JOBSEARCH UPDATE!
For those who worry about me, I have some good news - my jailer might have dropped my cell key, and by bending a coathanger, I may just be able to pull it under the door. I've been asked to go to São Paulo next week to do a voice test to be a narrator for a video production company. Further down the line, this could be my long-awaited passport into vaudeville.
I have to choose a text, roughly a page of A4 long, to recite during said dry run. My shortlist currently comprises:
I have to choose a text, roughly a page of A4 long, to recite during said dry run. My shortlist currently comprises:
- Under Milk Wood by Dylan Thomas - an opportunity for a crude Richard Burton rip-off;
- The Rape of the Lock by Alexander Pope - in my humble opinion, the greatest, and longest, poem ever written in any language about hair;
- Krapp's Last Tape by Samuel Beckett - this strident monologue may better exhibit my full range;
Labels: Jobfinding in Brazil
posted by M C Ward | 12:22
6 Comments:
break a leg!
It's got to be Dylan! "Hello boys, I'm dead." A very effective chat-up line at funerals in Llwchwr. I was once asked to record the McDonalds slogan "I'm lovin' it" in Ukrainian, but found my loyalty to Burger King ran deeper than I had ever imagined. Pob lwc, goboi.
Good luck with the 'opportunity'. Just don't forget your friends when you're coining it, OK?!
Mine's a large bottle of Jamesons, by the way...
Thanks for your support, guys, I weep a silent tear. Thanks nada bom menino for confirming my first instincts - there's something irresistable about short drunk Welch versemongers.
I do hope things have gone well for you. But won't the "accent of the valleys" be a barrier to understanding?
Or will you be sober?
My accent is Estaury English unless I'm watching rugby or singing Myfanwy. As for my state of inebriation, if I can control the delerium tremens, I'll be going cold turkey.
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