Auditions have come up for God of Carnage. I have tried to get interested; I know the director & the theater, but I'm past reading F early to mid 40's anyway. If it weren't this one, it could have been another local theater I've inhabited several times, in yet another version of a role I've already done, with a freshly painted lobby, & actual subscriber base.
Or...it could be like the old hey-days! The high school had a full choir, orchestra, award-winning jazz band, dance troupe, and theater department producing 1 full musical & 4 full length plays a year, in addition to touring local elementary schools with one-acts & entering the odd play festival. Us theater nerds learned that we had to audition for every production. It was good practice after all. Of the freshman outsiders—creatures who showed up at an audition out of curiosity or impulse—few stayed around for the whole four years.
To our dismay, Jon was the only one in our freshman drama class to land a part in an all-school production, but heck, it was part of the learning curve. Of course when Jon's show opened, we who were not even on crew were stuck in the audience. And it was bizarre to see him up there in costume. Embarrassing. As though he had snuck into the theater, changed clothes & swallowed a half-a-cup of Memorized Lines. But he was already flexing the timing muscles he was born with & it was evident that laughter was going to be his friend. Had to give him that even with the boiling envy.
So you did your damn auditions along with everybody else & signed up for every possible backstage position available if you didn't get cast. On the weekends you wore your Satyr Theatre sweatshirt & did your mandatory workdays building sets & putting together costumes; weekdays you ate lunch with the drama crowd & looked upon cheerleaders with disdain. For the core group, some of that dedication finally paid off in leads or juicy character roles.
These distant memories tickle my consciousness & yet I realize what is really important to me at the moment: I've spent two days prepping some Pane Siciliano—grandson Jake calls it Handrail Bread—& I am required to let it continue the fermenting process overnight. But I could still sneak a peak in the refrigerator.
I've got a hard-on for my baked goods.