Thursday, October 23, 2003
well, mr. kingsley, i'm stage-struck.
this reminds me of when i lived in a carriage house apartment in florida and was visited by my first ever census-taker, who introduced himself as "dogfish" and didn't blink when i told him i identified ethnically as uruguyan.
i was called back for a showcase this week. it was a small tingle of recognition, although i'm almost ashamed to feel that way about a second audition at a theatre that shares its space with a geriatric day care facility in brooklyn. it's a good play, but the call-back lasted over four hours. worse, due to a mid-evening switch to a new plan when we started running really behind, i got seen less and in fewer scenes than most of the other young women auditioning. after looking at the evening as objectively as i can, i think i was the most able actor they saw, but what with my being on the short end of the stick schedule-wise, i'm not sure that came across. i left pretty dejected. i phoned the monkey from the train platform at eleven and told him i wasn't sure what was worse, that the only opportunity i had to speak of was a tiered showcase in park slope, or that i couldn't even say with confidence i'd auditioned well enough to get *that*.
then i left my gloves on the train.
that part was okay, though, because the monkey, with surprise and perfect timing showed up on the corner to walk me home from the train, and he took my books and gave me his own hat and gloves and let me sniffle about how hard i have it.
winston churchill says, "never never never give up."
i was called back for a showcase this week. it was a small tingle of recognition, although i'm almost ashamed to feel that way about a second audition at a theatre that shares its space with a geriatric day care facility in brooklyn. it's a good play, but the call-back lasted over four hours. worse, due to a mid-evening switch to a new plan when we started running really behind, i got seen less and in fewer scenes than most of the other young women auditioning. after looking at the evening as objectively as i can, i think i was the most able actor they saw, but what with my being on the short end of the stick schedule-wise, i'm not sure that came across. i left pretty dejected. i phoned the monkey from the train platform at eleven and told him i wasn't sure what was worse, that the only opportunity i had to speak of was a tiered showcase in park slope, or that i couldn't even say with confidence i'd auditioned well enough to get *that*.
then i left my gloves on the train.
that part was okay, though, because the monkey, with surprise and perfect timing showed up on the corner to walk me home from the train, and he took my books and gave me his own hat and gloves and let me sniffle about how hard i have it.
winston churchill says, "never never never give up."
