2002-01-14 - 12:04 p.m.

Welcome back, my friends, to the show that never ends, We're so glad you could attend, come inside, come inside.

I got back from Sarasota yesterday, where I auditioned, along with 24 other hopefuls, for a spot in the Asolo Conservatory, i.e. grad school. I think things went rather well. I felt really good about how I did, the auditioners seemed engaged, I didn't miss a word of my monologues, and while it was not my best performance ever, it was the best I've ever done with my monologues. I was playing with the auditioners, which is something that helps me alot in acting. They were all smiles, and they asked me a few questions, and I was calm and funny and collected right until I left the room again, whereupon I almost collapsed. It was a lot like my thesis presentation.

On the other hand, I felt particularly unqualified compared to the other auditionees. They all seem to have done many more shows than I have, they are familiar with a larger range of work than I am, and they seem to have done more with themselves than I have. One woman, who (according to herself) screwed up the audition and the interview, started her own theater in Pittsburgh and received a grant from the University of Pittsburgh of $2,500 for her production of Beckett's 'Happy Days'. What have I done? Precious little, I can tell you that. Not that I really had much opportunity to do so, having gone to New College, but the fact remains that I'm more than a little new to all this.

I also found out how many people apply to the Asolo each year for the 12 spots available: 2,200. I've got a leg up, because I auditioned directly with them, which assured me an interview, but still: 2,200. And of course, so much of the selection is based on things other than talent. Height, weight, hair color, general air: they cast by type, because they're building a repertory company with each class. Each appointment has to mesh with every other appointment. They only need one short, dark-haired, fairly thin character actor. More importantly, I look very young, which could either help or hurt, depending on what they need my type for. I'm too young to play many romantic leads, or many character roles, or much of anything.

To top it off, I went out drinking with the Asolo students who were helping run the auditions. While we were drinking, one of them started telling us about a particularly bad audition he saw (he was drunk, or I don't think he would have done that). Right before he started giving details about what had gone wrong, the student sitting next to him asked 'Oh, the one where the guy sat behind the chair to do 'End Game?' That's what I had done. I was doing a monologue from that play, where Nagg, an old, legless man confined to the inside of a trashcan, tells a joke. The chair doubled as the front of said can. It was like every nightmare I've ever had coming true in a few seconds. Not because someone hadn't liked my performance. Not because someone had thought it was so funny that they had to tell someone about it (this student hadn't seen the monologue in question, or she would have recognized me). Not even because the concept of what I had done had been of itself so ridiculous that the hearer would have immediately seen how stupid and funny it was. But because I thought it was good. Last week I mentioned the mirror: how I used to think it could lie, how the world could see one thing and I another entirely. That's what happened, it looks like. My sense of self lied to me, something I took as solid ground gave way.

Of course, it could all be a misunderstanding: she could have been talking about someone else, after all. The monologue is pretty popular, someone else could have done it, and used the chair like I did. But she mentioned the chair, like that was the funny bit. Even if she meant someone else, I still made the same mistake, whatever it was. Or she could have misunderstood the conversation, thought we'd been talking about a really good audition, but that seems even more unlikely, given her tone of voice: amused, derisive, and very comfortable. I stood out somehow, I just have no idea how, and my suspicions are dark. It's a lot like being presented with concrete proof that you don't have a left hand, when you rather thought you were holding a drink with it. You can see it, you can feel it, but everyone else agrees that it doesn't exist.

I don't find out about acceptance until late February, so the wait will be long and arduous. I had a dream last night where one of the auditioners was telling me I'd done a great job, handled the interview really well, but had made a huge mistake by telling them that I occaisionally had trouble communicating. Acting is all about communication, so I'd committed a cardinal sin. And what is communication but interaction between your head and the outside world. My mirror cracked.

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