Ftrain, by Paul Ford

From the journal of Craig Roberts

I’m in an acting class; I made it through the audition for a twice-a-week session with Martin Tamzen. It saddens me that the only thing I can get is a chance to spend more money, instead of a chance to act, but that’s New York. I should feel happy I get the chance to spend money. New York makes you feel grateful they’ll take your credit card and run its pock-ridden magnetic strip through their sanitized card reader. I should count my blessings (I wouldn’t run out of fingers!).

Warned and cautioned by family and friends against trying to do this, and I still live here, in this fat city, with its two stupid southern towers. And a roommate who adores Ayn Rand and takes her as absolute gospel.

An audition today, for a musical I’m too embarrassed to mention, the one with the singing dinosaurs. I sang well, but I’ve got the wrong look, I know. And it wasn’t my range.

I have to work on blocking.