I received an e-mail from a friend. A 'back-home' Florida friend. In it, he mentioned that the last message that he read seemed to have a hint of discouragement. I was also asked by another. Is it what you imagined?
I didn't mean to be so transparent that someone could see my spleen in an e-mail, but I was glad to hear words of comfort from someone who offers smiles up with a real fervor.
I tie the two messages together, though. I guess I was a little discouraged. And yes, it IS what I expected. I actually pictured these moments of... yuck as we made our scheme to come out here. I wasn't sure what they would look like exactly, but I anticipated the feeling I had today as I walked across the hot busy street clutching someone's screenplay. It's the kind of screenplay that calls for depiction of things I don't endorse. I expected to have to make tough decisions like whether or not to play this part. To play the part would mean asking the Director to re-write in order to suit my needs. I'm sure he would tell me to go scratch myself somewhere meaningful. However, I could just perform a different role. One where there is no hanky panky or killing small mammals. Then, I wouldn't have to act like I know how to write. I would simply have to pretend, I know how to act.
All I know is that I often blow auditions, but when I nail them, for about ten minutes, I'm Dean Martin. There's no touching my 'cool'. I put the top down on the Cabrio punch the gas, then stop, repeat. The traffic. There's encouragement for you.