i called renee to see if she got called in for the IPod commercial. when she said she didn't, i insisted that she come with me. why? simply put, because i'm tired of being the only black girl in the room.
i got her in on the last IPod commercial and she did an interview with the agency after the smoke cleared, so now we freelance with the same folks. they didn't mind her crashing the party. the set-up was loose and she is a dancer, after all. we got there a little late. the sweet receptionist remembered me as always. i changed my clothes and then i changed them again when i saw how casually dressed everyone else was. it wasn't as crazy as it was before -- maybe because we showed up before noon. and they had everyone sign releases right off the bat. before, they whipped out the paperwork at the callback. if you didn't sign, you couldn't be seen.
renee went in before me. and then i was in there, flailing my arms and legs around to the strains of the red hot chili peppers' californication. it was a guy this time. really even-keel about it all. there he stood on the other side of a little camera, staring at a wide screen monitor with a remote control in his hand, warmly encouraging me to "let myself go and just have fun" -- whatever that means. i was very punk/post-modern/spazz about it, but with feeling. it was all i could think to do, to truly be myself and not look like anybody else. and it was fun, actually. i left there on a high, feeling good about the fact that i wasn't sitting around whining and complaining about how i'd like to get a commercial someday -- i was actually doing something about it.
i skipped off to the duane reade, where i got nilla wafers, ritz crackers, cold medicine (my friend gave me his small slight headcold) and the most amazing lotion -- new stuff by the vaseline people that's so good, i'm giving up kiehl's (seriously!) -- and then i went home, had lunch and ran lines for the law and order audition.
somewhere around 5pm, i freshened up my make-up (which was a basic beat) and impulsively put on a wig. very short and not too "finished" -- because the scene required that i look like i just got out of bed. my knots seemed so stationary, so static. they'd seen me so many times before. i thought, why not, i'll try something different. why not. i take the local to chelsea and then the crosstown bus to the pier, with that de kooning bio to keep me company all the way there and back. what a great read. i'm lost in it, thinking about his life and his art and how melancholy he was. but i digress.
i got there on time but they had technical difficulties. there were two people in front of me and then there were none. and all of a sudden, i was in that room. three men sat across from me, a dish of candy between us and the nice lady that fetched me read with me. was there a camera in the room? i don't think so. but maybe it was in the back somewhere. i don't know. everything went by in a blur. i read through it once and it was over as soon as it began. he seemed to like what i did, but i can't ever get a read on film/tv people when they say things like that. i just have to leave the room and not care anymore. but i cared a little.
i remember calling klingman and telling him everything and he was like, don't think about it. such excellent advice. he knew i'd pick at it like a scab until i was bleeding through the proverbial band-aid. he said, they know you, they've seen you before. if they want you, they'll call. if they don't, that's that.
and with that, i buried myself in my de kooning bio. when i got home, i watched a jimi hendrix bio and practiced guitar until my fingers hurt too much to go on. so of course, i kept going. and somehow, that pretty much summed it all up.
...and that's how it went.