Date: Mon, 14 Dec 1998 20:17:22 -0800 From: "Bolivia S. Simonson" Subject: [WRITERS] Fill: bio, graphic? Where to begin? if someone held a pistol to your head where would *you* begin, hmm? after you had begged for your life, of course, where would you see your memory movie start? at the point where you entered life, as if you could really recall the details or would wish to? or would you start..at your first touch of something delicious? or..something painful? or, should it happen to be, if you are so fortunate - a helical bond of both? for what's one without the other to provide..what is the word? dialectic? no..not just polyphones, although that could be.. oh no! i've stepped off into the wings again, haven't i? i wanted to act. to be someone else. a lot of someone elses, really.. and i was... and will be again..but not tonight. just Liv. ok. on the stage, in front of the casting director, i've done this a hundred times, too old for juliet and yumyum, too young for Grizabella.. bigdeepbreath. my name is Bolivia. No, not after the country..my mother was dutch..she wanted to name me after Beatrix..my father was, and is, from London, an english jew, an actor and soldier and so many, many things.. men and their occupations..you know? my father wanted an Olivier..and had to settle for an Olivia :-) the B is for Beatrix, you see.. credits..well of course but..nothing recently, i did some commercials.. what would you do if your husband died and you know how expensive funerals are, but..i was too blonde, and the guy they hired to play jared, the husband type, not even a type but typecast as a type, you know? mr chinos. dies on demand a lot in dinnertheatre.. his name was..god, i've forgotten. that's not like me. oh, read the lines, liv. just read and get off. last night i heard the rain dreaming but i didn't have its memory i gave you apples there and watched the moon smile a little last night i closed windows in the mirror i didn't need that memory you gave me seeds and watched the sun go down on us.. yes, i've got the factsheet right here, can i just hand it in to Talent or would you like a reading of that too? ..sighh..i know, i'm too tall for the part, right? no? sublime, Liv Perhaps the saddest lot that can befall mortal man is to be the husband of a lad y poet. - George Jean Nathan. Poetry is devil's wine - St. Augustine, Contra Academicos. _____________________________________ Free Email at http://www.apexmail.com