It's a shame that one can only read this blog and not hear me dictate it. You know why? Because my speaking voice is fucking delicious.
I had an audition this afternoon and instead of preparing the sides and trying to get off book, I simply hummed. I drank a gallon of Texas Crystal water ("It's like Texas in a bottle") and listened in on the elegant tones my diaphram was bubbling up into my facial cavity. It's like I wasn't even doing it, as if my vibrations were so ethereal that they evolved their own identity and my body just became a gracious host to their ringing beauty. I wish I could have gotten in the room and hummed for the producers and do fuck-all with the script. They'd understand that the tones produced could only spring from a vulnerable, talented soul.
Right now, I'm drinking warm tea with honey. This will massage and coat my throat to a point of total relaxation. My throat is a precious child and after articulating such grace, it's needs the most delicate treatment. If you say TLC, I think Throats Love Coddling. Sprouting from this hole at the top of my neck is my little velvet eel, the tongue. Soon enough, I will begin various diction exercises that will illustrate my tongue's agility. Art must be specific. And without a nimble tongue, my voice would echo only a vague brilliance. For most geniuses, this would suffice. However, I intend to make full use of all the startling abilities God has bestowed on me.
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