>paris and london, baby you can keep, baby you can keep, baby you can keep
>two nights ago i lay in my bunk, firecrackering. smoke-off, noises-on, ready to dish out the shit-kickings.
that day started with a delightful interview at a theatre, a job i would kill for. short n’ sweet preliminary interview, fingers crossed for a call-back.
applying at theatres, not an audition, not a submission, but i feel like i should have a monologue prepared.
then the flat viewing took all the hot-aired confidence out of me. one guy left me standing in the cold and never showed, and i felt lost in a city of burned-down houses.
next place was ideal. bayswater area like something out dickens. would have slaughtered for it, and was text-messaged a denial.
i will never understand text messages. i mean, YOU’RE HOLDING A PHONE IN YOUR HANDS. use your voice, pussy.
lay in bed cursing myself and all the mistakes i made in flat-hunting. tossing and turning, stressed and nursing a pounding headache.
wake up the next morning, and i found a flat.
huge room, beautiful kitchen, amazing view, and my roommate is a theatre fag. does it get ANY BETTER than that?
i move in tomorrow morning.
sweating it out one night to succeed in the morning.
they said the first two weeks would be the hardest, and that i’d be contemplating whether i should go home. but the point is that you struggle through it, and come out clean on the other side. the point is that it’s a bitch, and i enjoy the bitch-aspect.
i’m a bitch in training.