Sometimes I look at that guy who wears designer sunglasses on the subway. I watch him as he walks on to the platform purposely with his head held high and his nose in the air and I wish that I had a plain blue V neck that was as expensive as his. I lust after his carefree relationship with his Prada wallet. I examine my jeans with their post market distress and think about how many of my tshirts are left over from college, high school in many cases. Not all of them are. Some were birthday presents. Some came from the 99 cent store. Some I was required to wear at work. Then I think, to myself, who the fuck wears sunglasses on the subway?

A pale skinned man sat across from me on the subway. He probably was about 5’11 and 160lbs. Strands of gray ran through his otherwise dark hair and he wore a navy polo which fit too well and gray shorts which sat just above his knees and double stapped sandalls. On his finger was a wedding band and in his hand was a small red bible which couldn’t have been larger than five inches tall and three inches wide. There was something strange about the way he looked at the bible, craning his neck intensely. He was obviously in Genesis and seemed to be reading every word but once I caught him skipping a page. The only time he looked up from his book of choice was when the subway doors opened where he would study the commuters as they walked on. Man, woman, child, it didn’t matter. He looked at them with wide eyes and a half smile as if he was a puppy waiting for someone to throw him a bone.

It’s all we’re hearing about these days in NYC. The rapture’s supposed to happen a few days before my birthday. Sad… unless of course you think it’s awesome.

This afternoon at 5pm I will be performing the lead, Ben, a 21 year old Mormon who is determined to free himself of what he believes are curable homosexual tendencies and push forward with his pending wedding in a new work. This is a musical reading called “9 Letters” written by Kelvin Moon Loh with music and lyrics by Avril Lavine and it is part of Primary Stages’ Spring 2011 Playwriting Festival.

Today was a weird day. I’m sitting outside the door of a union casting for a show I really want to be seen for. The cool thing is that I managed to get a copy of the sides (the section of the script used) prior to the audition. That was a big win for this non-union actor being as it’s as yet unpublished. Unfortunately, the theatre didn’t have enough time to see non-union performers today. So I’m sitting outside the room listening to other guys read the role. It’s driving me crazy because I feel like they’ve all failed to realize something very important to the scene. On the surface it appears that you are performing a fight. However, it’s not a fight. There is nothing to be gained by fighting at this juncture. There is a pretty girl in the bed who is a bit highstrung. My character’s job was to try to keep her from getting mad so that he could either sleep or have sex. She even tells him that is seems like he’s just trying to keep her from getting mad. But every actor I heard go through those doors (I’m in the waiting area for another play still) launched headon into a fight. I am not going to lie. It is frustrating to feel like you have something better to offer than what they’re seeing and not being able to go in and share, but I will keep doing this. I love this. I am good at this. I will keep doing this, for the love of acting.