3. James’ First (Equity) Audition… Sort Of


Alright. I’ll keep this brief cuz I’m actually really busy. AH.

So. Here’s a few pictures. We all love pictures, don’t we?

 From a dear friend: a book that changed a life and a kind card to put on my wall to remind me that there’s someone who cares about me.

David’s back!
He’s been supes, dupes nice to me. He lets me use his printer all the time. He has a TV and we have cable and he invites me in to watch TV with him any time. OH. And he’s always awake early in the morning and he doesn’t mind me singing loudly in the morning to warm up. THANK.GOD.

Her bed came in today! Her name is Kaylee! She’s a friend of David’s. And she, too, is super kind. She stays up super late and I get up super early. But I’m a heavy sleeper so I don’t mind much. For example, for the past two nights, I have fallen asleep before she even had a chance to turn the lights off. And this morning, she told me I could sing, turn lights on, be super loud, etc. She said she didn’t mind. Now, let me recount to you my audition experience this morning.

So it was an equity audition for a musical called Rebecca based on the novel (which was also made into a Hitchcock movie). So sometimes they see non-equity people at equity calls. But there’s really no way of knowing. So, you can just show up and see if they’re seeing non-equity people at all. If they say, “No,”; cool. If they say, “Yes, sign up here,”; cool. If they say, “Yes, we have an opening right now; go on in,”; cool. If they say, “I’m not sure, come back later,”; cool. There are many scenarios.

So I went to bed last night at 1 AM and woke up at 7. #SUICIDE! But I turned out pretty well. I started singing lightly as to not wake up Kaylee. I printed my music out after printer problems. I wanted to get my high notes, but I really wanted to be a considerate roommate so I went to the bathroom, shoved my face in my towel and vocalized that way. I wanted to be at the audition by 10 so I woke up pretty early. Alex and I were doing this together. So. I realize I don’t have any resumes stapled to headshots. But Alex tells me he has a  stapler. So I bring some scissors over there and get it all sorted out. Tada. Ok. So I’m ready. Oh, by the way, I sang ALL the way to Alex’s. I find that Gavin Degraw is really good at waking up my upper register. So. I just belt all the way there and I make sure not to make eye contact with any of the Skeptics I walk past on the street. Ok. So Alex and I arrive at the equity building at like 10:30. They started seeing women around 10:00 so we figured we would get there around then, just to see if they would be seeing any non-equity guys at 2:00 (along with the equity men). So. Here are some hints about equity building:

1) Use the revolving door. The other one doesn’t open. You will look like a fool, and everyone will know it’s your first time.
2) You have to check in with some dude at the desk to make sure you aren’t gonna blow up the building. You tell him your name and he takes a sexy picture of you with his webcam.
3) Go up to the second floor. Take the elevator. Cuz if you walk up the stairs, you have to walk through this room of judgy non-equity people sitting in the segregated lounge. (Equity and Non-Equity people don’t mix in this building. You can’t even use the bathroom in the building if you’re non-eq. You have to go downstairs and go to the McDonalds.)
4) If you take the elevator, exit the elevator and turn right. There will be a table, beyond which you will see people sitting in comfy chairs. They’re equity. B’way. Talk to the lady at this desk. Ask if they’re seeing non-equity. I did. It went like this.

(This woman has a thick New York accent, maybe Brooklyn)
Me: Hi, are you seeing non-equity today?
Lady: What are you talking about?
Me: Rebecca, the musical.
Lady: No, not at all.
Me: Ok, thank you.
Lady: And no drop-offs either!
Me: …Ok, thank you!

..so um. It’s really a crapshoot if they’re gonna see non-equity. BUT. Later in the day, while Alex and I waited in line outside the Eugene O’Neill for standing room tickets to Book of Mormon, we talked to a girl who taught me something. There’s this audition called http://www.auditionupdate.com People post stuff about auditions. For example, if I had checked this website before I left my apartment, I might have seen a non-equity actor post that they weren’t seeing non-eqs today at Rebecca. Also, if you do two auditions in one day, you can go to this website and ask, “What number are they on for Legally Blonde, the Musical?” And someone could answer that post, and you could see how close they are to your number, just in case you’re at another audition. (Cuz you can sign up for an audition, leave, go to another, sign up, and then manage them that way.) So. Next time, I’ll know better.

But I saw Book of Mormon tonight. And I REALLY want to get my shit together. It’s time to start dancing, singing, acting. So I’m getting my chores done tomorrow, and then I’m gonna scour Backstage and Playbill and start planning an audition schedule. I want to move forward in my craft, not backwards. So. AUDITION.AUDITION,AUDITION.

I know this title is misleading since I didn’t actually get to audition this morning. But I was EXTREMELY prepared.

Also, tonight I realized something.

So, I was standing outside the Eugene O’Neill for like 6 hours today. So at one point, this super foxy 40ish year-old man walked by and I stared him down. Cuz he was cute and life’s too short to be coy.  So he smiled back, and he winked at me. Then I fell over dead on the sidewalk and waited for him to revive me a la Sandlot. But then I realized, lying dead on the sidewalk, that I had come to New York for two reasons: 1) the most obvious reason: to audition. But there is a #2. And oh, is there a #2. 2) I came to New York to fall in love. And I’ve just been waiting for that magical moment. I’ve been waiting for that perfect guy to be charmed by my shoveling vegetable chips into my mouth on the subway; or by my way of smiling at people’s subway faces; or by my singing as I walk down the street; or by my fashion; or by my hair; or by my anything.

But this waiting is so unattractive. It’s odorous and foul. Drive: that’s attractive. Direction. Sexy.

But it’s not even about that. It’s not about being appealing. It’s about this: not waiting for someone to come take care of me. IIIIII’ma take care of me. Now. And what’s best for me is pursuing my craft. Applying myself. I want to be better. So I’m gonna go take voice lessons. I’m gonna harass NY Dance Store until they successfully send my shoes to the correct address. I’m gonna audition for so much more. I’m gonna look into some sort of acting workshop; I wanna do scenes with people. I’m gonna do what I (should have) came here to do.

Dear Love,
F you. I’m not gonna search for you anymore on the subway or on the street or out my window or under my bed. I can’t find you, and I won’t let my life be dictated by you. There is still shrapnel of my Project Happiness 365 lodged into my body/heart/soul. But I’ll heal. I know that for certain. It just takes more time. But until then, Love: suck a fatty. I’m moving on.

Here’s a passage from the book I’m currently reading. It’s this fictional tale of this woman’s life from birth to death:

“Now, at the age of fifty-nine, sadness flows through every cell of her body, yet leaves her curiously untouched. she knows how memory gets smoothed down with time, everything flattened by the iron of acceptance and rejection – it comes to the same thing, she thinks. This sorrowing of hers has limits, just as there’s a limit to how tangled she’ll let her hair get or how much dust she’ll allow to pile up on her dressing table. That’s Daisy for you. Daisy’s resignation belongs to the phylum of exhaustion, the problem of how to get through a thousand ordinary days. Or, to be more accurate, ten thousand such days…

But she’s tired of being sad, and tired of not even minding being sad, of not even in a sense of knowing. And in the thin bony box of her head she understands, and accepts, the fact that her immense unhappiness is doomed to irrelevance anyway. Already, right this minute, I feel a part of her wanting to go back to the things she used to like, the feel of a new toothbrush against her gums, for instance. Such a little thing. She’d like to tie a crisp clean apron around her waist once again, peel a pound of potatoes in three minutes flat and put them soaking in cold water. Polish a jelly jar and set it on the top shelf with its mates. Lick an envelope, stick a stamp in its corner, drop it in the mail box. She’d like to clean her body out with a hoot of laughter and give way to the pull of gravity. It’s going to happen. All this suffering will be washed away. Any day now.”

~The Stone Diaries by Carol Shields


Just looking for the part of me that seems to be fading away recently. And trying to live with what I know whilst not letting it hinder my decisions.

Love makes everybody a stupid bitch.



(any day now)


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