an accounting

there's a reason I hid in accounting firms for years.

I didn't get the ESP position.

15 Other people did at Hollywood Death Cab.

I feel ... stupid.

The only thing worse then applying yourself to get a job you're overqualified for is not getting that job.

Wow.

It just fucking stings.

It was one of those occassions where I really felt I had it. I've deluded myself before, walking outta auditions, but this felt good.

I haven't hurt this much since I lost the part for Winthrop in The Music Man to an albino who's father owned half of our small town.

THIS is why stars act like muthafuckers. Because, as my pal Blankie told me: too bad, so sad. She walks outta auditions all the time thinking she's bagged it, and hears nary a peep. This is the life you've signed up for.

It's not like I was up for a sitcom part. Barely a raise in pay for what I was seeking. More the acknowledement that I'm fucking good at what I'm doing from someone in management. I know the folks in the Death Cab love me, I get props and compliments and tips all the time. Yet all their compliments are lost "like tears in rain" when they leave my Cab and return to Hollywood Boulevard.

Of course, now with the rejection, you asses all the things you thought were positive in your audition, and as you roll things over in the gem polisher of your mind, you see how every triumpant moment was actually your downfall. Maybe the poem should have been a haiku? Maybe you performed too hard? Maybe you weren't as erudite as you thought you were? Examine, mull, lather, rinse, repeat.

I went to sleep last night looking forward to that small moment of comfort in the morning. The moment when you awake, and you don't remember why it is you are a miserable wretch. Of course, within seconds you remember what transpired the day before, and go back to your writhing. But for that small second, you've forgotten your pain.