tigers have gone kill-crazy. There is lots to talk about.

But not now.

Now is merely to say: I am back for real and there are plenty of posts on the way. My mind is a pent-up internet journal uterus, just itching to spew forth the blogposts it's been patiently incubating for the past four months.

YOU: Internet Journal Uterus? Isn't that kind of, ya know, retarded?

ME: Maybe. Whatever. I like the imagery.

YOU: Well, obviously you like it, you wrote it. What I'm saying is, I don't like it. Or can you not even understand that? You do realize that sometimes you have to think of someone other than yourself, Joe.

ME: Get off my case, Louise.

LOUISE: And would it kill to you ask where I wanted to go for dinner once in a while?
ME: OK, we're gonna start this again, is that what we're doing?
LOUISE: Don't Take Tones With Me, Joe.
ME: (Puts fingers in ear) Nag, nag, nag, nag, nag...
LOUISE: (Overlapping) Oh, that's just perfect, you're So mature, I can see why the kids Respect you so God Damn much.
ME: You leave the fucking kids out of this.
LOUISE: Now we're starting with the Fuck. Fuck this! Fuck that! Look at me at how edgy I am cuz I say Fuck!
ME: That's it, I'm going to Cynthia's.
LOUISE: Fine, Go To Your Whore.
ME: I will!
LOUISE: See if she'll hold you when you cry! SHE WON'T HOLD YOU!

[JOE slams door, leaving LOUISE alone. Alone in the house, alone in the marriage, alone in every way a lady real estate agent in her mid-early 40s can be alone. LOUISE looks down at her wrinkled hand and thinks to herself: "I wish there was a wine glass in you," knowing full well her wish would be granted long before her husband reaches the end of the front walk.]

Anyway.

I guess what I'm trying to say is: Make no bones about it. There Will Be Blogging in 2008. Pass me my whiskey and my hammer. It's time to celebrate.

And, yes. Uteruses do, in fact, spew.

-joe

"...I got a Halloweenhead..."

I have been MIA from the blog world for a while. What have I been doing instead of blogging, you ask? None of your business, I rudely reply.





Honestly, though, I need to keep this short and sweet because Katie Couric is waiting for me in bed, and you know how KC gets when she's kept waiting. I really just wanted to do a little hardcore self-promotion. I'm in the thick of my summer of gigs. Two of the bigger gigs are fast approaching and I need all the support I can get. So please, oogle the posters of said gigs, be delighted and inspired by them and then go buy alot of tickets. Give the tickets away as gifts. Then buy more tickets for yourself. Both of the shows are listed
as Critics Picks in this weeks TimeOutNY, and those dudes are smart and can see into the future, so you know the shows are gonna be tight.

I just got back from an imaginary trip to England. It was fun, but the imaginary food sucked.

JOE: How've you been dude?!
OTHER JOE: Good, man. What are you up to?
JOE: Doing alot of gigs, working on The Black Suits...
OTHER JOE: The Black Suits? That's not that garage band show is it?
JOE: Yeah.
OTHER JOE: Uh- Joe?
JOE: Yeah.
OTHER JOE: You've been writing that for five years.
JOE: Four.
OTHER JOE: You should stop.
JOE: I agree.

Oh, also, something momentous occurred in my life since my last blog posting. I started a band with Lance, Hinkley, and SweetTooth. We are called the Big Galoots and we look like this:



Here are some more pics from our first-ever gig @ Mo Pitkins.









The show was tremendously fun. Being in a band is kind of awesome, I gotta say. We will be gigging again in early August and the world will explode when we do. You should come watch us make the world explode with our music.

I want a dog.

Earlier in this blog post, while searching for images to hyperlink to, I discovered that it is a Really bad idea to do a google image search of the word "tight" while using the free wi-fi at Dunkin Donuts. It makes your neighboring Dunkin Donuts patrons really uncomfortable.

As I was walking home just now, this guy approached me, raised his right arm and bore his opened palm. Naturally, I thought he wanted to give me a high-five. While this stranger clearly had no reason to high five me, I naturally started to high-five him back. And, naturally, he was just waving to his friend who was walking behind me and perceived my attempt to high-five him as an attempt to strike him. He flinched and looked shocked/confused/terrified. I laughed and kept walking. Life rocks.

How old is that hot little girl in the Harry Potter movies? I mean, "that little girl in the Harry Potter movies."

-joe

"Let's spend the night together..."

June 11th @ 9:30pm. Be there, kindly.

And while we're on the subject, if there's anyone out there who has yet to partake in the jalapeno lemonade at Bubby's, you need to stop reading this and get on that shit. It's life-changing, man.



-joe

"Up with caffeine and down with a shot, Constantly worried about what I got..."

Dude, I really don't like the summer. I try to like it, honestly, I do. I go outside and walk in the sun and I think to myself: "Isn't this nice and refreshing?" But then I'm all like, "Fuck No, Joe, your balls are sweating. This is gross." I just can't do it. It's not like I'm some grouchy bastard looking out the window of his monster-house, chastising the neighborhood youths for frolicking too joyously in the sunshine. Quite the opposite- I'm thrilled that folks dig the summer. I just need those folks to respect the fact that I hate the beach, I don't like not being able to wear velvet jackets, and I don't rollerblade. See? Nothing in it for me. Ah, well. Only four more months until autumn comes back. Yes.

Coffee is just the greatest thing in the world, isn't it?

So, I was home for Mother's Day last weekend. This was notable for three reasons. (ahem.)

1) I ate a whole bunch of delicious anchovies at Mother's Day Dinner. Few things bring me joy like dangling 'chovies over my 8 year old cousin's head and threatening her with "whisker juice." Anchovies have whiskers, guys. It's one of the coolest things about them.

2) I found my old prop frog that was used in the "Frog Rain" scene in Magnolia, which I bought many many years ago. I then purchased a snazzy display case for said frog. The rest is history. The little dude is now sitting atop my computer desk, ready to inspire and delight me.

3) I also found this bumper sticker. Baffling and invigorating.


FYI, Iconis-supporters: This summer will see a bunch of Joe gigs. I'll have concrete info within the next week, but just to give you a brief heads up, they'll be a reading of PLASTIC! The Musical (music by me and Reza Jacobs, book and lyrics by Robert Maddock) at the York Theater on June 5th @ 3pm; Maddock and I will be at the ASCAP Songwriters' Showcase on June 6th at the Laurie Beachman @ 6pm; on June 11th @ 6pm, I'm gonna be musical directing/playing piano for/speaking at this gala at Lincoln Center that's showcasing songs I wrote with a whole bunch of awesome little kids in the Bronx and Brooklyn... and then, later that night at 8:00pm, I'm gonna be at the D-Lounge in Union Square doing a set of my tunes with a bunch of Iconis regulars. As far as shit what's not yet scheduled, this summer will hold a couple Joe solo gigs, a return of the Iconis/Gaby Alter double-header, an evening of Joe-penned 20 minute musicals, and THINGS TO RUIN Part IV in August.

Just to clarify, the animal that adorned my last blog post was not a donkey but a mule. I realize that there is a fine line between a stupid ass and a stubborn mule... but there's also the reality that a mule will kick you in the face when you try to make him do something he knows is wrong. So, yeah. I'd rather be a mule. Also, mules get to hang out in the Grand Canyon. Fun.

Actually, one thing I do love about the summer is the omnipresence of lemonade. I love lemonade. Especially from Panya on 3rd avenue. Their lemonade is spine-crunchingly bitter and served to you by adorable Japanese girls who are obsessed with asking you before they put ice in anything. So, I'll give summer that.

Oh, also, I just got my mitts on this and felt like I should share it with the world:



Black Suits Class Photo '07. Aren't we a fine looking bunch of people? Yeah, I think so too. Jason kinda looks like Corky from "Life Goes On" in this picture. Kickass. Also, everyone's lips look particularly luscious. It must be some kind of allergic reaction to all the cat piss that covers the entire backstage area of the Zipper Theater.

Has there ever been a more badass man than John Goodman? Nah. Don't think so.

How long can you keep sushi in the fridge before it kills you?

Well, Shit-God-Damn-Sam-The-Man, just looking at that picture up there makes me all itchy and prickly. I want my show to open and I want it to open fuckin NOW, dammit! Grrrrrrr. GRRRRRRR!

I'm all wired now. I'm better go put on a movie to calm me down.

[JOE leaves the computer and walks over to his precariously-stacked pile of DVD's. He removes Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas from the tower. He feels that it's aggressive freneticism and drug-logic hallucinatory paranoia will sooth his nerves. He is so right.]

Whiskey is just the greatest thing in the world, isn't it?

Just wanna give a get-well shout out to Jenna Fischer, who just Broke Her Freakin' Back! I have (what is rapidly becoming) a very-public crush on Ms. Fischer and I would like to wish her a speedy and complete recovery... because it will be really hard to keep on harboring intense feelings of lustful desire for her if she looks like a fuckin gargoyle now. Just kidding, clearly. Honestly, I cannot believe that I live in a world where Jenna Fischer is lying in a hospital with a broken back and Rachael Ray is, well, alive. It's just not fair.

I'm gonna eat some cereal.

-joe

"This song has no title, just words and a tune..."

It's funny to me that people actually read this. I mean, don't get me wrong, Huey Long- I love that people read words that I write and I love even more that people notice when I don't write words for a really long time. I guess what I'm saying is, you asked for it, and I'm gonna give it to you.

The reason I haven't written anything here in a bit is because, as some of you probably know, on Monday and Tuesday, I had a reading of my musical, The Black Suits. The Suits have consumed the last two weeks of my life- and it's been kickass. There is nothing I'd rather do than be in a rehearsal room with actors I love and watch them turn words on a page into people. Ah. That makes it sound like they are turning actual words into people, like, through witch-craft or something. To clarify: The actors are not, in fact, witches. Quite the opposite. They are fucking glorious wizards of humanity, taking 50 or 60 lines of dialogue and a handful of songs and creating real, live human beings. It's a very powerful and gratifying thing for a writer to watch. Just thinking about it makes me all tingly and shit. At any rate, the process was awesome and the readings themselves were awesome, and I got to spend a lot of awesome time with a lot of awesome people. And everything beyond that? Well, ah. Uh. Yeah. You know, trying to get a very personal, very un-musical-theatery musical off the ground is sorta spirit-killing. I mean, without going into too many details, here's what's going on: [POTENTIALLY CAREER-RUINING COMMENTS OMITTED BY THE WRITER IN A RARE MOMENT OF GOOD SENSE.] So now you know. Wow. I can’t believe I used the C-Word in a blog post.

On Monday night I’m going to see Michael Penn at Joe’s Pub! So psyched. If he does “Long Way Down (Look What Cat Drug In)” I’ll probably cry. Incidentally, if you’re reading this and you don’t know Michael Penn, you should. He’s one of the greatest songwriters ever and a huge influence on my shit. (“Influence” = “I steal A LOT from him”)

Oh- huge news, dudes. The beard is no more. Gone. We had fun together, but then I realized that I was sick of things touching my face and I shaved it off. Then I took the hair and I put it on a LIFE magazine cover that featured a picture of a bust of JFK. That made feel good about myself for some reason.

It was at this point in the writing of this blog-post that I realized that I had a teaching gig in Brooklyn tomorrow at 9am, and I didn’t have a keyboard to bring with me to the school. Fuck, right? Fuck, Yes. Luckily, I know really cool people who let me borrow their keyboards. So, a huge shout-out to Claire Karpen, Mike Pettry, and Andy Herz, whose apartment I just ran to and whose keyboard I just stole. Technically, the keyboard belongs to Herz, so an extra-loud shout out to him. Actually, the man needs a double shot of extra-loud shout out, because in the middle of a conversation about Long Island (Andy hails from Roslyn), the dude made reference to the “Rape Diner.” While rape is nothing to get excited about (well, unless you are the one doing the raping, I guess), to hear someone other than myself or my immediate friends-n-family refer to the Seacrest as “Rape Diner” is, well… well… it’s just thrilling. To explain-

and now it's time for this week's edition of...



HORRIBLE STORY TIME with Joe

Back in the 70’s, the Seacrest Diner had no windows. One day, some evil bastards came in and just raped everybody in the diner for, like, hours and hours. And no one knew cuz there was no windows. So, now the Seacrest has windows. Problem solved. Horrible, I know, but it sort of takes a story that intense to warrant the nickname of “Rape Diner.”

HORRIBLE STORY TIME with Joe
FIN



Earlier tonight, I realized that I’ve never used the word “simpatico” in conversation. I am so proud of this. It is my goal to never use “simpatico” in casual conversation, or, actually, any kind of conversation.

So, in that JFK picture, my beard-shavings kinda look like pubes, huh? Weird.

Ed Wood is one of my favorite movies. I’ve been watching it since I got back from stealing the keyboard. It happens to contain one of my favorite lines of all time, and the line was just uttered, so I feel like I gotta share it with the world. Ready? OK. Here go.

[JOHNNY DEPP is at bar with (the awesome and criminally under-used) JULIET LANDAU. The BARTENDER comes over.]

BARTENDER: M’am, would you like some water?
JULIET LANDAU: (Terrifyingly explosive) NO! No Water. No Liquids-- I’m highly allergic to them!

[End.]

How killer is that? God damn. The dudes who wrote that also wrote Problem Child AND The People Vs. Larry Flynt. They sort of have the coolest career of any writers ever. Man. One day.

*******
Miss D3438 (11:43:54 PM): how are you?
Miss D3438 (11:44:00 PM): Do you still have the beard?
Spunky4evr (11:44:49 PM): ....
Spunky4evr (11:45:01 PM): ........
Spunky4evr (11:45:30 PM): ....Nope! Shaved it off!
Miss D3438 (11:46:10 PM): Yay!
Spunky4evr (11:47:30 PM): I was actually thinking of you as I shaved it off.
Spunky4evr (11:48:13 PM): Ha. That sounded weird.
Miss D3438 (11:49:03 PM): Yeah, it did.
*******

This past weekend I found myself wandering around Manhattan late at night and thinking about shit. I started thinking that maybe the reason I want to write musicals is because it's just an excuse to spend lots of time and drink lots of alcohol with people I love.

Then I realized that I actually want to write musicals because it's an opportunity to create (yeah, get ready for it, I'm gonna say it...) art with people I love.

So, yes. The reason is creation. The alcohol is gravy.

...But then again, isn't it always?

No, I don't know what that means, either. Time to jack off.

Even stranger that someone had a camera to film it...

Dude, the strangest thing happened on the ferry this morning.

-joe

"I'm gonna raise hell at the union hall..."

Yea, so the other night, Robert Maddock and I won a Backstage Bistro Award for a tune we wrote for the Lorinda Lisitiza show . What is a Backstage Bistro Award you ask? Exactly, I respond.

At any rate, the night was a success for three reasons:

1) I opted not to sit at my fancy assigned table, and instead hung in the back with my army of performers. As a result, I was shushed several times for speaking too loudly during the show. I have discovered that this actually happens to me quite frequently. People should stop inviting me places. Or they should just pay for my band to sit a fucking table like humans.

2) I was able to remove some of the class from the oh-so-classy ceremony by taking a plate of chicken fingers with me on stage. Three people tried to remove the chicken fingers from my hands on my way up to the piano, but I refused to part with my poultry.

3) I totally got all up in Betty Buckley's grill. Check it, kindly.



For the record, I found her not-at-all difficult to work with. And by “work with” I mean, “take this picture with.” And by “not at all difficult,” I mean, “very difficult.” Just kidding. She was too coked up to be anything but aggressively pleasant.

So, yeah. The best part of the night, though, happened just before I split. One of the dudes who runs Backstage (his name is escaping me) called me over. He puts his hand on my shoulder, looks into my eyes, and says:

BACKSTAGE GUY: Joe- congratulations. Remember, just keep on trying, Joe. No matter what people say about you- just ignore them and keep trying.

The fuck?! Are people taking about me? Is it just a widely known fact that Joe Iconis is on the lips of every smack-talker in town? All I know is- that man freaked me out hugely. Afterwards, I had to eat an inhuman amount of BBQ to get the taste of a creepy comment out of my mouth.

I am really upset tonight. My favorite toothpaste in the world appears to have been discontinued. Arm and Hammer Baking Soda and Peroxide Toothpaste. Can’t find it anywhere. They have Flavored Baking Soda and Peroxide Toothpaste, but not the straight-up good stuff. If anyone comes across any, kindly alert me to it’s whereabouts.

Speaking of BBQ- here’s a picture of me with the aformentioned Maddock and Lisitza.

Lorinda had some breathtaking cleavage action going on which I feel is accurately depicted in this photo. I think this picture is hilarious. It looks like the most busted Prom Photo of all time.

I was only kidding before about Betty Buckley being coked up. Obviously, she wasn’t. She seemed really nice. Wait- didn’t she have a notorious “substance abuse” problem years ago? Shit. Have I hit too close to home? Is Betty Buckley reading this right now?

BETTY BUCKLEY: Yes I am, Joe. I’m very disappointed in you. You seemed like such a nice boy when we met the other day. Now I think you’re nothing but a Shit-Mouth.
JOE: No! I actually really love you.
BETTY BUCKLEY: You’ve got a funny way of showing it, Shit-Mouth.
JOE: If you call me Shit-Mouth one more time, I’m sorta gonna slap you.
BETTY BUCKLEY: You fuckin pussy- go ahead. Hit an old lady, Shit-Mouth. Let’s see how many people will like you then.

[JOE strikes BETTY BUCKLEY. BUCKLEY pulls a knife from her garter belt. She waves the blade in JOE’s face.]

BETTY BUCKLEY: Wanna dance, Queer?
JOE: Bring it, Betty Fuckley!

[BETTY buries the knife deep into JOE’s chest. JOE crumbles onto the floor. With his last bit of strength, he touches BUCKLEY lightly on her face, and she falls down, dead. Sue cradles JOE in her arms as the curtain falls.]

I just ate, like, at least ten spicy pickles. I truly believe that pickles are one of the greatest foods ever invented. I feel very strongly about this.

-joe

"My beard grows down to my toes, I never wear no clothes..."

So, I’ve received a number of requests to post pictures of me sporting my new spanky beard. I realize that many of you are out of state and/or in prison, thus unable to see/touch/sniff the glory of my face fur in the flesh. That’s just not fair, man. So, without a further ado, here she is…

While many of my sweet friends have been aggressively pro-beard, the face-mane has it’s detractors, as well. (Interestingly enough, the beard is actually slightly less controversial than the 'stache was. But I digress.) Several normally-sane people have expressed feelings of disgust, outrage, and even paralyzing fear upon gazing at the glorious beard. I respect everyone’s opinions and I understand the reasons behind certain folks’ issues, but I can easily say that anyone who doesn’t like my beard is a Snatch Face. My beard rocks. It is the king of beards. That said, I don’t know how long I’m gonna keep the bad bastard, so dig it while you can.

Moving on. Yesterday, the trailer for the new Halloween remake was released. I’m a huge fan of Rob Zombie. House of 1000 Corpses was a solid, goofy horror flick, and The Devil’s Rejects is one of my absolute favorite movies of the last couple years. Remakes of classic films are always a bad idea (although I love the Gus Van Sant Psycho remake) and while I, (like every other movie fan) don’t understand why Halloween, of all things, needs to be remade, I am totally psyched to see what Zombie does with the material. The cast he’s assembled is fuckin exploding with coolass genre pic stars- Malcom McDowell, Brad Dourif, Danielle Harris, Dee Wallace-Stone, Dany Trejo, Adrienne Barbeau, Udo Kier, and Clint “Eaglebower” Howard. So maybe the movie will be all right? If the trailer is any indication- this bitch will suck it. The trailer is boring and tired and uses every trick in the trailer book. As I wrote about last week, sometimes creative types don’t always have a say in the publicity for their shit, so I’m hoping that this trailer bares little resemblance to the picture itself. Please, Rob Zombie, do not let this movie be ass. Please, please, please. And remember, one of the coolest things about the original was the fact that Jamie Lee Curtis had a serious case of ugly head. She looked plain and awkward and human. Don’t turn Lori Strode into some fucking fresh-off-the-WB Teen Beat Sugar Princess. Keep her real and relatable and geeky, just the way I like her. There. That’s all.

Because my cat is so overweight, he can’t preen himself properly and now has dandruff.

Does anyone who reads this really care about the Halloween remake? I feel like I just came down with a bad case of alienating my core audience. Which is, of course, slightly different from the aforementioned case of ugly head. And has nothing to do with my newly diagnosed case of repetitive turns of phrase.

I am home for Easter and this house reeks of bacon. It’s awesome cuz thinking about the ascension of Christ while smelling fresh bacon is one of my favorite things to do.

I went to Atlantic City on Friday night with my brother and my aunt. We were just about to leave and I noticed a little person working one of the roulette tables. As I hate tall people, I saw this as some kind of sign. It turned out that it was a sign that Little Croupier's fucking love to steal my hundred dollars. Evil Bastards.

But most of all I love Snickers Eggs.

When I said "little person" just there, I actually meant midget. I don't know what got into me. Sorry.

-joe

"You're not the only one with mixed emotions..."

So, a lot has happened in the world of Joe since my last blog post. The big thing, I s'pose, is that on Friday, the theater what is producing my show announced to the world that they were, in fact, producing the show. Yes, kids. The BLACK SUITS is a secret mistress no longer. My show has graduated from being the brother in THE PILLOWMAN whose parent's keep chained up in the hidden torture room to being Billy Crudup, the other brother... who is a writer... a writer whose refusal to change his words leads to him getting shot in the head by Jeff Goldblum .

At any rate, as many of you have already emailed/called me about, the blurb that appeared on all the theater websites was CLEARLY not written by me and makes the show sound kind of drag-ass. It is not. For those of you who were exposed to the Suits back in the day at NYU, please know that it is not that different. Two years have made it a better show, but it's still the same show. All the same songs and characters and it's still funny and loud and energetic and has lots of heart and stuff. For those keeping track- the latest version of the script has 34 uses of the word 'Dude," 68 uses of 'Man,' and whopping 113 uses of 'Fuck.' (Which includes all iterations of the F-Word... "motherfucker," "fucking asshole," "Fuck Sucker," etc.)

For those of you who have never seen/read/heard the Black Suits, this is what it's really about:

THE BLACK SUITS is a rock musical about a Long Island garage band. It’s about the friendship between a lead singer who gets panic attacks and a guitar player who sets things on fire. It is about dreams of fame, escaping the suburbs, blood, Pop Tarts, drug runs, The St. Anne's Battle of the Bands, blue hair, and the undying, transformative coolness of rock and roll music. Fuck, yeah!

Sound good? Sound enticing? Awesome. Buy a couple-a tickets. Incidentally, tickets will probably go on sale in ten million years, when the show actually opens.

So, yeah. I am, of course, very stoked about my show being produced, it's just the thought of having to wait Another year makes me sad and sort of sick-feeling. My cousin Doris Anne says I have no patience. She is very correct.

Moving on from matters theatrical, does anybody know of a bar that happens to have a piano where I can go and play just for the hell of it? I'm not talking about a piano bar. I'm talking a pub or honky tonk or maybe even a what-have-you where they just Happen to have a piano in the corner that is begging to be played by me. If anyone knows of a bar that fits this description, lay it on me.

I hate umbrellas.

In case anyone hasn't seen me lately, I am now sporting a full beard. I love my beard. It feels the way I imagine Bob Ross's hair might feel. Well, the way it might've felt when he was alive. Not now.

Dunkin Donuts is so crowded today. It must be this kickass too-cold-for-spring weather. I love this weather so much. I'm trying to desperately cling on to the winter- I miss it when it leaves. I actually said that to someone yesterday, and she replied: "Joe- you're crazy!" And then I was like: "Grandma, Fuck You," and I totally punched her right in the face. Oh grandma. Will she ever learn not to back-talk? Nah, probably not.

-joe

"...No new songs by Stevie Wonder, deep in February..."

An accurate representation of what it felt like to be me this morning:



So, the real reason for this post... Just wanted to let the masses know about a great musical that's playing THIS WEEKEND ONLY in the lovely and newly-dangerous Greenwich Village area of Manhattan Island Proper. It's called "29," and it's written by fellow Tisch alums Gaby Alter (music and lyrics) and Tommy Newman (book). It's a show about folks who are in their late 20's sort of figuring out their lives and whatnot. That makes the show sound gross and retarded but it's not. At all. Gaby Alter is probably the best songwriter bumming around the New York theater scene. If you are reading this and have never heard his tunes, you need to go here "29- The Musical" and check some out. And then go see "29," which is playing at the Provincetown Playhouse @ 133 MacDougal Street. It's only fifteen clams, and they have shows tomorrow (Saturday) at 2 and 8, and Sunday at 3. If you care about musicals that don't fucking suck, you need to be there. Also, many frequent Iconis collaborators have their bidness all up in the show. It's directed by John Simpkins (who directed Things to Ruin and is one of the smartest and coolest people I've ever worked with), and features the talents of the vocally murderous Michael Kadin Craig and Brent "Whiteboy" Stranathan, the greatest drummer of all time. Also, there's a chick in it named Lauren Marcus who I think is a very killer actress/singer.

So, yeah. Please go.

In other theater related news, I had some auditions today. Meaning, people auditioned for me today. Meaning, I sort of think auditions are creepy. It's just a weird thing to have people come into a room and you hear them sing for five minutes and then you have to decide whether or not they are the right person to play this character. How can you Really tell in five minutes if this chick or dude is the right person to bring the character to life. But of course, there's really no better way to do it. Well- no. Well- ok. I have this idea that instead of making actors audition, you just invite 100 or so actors to a bar or honkytonk. There should be food there. Appetizer-type food. Maybe some 'tato skins. Also, there needs to be an old-timey tack piano there. At any rate, the creative team is let loose in the bar and you just mingle/flirt with people for an hour or so. Eventually, if you're talking to an actor you think you dig, you just say: "Hey, so I was thinking- maybe you wanna sing a little song or something?" You amble over to the tack piano, sing a little "Desperado" or maybe "Tiny Dancer..." And there you go. I think it's a fine and remarkably unrealistic idea. A lot of times when I tell people that idea, I say that all the actors should wear big numbers to make them easier to identify. That sort of makes the idea sound like a slavery auction. I'm glad that I didn't include the big number angle in this description.

I love her.

-joe

"Sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe..."

This morning, I woke up to this:



With the help of a little air and a lot of love, my friend's former glory was restored and all is right with the damned world.



I am ready to attack the day. Grrrrrrr.

-joe

MeTube

There is some hardcore Joe action happening all over the YouTube and I wanted to let everyone know about it.

First up, three clips from the legendary TRIUMPHANT BABY! The Songs of Iconis and Maddock, starring Lorinda Lisitza. This show was done a couple times over the past few months at the swanky Metroplitan Room. It's an evening of songs I wrote with the awesome Robert Maddock. I wrote the music and he wrote the lyrics. The music sounds sorta different from a lot of the stuff I do, so check it out. Also, how much does Lorinda Lisitza rule? So much, man.






Next, we got a super-talented chick from the University of Michigan singing "Blue Hair," from Black Suits. I never met this girl but I think that she is both cute and a good actress. Ya know. Like Annasophia Robb.




Finally, as many know, I've spent the past ten summers of my life working at the Hosfstra Summer Musical Theater Camp, a musical theater camp devoted to having teenagers sing age/race inappropriate songs. I'm not gonna be there this summer, but I am proud that I played a small role in performances as remarkable as these.

13 year old Brooke Shapiro, as evil alien Captain Piggy Butterflies, fuckin ripping it up with "Ladies Who Lunch"



12 year old Brendan McCann singing a Barbara Steisand medley and then ride away on a train he built himself.


To see an enchanted Mer-Man sing "I Am Changing" or a robot sing "I Am What I Am," just type in Iconis on youtube and be rocked and shocked by the talent of the young.

Should I like Ben Kweller? I got his last album and I liked it but it didn't stay with me. Nothing on there was as good as Radish's "Little Pink Stars." Anyway, maybe I should like him more. That "Penny On The Train Track" shit is good.

I wish the Bronx wasn't so far away.

I realized this morning that so much of my underwear is riddled with holes. I have holy underwear.

I find tall people tremendously frightening. Like, I realize it's not their fault that they are so scary and inhuman and tall, but I can't help but hate them. Well, I don't hate them. I'd be afraid that if I hated them, they'd get angry and try to get close to me. Gross. [Shuddering.] Okay. I need to put tall people out of my mind. There. Ahh. Much better.

I think that's plenty for my first real blog post. I would write more fantastic words, but today is Free Iced Coffee Day and there is a disturbing lack of iced coffee in my mouth right now.

-joe

Oh, and just to clarify comments made earlier, I am scared by all kinds of tall people. Not just people who have giantism. Don't get me wrong- those ones scare me bad, but I'm also creeped out by your run-of-the-mill tall folks as well. Basically anyone who is more than half a foot taller than me is frightening. It's worse if they are lanky.

"Gotta get up, gotta get out, gotta get home before the morning comes..."

Hey dudes. So, welcome to my "blog." I put the word "blog" in quotation marks just there because I feel like this isn't gonna be a blog in the traditional sense. I'm probably incapable of creating a blog in the traditional sense, as I don't read books and I'm not a Regina Spektor fan. At any rate, this will be more like an offshoot of my website, a place for Joe-related materials to hang out and lounge around and not worry about taking up space on my News page. But who knows. I guess if I'm inspired to write about owls, or why John Goodman is the greatest actor of all time, this would be the forum for it. We'll see.

As I write this, I am drinking Rose Petal flavored iced tea. I was hoping it would make me feel Japanese. It's not. Stupid fucking rose petals. Do they make red bean flavored iced tea?

Also, I'm watching this show on the Travel Channel where this dude eats weird things and he just ate a guinea pig. He says it's awesome. I would eat a gineua pig. Just not this one.

Also, there are no human words to describe just how much I love the new Arcade Fire CD. I think it's the greatest sophomore release since "Pinkerton."

Rose Petals? The Arcade Fire? Well Shit-God-Damn! I do have a blog after all.

-joe