I can't say I'm in top form today, that's for sure. "Out of sorts" would be generous, I think. Yet again (several times over), the theatre Gods have failed to smile upon me in terms of casting, and in some cases even getting a callback.
No big deal, right? That's how the cookie crumbles. Onward and upward....
Yeah, the head says that. The heart? The soul? Another matter. Basically, this puts in a position where I have very few chances left to do a show this "season." At least with any of my "go-to" companies. I have one more audition this Saturday which would at least wrap up the '09/'10 go-around with some people I truly enjoy.
We shall see.
At the very least, it looks like from the end of Plans 1-8 until the Holidays, I'm without a project. That is, if you don't count the taunting pile of music and recording stuff in our spare bedroom.
God, I have got to buckle down on that.
This is making me think about writing more, as well. My theatre company Stage Left has a Down Stage Left Program to develop new works, and I have this IDEA. This IDEA that would fit well with our mission, I think, anyway. Something that's been gnawing at me for a good long while, that takes me back to my adolescence, and all the anger I carried inside back then.
Always nice to have an idea.
Truth is, I'll probably bang away on it for 6 months, then get frustrated, or in a show, and it will lie fallow. A lot of my original plays end up like that. I start strong, and then it all starts to overwhelm me. Especially this idea, that's big. Really big. Lots of research big. I hate research. I like to make shit up.
And while I think about that...my Les Paul is over there, glaring at me. "Play me!!" it screams, it's strings begging to be stroked. The half-finished song on the recorder screams in the agony of it's incompleteness.
I've always wanted to lead a creative life. That's been the goal for a long as I can remember, filmmaker, writer, actor, director, it was all stuff I wanted to try, wanted to do. In High School, I was more certain of what I wanted in life than I ever had been before or since, I was going to make movies. The path of my life kinda conspired against that in a number of ways, mistakes and outright obstructions.
The thing that stuck was that one thought...LEAD A CREATIVE LIFE. Make something that might live on after you've shuffled off to meet whatever it is we may end up meeting. That SEEMS so simple, but y'know...I feel muddled.
I feel like, in my attempt to be some sort of half-assed renaissance man, picking up musical instruments and banging away at them, crapping out passable, but hardly great, plays, strutting my hour on the stage and feeling like I'm running in place, and what does it all mean?
Really, it means nothing.
I've become a guy with a ton of hobbies, none of which he's really mastered, or at least that's my deepest, darkest fear.
Maybe I ought to just buy a train set.