2002-03-21 - 1:44 p.m.

Had some bad news recently. I got an official rejection letter from NYU. So, I won't be going to grad school in NYC. That sucks on just so many levels that I won't even try to enumerate them. Didn't even get waiting-listed, which probably just means that they didn't need my type, but probably also means I didn't overly impress them. I'm still waiting on the Asolo, even though I auditioned with them a month before NYU, and for Yale, but I don't expect to hear from them for another month anyway. I also didn't get that play I was excited about, but I think I already told you that: they changed the cast to all-female. On the plus side, I know I impressed the director, and she says she sent my resume etc. over to the New Theater, so maybe they'll be able to use me for something coming up. Honestly, I need some real theater experience, in a paying show, or I'm gonna go mad.

An agent I haven't spoken to in over a year called me up recently, sent me on a casting in South Beach. Of course, she sent me for a female role, so I was a little miffed about that. To quote ther Kinks: I'm not the world's most masculine man, but I know what I am, I'm a man, I'm a man. And so is Lola, for that matter, but that's another story all together. I had gone out to buy a costume for this one, too. 60's style, denim jacket, wide lapel polyesther shirt, pins and John Lennon sun-glasses. It's a radical look, but it made a hell of an impression on the other actors: I heard people compare me to John Leguizamo, which was pretty damn cool, I thought. It's a good look for me, and it involves wearing my hair differently, so I think I'm gonna play around with it, see if I can stop being such a bland-looking man. Anyway, the casting agent let me auditon for a gay-spanish role, which was fun, but I seriously doubt they'll use me: if I, a pale Irish-lookin straight guy, am the best gay-spaniard they can find in South Beach, I'm gonna give up thinking entirely: the irony would be too much for my poor addled brain.

Also saw and said hi to Victoria Jackson, who was in the agency for some reason or another. She is every bit as lost looking in real life as on TV, and she's really nice, too. I also had the interesting experience today of being head-hunted. The rival group to my Improv troupe called me at 10 am to try to steal me away from Laughing Gas, asking me to audition on Saturday at noon. I might do it, but I probably won't join: I don't have time for anything like that right now, and I'd never betray Gerry and company. At least, not without a damn good reason. Laughing Gas has been dead recently, without a theater to perform in, and low ticket sales, but we just got a venue, so maybe things will pick up. Of course, until I stop working at Vienna, I can't do any shows anyway, so it's a bit of a moot point. I need to concentrate on auditioning for a bit, but that's hard while I'm putting in so many hours at Vienna, and I can't stop working there until I've got my debts paid off and a little nest egg first. Which I estimate at 3 months. That's a long time to be entirely out of the game, tho, so I just have to try to work without short-changing myself as an actor. Wish me luck.

I recently went up to New College for a day, and had a spectacular time. It was the first time since graduating that I felt at home again. I stayed up till 4am talking God and politics with Ben, Achlis, Capt. Depression, Allison (Ben's Girlfriend) and such good friends as these. It was wonderful. Before that, I went out to dinner with an old flame, and had a great, if slightly depressing time. 'Depressing' covering the subject matters (rapid comprehension of the unreachability of chilhood dreams) as well as the revelation that she's still dating Robert, 'great' covering the sense of rapport, comfort we felt being together, and the back rub she requested at dinner's end.

She also requested the address of this page here, so I'd better tread carefully about what I want to say. Not that I really have anything to say, but that's hasn't stopped me from writing yet. After my experience with the last old flame to read this sucker, I think it would behoove me to search the back logs for anything conceivably offensive or unfortunate before e-mailing her said info. She figures fairly heavily into my mental land-scape right now. Billy says it's due to my being isolated in an entirely new environment, and perhaps he's right. But after that dinner, I don't think that's it entirely.

When I started this diary, I promised to synthesize myselves into one person, Padraig, who would not be divided into personas depending on who's talking to me. I think that may have been a little rash: as long as I talk to the people who read this, there will always be certain things I will not be able to say, partly because they'll hurt or embarass someone, but also because my attempts to manage myself, and the way people perceive me, die hard. I had a great talk with Billy about that, too. He says I have no trust in the world to accept me as I am, to make a fair judgement of who I am, to weight the good with the bad. He's absolutely right, and I need to work on that a lot. From now on I declare my public persona, my attempt to manage myself, dead. I'll resurrect the old vampire when I become famous and need an image, but untill then the stake and garlic will remain firmly in place. I am whatever I say I am no longer: now I just am. Perceive me as you will.

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