It sucks, huh? I saw the show a little over a year ago with my friend Sylvia (of sylviasproblem.wordpress.com fame), when things were slowly drifting toward less-than-good but hadn't really taken the plunge into just-plain-awful yet. Pretty soon, the financial model of regional theater in America is going to perish anyway, but now it's going to happen a lot faster than we thought even a year ago. Then necessity will kick in, and what a mother she is.
My friend Betsy once told me that the shape of my hands accurately reflects my aesthetic. The mildly horrific part about my life and my writing is that I'm discovering I don't feel that I have anything useful to say about myself. I finally have this fantastic grasp on my identity, and I really just don't have a thing to say! It's a hilarious nightmare of an artist statement. The only other thing you should know about me is that the title of this blog is from my one-act play, "Space".
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And one fine morning----
2 comments:
I just hate it when art gets monetized. Happens to me damn near every weekend.
It sucks, huh? I saw the show a little over a year ago with my friend Sylvia (of sylviasproblem.wordpress.com fame), when things were slowly drifting toward less-than-good but hadn't really taken the plunge into just-plain-awful yet. Pretty soon, the financial model of regional theater in America is going to perish anyway, but now it's going to happen a lot faster than we thought even a year ago. Then necessity will kick in, and what a mother she is.
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