This will unexpectedly turn out to be my last session. The final classes are postponed as Sheila’s schedule is rearranged to accommodate her shooting schedule, and I find myself heading out to California to discuss a film project.

Today is an important day. We get to see our performances on screen for the first time. For that reason, we all check our egos at the door on entering. It’s easy to be judgmental, about ourselves and others, but it’s ultimately not helpful.

Will I look ridiculous? Too late to worry about it now.

Dakota and I are up first, as Jerry and Joe, the two bumbling female impersonators from Some Like It Hot. I’m nervous about seeing myself on screen, recalling how over-the-top the rehearsals had seemed the previous class. Will I look ridiculous? Too late to worry about it now.

The video starts and there are Jerry and Joe at the top of the scene. Joe has just returned to the hotel room to find Jerry contemplating a bogus marriage proposal as his alter-ego, Daphne. I watch as the scene unfolds.

Whatever qualms I have about the script as a writer I can put aside because it isn’t my writing. To my director’s eye, however, I can’t pronounce the scene a total success. There are details I want to see that are out of range. Then I remind myself that this is not about framing the scene to its best advantage (there is no make-up and costumes are minimal), but to frame the actors as they attempt to find the comedic heart of the text.

I find myself drawn into the drama, forgetting I’m one of the people onscreen.

We’re not long into the scene when something Dakota does, which I vaguely recall from the taping, catches my eye. It strikes me as funny now, though I didn’t think so as Joe. I find myself drawn into the drama, forgetting I’m one of the people onscreen. That in itself is liberating: I’m not watching to see when I look or sound good, but what the actors themselves are doing that pleases or displeases me as an auditor.

As the scene progresses, I find my attention passing back and forth between Dakota and myself. At times, I haven’t a clue what’s coming next and that in itself is exciting. Once again, there’s a separation between doing and watching, but this time it’s for a purpose other than wanting control.

I can see that when I just let go and run with things in the scene there is something both fun and absorbed in those moments. I can also see where Sheila’s input has brought out certain aspects and minimized others, like a careful gardener pruning away at some rather peculiar blossoms.

I’ve always been too self-aware of the limitations between what I wanted to achieve as an actor and what I was actually capable of. As a result, I turned to writing and directing, where I had more control. This class has been about getting beyond that. Perhaps a sense of fun was what I lacked. This is a major achievement for me, a not-so-disinterested bystander who has been trained always to watch and assess.

It’s been a great exercise for me, to revamp my skills as a director and writer, as well as get a renewed sense of what an actor requires to give his or her best. I’m sorry the class is over and am already considering taking more in future.

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Jeffrey Round is a director and writer of contemporary fiction. His latest book, the noir-thriller Lake On The Mountain, has been short-listed for a 2013 Lambda Award. Visit his website: jeffreyround.com.

In a recent interview on CBC’s The Current, Jamieson told how she has been vengefully attacked by vegans since admitting that she has started eating some animal products (eggs, cheese, and some meat). While saying that about 75% of her diet is green, she explains in her blog that she began craving animal products in tandem with changes to her body and metabolism, including her menstrual cycle.

Jamieson created a successful career a decade ago as a proponent of veganism and wrote several successful vegan cookbooks. Now, according to the vegan community, she is not just a turncoat, she is fraud, a hypocrite and a murderer. That’s pretty strong language just for eating an egg.

I am part of the corporate carnivore industrial complex that is torturing animals and destroying the environment.

Alex Jamieson

I have some personal experience—though not anything as extreme and vicious as what Jamieson is going through—because I have been a vegetarian for over two decades. I have been mocked, judged and had anger vented upon me by carnivores. I have also been the target of vegans who say that by virtue of the fact that I eat dairy products (eggs, cheese, milk, cream) I am part of the corporate carnivore industrial complex that is torturing animals and destroying the environment. Clearly, you cannot make everyone happy.

To deal with this I adopted a ‘live and let live’ attitude about eating and food. We are all individuals, we are all capable of making our own choices and we are all responsible for those choices. That’s the fun part of being an adult. Personally, I don’t care what you shove in your mouth. However, in the highly politicized world of food activism (that works both ways: vegan/vegetarian and carnivores), the arguments can be contentious and even downright violent in their language.

Meat eaters think that vegetarians are looking down our nose at them for their choices and push back with insults. I have had people literally get up and walk out on me in social situations when I mentioned I was vegetarian. I have had people wave their steak or hamburger in my face while taunting me to take a bite. That has less to do with what they choose to eat and more to do with their mental state.

Intolerance isn’t only found in religious text or the pulpit; sometimes it’s on the plate that is sitting in front of us.

The same goes for vegans who have berated me for the dairy products I consume or the fact I’m wearing leather shoes. Sorry, I like quality shoes and don’t like sweaty feet and foot fungus from wearing material all day that doesn’t breathe. My favourite story is when a vegan colleague from a former workplace was driving me to the subway one day, saw a woman on the sidewalk wearing a fur coat, leaned across me and shrieked “MURDERER!” at her as we drove past.

After my ears stopped ringing, I couldn’t help but point out that the woman wearing the fur coat may be showing bad taste in fashion, but driving a car and yelling at her about it is beyond ironic, considering how many animals are killed and habitat destroyed to build roads and highways, not to mention the devastation to animals and environment from oil concerns. We all live in glass houses.

While I understand and can appreciate the passion people have for their choices—especially when they perceive those to be based in a political agenda or a movement to save something—I take umbrage with strident intolerance that vilifies people for their individual choices. I also question the motivation. Are you making that choice because you want to improve your own body, lifestyle or environment, or are you using it as a platform for your anger and to judge and lash out at others? Is it a choice or a cloak? Intolerance isn’t only found in religious text or the pulpit; sometimes it’s on the plate that is sitting in front of us. Either way, is it worth threatening someone’s life over?

photo credit: Conanil

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Andrew Vail’s writing career began in Halifax when he was but a child. In Grade 4, he wrote and produced his own series of comic books entitled “Freaky The Frog”, the on-going tale of a little misfit frog and his pals of the pond. Marvel Comics never came knocking but Andrew knew he loved to create and tell stories. Since then, Andrew has worked in advertising, PR and publicity; has interviewed politicians, rock stars and very interesting yet not-so-famous movers and shakers. He has published articles in a variety of local and national magazines and websites.

I have been watching a pair of bullies pushing others around with that typical sense of twisted glee they have as they pick their targets and get to work on methodically stripping them of their dignity and humanity. These aren’t bullies I have seen in my neighbourhood school who pick on the outsiders or the ones they perceive as physically or emotionally weak, these are bullies that are ensconced in the public pulpit: Rob and Doug Ford.

Rob and Doug Ford remind me of a pair of bullies that made my life
hell in high school.

I have never been a fan of Rob Ford even before he was (regrettably) elected mayor of Toronto. In truth, I hadn’t heard much about him and had no idea of his brother. Then Rob became mayor. At first I thought I’d give him the benefit of the doubt, give him a chance to do something for our city. That window closed quite quickly. Now, he and his brother just make my ass twitch with disdain. And I’ve really only recently figured out why—aside from the obvious.

Rob and Doug Ford remind me of a pair of bullies that made my life hell in high school. I will refer to them as the Ass Brothers (one letter of from their actual name). Jack and Dumb Ass would taunt me in the halls of the school and shove me into lockers when surrounded by their merry bunch of co-bullies I’ll call the Stupid Fart Brigade. The Brigade would watch for teachers or the principal and when the coast was clear would make their move, shoving and taunting me, calling me faggot and threatening to beat me up after school.

Together, they are a force. Separated, they are bumbling fools who can easily be put in their place.

Jack and Dumb Ass were always brave and bilious when together or surrounded by the Brigade. However, like so many bullies, they were a lot less threatening and strident when alone. I can recall times passing them individually in the school halls or out in public and I got barely a dirty look. In groups, they were an unholy terror. My final interaction with them came one night when five of them (Jack and Dumb Ass plus three of the Brigade) thought they had me all set for a good beating after a school dance. They were quite wrong and got a very unpleasant surprise that ended their career in bullying me.

This brings me back to Rob and Doug Ford. Watching their behaviour in council, and hearing how the two of them deliberately and mean-spiritedly attack those who disagree with them through name-calling and taunting—all the while pumping themselves up—is exactly the antics of the schoolyard bullies…complete with the occasional homophobic slurs. They are brash and bold when together and supported by their Brigade (Ford Nation), but are much less so when on their own (remember the 911 call when Mary Walsh cornered Little Robbie?).

What finally ended my bully nightmare in school was having Jack and Dumb Ass and their Brigade separated and dealt with on our terms—terms they really didn’t like. Together, they are a force. Separated, they are bumbling fools who can easily be put in their place. Once done, calm is restored to the schoolyard—and the city. Think about this before the next election.

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Andrew Vail’s writing career began in Halifax when he was but a child. In Grade 4, he wrote and produced his own series of comic books entitled “Freaky The Frog”, the on-going tale of a little misfit frog and his pals of the pond. Marvel Comics never came knocking but Andrew knew he loved to create and tell stories. Since then, Andrew has worked in advertising, PR and publicity; has interviewed politicians, rock stars and very interesting yet not-so-famous movers and shakers. He has published articles in a variety of local and national magazines and websites.

I can remember a time when politicians on every level would stand up and fight for the “citizens of this great country!” when they would speak to us as respected members of a culture and community. Now, we have been reduced to merely taxpayers, little faceless automatons and drones toiling to put money into public purse.

The guardians of the blessed public purse are spending and losing like drunken sailors at a casino.

What really concerns me about this is that we are being stripped of our humanity as multi-dimensional people living multi-dimensional lives and being monetized and ultimately marginalized. Our value is not in our personhood but rather in the amount of money we generate for the government. Of course revenue and economy is a vital part of what fuels a nation and pays for the services we all enjoy, however, there seems to be a diminishing sense of the people behind the revenue.

Ironically, while the bluster about “respecting the taxpayers” is ramping up on a daily basis, so too is the colossal fumbling of the taxpayers’ dollars, which, if you believe the government, must be watched and tended to like a rare treasure. Not so much. In the past several years we have watched as billions of taxpayer dollars have been misappropriated, misused or simply misplaced. From cancelled power plants, submarines that can’t go under water to exploding costs of fighter jets and Arctic ships to billions in unaccounted money for national security. The guardians of the blessed public purse are spending and losing like drunken sailors at a casino. Yet, we are constantly told that this or that is a waste of the taxpayers’ money. Is anyone else’s head spinning?

Lately, the term being bandied about in the new political-lexicon is Revenue Tools—a moniker I fear will be bestowed upon us in the not-so-distant future.

A nation is made up of its people, its culture, its art, its history and its treatment of human beings both inside and outside its borders. We are citizens of towns, villages, cities, provinces and a country. We are more than revenue generators for governments that seem only to be motivated by their vested interests and not those of the constituency, by bean counters of all political stripes who think nothing of heaving millions and billions of “the taxpayers’ money” down that drain then conveniently dodging any kind of accountability. Lately, the term being bandied about in the new political-lexicon is Revenue Tools—a moniker I fear will be bestowed upon us in the not-so-distant future.

Yes, we are taxpayers, but far more importantly, we are citizens. Treat us as such.

Canadian flag photo credit: wisegie

Between classes, I manage to spend some rehearsal time with Dakota, my scene partner in Some Like It Hot. Dakota plays the flighty Jerry, while I play the more serious Joe. The two men are impersonating women in an all-girl band to escape being shot by the mob in 1929 Chicago. There’s plenty of room for humour here.

We’ve worked up a bit of physical business between us and are eager to show Sheila. Our scene comes late in the script, when Jerry tells Joe that he’s considering a proposal from a wealthy man who really believes that Jerry is a woman. Joe is angered by Jerry’s refusal to take their plight seriously.

We try it once. The physical stuff goes okay, but Sheila pronounces our performance a “send-up of a send-up.” I know immediately what she means, surprised I didn’t see that before. She asks us to do it again and urges us to find something deeper.

The comedy lies in the fact that the more Joe rants, the more delusional Jerry becomes, thinking he’s got a good thing going if he keeps his guise as a woman.

It’s clear the scene needs more tension to reach the highs and lows. Part of the problem is that I’m not taking Jerry’s ridiculous story (of the proposal) seriously. This time, Dakota finds new highs as he milks Jerry’s character for feminine qualities. In turn, I find some real anger. The comedy lies in the fact that the more Joe rants, the more delusional Jerry becomes, thinking he’s got a good thing going if he keeps his guise as a woman.

“Take the air out of it,” Sheila instructs us next.

It becomes her rally cry throughout the session. Once again, I know instinctively what she means. More importantly, I will see it working in every single scene performed that day, compressing and making the results denser, more satisfying to watch.

After a few rehearsals, Dakota and I are on camera. Normally, I am on the directing end of the lens. For some reason it doesn’t bother me today. Am I turning into an extrovert? I doubt it, but I’m enjoying being here.

“Bigger!” Sheila instructs us after the first take.

I’m amazed to hear her say this, as it already feels ridiculously outsized, but we push it up another notch and try again.

“How did it feel?” she asks, when we finish.

Suddenly, all those comedic scenes that look so effortless on screen are revealed for the intensely laborious processes they actually are.

“Reckless,” I reply. “Out of control.” That may simply be the writer in me speaking. Too much of life feels out of control for my taste. Or maybe it’s just that at that speed, I don’t have time to stand back and watch myself properly. It’s like white-water rafting for the mind.

“It wasn’t too big,” she assures us. “This time do it like it’s grand opera.”

We turn it up yet another notch. (I can hardly believe it’s possible, but somehow I find one more stretch.) From the faces of the others watching and nodding, I can tell that it’s working. Okaaaay! I remind myself. Don’t think. Just get on with it.

What feels way too big in my body is apparently not outsized at all. That’s strange for me to contemplate. Suddenly, all those comedic scenes that look so effortless on screen are revealed for the intensely laborious processes they actually are. It’s a wonder there’s any fun left in them by the time they’re set.

Dakota and I go at it again with lots of gusto. Everything pares away till we are the only people in the room. No one is watching. There is no camera, no teacher, nothing but Joe and Jerry arguing over whether he will or will not marry his “fiancé.”

I recall, fleetingly, being aware of something I will not remember again till I see the results on video the following session.

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Jeffrey Round is a director and writer of contemporary fiction. His latest book, the noir-thriller Lake On The Mountain, has been short-listed for a 2013 Lambda Award. Visit his website: jeffreyround.com.

While masturbation is a perfectly normal, healthy form of sexual expression, it has received a bad name by those who malign the idea of single-handedly satisfying themselves. Masturbate and: you’ll go blind, get hairy palms, get acne, go insane. Sure, we’ve all gone a little crazy when taking matters in hand and why not? After all, how much damage can you do with one free hand?

“Don’t knock masturbation. It’s sex with someone you love.”

One of the best things ever said about masturbation comes from Woody Allen who said of the single-handed sexual salvation: “Don’t knock masturbation. It’s sex with someone you love.” It certainly is. How many of you have masturbated then felt lonely afterward? None, I’m willing to bet. Masturbation is a tried and true sexual act that can be enjoyed any time, you never have to wait, buy your partner drinks or dinner, or even shower before hand. And when you’re done, there’s no awkward small talk or flimsy promises of a next date.

In truth, masturbation is probably the safest form of sex—next to cam2cam on your favourite website or phone sex—no one has ever got a sexually transmitted infection while playing Backstroke Roulette, so there’s no reason to feel shame and angst over something as natural as walking, scratching your ass or…masturbating.

San Francisco folks with one free hand and a lot of lube decided to pump the body politic by launching the first National Masturbation Day in 1995.

All comedy aside, May became National Masturbation Month thanks to a former high-ranking American politician. It all started in San Francisco (like so many other sexual revolutions) after former U.S. Surgeon General Joycelyn Elders was asked at a United Nations World AIDS Day speech if masturbation is a viable form of sexual expression that could discourage early sexual activity. Elders replied with: “I think it is something that is part of human sexuality and a part of something that perhaps should be taught.”

You could see the red faces of conservatives flare crimson and they pulled their bunched fists from their pockets and pounded their chapped hands on their lecterns all over Washington DC. Not long after that insightful and helpful comment (such things have no place in politics or public health, evidently), Elders was relieved of her duties. In response to her tenure as Surgeon General being so summarily ended, a bunch of San Francisco folks with one free hand and a lot of lube decided to pump the body politic by launching the first National Masturbation Day in 1995. It caught on like wildfire.

Choke that chicken, jerk the gherkin, pound the pud, paddle the pickle and beat the meat until the bishop belches.

What began as a political protest and a way to teach the health benefits of jacking (or jilling) off has turned into a global event with online and in-persona Masturbate-A-Thons, where participants collect sponsors, are judged on everything from duration and creativity to making the most ‘pleasure connections’. Sounds like fun. The best thing is that everyone has a happy ending, there are no losers, and money raised goes to local sex education and sexual health initiatives.

Plainly, many good things come form masturbation: stress relief, relaxation, fundraising, and education. Hell, its’ a fun activity whether you’re in a group or just going solo. So, grab the Kleenex, call your friends, throw on some porn, put your favourite toy through its paces and choke that chicken, jerk the gherkin, pound the pud, paddle the pickle and beat the meat until the bishop belches. After all, what’s the worst that could happen?

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Andrew Vail’s writing career began in Halifax when he was but a child. In Grade 4, he wrote and produced his own series of comic books entitled “Freaky The Frog”, the on-going tale of a little misfit frog and his pals of the pond. Marvel Comics never came knocking but Andrew knew he loved to create and tell stories. Since then, Andrew has worked in advertising, PR and publicity; has interviewed politicians, rock stars and very interesting yet not-so-famous movers and shakers. He has published articles in a variety of local and national magazines and websites.

Today we have visiting royalty. Luke Mochrie, son of actor-comedian Colin Mochrie and Debra McGrath (one of Sheila’s “Little Mosque” colleagues), is auditing. We’ll all be on our toes.

I notice we are minus one today. An actor dropped out, claiming she felt overwhelmed. Watching as she performed her monologue the previous day, I felt she needed an encouraging push, but thought she came out fine on the other end. Apparently she didn’t feel the same.

Everyone seems eager to get going, but my scene partner is absent. I’ve been memorizing lines from Some Like It Hot. I play Joe, the dour Tony Curtis character who provides a foil for Jack Lemon’s flightier Jerry. It’s a good reminder of how hard it is to learn lines, especially the snappy, throw-back lines of quick comedy, but I am ready.

I’m surprised how easily I get into the role. But then why wouldn’t I? Simon’s a writer, like me.

Not that it matters. Sheila hands me sides from a show called Satisfaction for a cold read instead. Suddenly I’m Simon, a 20-something nerd who lives vicariously through writing fan fiction for Babylon 5, a cultish sci-fi show.

I raise my eyebrows at the character’s age. “Don’t worry,” Sheila hastens to reassure me. “I wouldn’t cast you for this role.”

I’d be more worried if she did.

The writing is clever. In the scene, Simon has been dumped by his girlfriend. What at first reads like a throwaway rant about poor coffee gives me pause. After a moment of reflection, I realize this is the actor’s meat. Simon is really deflecting his anger over his ruined relationship by focusing on sci-fi and bad java.

Luke Mochrie reads Mark, the level-headed counterpoint to Simon’s zaniness. We launch right into it. (Well, that’s what a cold read is.) I’m surprised how easily I get into the role. But then why wouldn’t I? Simon’s a writer, like me.

From the start, I feel like I’m blowing the roof off with every line, totally OTT, but Sheila doesn’t try to bring me down in the slightest. I’m purposely not holding back because I want to see how it feels to play everything big. Apparently I’m not too big, because I keep getting the nod from Sheila.

The day ends on a light-hearted note: the old Abbott and Costello gag, “Who’s on first, What’s on second.”

I experience less of that separation between acting and watching myself act. It’s partly because I’m focused on the unfamiliar lines and partly because I’m focused on my scene partner, neither of which happens in a prepared monologue. Playing off someone else is far more rewarding for me, a natural listener more than a talker, even when I’m playing another writer.

We go through the scene 4 or 5 times. Sheila’s comments are subtle, but I feel the change with each reading. I’m still not sure I want to play Simon, but I can sympathize with him. Then it’s over. Now I get to watch everyone else.

We’ve all been assigned classic scenes from classic comedic films. It’s instructive to see how each scene transforms from a stumbling, halting piece, barely held together, into something that actually resembles a scene on film as the actors find their own and each other’s rhythms.

I relate to this as both writer and director, when things don’t go well on the page or in translating my wishes to actors on-stage. I know it takes a good deal of patience, as well as an unshakable belief in my own abilities (even when I have to fake it) to achieve solid results.

The day ends on a light-hearted note: the old Abbott and Costello gag, “Who’s on first, What’s on second.” In the hands of two natural born comedians, the routine has us all laughing, as ridiculous
and old hat as it is.

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Jeffrey Round is a director and writer of contemporary fiction. His latest book, the noir-thriller Lake On The Mountain, has been short-listed for a 2013 Lambda Award. Visit his website: jeffreyround.com.

Attending this would have been an auspicious event at any time. How could it not be when you have some of the biggest names in the world of music and film gathered together in one place to celebrate the accomplishments of history-making musicians and producers? What made this particular RRHOF so special was that I got to be in attendance when my favourite band was inducted: Heart. The icing on the cake was that the original lineup of the band would be performing together for the first time in over 30 years. Talk about a fan dream-come-true. But wait, it gets even better. My best friend’s favourite band was also being indicted: Rush. There was only one thing to do, grab awesome seats, airfare and head West. That’s just what I did.

I arrived in Los Angeles just as an unseasonal heat wave hit the city. The skies were blue, the breeze was tinged with desert heat and the air was crisp with excitement as the ceremony drew nearer. My friend Tod—who lives in LA for work—was as ready as I was to get to the Nokia (Get Him to the Greek?). What a great time two friends of 35 years would have watching their respective rock heroes get such a prestigious honour. We met in high school in Toronto and became fast friends over music. As teens we shared our love of Heart (me) and Rush (Tod) as well as other great bands of the time. Like the honourees, who would have thought that 35 years later, we would be in LA for one of the biggest nights in music?

It was clear from an audience perspective the night belonged to Rush and Heart as fans of both were all over the place.

Andrew & Tod at the Nokia Theater

Gussied up in our glad rags, Tod and I headed to the Nokia Theater. The night was buzzing with excitement and fans of both Heart and Rush were in full view—especially Rush. Before heading to the ceremony, we joined some Heart Mongers who had traveled to Los Angeles from around the country to celebrate and have some nosh and drinks. Then it was time to get the show on the road. As a side note, someone needs to explain to me why my little Sony digital camera was confiscated by security on the way in (you’d think you were at an airport), but when I got to my seat, I saw a sea of flashes as iPhones and other gadgets were being used to take pictures. Huh?

Inside the theater fans of all the inductees were strolling around singing the praises of their idols. I have to say the number of Rush T-shirts I saw was incredible. As a Canadian—and a Torontonian—I have always known that Rush is a big deal globally, but the number of their fans who came to the ceremony was unbelievable. It was clear from an audience perspective the night belonged to Rush and Heart as fans of both were all over the place.

Juts before going to our seats, we ran into actor Colin Hanks who was waiting in the beer line. That wouldn’t be the last time we’d cross path that night. That’s the fun thing about being at a big industry event in LA, celebs are everywhere. We took our seats (centre section above the orchestra section) and waited for the show to begin. As we chatted with our seatmates about who they were most looking forward to seeing, I spotted a man who indirectly launched the career of my favourite band: Mike Fisher. For those who don’t know, he was Heart’s manager for a while as well as Ann Wilson’s boyfriend way back when. He was also the protagonist in one of their first classic songs, Magic Man. As he walked by, I said hello, told him I’d been a Heart fan since 1976 and how excited I was by the evening. He was very gracious and shook my hand. Another cool little moment in rock and roll history.

Finally, the house lights went down and the crowd cheered as the show began. Jann Wenner, co-founder of Rolling Stone magazine and mega-mogul publisher walked onstage to introduce the night. He was greeted by applause—and a very loud chorus of boos from the Rush contingency. Evidently, there is some animosity between Wenner, Rush and the fans and they didn’t waste any time letting him know how they felt. That’s rock and roll for ya.

As the LA crowd cheered for Toronto’s hometown boys, I got tears in my eyes. It was a sudden, unexpected moment of patriotic pride.

Wenner gave a brief speech about the RRHOF and began to introduce the roster of inductees. This is when something truly amazing happened. As he listed off the honourees—Randy Newman, Albert King, Quincy Jones, Public Enemy, and Lou Adler—the cheers grew. Late, great disco diva Donna Summer’s name was greeted with big cheers. Then he started to say, “Tonight we will also honour the First Sisters of Rock…” and before he could say Ann and Nancy Wilson, the crowd burst into cheers as people jumped to their feet. As a Heart fan I was proud and excited to see such exuberance for the band. Then came the house quake.

As Wenner began his preamble to Rush, he managed to get out, “Then we have three guys from Toronto…” The place went berserk. A deafening roar exploded in the Nokia Theater as everyone leapt to their feet for an extended cheer that lasted about 2-1/2 minutes. It was incredible and, as a Canadian and Torontonian, I found unexpectedly moving. As the LA crowd cheered for Toronto’s hometown boys, I got tears in my eyes. It was a sudden, unexpected moment of patriotic pride.

With the introduction done, the ceremony began. Don Henley of the Eagles took the stage to induct Randy Newman. After his induction, Henley, Tom Petty, Jackson Browne, John Fogerty all joined Newman onstage for a jam. Tod leaned in and whispered to me, “It’s only been 20 minutes and we’ve already got our money’s worth!” That was just the beginning to an unbelievable night. John Mayer inducted Albert King and played some wickedly nimble guitar afterward. Cheech and Chong talked in Lou Adler—who was sitting with Jack Nicholson. Spike Lee and Harry Belafonte teamed to induct Public Enemy while a surprising appearance by Oprah Winfrey heralded the induction of Quincy Jones.

As an aside, I’ll say that one of the best and worst parts of awards shows and these types of events are the acceptance speeches. Some are eloquent, heartfelt and mercifully somewhat brief (let’s say, under 10 minutes). This night, most of the speeches were succinct and cogent. And then there was Flava Flav. The clownish member of Public Enemy prattled on endlessly in an explosion of narcissism that left the audience gritting its teeth and even his fellow band mates looking as if their patience was stretching to the breaking point. Luckily, Chuck D as able to save their induction with a smart and humourous speech. Any future celebs please remember that brevity is appreciated.

I will say my three most anticipated artist inductions were Donna Summer, Rush and, of course, Heart. Summer’s husband and three daughters were introduced by Kelly Rowland and gave a lovely speech before Jennifer Hudson took the stage to sing Summer classics Bad Girls and Last Dance. Actually, she didn’t just sing them she tore them apart. Hudson blew the roof off of the Nokia Theater with her tremendous voice as everyone in the audience danced and sang along. Wow!

The moment I—and Heart Mongers everywhere—had been looking forward to was next. Walking onstage to the funky beat of Heart’s classic Straight On, Chris Cornell gave a great induction speech for Heart, citing Ann and Nancy Wilson’s indelible influence on singers and musicians of any gender. Then, out walked the Wilson’s and the original lineup of Heart: Roger Fisher (the aforementioned Mike Fisher’s guitarist brother), Howard Leese (guitar, keyboards), Steve Fossen (bass) and Michael Derosier (drums). They were met with a huge standing ovation and were clearly moved and thrilled to be there and recognized.

Ann and Nancy gave shout outs to the Heart Mongers and the Mongers shouted back with loads of love.

Ann and Nancy each gave speeches that spoke to everything from being working moms to being understood and having a voice. However, the thing that I loved most in their speech was their admiration and appreciation for their fans that have stuck by them through decades of music, stylistic and band member changes. Ann and Nancy gave shout outs to the Heart Mongers and the Mongers shouted back with loads of love.

Then the moment arrived, the reunited Heart took the stage and with a nod to Monty Python (Ann saying, “And now for something completely different”) launched into a blistering version of their first hit, Crazy On You. The entire audience was on its feet and cheering as the band tore through their classic as if 34 years hadn’t passed. It was amazing. It was also the first time I had seen the original lineup play as I was “too young” by my parents to see them in 1978 when they headlines Vancouver’s PNE. It was worth the wait!


The original members left the stage and Ann and Nancy, joined by current Heart keyboardists Debbie Shair, played a beautiful acoustic version of Dreamboat Annie. The lights dimmed as more people took the stage then a lone spotlight illuminated Nancy as she ripped into the opening chords of Barracuda. The stage exploded in lights as the current incarnation of Heart, joined by their Seattle pals Mike McCready (Pearl Jam) and Jerry Cantrell (Alice In Chains), plowed through the classic rock anthem. Ann Wilson’s voice soared on the high notes and literally growled, “wouldn’t cha, Barracuda!” as fists punched the air. It was a mighty performance all around.


As Heart ended the crowd went nuts…and stayed that was as the apotheosis of this already mind-blowing night was upon us. Dave Grohl and Taylor Hawkins took the stage to induct Rush. As they did, that thunderous roar that greeted Jann Wenner’s first words about the band was unleashed again, this time longer and louder. I lost my mind when Heart was inducted so it was fitting that my friend Tod got to blow his lid when it was Rush’s turn. Grohl and Hawkins—clearly Rush devotees—looked thrilled to be talking in Rush and asked the musical question: “When the fuck did Rush become cool?” much to the thrill of the fans.

Tod’s and my rock and roll fantasy from our respective basements
in Markham was realized.

Finally, Geddy Lee, Alex Lifeson and Neil Peart walked onstage to accept their accolades as the crowd went wild. Lee and Peart gave warm and sincere speeches but it was Lifeson who probably delivered what will be one of the most famous Hollywood award show speeches ever given. It consisted of one word, repeated over and over, with appropriate miming for emphasis on mood changes: ‘Blah”. As he gesticulated the audience cheered and howled. Their moment had finally come—so had Rush’s. After their induction, Rush played Tom Sawyer and The Spirit of Radio. But before the actual band emerged, the Foo Fighters came out in classic 70s Rush drag—wigs, moustaches and white kimonos—to play the 2112 Overture. It was very funny and also very impressive that these guys could do such a great job of playing Rush. No small feat.


Finally, the night ended with an all-star jam that had everyone onstage for a performance of Crossroads by Cream. It was an amazing night that showed that the power of music—whether it’s rock, blues, disco, jazz, or hip hop—has the power to unite people from all over the world for one common cause: celebration. Tod’s and my rock and roll fantasy from our respective basements in Markham all those years ago was realized.

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Andrew Vail’s writing career began in Halifax when he was but a child. In Grade 4, he wrote and produced his own series of comic books entitled “Freaky The Frog”, the on-going tale of a little misfit frog and his pals of the pond. Marvel Comics never came knocking but Andrew knew he loved to create and tell stories. Since then, Andrew has worked in advertising, PR and publicity; has interviewed politicians, rock stars and very interesting yet not-so-famous movers and shakers. He has published articles in a variety of local and national magazines and websites.

Kevin’s offer came at an important time for me. I had been planning to take an acting workshop to prep for an upcoming film project. I hoped it would deepen my writing skills while sharpening my directorial abilities. This seems like the perfect opportunity.

DAY ONE

I arrive at Rize Studios, a pleasant, versatile upstairs space in Liberty Village. I’m glad to note the class isn’t overly large, which means I will get sufficient attention from Sheila. It also means I won’t be able to hide, even if I want to.

Sheila is a gamin, a waif. She exudes warmth and motherliness. You can tell she wants this course to be fun for everyone, as well as a learning experience, and that means being comfortable with ourselves. Besides being a top notch comedic actor, Sheila is also an experienced teacher. It shows.

“You’re not an actor,” it insists, while a small, wee voice in my chest says,
“Yes, I am! Yes, I am!”

As we introduce ourselves, it’s obvious there are a lot of raw nerves in the room. Sheila addresses the issue immediately, making it clear this is a place of non-judgment, where we’re free to be ourselves. And that means giving up the fear of making mistakes. The challenge is to get to that point fast and not waste time.

Everyone performs a prepared monologue. The women tend to do “girl gone wild” routines. One of the funniest involves an aberrant spoon being put down a garburator. The men are into heroics and outsmarting, or being outsmarted by, other men, for the most part.

As I watch, I can see there is some real talent in the room. I feel intimidated. Several times during the previous week, I’d considered cancelling. I now find myself battling a booming voice in my head: “You’re not an actor,” it insists, while a small, wee voice in my chest says, “Yes, I am! Yes, I am!”

I’d also worried my monologue might be a bit far out for “light” comedy. My character, a heroin dealer who dresses in drag, is from The Cutting Room by Louise Welsh, a Scottish writer I admire. While not exactly ordinary, compared to some of the other pieces here, it seems mine is only mid-stream.

Two-thirds of the class has performed before I stand. I feel numb. I don’t know if I’m nervous or tired. I begin, experiencing that curious separation between performer and watcher. I hear my own voice. It sounds tired and not overly expressive. Still, I catch a few laughs from the others. Are they laughing with me or at me? It doesn’t matter. I’m in a lifeboat leaving a sinking ship. I row like hell.

The booming critical voice in my head recedes a little and a more encouraging
voice emerges instead.

For the next two minutes I’m totally out of my comfort zone, which is exactly where I need to be right now. I’ve spent the past five years writing, locked inside myself, and I suddenly find myself being asked to externalize everything. It’s a shock. “This is what you came here for,” I remind myself.

I finish my piece and turn to Sheila. Her comments so far have tended to be kind and gracious, yet without talking down to anyone. She is always on the mark, illuminating and insightful. Now she looks perplexed. “Are you a woman?” she asks cautiously. “No,” I reply. “Just your average transvestite drug dealer.” She smiles. That seems to place things for her. The comments start to flow.

I take some notes and try the scene again, feeling a little more confident, but not much. Halfway through, some of Sheila’s comments begin to click and I find myself becoming more playful. My character starts relating more to the person he is addressing. I feel the difference in my body. The booming critical voice in my head recedes a little and a more encouraging voice emerges instead.

No matter why we are here, what we all seek is approval. Sheila knows this. Compared to other acting coaches I’ve had, some harsh and some benevolent, she imbues me with a desire to be a better actor, whatever my talent level. I’m comfortable with that. It doesn’t demand more than I can give.

I finish and turn to Sheila. There’s no perplexity this time. “The beginning still felt a little stiff,” she notes. I can’t disagree. “But in the second half, you really found something,” she continues. Then she comes up with a surprising adjective: “It felt delicious.”

And once again, I can’t disagree.

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Jeffrey Round is a writer of contemporary fiction. His latest book, the noir-thriller Lake On The Mountain, has been short-listed for a 2013 Lambda Award. Visit his website: jeffreyround.com.

However, Roxanna’s road to music stardom was not a smooth one. Instead of jumping in with both feet as a teen and auditioning for anyone who would listen—or even trying out for one of the plethora of televised talent shows—she went to nursing school. “As a nurse, I liked to help people and heal people,” she recalls of her days as an RN. She would use not only her nursing skills, but also her singing voice, to help her patients.

The real galvanizing moment in the singer’s life came when her ex fiancé basically left her standing at the altar. While the incident was heartbreaking, it inadvertently kicked off her singing career. “My wedding was cancelled by my fiancé six days before the ceremony,” she recalls. “I was devastated. Of course I still loved him. I had nothing better to do than express it on a piece of paper. I wrote the exact words that I felt and I had a feeling that one day I would use it as a song.”

“It’s about a person who has been hurt by her partner and she wants to get revenge…that’s what I’d like to do to my ex fiancé.”

Those words she used to express her sadness would become the lyrics to the first single, Unforgotten, from of her soon-to-be released debut album Exotica. Unforgotten is the tale of a woman jilted by the love of her life—and the revenge she enacts upon him for his heartlessness. With flourishes of Flamenco guitar, Unforgotten swells into an ode for a love that will never quite die, yet speaks of moving on with one’s life after a dream has been shattered.

She took those lyrics—and her melodic ideas—to Los Angeles and sought out a producer to help her set her heartache to music. It was there she met producer Mark Portmann. “When I met Mark, who is a producer for some of my idols like Julio Iglesias, Barbra Streisand, and Celine Dion, I gave him the song and he loved it.” And so, a beautiful ballad—and fertile working relationship—was born.

The video for Unforgotten harkens back to the glory days of the genre, and for good reason; it was produced by Matthew Rolston, the director responsible for groundbreaking videos by Madonna, Michael Jackson, David Bowie, and George Michael, to name a few. “I got lucky. Working with Mark. He put me in touch with Matthew Rolston. Matthew doesn’t do music videos for just anybody, he has to connect with the song,” explains Roxanna. “When I sent it to him, he really liked it. I had to go to LA because he wanted me to meet me personally to hear it with me again.”

 “On Exotica, I’m not only singing in English and Spanish but in Italian and there’s one French song.”

That meeting turned into a shoot that took place on a very hot day in Palm Springs. Not only is the video lush and cinematic, it features one of Roxanna’s favourite actors, James Scott, who stars in the daytime drama Days of Our Lives. Not being a famous singer yet, it was a challenge for Roxanna to get Scott—whom she simply had to have—to star alongside her in the video. So, she employed a little strategy to woo him to her side. “I’d been watching Days of Our Lives since the late 90s and I spotted James and thought to myself, ‘oh, he’s the hottest guy alive’,” she laughs recalling first sighting the actor. “When I went to the music industry and had to do the video Matthew told me to choose a guy to be in the video and I said, ‘I only want James Scott!’ I actually went to the Days of Our Lives set, I said that I had a project to offer him, that I’m a Canadian singer/songwriter, and he thought I was crazy,” she laughs.

Determined to have him for the video, she didn’t give up. “He had no manager or agent so it was really hard to get a hold of him,” she explains. “Finally, my publicist at Miles High Productions sent a letter and the music to him on my behalf and he liked it, he agreed. The first time I met him in the dance studio for the rehearsal, I was like, ‘Oh, my God, he’s so awesome’.” However, whatever feeling of fandom she had for the handsome star, she kept to herself the first few days of rehearsals. “When I first saw him in the dance studio, I pretended I didn’t care,” she says with a laugh. “Then he came up to me and said, ‘Roxanna, it’s nice to meet you.’ And I said, ‘Yea, the studio is over there, I’ll be right back.’ I walked in the studio and didn’t even look at him.”

In no time the pair had developed a rapport that turned their on-camera chemistry into a mysterious, romantic cat and mouse story that begins and ends with a phone call. “I had no idea what the story was going to be,” Roxanna says of the development of the video’s storyline. “It’s what you want to imagine. Is it fantasy? Is it reality? You don’t know. It’s about a person who has been hurt by her partner and she wants to get revenge. She plays games with him, and takes him into her trap and meets him. That’s what I’d like to do to my ex fiancé,’” she concludes with a laugh.

The album Exotica is a reflection of the global influences on Roxanna as she grew up. She sings in several languages and cites one of her music idols as her influence for going global. “I’d like to be the female version of Julio Iglesias,” she says of one of her all-time favourite singers. “He was the first artist who made a song and did it in Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, and French. I didn’t really know where he was from because he sang in every language. Maybe he doesn’t speak those languages but he sings them with passion. I’m doing the same thing.”

“No matter how old you are, what your body shape is, your talent doesn’t die. Stick with it, be stubborn and don’t give up.”

“On Exotica, I’m not only singing in English and Spanish but in Italian and there’s one French song,” she continues. “I love Spanish music. I don’t know, maybe I was Spanish in a past life,” she laughs. “I go to Spain a lot and I was influenced by Flamenco music and I wanted to bring it to Pop music. I have two songs that are in Spanish. Each song is different but each is easy to listen to,” Roxanna says of the music on Exotica. “My genre is Adult Contemporary and Luxury, which I created myself. You will hear everything organic. Every sound is real. The people who worked on my album, these musicians, have worked with mega-artists like Michael Jackson, Kelly Clarkson, Michael Bublé, and Andrea Bocelli, so everything is hand-made. There is no auto-tune.” Roxanna has also included a special song called Beautiful Rose, which is dedicated to, and about, her late mother who passed away earlier this year.

Roxanna is an artist with big dreams, and she knows exactly how she is going to make them come true. While she may be ambitious in her own right, she has made friends who have helped her along the way. “Ricky Martin is such a wonderful man,” she says of the crossover superstar. “He’s so helpful; he helped me out a lot with what to say and how to behave in the spotlight. I may be singing with Ricky Martin because Mark Portmann actually did songs with him. Timbaland is a wonderful, kind-hearted man, he helped me out a lot in many ways.”

Life is filled with moments of great joy and times of despair, no one can avoid the rollercoaster. Roxanna has taken inspiration from the good and the bad and is forging a career she hopes will be filled with many highs. And she knows it all begins with believing in yourself. “I want people who listen to me, my fans, to understand that no matter how old you are, what your body shape is, what condition you are in, your talent doesn’t die,” she insists. “Stick with it, be stubborn and don’t give up.”

Check out Unforgotten, the first single from Roxanna’s upcoming album, Exotica:


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Andrew Vail’s writing career began in Halifax when he was but a child. In Grade 4, he wrote and produced his own series of comic books entitled “Freaky The Frog”, the on-going tale of a little misfit frog and his pals of the pond. Marvel Comics never came knocking but Andrew knew he loved to create and tell stories. Since then, Andrew has worked in advertising, PR and publicity; has interviewed politicians, rock stars and very interesting yet not-so-famous movers and shakers. He has published articles in a variety of local and national magazines and websites.