Tuesday, November 23, 2004



i won't pretend i don't feel better. (the best part was when the monkey looked me in the eye and said shyly, "it's nice to have you back.") brain chemistry is ever only one segment of the trouble-orange, though. the fact remains:

no work.

what is up, new york? i have gone to your open calls, i have woken up at ungodly hours. i mix and mingle as best i can. i know a few people. i have made friends with some artistic directors and casting directors and had at least one really great interview with an agent. i have taken class and worked background and . . . and no, the current show doesn't really count. it's good to be on stage talking, but it is not a play. the whole esthetic involved centers around there not being any acting going on.

i am almost at wit's end. it's been fourteen months. i don't know what to try. i feel more like a failure every day. i know, pity pity. but the fact remains:

no work.

i never thought it would be this long. i'm not ever sure how to refer to myself after over a year with no work. i'm an actor? i guess? i guess?


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