Friday, 20 August 2010

Rosalind, sweet Rosalind

From 1000 until 1430, we listened to the director (and too often Macbeth) delivering notes as to our characters/motivations/relationships and delivery. I sniffled and feigned note-taking whilst actually drawing pictures of girls playing tennis. I also wrote poems. Here’s one about Rosalind:

Rosalind, sweet Rosalind

Reminiscent of Sienna Miller,

And I’d like to fill her

Top full of wine and expensive food.

Maybe then she would kiss me and

let me kiss her, a rudey nude.

Those kisses sent by Angel's lips,

God-blessed as found on Helen's face.

Such lips as pretty as a monkey's

(eating some nuts in some woody place).

That body as perfect as a hornet's

(buzzy, busy, body bee).

Oh forsake Macbeth for he is brain death

Out, out, damn twat, you could say

And I’d respond: hip hip horaay

And ask you to the pub. 

I didn’t use a rhyming dictionary, Reader.

It’s a simple journey from London Bridge to Charing Cross, whatever they say, and within thirty minutes of the director uttering ‘I’m now here to speak to you individually, but I suppose you can leave if you wish’, I was stomping up the Strand (on which Charing Cross station stands), looking for number 123a.

It was dead easy to find, a hop skip and a jump (not literally) up the road. I entered the building, and as the lift wasn’t working, pumped thighs up 17 flights of stairs to the ‘A’ section. Smiling like Jack Nicolson and breathing deeply, I approached the round woman I guessed to be Bukowski’s secretary. She sat behind computer and raised counter.

“I’ve come for Mr Bukowski, the Agent,” said I, smiley-smiley.

She said nothing. I sat in one of the scattered chairs opposite. I waited for an hour. Bukowski must be busy, I thought, and read two editions of National Geographic from cover to cover. Bloody Amazon Forest.

As the time spent waiting rolled into its second hour, I re-approached the round woman. Her jowls wobbled as she raised her head to address me.

“Can I help you?” she said without looking up. She spoke as if she possessed half a tongue.

“Yes,” I replied. “I’ve been sitting here for two hours. I don’t mean …”

She interrupted.

“No, you haven’t.”

“Yes, I have,” I replied. “I’ve read two National Geographics.”

She stared as if I were insane.

“You’ve been here, waiting? For two hours? I would have seen you.”

I argued no further.

“Can I see Mr Bukowski, please?”

I smiled THE smile.

“There’s nobody called that, love. There’s Mr Brown. He’s not here today.”

I suspected the lady to be simple.

“A theatrical agent. I’m Kay Richardson. I heard he was taking on new clients.”

The fat woman looked up and smiled, revealing two rows of cracked, yellow teeth.

“Theatrical agent?” (She had difficulty pronouncing ‘theatrical’) “Why would there be one of them here?”

I sighed.

“Because you’re an agency, lady.”

She smiled wider.

“This is an Outlook clinic for the homeless.” I smiled now. She continued. “If you take a seat, I’ll get someone to speak with you. Run through your options, like. Are you on medication?”

I didn’t reply. I left. Fucking asking me if I was on medication.

Pink Tom. I double-checked the address. It was the right place, but the bastard had given me duff information. No doubt he remained jealous of my success in grabbing the role of Malcolm in a mid-sized production of Macbeth.

At home, I telephoned him. He admitted that Bukowski never existed. It was a practical joke. He claimed he didn’t even know that the address existed, let alone it was some homeless charity. Tom was offensively unapologetic and refused to justify himself. ‘Because I can’ he repeated.

I fumed.


Mad Jack said...

Clearly you are much too trusting. Looking at this from the outside, Gay Tom is either far too clever for you to attack by chicanery or he has had this done to him by someone else and is passing along the experience. Or both, for all I know.

I suggest you stiff him for dinner and drinks. A more subtle revenge is to wait for a while until you've cooled off, then either accidentally run into him somewhere or call him and tell him how well the play is going - at length and in detail. Then bring up a part that is suddenly open that he'd be suited for (begin playing some music here, loudly and then sharply turned down. If he asks about the music, tell him it is nothing important.) and dangle this bait (the position) a little - making sure you can work together, etc. - and only then cut the conversation very short, as darling Rosalind is standing in front of you and she has been slowly removing her clothing in time to the music and is now down to the critical parts - okay, gotta go!

As for Resalind, here is a site that may help you. RooshV. For all your attractive features you are terribly inept at the game, something that I excel at. I suspect this is due to your age (youth) as well as your good looks, which you've come to rely on rather than use as an asset.
Roosh and his links will give you some pointers to get Rosalind where you'd like to have her most. For instance, Rosalind should be asking you to the pub, not you dreaming about asking her. It really does work that way, and it can work that way for you.

I also recommend you learn to dance, and by that I mean ballroom and latin. Cruise ships and resorts will pay medium bucks for single men who can dance and be pleasant and charming to the right people. While the skill is of limited use to you now, it will open doors of all sorts in the future.

Run your notes through a scanner and post the results.

Kay Richardson said...

Mad Jack, your kind words move me to tears. For a dog, you are undoubtedly wise beyond your ears.

My friend shall pay. Don't you worry. RooshV looks interesting. I shall investigate. I shall not learn to dance, however, for fear that the knowledge dislodges one of my other talents.


Isabel said...

great post :)

Kay Richardson said...

Isabel, you are too kind.

Fashion Queen said...

I love this post.

Kay Richardson said...

Fashion Queen, I love you for your words.

Rebecca Emin said...

You write so well. Shouldn't have laughed perhaps, but I did.

Kay Richardson said...

Rebecca, I shall forgive your transgression due to the sweetness of your words.

Talli Roland said...

This makes me happy to be in publishing. Yikes.

Kay Richardson said...

Quite, Talli, quite. Thanks for reading.

Anonymous said...

I know it was wrong to laugh at your misfortune...but it sounded so much like something my own friends would do to me for a laugh.
Luckily you have those coconut splitting cheek bones and good looks to fall back on...not to mention your kick ass writing skills. I am glad I stumbled across your blog and look foward to reading much more.

Kay Richardson said...

I forgive you your laughing, Jewels. Your words bring pleasure to mine eyes and brain. Many thanks.

Svenja said...

Poor you.. Still made me laugh a bit, sorry.

Kay Richardson said...

Svenja, I shall forgive you. Thanks for reading.

Emilie ! said...

Gosh you really are an amazing writer!!! Wonderful post- I am now following so I look forward to Reading more like this!

By the way, I think you need a better person to compare yourself to than Robert pattinson- he is not sexy at all!

Thanks for the commento you left on my blog :)

I hope you're having a great weeeek :D

Emilie xoxo

Kay Richardson said...

Emile! Such sweetness. I enjoyed your blog too. I like the exclamation mark as well. Thanks for reading. My week is OK, but has only just begun!

Adele said...

How cute!

Adèle –

Kay Richardson said...

Thanks for reading, Adele!

Anonymous said...

Well, at least you had two hours to learn about the rain forest. Maybe it was an elaborate plan formed by the WWF to recruit you to their rainforest cause!
Those cheek bones could- maybe- save some poor unsuspecting panda, or leopard for that matter!

Cló said...

awesome we need more post like this one!

M said...

Es muy tierno ese panda...
la verdad es q no entiendo ingles lo siento.
gracias por firmar mi flog...
el tuyo es muy bello

Kay Richardson said...

Thanks for reading, peeps!

Book Blogger, you're right! I have forgotten the information already, however. Damn the words.

Clo, your words are nice. I shall endeavour to do my best.

M, thanks for your words. I understand very little of them. But they look nice.

SJBodell said...

The panda photo is nice but some of the others from the same website are bleeding amazing. Have a look....

Parisa said...

At least you know more about the Amazon Forest now. haha.

Great post!

Kay Richardson said...

Thanks, Parisa!

Anonymous said...

Ah, yes, the actor 'friends' who are worried about competition. So sad. To that I say, "I cannot lose what is mine," and refer, refer away. And keep trusting, my friend. That part of your personality is much more valuable than a few hours of adventure.