sisyphus is bleeding
Sisyphus is pissed off. In a self-obsessed, actorly, pico-perspective kind of fashion rather than the righteous , pro-active indignation of Mr Hoffman-Gill (hat tip. or should that be helmet?).
Aside from desperately panning for comedy in my many notebooks I am bereft of creative outlets at the moment. This frustration has been building and that particular bodkin has been salted and twisted by this business-that-we-call-show over the past day or so.
Excuse the flowery syntax but I have been dipping into Soul Thoughts of a Troubled Actor and the 'Loitering With Intent' memoirs by Peter O'Toole and it's rubbed off. So if your hoping for simplicity 'your tea is oot' as they say in Jimmy McGovern's Glasgow. Hell, maybe i'll just mix up the two styles. Onwards.
Yesterday. Morning. Writing. Editing. Deleting. Depressed. Drowning in a murk of pointlessness.
Mobile rings.
"Hello... Sisyphus?"
"Yes."
"My name is NationallyRenownedCastingDirector (NRCD). I was given your name by NationallyKnownActress (NKA) who recommended you very highly."
Cooled by the depths of my despondency I proceeded to clarify the requirement on realising that this was a 'casting' call:
The flattery of being approached by NRCD on a recommendation by NKA and being directed by NRD carried the process on overnight with me trying to figure out some justification for saying yes and with A.Gent clarifying the exact deal with NRCD.
You still with me luvrs?
I specified that there was no point in my taking this on unless I could be guaranteed at least one performance. A.Gent put that to NRCD and we put it to bed.
On waking I knew that I could not afford to take it on. My dears - proper, grown-up, professional theatre in the UK pays £300 per week before tax and deductions for your agent. That amounts to less than £250/wk. An insult methinks.
A.Gent calls in the afternoon and tells me that they cannot guarantee a performance. They may be able to make it happen on a nod and a wink but not contractually as they had already issued the contracts and could potentially get into 'a lot of trouble' if they customised one purely to get Sisyphus on board.
My dears, I knocked back the offer from the NRCD and the opportunity to work with NKA once more under NRD.
This was a first for me as 'till now I've been a boy who just can't say no.
Pissed off and pointless.
love Sisyphus xx
Aside from desperately panning for comedy in my many notebooks I am bereft of creative outlets at the moment. This frustration has been building and that particular bodkin has been salted and twisted by this business-that-we-call-show over the past day or so.
Excuse the flowery syntax but I have been dipping into Soul Thoughts of a Troubled Actor and the 'Loitering With Intent' memoirs by Peter O'Toole and it's rubbed off. So if your hoping for simplicity 'your tea is oot' as they say in Jimmy McGovern's Glasgow. Hell, maybe i'll just mix up the two styles. Onwards.
Yesterday. Morning. Writing. Editing. Deleting. Depressed. Drowning in a murk of pointlessness.
Mobile rings.
"Hello... Sisyphus?"
"Yes."
"My name is NationallyRenownedCastingDirector (NRCD). I was given your name by NationallyKnownActress (NKA) who recommended you very highly."
Cooled by the depths of my despondency I proceeded to clarify the requirement on realising that this was a 'casting' call:
- "National tour including Scotland" : I could feel a police diver attach a line to my submerged ego.
- "No 1 Tour" : The line tightens and I start to rise.
- "Revival of a classic piece" : I breach the surface sucking in the light and oxygen
- "Great cast" : I rise, the Sun burning off the slime.
- "NationallyRespectedDirector (NRD)": Resplendent, I embrace the light.
- "We're looking for an under-study" : Splash!
The flattery of being approached by NRCD on a recommendation by NKA and being directed by NRD carried the process on overnight with me trying to figure out some justification for saying yes and with A.Gent clarifying the exact deal with NRCD.
You still with me luvrs?
I specified that there was no point in my taking this on unless I could be guaranteed at least one performance. A.Gent put that to NRCD and we put it to bed.
On waking I knew that I could not afford to take it on. My dears - proper, grown-up, professional theatre in the UK pays £300 per week before tax and deductions for your agent. That amounts to less than £250/wk. An insult methinks.
A.Gent calls in the afternoon and tells me that they cannot guarantee a performance. They may be able to make it happen on a nod and a wink but not contractually as they had already issued the contracts and could potentially get into 'a lot of trouble' if they customised one purely to get Sisyphus on board.
My dears, I knocked back the offer from the NRCD and the opportunity to work with NKA once more under NRD.
This was a first for me as 'till now I've been a boy who just can't say no.
Pissed off and pointless.
love Sisyphus xx
heidless (1:00 am)
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