Magi Goes To Hollywood

Moving to tumblr!

2011-07-16T16:56:00.000-07:00

This blog has now been permanently moved over to tumblr. You can find me at www.ItsMagi.com. There, you will be able to subscribe via email, subscribe via RSS feed, or follow on tumblr. See you there!

2011-05-31T12:00:00.000-07:00

“Hesiod Listening to the Inspirations of the Muse”

Edmond Aman-Jean, circa 1890

I love this painting. I’ve loved it since I first saw it at LACMA in 2001. I went to the LACMA shop ready to fork over cash to buy a copy, but they didn’t sell any prints of it. This astonished me - no reprints available of a painting they had in their collection! - so little did I (do I) know about the art world. After a few emails, a patient staffer at the museum invited me to their offices and, after my signature and $1, printed me a laser copy of the painting, which hangs above my computer.

LACMA has been publishing some of their collection online, and hopefully, soon this will be one of them. I hope to buy a properly framed copy one day, but I’ll hang on to the one I have, hanging over my computer, too. It speaks to me about the nature of art, and artists, the strangers it can bring together, and the kindnesses that can result.

New play, new blog

2011-05-20T17:45:00.000-07:00

I initially began this blog when I moved to Cali in '98 as a way to keep my family back home in the loop about what was going on. It's expanded since then, and I've found that while I still post things here, I do more informal sort of writing over at my tumblr blog, ItsMagi.

I've got a new play heading into workshop-mode, so I've started a new tumblr blog to focus on the piece, and what's going on with it.

It's called F is for Cancer, and I hope you check it out.

Playwright Cherry

2011-05-04T10:44:00.001-07:00

I had my first (completed) script read last night at the S arah Fulton Group. The piece is written as a one-person show, but I had all of the other actors read it in succession, so I could listen. It was fascinating to hear both men and women reading the material from their own individual perspectives, finding moments both expected and unexpected.

After hearing the first half last night, I could barely sleep: I’ve been so inspired to work on the rest before it’s read next Tuesday. As much as I saw I could cut right now, and as much as there is to finesse in a workshop, it was hella better than I’d ever hoped. Who the hell knew? Mama’s drama just might be a play.

David

2011-03-07T10:00:00.000-08:00

Sixteen years ago today my brother David was brutally, senselessly murdered. No, the pain doesn’t decrease with time. That’s a bunch of crap. You have two options: you allow it to overcome you - which it will - or you incorporate it into who you are.

I am different because of this. Not just because he was murdered, or because he was tortured. Not only because of the loss of him in my life, still stumbling around here.

I am different because of the relationships in my life that changed as my parents and brothers and sisters changed; because of the interactions that occurred as we all struggled to deal with this in our different ways; because of the way friends responded inadequately, or with such tenderness. I am different because of the insidious ways fear crept into my life, in places I am still discovering and attempting to eradicate. I am different in the material I choose to read, movies I choose to watch and stories I can even listen to without feeling my stomach tighten, my throat close, and my eyes start to glaze over. I am different because he was an artist, and I am an artist, and he is dead and I am here.

I have been forever changed by this event, but that does not mean that I have to live in the moment of this event. This, I refuse to do. There was much more to him and to his life than that last hour. There was more to him than the trials and defendants and witnesses and evidence. There is more to him than a headstone marking his remains. He is not stuck there, and I’ll be damned if I will be either.

Paralyzed

2010-09-02T00:27:00.000-07:00

As of a few days ago, I should be paralyzed. My dog Grace and a neighbor dog were playing in the front yard of our building when the neighbor dog swept me WWF style, sending both of my feet to eye level, which was followed by the ingloriously dull thud of my back connecting with concrete, and the sharp exclamation point of the crack of my head.

I didn’t get up right away, illustrations from the American Red Cross First Aid seminar I’d taken two days before catapulting through my brain as I remembered my training, or rather, what to do if I see Someone Else has fallen.

My life has always been filled with synchronicities, moments where it all adds up and I can see how that moment then is helping me with this moment now in a way I could not have imagined. Suddenly, the importance of the Red Cross class was to mitigate damages, to avoid unintentionally compounding the problem by, say, bouncing up bravely as if nothing had happened, only to ironically sever the last connecting tissues of my spinal cord.

Oh, and my medical insurance coverage ended the last week of June.

I lay still, looking up at the sky, visions of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly racing through my brain (I rented that last week, dear god), and I have the thought to just continue laying there, because then, I won't know. I won't know for sure that I can't move, that my spine has been snapped, that there is a stickiness in my hair that wasn't there before. I won't know, so there will still be hope.

But Grace is at my face, licking me, trying to crawl on top of me, nudging me, and I have to push her away in order to stay still, which means that I can't stay still. That I have moved.

And therein lies the description of every fear-based decision I have ever made. If I don’t move, if I stay still, there is still a chance. It won’t be all wrong. There will still be hope. But then, of course, I am stuck here, laying on the hot concrete, staring up at the sky. Trying to push away Grace.

When I realize what she’d gotten me to do, I gingerly wiggle my fingers and toes, and begin taking stock, gently moving my arms, my legs, my head, until I’ve done a full assessment. I sit up, relieved that I’d been born flexible, that I do yoga every day, as I had certainly bounced off the concrete.

I impulsively move my hand to the back of my head and suddenly realized that my end of the day, half-in-half-out pony tail has acted as a bumper, sparing my skull the full force of impact. My spine? My bony hips took the beating. Make that left hip, as the extra 2x2 inch layer of tissue from an old injury (a teenage battle with a staircase) distributed the weight slightly left so that I landed to one side.

Now, there is currently in development a blue 5x1 inch rectangular strip of reminder, and I have a bit of difficulty sitting or laying on my back, but that will pass. I know that because shortly after I stood up, I went home with Grace and did some yoga stretches (so my muscles wouldn’t lock up) and while there was some uncomfortable pulling and tugging, everything was behaving as it should have been. Well, as it should have been as long as one hasn't been paralyzed. Which I should have been. No, could have been. But I wasn’t.

So while it may seem now like a tale about something that didn’t happen, to me, it’s a reminder of how dangerous fear can be. That being too scared to move is far worse than not being able to move. To me, it is a moment where Grace intervened and I couldn’t help but listen because she was all up in my face. Which is how Grace tends to be.

How to Help Animals

2010-05-29T10:48:00.001-07:00

Over the past few weeks, several people have asked me for suggestions on where and how to volunteer in their communities. With the recent Ohio Conklin Dairy Farm video scandal, even more people have asked for suggestions on how to get involved in animal rights and welfare issues. Hopefully, this will help.

First, let's briefly cover what are often called "factory farms." Farms of the Old MacDonald variety are disappearing as industrialization has consolidated and almost completely automated the process. Small farms exist, but most have contracts with larger corporations that push industrialization as a means of survival. As of 2002, only three companies controlled nearly 80% of the U.S. cattle slaughter/packing market: Tyson Foods Inc., Cargill Meat Solutions Corp., and Swift and Company. Animals are no longer mated, but artificially inseminated, genetically modified and injected with steroids and hormones to increase production.

Animals bred for food, or "livestock," are not governed by the same rights as your cat or dog. The initial argument (by the FDA, the Department of Agriculture, the Dairy industry, etc.) was apparently that since these animals are being bred, and ultimately killed, for their meat or byproducts, they are an exception to animal cruelty laws. What has resulted is an industry fraught with common practices and procedures that are horrific, yet legal. Unanesthetized tail docking, debeaking and lifetime cage confinement are a few of the tamer methods: sites such as FarmSanctuary and Vegan Outreach describe these inhumane practices and others in greater detail. Undercover investigations by such organizations as PETA and Mercy For Animals have accumulated a catalog of videos that show not only these methods, but the sadistic animal abuse that so often that follows. In 2002, Sierra Club researchers created The RapSheet on Animal Factories, documenting “crimes, violations or other operational malfeasance at more than 630 industrial meat factories in 44 states.” That's just the ones that were caught.

So what can you do?

1. Educate yourself about where your food comes from. Reading labels isn't enough. For example, free-range and cage-free are terms that sound nice, but apply only to birds raised for food (not for eggs), are only partially regulated by the USDA (cage-free is not regulated at all), do not require third party certification, and are thus essentially meaningless. Organizations like Vegan Outreach attempt to educate the public on these types of issues (labeling, certifications, common practices, etc.) through their website, educational programs and booklets - and so does almost every organization mentioned in this blog entry.

2. Sign up for Action Alerts about upcoming legislation in your area. Many different non-profit orgs, such as FarmSanctuary, AmericanHumane, The Humane Society (HSUS) & WSPA have email alerts, and will send you a notice when a new measure is up for a vote, or a petition is looking for signatures. Born Free USA and Wildlife Conservation Society cover a broader spectrum of animal issues, such as animal abuse in circuses, zoos, puppy mills, and wild horse slaughter.

3. Modify your diet. Voting with your dollar has an impact, and even one day less of animal products makes a difference to animals, to environment, to health. For example, a 2006 United Nations report found that the meat industry produces more greenhouse gasses than all the SUVs, cars, trucks, planes, and ships in the world combined. Meat Free Monday is a non-profit started by Sir Paul McCartney with the goal of raising awareness about the climate-changing impact of factory farming.

Target, and even Costco, sell "meatless" garden burgers, bacon and sausages, as do more health conscious stores like Trader Joe's and Whole Foods. There are some great faux cheeses out there (Daiya is a personal favorite) that melt just like the original. Soy or rice milk are easy to find alternatives (I prefer almond or hemp), and there are even dairy-free coffee creamers! Experimenting with foreign foods is fun, and a lot of the ingredients are now available at your local supermarket. Other cultures are often a lot less dependent upon animal products in their food, particularly milk or cheese. The web is full of incredible recipes and suggestions on how to widen the scope of your eating habits without sacrificing taste: the site GoVeg even has a free Vegetarian Starter Kit to give you ideas and help with the transition.

4. Donate. Donate your money, donate your time. Hands On Network is a great site to connect you with volunteering opportunities in your area. If you're here in Los Angeles, Animal Acres and The Gentle Barn are just two of the farmed animal sanctuaries in the area that hold tours, and always welcome volunteers. There are dozens of companion animal rescues throughout the city, such as Molly's Mutts and Meows, that rescue animals from city shelters, then foster, rehabilitate and often train them to prepare them for a loving forever home. American Humane and FEMA both offer animal rescue training for all kinds of disasters, from tornadoes and flooding to hoarding situations.

I'm sure there are a million other ways to help, but hopefully this will get you started. Please feel free to add suggestions and links in the comment section. To paraphrase a favorite parable, helping one animal may not seem like it makes much of a difference, but it makes all the difference to that animal.

Plant

2010-03-24T15:31:00.000-07:00

I was sent this plant 15 years ago by my former employers when they learned that my brother David had been murdered. Former, as I had recently quit this job I passionately hated due to A) an inability to conform to an office mindset, B) pressure to play along with the Boys Club/Casting Couch mentality of a potential career in advertising, and C) I felt my soul slipping away from me. If I hadn't quit - with the intention of pursuing my dreams to act - I'm certain they would have fired me.

This is the only plant I have ever had that has lasted more than 6 months under my care. It's not so much that it's received any extra attention, as I have a notoriously black thumb and any concerted effort on my part would likely have disastrous results (I drowned a cactus once) but I do think we are somehow connected. It has gone through stages of almost bushy growth, teeming over the sides of a too-small pot (you want me to do what?) to a single, spindly branch bare of leaves. About two years ago, I thought it had finally died, and I burst into tears. I left it on my porch, unable to toss it in the trash, and was granted a reprieve when my Mom visited a few weeks later, working her garden magic on the comatose branches.

I don't even know what kind of plant it is. It doesn't flower, which is good for my allergies, and sometimes its leaves are corrugated with a simple yet exquisite pattern, a burst of random, improvised beauty. It rests on my patio outside my office where I can see it clearly from my desk, and something about its existence, however full or threadbare, is often just enough of what I need to keep going. Illegitimi non carborundum!

Lessons from the Fridge

2010-03-12T16:24:00.000-08:00

I have a few friends (most from New York, btw) who can whip up a 6 course meal for 20 in an hour using only the current contents of their kitchen, but they are a strange, otherworldly breed that bravely dare to achieve the unfathomable. To me, they are heroes to be held up and admired, like Olympic athletes, or high school teachers.

That is not me. Food and I have been battling since the day I was born. The non-negotiable rules of engagement for any meal are that it be A) lactose and milk free, and B) gluten-free. This eliminates three-quarters of any given menu. The additional fine print avoidance of processed foods and food combining is a choice, certainly, but in my case, one that has successfully contributed to overcoming decades of once-crippling Fibromyalgia, and a series of other health issues.
Read more »

Christmas at My House

2009-12-10T10:47:00.000-08:00

I awaken with a slam into my mattress on the top bunk, as if I’d fallen right off a cloud and dropped from the sky. Oh my gosh! What time is it? Did I miss it? Is it morning yet? Can I get up? What time is it??? I search frantically for the clock, swinging my arm out into the cold abyss from underneath my protective blankets, trying to feel if it’s officially Christmas Day yet. My hand hits something hard, the wood bed post of the bunk bed, and I feel around and find something ice-cold and metal wrapped around it, and I remember it’s where I put the watch that I got last year. I turn it towards me as I peak out from under the blankets, and my nose is cold and the room is a spooky hue as those big, green, square-shaped numbers like letters blink at me from the darkness, oh-five-four-seven. Oh-five-four-seven! I almost squeal but I swallow it, it’s too early, so I just lay there, vibrating like a tuning fork in the key of M for morning, and I wonder if Mary’s awake yet. I hold my breath, lean out and strain my ears, listening for any noise, any sound, any stirring at all from the next room.

At first I hear only the rhythm of anticipation as my heart drums drums drums on this silent of nights, and even our house adds sounds of yearning as she leans in, giddy and cold with the frost but keeping the secret. And then I hear the low rumbling of a motorboat, and know that Dad’s asleep across the hall. Mom and Dad. I’d better be quiet.

Saturn's Rings

2009-11-01T19:56:00.000-08:00

My Saturn suffered a heart attack last week on highway 14, one so severe that no defibrillator would resuscitate it. My situation such as it is, I hardly need a new major expense. The choices are to scrap it and buy a new one, purchase a new engine from the dealer to the tune of $5k, or take my chances at a mechanic replacing the engine with a used one for about $1500. Incredibly, I didn’t get upset until I told someone what had happened. Then I cried like a baby.

Shortly after that, a phrase pinned to my bulletin board flashed through my mind: “I realize that I do have a choice in all that matters to me. I can choose how I respond to life's situations and to those around me - in what I do or do not do.” Okay. Let's see if I can put my money where my affirmation is. What if I don’t have a car? Is it the end of the world? What would I do if I didn’t have a car for say, a few months? Inhale. Exhale.

Foreign

2009-10-11T21:42:00.000-07:00

Not too long ago I had a third callback for the lead villainess in a major Broadway musical by Tony award winner Julie Taymor. It was a huge deal. I was totally psyched for the audition, excited about the material, and completely prepared to enjoy myself. I got there, sang the two songs they'd given me, and they said, "That was great! Your voice is beautiful." Phew! Fantastic! And then they asked, "Can you be more foreign?"

I'm sorry, what? In relation to what, exactly? I take a breath and politely ask them what they mean, and she says something about not meaning an accent, really, but a sort of sound, maybe just ignore the sheet music... and I am startled to realize that they don't know what they mean, either. The wheels in my head start spinning, trying to figure out what to do. I know they're interested in a Celtic sound, maybe that's what they mean? But the music isn't written that way. It's the New Broadway - or perhaps old, now - of pop songs and Top-40 hopefuls. I love what's been written - it's melodic and ethereal and clever - but it isn't Celtic, particularly with a piano for accompaniment, which automatically makes anything from the seven nations sound like a deranged polka. They're asking me to fix it, to rewrite the music right there, at the audition. I shoot a quick look at the local accompaniest they hired, and she turns towards me and rolls her eyes. Thanks. I say, "Okay," take a moment, and give it my best shot.

Huh

2009-09-28T20:18:00.000-07:00

My grandfather was a farmer. I always wanted to be like him. He knew how things worked, could fix anything, and always had time to explain something to a little girl with lots of questions, things about machines and their parts, or what it took to grow things in the garden, or maybe just play a game of cards her - yes, just with her - something she found quite rare.

2008 involved a major loss in my life, the death of my BFF Emma, which began an epic re-evaluation of all things, and one which continues to impact me moment to moment. A year later, I find myself drawn to something I began because of her but had not nurtured while she was here - or perhaps it was just in the background, developing on its own. I became a Certified Reiki Master in 2007, one point along the way of a crooked mystical and metaphysical journey that has landed me, recently, doing Reiki with animals. Farm animals.

I was born in Seattle - not a suburb, the actual city. I am a city girl. We couldn't have pets at our house because my Mom was allergic to anything that my brother wasn't, which explains my complete lack of experience with animals before Emma came into my life in 1997. Now, I am working at a farmed animal rescue with sheep, goats, horses, pigs, chickens, turkeys, geese, cows, bulls, and sundry others on a farm north of Los Angeles, as well as a non-profit animal rescue that pulls dogs and cats from shelters for placement in forever homes. And I love it.

I know that Emma is excited about this, and I like to think that Grandpa is, too.

Winter 2008-09 update

2009-03-03T18:33:00.000-08:00

I had been waiting to post until I had something exciting to say, but I guess it's exciting enough just to be a working actor! I've been blessed with gigs through the '08-'09 winter season, and auditioning along the way. Residuals are bread and butter to us artists, and I hope the Screen Actors Guild stands its ground. Remember Cable!

Moving on up!

2008-08-08T14:12:00.000-07:00

The gap between posts is over, and its time for the good news/bad news update.

The good news - I've been blessedly swamped this summer with studio actor work, and it looks like its continuing.

More good news - the short I did this spring called, "Whorified! America's Next Top Whore," has indeed been turned into a series, and they offered me a lead role. Bad news - their new Executive Producer insisted on going non-union (read "cheap bastard") which meant I could not accept the gig. But more good news! The original writers/producers love me, and are talking to me about two other pilots they've got in the cooker once "Whorified!" is up and running.

Further good news - I am ELATED to say that I am now represented across the board by BiCoastal Talent & Literary. I've been with them commercially for over a year, and it seems to be a great fit. I'm looking forward to the oodles of auditions and bookings that are now certain to come with the theatrical market opened up to me. Oodles, I say, oodles!

Whorified!

2008-04-19T15:38:00.001-07:00

Time for a new entry! I'm very, er, proud to announce my latest venture into web-isodic television:

Please enjoy this promo for "Whorified! The Search for America's Next Top Whore," the new series from AcuteTV that invites housewives and business professionals from respectable communities nationwide the chance to compete as prostitutes on the streets of Los Angeles.

MadTV's Bobby Lee guest stars.

If you enjoy, be sure and vote for us on Funny or Die, Will Ferrell's comedy video portal (www.funnyordie.com).

WHORIFIED! ON YOUTUBE:

http://www.youtube.com/v/J9yPWfK6B38

Magi Goes to Hollywood

2008-01-29T14:40:00.000-08:00

This is the virgin post for the Official Magi Loucks blog!

It's great to be a working actor in LA. I've been doing a lot of 'rehearsal actor' work of late, particularly as the co-host for various dance/reality shows, including 'Dancing With the Stars' and 'America's Best Dance Crew'.

For those of you out-of-the-know, that means during the show rehearsals, I am the on-camera co-host, complete with teleprompter, improv and banter, IFB and the whole nine yards ("Back to you, Tom!"). Yes, that means I get to mingle with the celebrities here and there. More importantly, it's been great on the job training, and a confidence builder. It's been a fantastic experience all around - not to mention a steady paycheck.

This is different than working as a 'stand-in,' which is technically more of a crew position, where you literally stand (or sit or walk) where the actor will be, so the crew can light the scene while the actor is preparing for the shoot. I still do stand-in work occasionally, but obviously acting is much more fun!

On the theatre front, I recently finished a run of Love Me Deadly , produced by The Sarah Fulton Group, where I played the ghostly role of nightclub singer 'Fiona', haunting a Cleveland radio station during their Halloween broadcast. The Celtic Arts Center co-produced the first run.

I'm also working on my own show, based on the true story of a Scottish woman who lived in the eighteenth century. This is a fantastically frightening endeavor, which makes it all the more attractive! I've gotten passed that major milestone called "the first draft," and the massive re-writes are now the norm. I'm hoping to have it up and running this summer.

The writer's strike has effected me tangentially, but most of the studio work that I do has been for award shows and reality shows. Like the rest of the Screen Actors Guild, I stand with the WGA and urge them to stay strong! It's a tough road, but the big picture is at risk here, and we actors will be in the same position all too soon.