Goodbye Utah

I really do wonder what the hell I'm doing in New York. Il Agente (remember them, my infamous representation?) is a strange machine. They love for me to get work, but the minute the work requires me to leave town, they freak out because they're afraid I might lose out on work by not staying.

What?

I've adapted their philosophy only because I thought it fair to give Il Agente a chance to work their strategy on me. "Give it three months Brusasco", is what I said to myself. It's now four months, and I got off the phone yesterday with the Casting Director of Utah Shakes (not the assistant mind you) wondering where the hell I stood on returning for a third season.

You see, Il Agente has been telling them that they are afraid to let me go somewhere for four months because I might miss out on all the wonderful opportunities of a New York summer: slower audition season, torrential heat, mid-season pilot bullshit, etc. So they beat the bush with this company I've invested in, creating more problems that really don't need to be there. The bush beating was enough to send the Casting Director calling my way.

Now here's the kicker: I can't even afford to go out there without a Union contract. So the whole conversation is moot anyway because unless they offer me Equity, I'm not going. Do you know how much rent is in New York City? I thought San Francisco was tough...

So after a bittersweet conversation, Il Apple Grande will not transform to Mormon Country for the summer. I'm saddened and honestly not surprised in the least.

You see, dear readers... yes, all two of you... I'm in what we call "the Valley Stage" of my career. There was a nice little "Peak" in November... all was a Brady Bunch song... but as of late it's been looking a little like the desert.

And not, unfortunately, the high deserts of Southern Utah.

So it goes, c'est la vie, and as I always reminded my dear friend Brent: there are still nuclear weapons in North Korea.