Notes From The Deep End: The Coffee Flavoured Diary.

Let joy be unconfined; I've attended my first rehearsal. I am now feeling officially "part" of the project. I am also feeling officially behind the 8-ball as far as esprit-de-corps goes. The other guys are well in sync ALREADY- swine!! Thus I feel officially "duty bound" to sow seeds of antagonism throughout the cast. "Divide and Conquer" as they done did teech me in Soeshal Studees. Hmm- whom to pit against whom? Truth is, I don't really know these guys well enough (yet) to exploit their undoubtedly manifold weaknesses- and as one of them has to TWICE hit me onstage, I will have to be choosey in my victimisation. Thusly, I attended the rehearsal Sunday last with a glowing sense of antici….. pation. As I perambulated my svelte way through the stately gardens and 70s architecture that is the UWA Nedlands Campus, it was not long before two “youths” accosted me asking me first for directions, and then money; neither of which I had. As I squinted my tired aged eyes to bring their spotted features into tight focus (lest I be forced to recall les visages after they brutally assault me), it dawns that these are NOT ruffians, but Scott and Seton- my colleagues. (Ok, so “ruffians” still applies, but they haven’t attacked me. Yet.) Light chitchat is exchanged- none of us being butch enough to lift any chitchat over 5kg. Before long, and right at the peak of an anxiety attack, Il Directore and the delectable Beth hove into view and we bask in their reflected radiance (although that could’ve been the sun coming out and bouncing over the crap architecture). And as we bask, I am again reminded of what I have missed; the Team has Bonded. Sans me. I proceed to spend the next half an hour seated downstage left in a fiercely uncomfortable position; miming a coma on an imaginary piano. Glamorous, innit? However, when “line-time” comes, I am MAGNIFICENT! Word-perfect, and immaculate of timing. A living breathing essay of the craft… of milking the most out of three lines. I bow exultant to my (somewhat bewildered) supporting cast, and exeunt t’ward Elsinore (ie: the kitchen) in search of a cuppa, as the demands of this role have parched me. Encaffeinated, I return. It is about then that we discover that the much-anticipated “Spatial Awareness Issue” with Malks is not going to eventuate. He is consummate in his knowledge of the Dolphin Theatre Space… well, we should be; he was built there. Look under his hood, the badge is there to prove it. BUT; he is a clumsy git. No sooner have I precariously place my pot of Finest Black Instant in his range, than the silly bugger has knocked it flying with an exaggerated gesture of camp defiance! I shriek. Blood is curdled somewhere in Spain. Verily I catapult my gaunt frame across the imaginary Steinway to rescue to damp puckered remnants of MY DIARY!! The words “Howl, howl, howl” come to mind, but as it isn’t the Summer Season yet, I leave it be. My frenzied glarings obviously have an impact upon Il Directore (hereafter to be referred to as The Cuppa Killer). HE claims he was “blocking the actors”… pah!! His outbursts of shame and apology brook no comfort to me as I am now reduced to supping tepid coffee out of the damp parchment that was the organisation of my life... ...And this is precisely the freakish position and act I am discovered in by the rest of cast as they arrive for rehearsal. Any chance of regaling them with tales of my prior triumph today is rooted. Cuppa-Killer maked vain promises of another diary. I want another coffee... Because of this I am now officially “The Cast Weirdo”. Best it happened sooner than later I s’pose. El