Music is the voice of the soul.

 

It was the eye contact that made Vincent stop, stop and think. In a line of leggy blond hopefuls on Gold Sands Stage, this one young lady stood out.

Vincent called out the numbers to leave, with a mumbled "Good luck".  That left five knock-dead gorgeous young women, each one filled with hope and big dreams. Vincent took a big drag on his cigar and asked her, "Whatcha do, missy?"

Some had sung, some had danced, and some did both. Okay. Good. Not bad. Awful.  And then and there she was, this woman with bold green eyes, almost defiant.

Belinda McFadden took a deep breath. This is it...this is it. I can do this., I know this. With that, the words of "Ave Maria" filled the shabby lounge, filling it with astonishing power and purity. Vincent dropped the cigar.

He leaned forward, his arms resting on the back of the chair in front of him. Mother of God. Oh, sweet Mother of God... He inhaled.  For one so jaded, so filled with cynicism, Vincent was washed clean a voice unlike he had ever heard. He wept.

"Who ARE you?" he gasped.

Belinda handed him a folded and creased envelope, carried all the way from Illinois to Nevada in her bra, too afraid to lose it. Vincent  accepted it and nodded as he read the letter from 4,000 miles away, too afraid to lose it.

Vincent exhaled, nodding, as he read the letter. "I'll do it, Kid. You got it."

What did the letter say? Who was the author? Who gave Belinda the letter? Why was it so important?

                                                 Andre' Rieu w/Mariusa and Johann Strauss

                                                            

This is a repost from 2014. We should find chances to listen to music such as this. 

Wanted: actors who are....

Grandpa's nose

Lines and lines of commercials pass across the screen of our television in a never ending stream, most of them telling me to buy this brand of laxative, buy this type of adult diapers, buy this car, and it never stops. But this is not the purpose of this post.

No, I am wondering about auditions casting calls, and what are the requirements regarding the actor.

Needed:

a male, ages 40ish, six ft., 180-190 lbs.,  rugged face, mean with furrowed brow, dark eyes, a few scars, black/dark hair, mercenary image, a tattoo or more, not bad looking, knows how to use a gun, possibly sociopath tendencies.  

maybe a few more males of same; facial hair, balding, body builder, unattractive, spits, toothpick in mouth

a female, 40ish, medium height, dumpy female body type, unattractive, hooked nose,  fine mousy hair, drives a 1992 or 1999 Toyota Corolla, wears Alfred Dunner, unpleasant nasal voice, sings off-key, willing to look like her mother.

maybe another female, who may look much the same.

Renter's Insurance

a male, mid-teens, thin/scrawny, 5' 8", 110 lbs., acne, greasy-needs-a-haircut, wears a nerdy plaid shirt un-tucked, broken fingernails, black rimmed glasses, awkward, slouches and doesn't make eye contact.

maybe a few more males like this. About the same description.

a female, mid-teens, snotty and obnoxious, chews gum, trendy clothes, nice legs, big earrings, blonde streaked, Fire Blaze lipstick, slouches with crossed arms, says "...like" and "...no big deal" a lot, must be good at rolling eyes.

maybe a few more females of same type, but with Honey Pink lipstick and Licking Lavender lipstick, purple or blue streaked hair, rainbow stripes knee-length socks or Steve Madden Troopa Combat Boots.

Whatever agent who can fulfill these requirements must have a large client list. 

I do not fit in any requirements. Dang.

Geico, message chairs

GEICO has the best commercials.