Hi Diddly Dee, an Actor's Life for Me
"Those who agree with us may not be right, but we admire their astuteness."
Cullen Hightower
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Words, words, words...
The raven himself is hoarse that croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan under my battlements. Come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, and fill me from the crown to the toe top-full of direst cruelty! Make thick my blood; stop up the access and passage to remorse, that no compunctious visitings of nature shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between the effect and it! come to my woman's breasts, and take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers, wherever in your sightless substances you wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, and pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, that my keen knife see not the wound it makes, nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, to cry "hold! hold!"
Great Glamis! worthy Cawdor! greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter! thy letters have transported me beyond the ignorant present, and I feel now the future in the instant. |
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6.6.05 21:03 |
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Some sage words of advice....
Firstly, when one's mother kindly cuts a pair of artichokes from her garden and presents them to you as a gift, do not refuse them - it would not be politic, either for the feelings of your dear mama or for your own greedy stomach. Secondly, when accepting said artichokes, ignore one's partner's looks of disgust - he evidently knows nothing. Thirdly, when cooking the artichokes, resist the urge to cook both to eat all at once. Remember they are fibrous plants, which are very good for the digestive system but at the same time have slightly - er - embarrassing side-effects, shall we say... Fourthly, having eaten the artichokes, throw the spent leaves into the bin, not the garbage disposal unit. As mentioned previously, they are very fibrous, which has the opposite effect on the garbage disposal unit as it does on a human digestive system. Fifthly, and finally, having put the leaves through the garbage disposal unit and blocked it up completely, when undoing the pipes under the sink do not leave the dishwasher running, as you are likely to get a face full of hot soapy water. |
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7.6.05 19:58 |
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Mmmmm...
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16.6.05 13:25 |
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The Triannial Test
Oh yes, the ladies know which one I'm talking about. Em, your tip about pushing your butt back into the couch is an absolute winner - thank you! It also helped that I had a very nice, young, Australian nurse who was very sympathetic and warmed up her torture instruments first, unlike the old witch that I had last time around, who seemed to want to cause me as much pain as possible. So now that that's over for another 3 years, I'm off to cull my wardrobe in anticipation of The Architect moving in at the weekend *grins hugely* |
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20.6.05 11:54 |
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One Man's Trash...
I'm currently having a big clearout of my flat, so that The Architect has some space in which to put his things when he moves in at the weekend. This is more difficult than I first thought, as I keep finding stuff that I haven't seen in a while and skipping off on a trip down memory lane. My most sentimental find so far has been a couple of home-made christmas cards, scrappily coloured in and written on in childish hands: 'love from Ross', Happy Christmas from Alex' etc. To someone who didn't know the story they would be nothing special. However, I placed them carefully back in the drawer, unable to bring myself to throw them in the bin. It was Christmas 2000 and I had my first touring job, playing Mother Goose in schools and nursing homes in and around the Oxford area. One of the story lines in the show centred around my character Mother Goose, an ugly but kind woman, jumping into the magic pool and coming out young and beautiful. However, Mother Goose's son Billy didn't recognise his mum in her new, improved form and got very upset when told the truth, running off stage with the parting line, 'You're not my mother! You'll never be my mother - never, never, never!' One day we went to a school for children with difficult home lives or special needs of one sort or another. Many of them were fostered or semi-lost in the social services system. The school was the only constant that some of these children had in their lives. Not that we realised this until we had finished the show and gone off to get changed. Before we could do so, however, the Head came in to the changing room and asked if I could stay in costume and go and visit the babies' class, as they had been very affected by the Billy/Mother Goose storyline, particularly one little boy who had been through about 3 different foster homes in the previous couple of months and was about to be moved on and end up in limbo again, just in time for Christmas. So off I went, a little nervously, not quite knowing what to expect. When I walked into the room there were about 8 small boys, all busy making Christmas cards. As I entered, their little faces turned towards me in awe. At first they were struck dumb with shyness, but then one of them thrust his carefully coloured home-made card in my direction. 'Will you be my mum?' he asked. And once he had broken the ice, suddenly they all wanted to come and hold my hand, talk to me, sit on my lap, have their picture taken with the lady in the sparkly tiara and pink ball dress who just might be their next mum. I honestly don't know how I got out of that room without completely losing it - it was one of the most emotional half-hours I've ever spent. The day may come when I find those cards at the back of a drawer and feel nothing, but until that day comes, I will keep them to remember Alex and Ross and all their friends and hope that they have found a safe place where they are happy and loved, just as they desperately wanted and needed that first Christmas of the new Millennium. |
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20.6.05 16:19 |
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Quote me happy? Don't make me laugh...
I've just found this great article by Michael Simkins, which raised a wry smile, having been through the same thing myself. Nowadays I say I'm a secretary, which rankles a bit, but saves me a shedload of money - actors, evidently, can't be choosers. |
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21.6.05 21:01 |
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Great Quote
I've just seen this Thomas Leary quote on Chauncey's blog, loved it, and peremptorily nicked it. 'Women who seek to be equal with men lack ambition' Brilliant. |
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30.6.05 09:39 |
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