As we look to October, our good old roommate Dave is headed out and a new roommate, Erin, is headed in. She will be here with us for the next six months; we are actually getting our legit lease today. I am looking forward to a little permanence and making this apartment a home, making it somehow seem worth the large sum of money I am paying to live here. The baseboards, toilet, and sinks are high on my priority list. It's time to make this former 'bro-pad' into well, Bradley's pad. I am working again this weekend, and things are looking on the up and up. Even if it is a little cold.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
It is officially cold in New York. Or at least, it has become chilly, as it was today. Shorts season is officially over. Though our melancholy summer attempted to hold the Earth's sway for as long as possible, its time has passed and Fall/Winter approaches. I will trade in my mojito for a hot toddy, white wine for red, shorts for scarfs, flip-flops for boots, and vodka for bourbon. It surely will be a new adventure to see if I can survive my first subway- and foot-dependent winter in New York. I cannot afford taxicabs so I must! Today, I attended another audition, this time for the national Non-Equity tour of Cabaret. As a result of a little misreading, I showed up today for the chorus call, aka the Kitt Kat Girl and Boy call. I have never seen so many black leotards and fishnets. All the girls were completely done up and wearing very little, and it was mostly black. As it shifted into the afternoon's session, I again felt like the fat kid in gym class. Amid the haze of tiny waists, biceps, white, shiny smiles, and leotards, I sat in the corner of the room, reading my Dorothy Parker biography and wishing I had not eaten breakfast today (or really, ever). The dance call went alright, thank God it was not too, too technical, mostly about attitude and subtlety (i.e. Cabaret). The choreographer asked us to be "big cats," the musical theatre equivalent of Shere Khan, Bagheera, or Simba. The idea being that the male chorus dancers also double as the bouncers of the club - they're tough, macho, intimidating, sexy. Well . . . clearly I nailed it . . . or something. Somehow, I was not called back to sing. Funny, the choreographer was the same woman from the Miracle on 34th Street auditions, in which I was placed in the distinct "movers' call." We both sort of mouthed a surprised, "Hi," to each other when I showed up in the room. Surprise! Luckily, the principal auditions are being held today, and I am very excited. The Emcee is a dream role of mine, and I have worked on his material quite a bit in voice lessons, etc. So, high hopes today, a little moreso than for the sweet and wholesome It's a Wonderful Life or the call for Adonis chorus boys. Somehow, I think I would find it most satisfying to be their master of ceremonies. I wonder if he ever gets to carry a whip during the show?