Teh Weekendz

This weekend was mostly taken up by tired arguments and auditions for things that I most certainly will be cast in.*

Saturday: when talking to Monica we seemed to always butt horns at some stupid thing or another. We were both tired from the week and from our stupid jobs, and I wasn't looking forward to my upcoming auditions of last weekend and the coming grad school auditions (one of which I'm sure to get**). We were both tired and testy, and so all arguments seemed to cumulate around the fact that I didn't have a car, a topic that we have talked about in the past, and it doesn't really bother her, but the lack of sleep makes everything teem with agression. It wasn't pleasant for a while. I made pancakes that morning though. They were the best pancakes I've ever made.

She did, however, come with me to my TheatreWorks audition, to accompany me on my drive to Palo Alto. That was excellent, and a fun drive for the most part, after we got over the fact that we were both cranky. My audition itself turned out to be pretty successful; I gave them a show to watch in 2 minutes, which is the best we can do. My song went well, not quite the best I've ever sang it, but it was one of the best times I've ever performed it, and my monologue brought some laughs from the casting folks. Leslie Martinson. That's her name... I should send her a thank you card or something. ONE OF HAL'S ARTWORK CARDS. I'll do that tomorrow.

I've never been good at networking or anything like that. Or maybe I just don't think I'm good at that. In the moment at a party or something I'm pretty good, I think. Oh well, a card is a step in the right direction. Maybe business cards are in my future too. "Ben Knoll: Actor, Legend, Geneus."

After the AWESOME audition, we drove up to Serramonte, and after getting lost (my fault) and getting critiziced by my directional ability (my fault, I haven't been around south bay in the while) we walked around the mall for a bit. I love Serramonte, it has turtles in the main area, and apparently now it has an Elephant Bar. Something of which I haven't ever been to, but now am wondering where it has been all my life. I look forward to future excursions there. Mahi Mahi, delicious.

Sunday: After a night's sleep, there was less aggression and apologies were served. Also, a small breakfast and then Indian Food at Bombay Gardens! Delicious and fun times with friends. Erica, Drew, Keith, Tabitha, Monica and I all sat and were VERY obnoxious for about an hour and a half in that restaurant: something that I probably would have minded more if I wasn't having such a good time being an ass myself. I didn't eat too much, which was good of me, but I probably ate a little more than I should have, since I didn't get around to exercising at all this weekend.

Auditioned for Marin Shakespeare later that day. They're the same folks as they've always been; eager, nice, and utterly tactless. I met and read with the guy who played Hotspur in last year's whatever, and saw that he was a very pleasant fellow, who made very average and unintelligent acting decisions. They seemed enamored by him. Who wouldn't be? He's tall, fit, dark haired, and a pleasant, boring actor. This is what they said to him, I sitting aside, completely unimpressed with his skills, but remember folks, I'm in the room:

"I don't know when you're going to become the next Daniel Day Lewis, but we'll use you for as long as you want us."

I don't care what anyone thinks about me. I don't care what anyone thinks about other people, bad actors included. What needs to happen though is to not fucking say it when I'm in the same room. At least give me the courtesy of the what was it, oh right, years of work I've done for you guys in the past and let me go out of the room before sucking his unimpressive (but tall, dark, and handsome) dick.

What this is saying to me - we will hire this guy, but by omitting talking to you, you don't have a chance in hell to work here. I know that anything coming from them, good or bad, is not a testament to my acting skills: if they didn't cast me, it would just mean that they have their heads up their asses, as usual; if they did cast me, it wouldn't mean that they actually liked me, for my talent, just for some odd whim that they were on that day.

What a motherfucking racket. All of the judgement of my profession, any union I want to join, any work I want to do, is up to the decision of rich idiotic cunts.

I went home and bitched, and then mom helped me with Edmund monologue. I felt better. I still do. And I feel good about the new direction this monologue is going. Instead of making it angry the whole time, it's more like addressing nature as an old friend, bitching, if you will! Use the anger! Then Monica and I went to Iron Springs, a restaurant near to her house, and I ate too much garlic fries and now I have heartburn.

I sure as hell hope I get into a grad school. If I don't, I don't really know what I'm going to do with my career. Maybe I'll go back to school to do something else. I just want something to happen. I don't want to hate the majority of my day and the majority of my art because I'm not doing what I want to do. There's nothing else I'd rather do, I'm eager, willing, hard working passionate about the art form, and above all I'm a pretty good actor. No one would regret casting me. And yet I'm not tall, dark, handsome, and dull. Mabye there's something to that. After all, it has worked for many people in my life so far.

*Haha, right.

** I'm being more positive here.