So we finally finished our auditions last night. How is it that there are so many good performers in Australia and hardly any of them are on TV?

Auditions are so hard. So many people, so many different combinations, far too many frustrating circular discussions that go for hours longer than they should. My head, even more than usual, is totally ready to explode.

Which it will have to do in the State Library.

See you guys later.

I am so completely exhausted.

Rita and I were talking about how the audition process this time has been like the colour grading process in our short film.

How is casting a play like adjusting the colours in a film, you ask?

Fascinating question. Let me tell you:

When you do a colour grade, you lock yourself in a dark room and look at the same thing over and over, done in lots of different ways. When you emerge from your little dark room, you look at the world in terms of its colours. You think to yourself, "Isn't it interesting what they've done with the sky colour today?" and you sit in the train thinking, "That poor woman's skin tones are all out of whack".

When you come out of an audition, you're auditioning everyone. You're thinking, "Interesting choice the waitress made with her inflection at the end there." You're looking at people having arguments and you're thinking maybe they could use their hands less. You're thinking it's a pity that person doesn't project her voice a little more because you can't hear her but her performance is otherwise quite lovely.

It's maddening, it's exciting, and it's completely exhausting. I'm going to bed and it's not even four in the morning.

Just a quick note: wankers who cast plays always say that auditions are hard because everyone who auditioned is really good and it's very difficult to make the decision. I used to think this was rubbish because surely someone was crap, but I have to say, if you have any idea how much we agonise and discuss and redraft and reconsider, and how annoyingly clever everyone is at being hilarious and sensitive and interesting in their own special unique and interesting way, your head would explode.

I know mine is.

Hey so check this out.

It's our new show. Well, it's the image from our new show. It's Paris Hilton reading a book. Yes. Paris. Hilton. Book.

It is a real photograph, but methinks it was an ironic photoshoot (unless she is actually enjoying The Art of War, which I can only hope she is).

Anyway, now it's a Warhol. Shut up, it's seamless.

Meanwhile, in other news, we had our first auditions last night and I'm having my usual trouble. Everyone's ace. When they do auditions in Australian Idol, there are hopeless losers and talentless dorks streaming in from down the hall from an apparent bottomless pit. Where are those people? Why don't those people come? At least it would allow me some time to tune out.

Anyhoo.... I'm going in to the library now. There's a script I should probably write.

So I've been working seven days a week lately and I've been thinking it ain't so bad.
Quite a good way to spend your time, actually, because you get to see people in your scheduled "breaks" between writing/organising/meeting Rita and drawing up plans for auditions.

Then, this arvo, like a truck, it hit me. I collapsed into a dream-addled sleep on my bed in the middle of the day. My phone rang, the washing machine whirred, the ABC radio news shouted at me from the stereo. I floated semi conscious above all of it. I'm exhausted. You see, I had been taking it a bit easy, because of auditions tonight, but it's that fact that I'm taking things easy that my body has seized upon and now I am yawning and staring into the middle distance and losing focus and falling into five minute non-power-naps without even noticing.

I did not schedule this in. Somebody get me a coffee. Or twelve.

So my routine at the State Library is so set in stone now that I take a packed lunch and time everything in half hour blocks.

Sadly, this did not prevent me today from discovering my first REASON WHY THE STATE LIBRARY IS NOT ACTUALLY AS HEAVENLY AS I ORIGINALLY THOUGHT.

To the old man who shouted at me, I am sorry that I "back-talked" you when I dared to say "pardon? after you shouted at me to stop typing on my laptop. Also, I am sorry to have to break some news to you. You claim that "women don't back-talk men. It's not allowed".

I am afraid it is allowed, and in fact in some of the more civilised parts of society, it is an official sport.

Also, "jerk" isn't a swear word, so I in fact didn't swear at you. Arsehole is a swear word, and so are a great many other things that I did not shout back at you in the middle of the library while you held onto your plastic bags and shook your fist and failed to notice your crazy hair.

Life for some people must be very sad. The guy I met in the library was obviously sad, but I'm not sure sad is an excuse, so let's just go with crazy old bastard.

Reasons why the state library isn't heaven. What a bummer.

When I used to perform, I absolutely hated auditions unless I completely nailed them. There was no middle ground.

And when I didn't get a part, do you know who I hated? Do you know who I lost respect for? One of two people. Either the director (I can't believe she didn't cast me when clearly I was the most brilliant person in the audition) or the writer (it's not my fault the script was crap. What did they want me to do, work miracles?).

Obviously now my perspective on this has changed. Considerably.

Because now, as director, there is too much choice. Not too little choice. When we cast our last play, we actually had to draw maps. Days worth of maps. Does this "Samsonfish" go with that "Briony"? Could we imagine this "TJ" shouting at this "Oliver"? If we don't cast this brilliant performer in any of these roles here, then she can't be in the play at all! That's terrible! What do we do? Do we write another role, really quickly, and squeeze it into an already bursting script? Do we call her up and ask her to understudy? Do we tell her she was ace? Do we tell her anything? Would she mind if we took her home and brought her out for funny accents at parties?

Casting is hard from the director's perspective, because sometimes it doesn't matter how good someone is, they just aren't appropriate. Imagine if Geoffrey Rush was auditioning for Liar Liar, starring Jim Carey or Garden State starring Zac Braff. Our boy Geoffrey is a good actor, but he's really not great for the part.

All of which brings me to the other thing that actors don't notice in auditions: the writer is auditioning the script and the director is auditioning the version of the play that might be produced. There's so much stuff going on, it's a wonder the entire process doesn't grind to a complete halt before it even starts.

After the auditions for People Watching, I noticed a few bits that really didn't work. The actors stumbled over them or ad-libbed their own corrections without noticing. It was an excellent way to edit.

So now I think of auditions as a kind of workshop between everyone in the room. We're all trying stuff out. Sometimes it's going to work, sometimes it's going to fail. Nothing truly appalling will ever happen. At best it will be exciting, at worst it will be humbling. That's a pretty good sliding scale.

Anyway chumps, see you at the auditions. I'll be the one with the script and the big red pen.

Lessons in racism here.

This proves that those who say it is patronising to presume that racists are only being like that because they're manipulated are, well, manipulating the racists who clearly have no other alternative perspective with which to face the confusing world around them.

Great story anyway.

So I have been missing a fair bit from these pages recently because I have been organising an event for four hundred people in Hardware Lane in the city. This is why I find myself doing things like:

a) constructing "scales of justice" from plastic plates and silver wrapping paper on Australia Day while other people crowd surf and practice a strangely developing kind of slightly ironic slightly manic patriotism.

b) dressing up in a "Lady Justice" costume and swanning about selling raffle tickets to lawyers and judges and magistrates at seven in the morning in Hardware Lane.

c) getting to know intimate details about the various sizes and prices of paper cups.

So now I am back on board, writing various things that are not my script, in order to ensure that the script one day becomes a play. I am writing audition notices, press releases, mini biographies, and excuses that detail exactly why things aren't exactly being done by their very specific deadlines.

If anyone has a few spare hours up their sleeve next year about this time, come over to my place on Australia Day, there's some cutting and pasting I need you to do.