Adversity 1, Markre 0

I believe it was Marilyn Manson in his riveting ghost-written autobiography who said, "the road to hell is paved with good rejection letters." Ah, Marilyn, how true. So, in brief (and less indulgently), I recieved my rejection letter from Second City's conservatory training program today. The letter was very respectful and encourages future auditions, but it is hard to shake the inevitable disappointment. I felt frustrated, but also motivated to find something into which I can channel my energies. I should find a way to pat some flesh on the old bones of Alfred Jarry and his incandescent friend Candlov.

P. Cutts, the poet-laureate of the U.K., spoke with me last winter about his interest in watching the development of performers. Some people, he said, succeed in creating something and doing it, while others seem to fizzle out. Their dreams of a life in the theatre become muddied by concessions to the demands of a normal life. I really don't want to become one of those lawyers or managers or professors who really wanted to be an artist and gave up because of adversity. That being said, I'm a pretty spoiled person - I've never had to scrape for anything. I sincerely hope that my will and character are up to the challenge of the lurking failures and diappointments of a career in performance. Sometimes the universe reminds you that while "all the world's a stage" sometimes your job is to carry a spear and introduce the approach of the king.

Okay, so I'm a gloomy gus today. But fuck it, I still have my appendages and setbacks in time will become experience. BEE!

Snuggles,

Markre