Felt On A Roll

I just realized that title sounds like some awful breakfast treat.

I meant it as a past tense thing. As in, I felt like I was on a roll.

I did.

Had a great show last Friday. Not only was it one of our better shows, if not our best, but I personally felt like I had a great performance. That hasn't happened in weeks.

Then I got a callback for this pilot that a friend of mine is making. It is a show about films, and they are looking for people who can discuss films in an intelligent and funny manner. Well, that is pretty much all I ever do. Minus the intelligent. Sort of.

My assignment was to watch Jarhead before the callback. No problem. I had been looking forward to seeing that movie, as I like Mendes' work, and the actors are ones that I like.

Then today in acting class, I did great scene work. I was paired with two girls to do the same scene twice. The scene was perfect for me, right up my character alley. The first person I did it with is a great actress, and we nailed it. My teacher pretty much said he didn't need to give much in terms of notes.

The second girl was a new girl. Young and pretty, and the scene calls for us to be married. So, I put my arm around her while rehearsing. God, she felt great. So warm, and with that gentle downy fuzz on soft skin. It has really been a long time. The first woman I sleep with, I am seriously considering telling her to give me a mulligan the first time, cuz I am going to enjoy it far too quickly. Then, I can concentrate on actually doing IT well.

So, anyway, me and the girl did our scene and again it went great. My teacher pointed to me and said, you are doing fantastic.

After class, he followed me out into the hall, and told me he was starting an advanced class in January, and he wanted to invite me to join it. Most people take about a year to get into advanced, but this means I will have done it in 6 months.

All great news.

Then, after work, I went and saw Jarhead.

Really great movie. Powerful. I'll leave my thoughts on that for later. Afterwards, though, I felt like I needed a drink. I didn't want to come home, and open a bottle of wine.

So, I went to a neighborhood bar. Sat by myself. That is actually huge. I don't like going places alone. In fact, I tried to get someone from work to come with me to the movie. No takers, so I went alone, and then to the bar alone.

At the bar, there were a number of people. All talking and getting close, and having fun. I, sitting at one end by myself, was doing none of that. I looked at people. Sometimes, someone would come near my end of the bar, and I hoped they would talk to me, but they were only ordering drinks, and then taking those drinks back to the people they wanted to be with.

During my second drink is when I got sad.

I felt my forehead knot up so much, I started to get a headache. I thought that people certainly wouldn't approach me looking like that, but I was two drinks in, and it was one in the morning. What sort of conversation would I really be starting then?

When Ziggy Stardust hit the jukebox, I was fucked.

My wife was a big Bowie fan, and the first gift I ever got her was a Bowie album. Not Ziggy, but still. Tears started to well up in my eyes, and I thought that the most pathetic thing in the world ever was to be the guy at the end of a bar, sitting alone, drinking alone, at one am, crying. So, I left.

Walking home, I thought to myself that I wanted to write about my good fortune lately. It just seemed ironic that I was crafting my good times blog while walking down a dark street crying.

So, for a bit there, it was really feeling good. Maybe that is the very tiny start of things, or maybe the fates took a nap. Either way, I'll take it.