2002-09-05 - 4:50 p.m.

Howl.

One of the problems with words is that, on a certain level, they just don't mean what you need them to mean. Not individually, not one-on-one. They can get close, they can bring enlightenment and understanding, they can comfort and afflict. But they can not destroy. Wolves don't talk: they howl. Wolves tear and whine and lick wounds: words are unnecessary. At the moment, I'd like to forgo eloquence for sheer brutality, express my anger and rage in the medium of the world around me, rip open an antelope, or something like that.

I fucked up a bit.

The reading, the one which presaged all kinds of good things, you remember that one? I do. What I didn't remember was what time I was supposed to show up. I ended up being off by half an hour, 4:30 instead of 4. By the time I got there, the woman I was supposed to be reading against had already left. Very bust schedule, you see. The Irony is, I was trying to get there by 4 anyway, I wanted time to prepare and such. Traffic was so bad that I was just barely on time: I thought. And it's totally my own fault, since I reminded myself constantly to call, just in case the time had been changed. I ended up not calling, partly from forgetfulness, partly from an effort to calm down and not stress about it. This is, by the way, the only time in about a year when I didn't call to confirm an audition time.

The worst of it is, I'm still uncertain how bad this is. I ended up reading against the stage manager, but gave a pretty good (I thought) reading. The director said "Beautiful reading" when I was done, and then told me it would be about a week before he could get back to me, since they were auditioning two other guys for the role. There was a certain hesitancy in his voice, tho, and I don't know if it was from the week-long delay, or if he had already decided not to use me for being unreliable, or for not liking my reading. It's not like I definitely screwed myself over, but it is that I made things more difficult for me when I needed everything to be brilliant. I gave him a reason, in case he didn't have one, not to hire me. God Damn it.

To continue on the previous theme, the reason words don't express pain well, is that what we want to do is destroy the world, obliterate, immolate, carve our anguish into the rock of the earth. But we can't do that. Not with words, not with anything. And we take out our anguish on (and in) words only because we know that nothing can do what we want done, least of all ourselves. When words fail, we are stripped and naked and powerless, because (unlike wolves) words are all we have.

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