Epic Fail.

"'Tis your delight sir; catching fire from one man to the next!"

"'Tis true, sir; love can still inspire the blood to pound the heartly pyre. What more?"

"What more can man Require?"

"But love, sir?"

"More than love, sir!"

"What, sir?"

"Women."

"Ah yes, women."

"Pretty women."

- Sweeney Todd; Pretty Women.

My life, it seems, has taken a turn into music. Not like "I AM INSPIRED! I MUST WRITE SONGS!" kind of turn, but more "Ah shit; I have to sing?" kind of turn.

Let's list them off.
Incident #1: The Oral Stage's "How I Learned to Drive". There are, in total, two male roles out of a 5 maximum cast. One is an uncle. Shit. The other requires me to sing. Double shit. Now I just _know_ I'm in a bloody tight spot. Either I nail the lead and go from there, or I cash in on consolation (Ie: Stage Manager); and... well. Mope.
So I read the monologue given to me. It's pretty drab. It's just the character taking the female lead character out to fish. There were nuances to display good and proper emotions; and some subtle hints at something more sinister: but mostly I felt like I was channeling soccer dad. (Read: Failing.) So then we're done with that ordeal, and our most benevolent director asks me to belt out a song. Thinking back, with this voice; Judy Collin's Send in the Clowns might've been a good idea. But do I use my expansive intellect? Nah. I sing out the song listed above mostly because it was stuck in my head the entire day. (Read: Failing.) He then asks the winning question: What do you know about Stage Managing? I'm probably reading into this too much, but fuck! I think I bombed it! *swallows hard*

Incident #2 (pleasant): Immediately after the audition, I meet up with Kathleen and talk about Red; which is beginning to properly take shape. Excellent. Happy is my heart, says I. After that, I try (Read: Fail) to find No Black Tie to head for the acoustic gig. Up and down Mersui street, getting the most retardedly conflicting directions possible. Nothing quiiiiiite like a confused boy in jeans holding a file passing by more than 6 times to really amuse people. EVENTUALLY my guesswork at which street goes where hits home after a good 40 minutes of walking in the same damn area; and I make it into No Breathing Tonight with minutes to go before the show starts. And it was AM-MAY-ZING. Good god, but there were some damn award-winning vocals in there. Mia stole the show, but I'm biased. Go go. Clicky on link. Spread the gospel that is the local arts scene.

Incident #3: I got a facebook-group-wide invite to go audition for "KAM.... IN YOUR FACE!"; a cabaret show with some of the biggest names in the business. Lead role. Male. Problem? CABARET? FUCK! Why, god Why, doth thee smite me into Tone Deafness! WHY! This play's huge; and here I am, sitting with an audition in my lap. But I'll need to sing one slow and one fast song. (Read: FAIL!). I'm intimidated. I well and truly am. My normally arrogance-enforced courage is suddenly wavering under the might of the minions of Total Embarrassment. I really really want to go; but gods; it feels like trying to winning a race when I'm in a fuckin' wheel chair.

Random note: COMPUTER UPGRADE! SHINEH! New video card, double the ram, and, behold, a new keyboard. Awesome; my excuses to neglect this blog are being whittled down faster than snowflake on a tongue. But World of Warcraft looks so puuurrty... @.@

P.s: Naoko: Appreciated, Nao, but I really don't know what to make of it. :P

Syar: To Glomp: The etymology is the subject of speculation, with hypotheses ranging from derivation from a combination of glom and jump to an acronym of "Grab, Latch On, Maintain Pressure". No authoritative etymology exists, however.
Also, Kid, because "here's looking at you, big sister" doesn't work.