I am sitting in a nexus of fantastic playwrights. Honestly. I mean it. Playwrights who actually make me want to do something crazy like reach into myself and fuckin' write. They are all gonna just do it. And they're all gonna like be it and show us all how its done, yo. Writing new language and bashing their minds into themselves they resolve in this indescribable writing that is utterly theatrical and human and crazy and funny. I feel like I'm witnessing something that I can't possibly be witnessing. Like I'm witnessing the Harlem Renaissance or the Beat Movement or something.
I want to hit myself in the head and bleed into a cup and print on the cup in Sharpie the date and cover it in Saran and shove it in the freezer and show people the scar on my head and say "I saw it and read it and witnessed it and so... I have the cup in my fridge. Wanna see it?"
By the way, the baby is great, and beautiful, and impossible. I left her at a film shoot with Paul, cause I had a rehearsal and she went to pieces. Unfortunately, the going to pieces thing lasted a whole extra day. She was happy as a clam until I set her down and went into the kitchen. As soon as I was out of sight... calamity. She cried and huffed and sobbed and sucked air and waaaa'ed and bawled for three hours.
Posted by jlp716 at June 2, 2006 02:38 AMAnd there's a new one (playwright, not baby) you haven't even met yet. He came in to pitch last night and by the time he finished the reading we all totally wanted to buy him a pony and have his play baby, and then he talked about production values and was all smart and savvy and funny. Plus one of his readers looked like a taller redheaded you. We're totally gonna do it (the play baby, not the pony).
Posted by: molly at June 2, 2006 03:03 PMF*ckin-A!
Posted by: JtotheP at June 2, 2006 03:30 PM