For those of you who are eagerly awaiting news from the desk of one Lucille Petty, and / or for those of you who forget in my absence that you ever did so, "Hello." And, "Stop it." I don't have a desk.
In general these days I'm ever so busy doing mostly nothing in my lovely new shared home of yours truly, and a Mr. Christopher Johnson. It's good, and grand, and more than I could ask for and if I haven't returned your calls, or written you back, or don't text you back sometimes it's probably because I'm busy in bed playing Epic Mickey on our lovely Wii, or watching Star Wars or Glee on Blu-Ray... among other bed related things: antics I haven't fully and completely explored yet, but no longer need a compass for. We eat and drink extravagantly, with our apple filled meals, Jack's Juice Club juicer, and [too expensive coffee] coffee pot. And when we've not got the time it's frozen pizzas with the original crisp crust, and / or ramen. Macaroni and cheese for breakfastdinnerlunch from time to time [i.e. maybe a few days in a row.]
As if I didn't know the city bus already, we now have a pretty exclusive $42 a month relationship. It's always entertaining, and has gotten me into reading. WICKED is currently about a foot and two inches away from me. I tried to tell Leslie Miller last night the I was "currently reading WICKED" and that I, "think it's kind of good, but that it's not my favourite. I don't really like anyone in it." She made a few comments I didn't understand, and then once she realized what I had said told me she thought I was, "currently bleeding witches." On my period. Which is true, but she thought that somehow everything I said afterward had something to do with being on the rag. She said, "I didn't really get it but you're an artist so I just let you talk."
I start a new show at INVISIBLE THEATRE this week, and the funds from that should allow me to get a laptop all my own, but if they keep on keeping on cutting my hours at work it might, and probably should just go directly toward rent. This show is coming just in time because I'm just about going crazy listening and being on the sidelines of all the Tucson theatre community drama and feeling like I have no place to provide any commentary when I'm not actually directly doing anything in that community at the moment.
It's hard to feel like I've gone from the top of a food chain to simply watching the animals devour each other. I think, "How ever am I going to feel important again outside of my home?" I need to feel important, and need to be needed. I'm a leo. I'm a rooster. That's kind of my thing.
I briefly mentioned work. If I'm not there I speak a few hundred words a day. If I am it's maybe a couple thousand. Smiling, and rehearsed-like saying, "What can I help you find today?" And in the course of the conversation convincing the customer that I really do know what I'm talking about, when really I'm only regurgitating what's going to get me my paycheck. I'm an actor. It's what I do. But we knew that already.
Moving on.
Currently Christopher... that sounds like a bad sit-com. Currently Christopher walks around the pool table smoking, talking to the black wall with a hand or two in his pockets. People must often think he's crazy [which is true, mind you], but he simply rehearses his lines. This time it's a one man show. It'll be the fourth[?] I've seen him in. We're really not even a quarter of the way through the number of them I will see him in.
Never mind whatever I was talking about that you forgot you were interested in. I'd rather you forget what I've told you so I can tell you again with more conviction, or intense dismissiveness in person.
