feet
Some of you may be wondering what implications performing barefoot has had on my feet. I know I once wondered that myself. Instead of carrying the usual one-person brunt, my feet now carry 12 characters - or perhaps 6 each - or actually 6 and 5 because, as it turns out when I last counted, I really play 11 characters (will the number continue to diminish throughout the run, as my characters, um, merge or something?).
Simply put, my feet are filthy all the time - but apparently very happy being so! After rehearsals at the Ridgemont High School auditorium they have been actually black, not just the soles but also on the tops of some of my toes as well (I have no memory of walking on the tops of my toes at any point during the show, but I don't remember a lot of how I do what I'm supposedly doing anyway). It takes 15 minutes soaking in a bathtub, an ever-blackening pumice stone and heave-duty body wash (we're talking moisture beads, people) to get *some* (usually about 3/4) of the black off, but I figure that what's left jammed into the wee thumbprint creases etc. won't make it onto my sheets. The bathtub is slowly greying.
At night I put on some Burt's Bees peppermint foot lotion to cool my little ones during their rest. In the morning warmup I stand on a softball to massage my foot muscles. I manually spread my toes. I practice putting weight on the tops of my feet. I use talcum powder. I talk to my feet like they're two old friends in a nursing home.
And all this from someone who used to have trouble remembering that those two things all the way down there belonged to *him*.
Simply put, my feet are filthy all the time - but apparently very happy being so! After rehearsals at the Ridgemont High School auditorium they have been actually black, not just the soles but also on the tops of some of my toes as well (I have no memory of walking on the tops of my toes at any point during the show, but I don't remember a lot of how I do what I'm supposedly doing anyway). It takes 15 minutes soaking in a bathtub, an ever-blackening pumice stone and heave-duty body wash (we're talking moisture beads, people) to get *some* (usually about 3/4) of the black off, but I figure that what's left jammed into the wee thumbprint creases etc. won't make it onto my sheets. The bathtub is slowly greying.
At night I put on some Burt's Bees peppermint foot lotion to cool my little ones during their rest. In the morning warmup I stand on a softball to massage my foot muscles. I manually spread my toes. I practice putting weight on the tops of my feet. I use talcum powder. I talk to my feet like they're two old friends in a nursing home.
And all this from someone who used to have trouble remembering that those two things all the way down there belonged to *him*.
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