Confessions of a Struggling Actor

It feels like over a week since I left work on Friday.

That night I held off the cold by drinking copious amounts of booze of many flavours and strengths with Joe, Jess and Michelle, who I spent Hogmanay with.  It was a similar night of boozing at theirs, then going out (to the garage in Islington, where Alan McGee was DJ-ing - lots of Nirvana, no Oasis - I asked for some Blur and he didn't seem too impressed) then heading back to party til after dawn.  Top night and really good company though finishing at 10.30am was maybe a mistake.  As was getting so drunk that I took out the last of my cash til Wed.  Note to self - stop acting like a student...

Saturday, unsurprisingly, was a write off.  I went to the pub with the 3 musketeers and had a couple of pints to take the edge off the cacophony of pain in my head and then left them to it.  The cold hit back with a vengeance and I slept really badly - having to wake up every half hour to blow my nose as I couldn't breathe thru it.  I had run out of Lemsip and couldn't find the tub of Vicks that I was certain I had.  Sat in my living room in a world of hurt.  Tried to watch the Magnificent 7, but kept drifting off.  Cursed myself for my foolish spending the night before, which could have brought redemption in painkillers.  Also decided to stop smoking.  Dons result cheered me up no end, but couldn't jump around the room as I'd have liked.

Sunday came and I was up fairly early to get ready for football.  Was still feeling rubbish.  As I got outside I quickly realised that the pitch was not going to be one for silky skills - once we got there and went out to see the turf, our fears were answered.  There was a 70x30yd patch of mud/slurry down the middle of the pitch.  My first meaningful action of the game was to get a toe to a ball stuck in the mud in the penalty area and then go 270 degrees as the keeper collided with my left leg, landing spectacularly in the mud.  We won 4-1 against perhaps our bitterest rivals, with yet another goal for me.  This was tempered somewhat by the 2" gash and giant lump on my shin, the forearm smash to my face and the stamp on my hand that left me feeling a little sore today.  And I have 5 a side tonight. <shudder>

Woke up this morning hoping for a good week.  The postie came early and there was what looked like and answer from the agent I'd been in touch with.  I tentatively opened it to be confronted with the well worn line "...but we wish you every success in the future."  Another rejection - not even the chance of a meeting!  Marvellous start to the week - just what i wanted.  Still, I have an audition for a short film tomorrow, so it's not all doom and gloom, but the rejection hurt more than any defender's kick.  Now trying to keep my chin up and not think about fags.  The best bit of the weekend was hearing back from the lady I fancied, organising lunch for Thursday.  Hope this isn't going to be a nice, "thank you but no" along the same lines as the agents letter...