but now he's got no legs at all, for he ran a race with a cannonball

I am going to seriously need to learn tricks for preserving my vocal cords if I'm to survive even the rehearsal process for FAUSTUS, much less the performances. I've never has a role with this many lines (mostly in monologue form), and after each rehearsal, my throat's sore and worn. I do my best to breathe and speak from the diaphragm, but when my focus is on the role, I slip and not even realize it.

I really need to do what I can to preserve my voice. Especially if I'm going to do the Hefner Monologues or play Hamlet someday. I don't think I want to sound like Tom Waits or Peter Gabriel.



After rehearsal, I went to Bennigans alone so I could revise the Hefner Monologues in peace, over Guinness and sliders. After awhile, my waiter asked me if I wanted another Guinness. And I, having to soon drive my ass home, replied, "Just a coke, please."

A few minutes later, he returned with a clear, tinted-brown drink in a rocks glass. I said, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't order this. I just wanted a coke."

The waiter said, "Oh, I thought you said 'gin and coke.'"

"No, no. 'Just a coke.'"

"Oh, sorry about that."

While he went to get my soda, I had a minute to think about this. He returned with my coke and I asked, "Is there such a drink as a gin and coke?"

He said, "Not that I know, which was why I thought it was a strange thing to ask for. It doesn't sound very good."

"No, it sounds awful."

"Yeah, it does."

"... I'm gonna have to try it when I get home!"

So tonight or tomorrow, I shall let you know what comes of Coca-Cola and Bombay Sapphire.



There's this guy in my class who looks like the unholy bastard spawn lovechild of me and William Hurt.