1951
In my earlier stay at the YMCA I met a girl. Her name is Dizzy ... well, that is to say, her nickname is Dizzy. Her actual name is Liz Sheridian. She's the daughter of some piano player guy ... Fred or Frank, I think it's Frank, something like that. She lived at New York's Rehearsal Club for women. She's a dancer, she's hilarious, and she has connections. Not that that is what I think about when with her, but I won't lie, and she knows this to be true, that it was something I was interested in. I'm very ready to be an actor, to be known as an actor. I get so frustrated with the lack of moving forward.
I told Dizzy the other day, "If I live long enough. I want it [acting success, that is] now. Jesus, I'm ready. I can feel it. Dammit, I come home to you every night empty-handed. I got no job! I got no money! I'm going through all this bullshit so I can prance around a stage. It's insane!"
Oh yeah, Dizzy and I are living together.
I told Dizzy the other day, "If I live long enough. I want it [acting success, that is] now. Jesus, I'm ready. I can feel it. Dammit, I come home to you every night empty-handed. I got no job! I got no money! I'm going through all this bullshit so I can prance around a stage. It's insane!"
Oh yeah, Dizzy and I are living together.