More

"Here comes the sun
And I say it's all right."

-- The Beatles, "Here Comes the Sun"

--

More snow, more days off. That's four days this week, and with the weekend coming up, we're in the middle of a six-day weekend, or what's called a vacation. Not that we're complaining. I've logged more movie hours in the last few days than I did over Christmas.

Been prepping for those Chicago auditions, too. We leave in about half an hour, to slicker northern roads, harder lake winds. But it's my kind of town, and tonight we sample its deep-dish pizza, either at Chicago's or Giordano's, or at another deep-dish nook. Then it's some critiquing in a lofty loft, and an early crash on a friend's couch, futon, or inflatable. Out-of-towners, especially auditionees, cannot be picky about where they drop their heads. You're just grateful for a tiny little spot, a niche, that can be yours for a few hours.

Really, that's how acting feels sometimes. This small, too tiny space of stage, these few lines, this action between the scene changes--this is mine. It's not much, and it need not be much. You made the decision long ago to accept scraps from the Masters' table, and these auditions are crowds of cats and dogs, sitting, sitting, sitting, waiting patiently for the go-word, when the treat falls from the hand, the crumb from the napkin, to catch and savor and swallow anything we can get. You've given yourself to the feast, and there is joy in the devouring.