Confessions of a Struggling Actor

As usual, doing a show provides many high and lows both during it and after.

The show itself went OK.  We didn't have much time between finishing the tech and opening the house and there was nowhere backstage to nip out for a fag.  Pity, but the performances went well, with me having a decent posse in both nights and lots of laughs on my comic timing of calling another character a 'count' in particular.  Lowest common denominator always gets a reaction...

It was lovely to see so many pals making it at such short notice - esp. many who hadn't been able to make my recent efforts and some who came from rather further than Covent Garden.  They were honest in their views of both me and the show as a whole, with me coming off considerably better than the others in the company.  I think the relative lack of experience throughout meant that it wasn't quite as polished as Richard 3, though I don't think it was awful.  It's difficult to get an idea of how it's coming across when you're in it - you just trust that if there's anything wrong, then either you'll get told or you'll get a feeling for it anyway.  In any case, the audience judges and takes what it wants from it regardless of your efforts and excuses.  Still, getting some time to talk with fellow actors, supportive friends and hearing their news and considered opinions was worth it.  As was the more social aspect once in the pub!!!

In the end I'm not too sad to see the end of it.  It's been a long gestation and I'm looking forward to a rest of sorts.  Things were awkward with Ami, though I did try to initiate conversation on a few occasions, and the spirit that was there in France didn't seem to be quite there second time around.  After the last performance, a couple of us went to secure some space at a watering hole to have a few final drinks, but no-one else showed up or called.  I'm sure it wasn't intentional, but was a kind of apt ending.

"What did I really get out of it?"  That phrase permeated my thoughts on Sunday.  Apart from another Shakespeare credit on my CV (and obviously the experience of performing that), I didn't get any agents in to see me, nor did I make any money from it - in fact I was down as many of the cast hadn't paid me for the presents we bought the crew - so what else could I take from it?  I took heart that I'd found it easier than Richard to get into and my confidence was high as far as my abilities go, but that's pretty much the same thing and there wasn't much else.  Maybe it was just those ole post show blues that colour my world for a couple of weeks after I'm done and send me into a funk - and not in a James Brown stylee.

On consulting my diary on Sunday I noticed that I was going to be rather busy, even without football that afternoon.  After spending the day sullenly playing Tiger Woods on the PS2 in an effort to cheer myself up, I went out at night and met Laura McTurk and her mate Ivan for a couple of pints down the local.  I wasn't intending staying too late, but ended up hobbling home after midnight after an unexpectedly jovial evening.

I bumped into Geir, who mentioned that he was considering leaving the flat when the lease ended at the start of November.  I was a bit gutted as we live well together and have a lot of respect for each other (unlike Denis, who comes in and imparts his wisdom without request) but understood that it was purely financial and also down to finding a better location for him as getting back after finishing his shifts underground were killing him.  Had a drink with him and went to bed worried that we were going to go through the same process as when Murph moved out. Fuck fuck fuck fuck...

Monday was hungover.  Work was OK and I managed to survive with my head competing with my ankle for which body part could provide the most pain.  At lunchtime i went for a haircut as I was getting new headshots the following day.  The hairdresser talked a good game, but did fuck all to it and even though I said I wanted to keep it curly on the top, she blow dried it straight.  This of course did nothing to lighten my mood and on the way home bought a 6 pack of becks which was finished by the end of the evening.

I was up at 6am on Tuesday to get myself looking good and feeling awake for my photoshoot.  It went really well and I'm happy with the choice that I now have for my professional shot.  It's difficult to choose a photo of yourself if no single one stands out, so I sent the link round a few friends to get their thoughts and they were both impressed and completely divided on which were the best photos.  Consultation on the matter is ongoing.  After a few hours at work, I then had a rehearsed reading for a sitcom.  I've been doing readings for this particular series for over 3 years now, but it looks like it's near to getting commissioned.  Also in attendance were Amy (not Juliet, but another girl from my past) and the infamous John Leslie, who by the way acted like the c0ck that he comes across as in the papers.  The Amy thing was expected as she's been involved in the project for some time too, but there was a chemistry that disappeared after she decided not to go for me a year or so ago...and it fitted in with another slightly strange thing that had occurred recently.

Former loves have started getting back in touch and have started corresponding with me again.  Made me feel a bit strange, but there were no pangs of regret or desperation to see them again.  OK, there was a frisson of excitement when you see that they've been in touch, but that quickly dissipates when you remember that there is a lot of water under those bridges.  Still, with no axe to grind I replied and will see if any of them continue to get back in touch or if it was a moment of weakness.  I AM looking good these days though... ;-)

After Leslie had made his rather loud exit, only myself and Dan, who I've been out drinking with before, were left and he suggested a couple more down at the Phoenix Bar/Shuttleworths.  I ended up being in a pub quiz with the head of Entertainment for yahoo!Uk who, it ends up, is from the same neck of the woods as me and eventually getting home and 3am.

As I awoke the next day, i felt like shit and wasn't looking forward to getting into the office.  I'd had two very weird dreams - one where I was stuck helping toddlers across a busy road while their parents chatted away obliviously and another where i was attacked for no reason on the bus I get home every night and no-one helped me.  As if I wasn't freaked out enough, I looked at my clock and realised that I was already over 2 hours late for work.  I'd forgotten to set any alarms the night before and called my boss straightaway to apologise and confirm that i was on my way in.  To continue the surreal day, we had visitors as the book is launched this week.  One had the big hair and one had big nails - nuff said.  I got a dressing down for being so ridiculously late and made to take the time off as half day holiday.  On my way home, I picked up more booze and had most of it last night.  Any wagon I was thinking of jumping on (and then falling off) is already way in the distance, what with my ankle preventing exercise and my feelings being low.  As ever, I'll tough it out and be smiling by the weekend.

I head home tomorrow night for a wedding out of town and return on Sunday morning, so won't be able to catch up with anyone apart from my family, but the break should do me good.  After that I've got friends to catch up with, but I can't go too mental as i don't want to be going down a slippery slope of hangovers, booze, fags, spliff and sloth  on a regular basis and the inevitable effects on my body and mind that come alongside those temptations.  Get through this end of this week and be strong afterwards...