Paying Rent

Ok, so right about now is where my callbacks for the off-Broadway show begin, so shows are going to get a bit sporadic. Audition round one was March 18th. Pepper in callbacks until we get to round four on  April 18th, and we just found out the final round will be just shy of a month after that. What that means is that sleep is the most important thing in the world for me. Sleep has a crazy imapct on the voice of a chanteusse, as the as the life of a comic tends to err towards the nocturnal, the 365 in 365 challenge plus said audition schedule came to a head in many a high school debate worthy session of cost/benefit analysis. The Q train shuttle didn't help either. 

I should also mention the emotional stakes at hand.  The night before I received my first callback for said role of a lifetime was a Monday, and Monday means one thing: TAKIN OFF THE RITZ! My weekly burlesque extravaganza. The show went less than well. We were involved with an epic battle with a fellow who is part of the cast of The Aubrey Show and deemed my venue the place where he absolutely needed to watch it, my show be damned, we can start after. Now, I struggle with confrontation (hush, Exes who care to argue with that.  I could only confront you because I LOVED you. Obvi. I can't yell at strangers, only people I care about enough that I am apt to push them away.) so it was a night of constant negotiation between diva gay boy on shitty reality TV show, a diva performer on my own line up who shall remain nameless, but was pissy about our delayed start time, my best friend (also a performer) whose well intended advice was in no short supply, and a bartender who was a-ok Bennedict Arnold-ing either way, depending on which party contributed most generously to her bar ring. 

The night ended in full meltdown on my part, counting out money in a heap of glitter and my own legs dreaming of something more. Perhaps a case of "the grass is always greener," or perhaps just a symptom of wanting something so far out of my control. It wasn't PMS, though. I checked. Still, no drought of emotion on my part. 

The next day I went back to the Port Authority show. The host was kind and let me go at the top of the line up, so I could dash away to Nurse Bettie for burlesque at 10pm. All in all a solid if not un-remarkable set, though it did shed even further light on my time management skills and wondered if part of my problem as a comic is lack of consistency. I can try to make a mic every week, but the ability to have a consistent schedule and build a community around one mic every week is not a luxury my lifestyle easily affords. 

Thursday was off to Noah Levine's mic and the remind that being 15-20 minutes earlier at the beginning of a mic for the sign up process can save a hour or more of listening to all the other comics and drawing mermaids in my notebook time. Again, time management. Damn you, 24 hour days.