TB freak face -- still not speaking ...

Found out today when I read the script for the short film I got cast in: I'm still essentially an extra, albeit, a featured extra. Ahhh, my cruel luvah, Hollywood. Always another hurdle you didn't see, an angle you missed.

The scene reads like this:

"You don't want to end up like TB guy over there."

Camera points to me, I do TB face, cough, flail a bit ...

thas it.

there was a guy I worked with, who has ugly-fat-face, and he was in a photograph they pulled out for "I Heart Huckabees." Jude Law pulls out his picture, and sez this is my brother. His sad, fat, brother. the whole world, went, "oh look at that sad, fat brother of Jude, what a weight Jude must carry," but I thought:

"hey, I worked with that guy."

I don't know if my ego would take very well that I was called in when they needed sad, fat people. Or mean, twisted faces -- like models for Judas Iscariot, would you want that to be your calling card. The old story goes that the same guy who modeled for Jesus in the Last Supper, was used as Judas 10 years later. When life had beat him up.

So sez featured TB guy. I guess I won't be making the trip to LA County Hospital to store up a bunch of sense memories for a featured extra role.

Got a part today -- playing the handicapped for laffs

will I be able to make em laff and forget I'm handi-clapped? "play the humanity" of it I hear in my thesps head.

It's a short film that I auditioned for. One of our Hollywood Death Cab tourguides posted it in dispatch. Made the trek out to Tujunga for the audition. Audtioned on a back, screened-in porch. Made me happy. Two hot male tourguides there who think I'm funny for a miscreant.

They asked you to prepare a comic monologue. It was enjoyable just to contemplate performing something. I think I've cracked the code on how to approach auditions. They're just chances to perform, and I like performing. Beats the silence required in extra-ville.

I got there and they handed me sides.

"We've ditched the monlogues."

There goes more another 3 totally unproductive hours of my life.

Oh, I should be polite. Sides are partial copies of a script, just a couple of pages outta the whole. These particular sides were of a young "hip" dude hitting on a chick with decidely un-hip lines. Okay, I'm old, I'm dowdy and I'm gay. This should be good.

I read it once, and my unease shows. They kindly ask me to read again. This time, better, and I throw myself at the absurdity of it all. I get laffs.

I drive away thinking -- what the fuck. I wish they would have told me what they were casting for, so I wouldn't have invested my time. Forgot about it.

Today, I got the call -- I'm in. They want me to play someone with tuberculois (shit, I can't even spell it). TB. TB is the new funny disease, replacing tourette's, which hired an expensive publicist. It's nice to know when casting people think of me, they think -- afflicted! Effected! Ham!!!