Uh... yeah. Check the absurdity
Yo, story starts kinda backwards, twisted ain't the word
Phone call Tuesday mornin', most ridiculous I ever heard
Agent on the line, soundin' way too damn upbeat
"Got an audition! Aidan, Prime time! Can't be beat!"
I'm like, "Cool, what's the project? Indie flick? HBO?"
He laughs, "Nah, bigger! Biopic! Someone you might know..."
Silence on the line, I'm thinkin', "Who the hell they castin'?"
He drops the bomb, "The lead role... it's you, they're askin'
To play Aidan Yagu." Hold up, rewind the tape slow
Did this man just say they want me... to play me for the show?
Like, the actual dude behind the mask I rock?
The one who uses AI, dodgin' the purist flock?
The irony so thick, man, you could spread it on some toast
They seriously want the old ass guy, not the digital ghost?
He's serious though, gives the address, downtown sterile spot
"Just be yourself, Aidan! That's the magic bullet they got!"
"Be myself," right... which version? The one they think they see?
Or the one stressin' chubby guy, sippin' lukewarm tea?
Hung up the phone perplexed, starin' at my plain reflection
No mask, no filter, just... genetic imperfection.
Pulled out some normal clothes, felt weird, like street civilian
No mask but still a hoodie, blendin' in with the millions
Instead of the Yagu gear, the custom illuminated thread
Hopped on the subway, feelin' strangely outta my head
Usually got the mask on, Looking bad ass, low-key fly
Now I'm just some guy... lookin' at ads passin' by
Got to the floor, sterile hallway, smelled like faint despair
Actors pacin', rehearsin' pain with calculated flair
Saw a dude practiced cryin', another flexin' fake bravado
Me? I'm just sittin' there, scrollin' through Ableton's legato.
Finally my name called, "Aidan? Just Aidan?" The PA asks, confused
"Uh, yeah. Yagu's... kinda the brand." She looked unamused.
Walked in the room, bright lights hummin', floor cold beneath my feet
Three castin' directors starin', perched on judgment seats
One dude, turtleneck, lookin' bored, seen it all before
Woman next to him, sharp glasses, tappin' notes, keepin' score
Third one younger, eager beaver, probably the intern type
Whole vibe screamed, "Impress us quick or face the stereotype."
They asked me to slate my name, felt dumb, "Aidan... uh... hi."
Then the questions started flyin', 'bout my "character's" why.
"So, Aidan, what drives you? What's your core motivation here?"
I mumbled somethin' 'bout expression, art, the usual drill
Tryna sound profound while feelin' mentally quite ill.
"Okay," Turtleneck sighs, "Let's see a scene. Page five."
Literally just me... gettin' coffee, tryin' to survive
Monday mornin'. So I shuffled, did my best
To mimic... well, me, orderin' coffee, puttin' life to the test.
I did the awkward shoulder shrug I do, the slight head tilt
Said the line, "Yeah, large black coffee, please," laced with morning guilt.
Silence. Deafening. Felt like minutes stretched to years
The woman scribbled faster, amplifyin' all my fears.
Turtleneck leaned forward, stroked his chin, professional guise
"Interesting choice, Aidan. Very... uh... natural in the eyes."
Sharp Glasses chimed in, "Yes, grounded. Extremely... real."
Intern Guy nodded madly, "Totally captures the feel!"
Turtleneck continued, "But... Aidan Yagu, the phenom, you see...
He has this... energy. This... uniqueness, per se.
You're giving us the man, which is... fine. Technically astute."
Sharp Glasses added, "But where's the edge? The danger? The loot?"
"Loot?" I almost choked. She meant metaphorical, I guess.
"You're just... lacking that remarkable quality, we must confess."
Turtleneck delivered the verdict, smooth, devoid of sting
"We need someone who pops. Someone who makes the audience sing.
Someone who embodies the idea of Aidan Yagu, bold and vast."
Stood, offered limp handshake, "Just too... real, miscast.
Thanks for coming in." And that was it. Rejected, for bein' me.
Walked out the room, dazed, past the dude still fakin' tears
The sheer stupidity of it ringin' loud within my ears
They want the brand, the myth, the carefully constructed face
The ghostwriter in the shell, lost in cyberspace
Not the actual human glitchin', wonderin' what it's all about
Who crafts the complex image... they just threw the real guy out.
Hit the street, the city buzzin', put my headphones on blast
Saw a billboard for the Yagu project, future predictin' past
Some actor wearin' my mask, lookin' mysterious and deep
Guess bein' genuinely average makes the industry weep.
The world don't want authentic, nah, they want the curated view
Rejected for reality... damn. What's a dude to do?
(Yeah...) Guess the mask fits better... than the face I really own
Too real for the screen... guess I'll just stay unknown...
Behind the AI and the filters... where remarkable is grown!
To real?
....Fuck Off