National Tour Come & Gone

From ten to three and not one was me.
Were the words that paraded across my brain as I floated away from the dream that dusked before its dawn
Scribbled letters of a loopy cursive taunting me, pulling me along the avenue of opportunity and opportunity missed.

The latter was my felled fate, on this day, in this moment
The resulting sting in my stomach only halted on its burning course towards my eyes by the icy air into which I drifted
No longer one of even ten, but again ten million.

Chin in the air, I wandered forward, each step grasping for the ground until the pavement slowly solidified itself back into perspective and the realization that just a few moments ago, this journey would not have even been possible, access to the avenue denied, settled itself into my cooling core.

So I put one foot in front of the other, smiled, thanked the universe for the opportunity to even be missed, and carried on as one must do.

Sir, you can't beg for money AND be listening to your iPod...

Hi, hello, bonjour. I would say more, cause with my incredible linguistic prowess I know "hello" in at least one other language, but they say comedy comes in threes...and three is my favorite number...AND three just has a nice rolling, list-y quality to it. See like, three blind mice or three little pigs or three double vodka sodas before I'm willing to have a threesome. There's just an ebb and flow, you get it. Annnd now you're leaving. Two sentences in and you're leaving. It's fine. I understand. I prepared for this as a child by sewing and being odd. For those of you still around to watch the train derail and implode, you may notice it's been a while since I last wrote in here. You may think, "Hmm, I wonder what he's been doing since then," or "Gee, I hope he catches us up on things." To you, I say nuh uh, nope, sorry boutcha. Reba already summed up the in-between when she sang that song "Fancy" about my life, so we startin FRESH, y'all. We talkin Whataburger fresh! Mmph! If you don't get the southern reference....lawd I sure hopes you find out someday. Alright, enough with this precursory bull honkey, let's get a move on.

Facts:
My name is Colin. I am an actor. 3 months ago I moved to New York City. I you ask me if I am on Broadway while I am serving you french fries, I will punch you in the face.

This blog will be as ambiguous in it's entrapments as Lindsay Lohan's vagina, possibly including but not limited to the following: images, offensive quips and outbursts, rants, self-pity, badly done video montages, successful and failed attempts at humor, successful and failed attempts at eliciting a response, trashy pop music, lies about my weight, riddles from taffy taffys, self-buildup, reviews both stolen and original but always presented as the latter, raps heard from my gangster neighbors, short stories, gross poetry, quotes from fortune cookies and dove chocolates, catty comments overheard at auditions, and last but certainly not least, lots and lots of narcissism.

Yayyy! Ok, so I hope you feel just like we're old friends already, even though we're not so please don't touch me if we meet on the street, but I am very, very excited to start on this little journey with you all and just see where the blogosphere may take us! (I know you can't see me right now, but I just did one of those Irish bellhop dance moves. I mean mentally. I mentally did one of those Irish bellhop dance things.)