I started Rachel Brathen‘s Yoga Girl Challenge today – #yogagirlchallenge @yoga_girl if you’re interested – 21 days of yoga (that’s #yogaeverydamnday). Day 1 involved the simplest of tasks: get on your mat. I took a photo of my feet.
Got on the mat. Found myself. Or at least, my feet.
I did 3 sun salutationsbefore I was interrupted by a very loud brain, reminding me to call up the pharmacy about…
I am behind, and I am exhausted, and I am BUSTED.
And just as I was thinking of getting started again, this awful thing happened.
It’s funny and terribly sad to me that someone you truly never knew at all can have such an incredible impact in their absence. That a number of characters can appear to make up a real, honest-to-God person, even though that human is so far out of your own banal, regular, normal reach that you could never have hoped to really meet him. That this man I admire, quote, think of as a life-long best friend, have seen every film, every piece of stand-up, every episode of whatever television show he happens to be in this year – is no one I ever really knew at all.
But perhaps, like his work, and his life, and his personality, this is a perfect reflection of the man I cried over last night in my new apartment kitchen. And again while I walked the Rooster (that’s our dog) through the new park on the corner, while new strangers stared and must have thought I was having some kind of “moment.” It was weird – I wouldn’t have approached me, either.
But the dog looked up at me and cocked his head to the side, with the usual “What are you trying to say?” look on his face. And I just nodded at him. And did a bit of giggle, when he simply cocked his head to the other side, letting me know that, “No; I don’t get it.”
We never will.
He was so funny. It is so terribly sad.There really aren’t any words good enough. #robinwilliams I am behind, and I am exhausted, and I am BUSTED. And just as I was thinking of getting started again, this awful thing happened.
“Fanny: You must remember what Mr. Murray writes: ‘An open purse is an open invitation.’
Sylvia: To what?
Fanny: One can only imagine.”
-Sylvia and Fanny Blake, Mother and Daughter, World Travelers, On-A-Boat, etc, etc. from The Egypt Play, or the Misses Blake on a Holiday Jihad by Tori Keenan-Zelt
The Egypt Playis as much about women as it is about being a member of the oppressed party, in…
Confession: I cry at the end of The Phantom of the Opera.
Confession: I mean, the Joel Schumacher-movie-version of The Phantom of the Opera.
Confession: Not a sweet, romantic, girly cry. Like, an ugly, sobbing, what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-me break down tantrum. EVERY TIME. It happened again last night, and I was inspired to write this post to assess the problem.
I am not an Andrew Lloyd Weber…
Hey Playhouse Fans – I know, it’s #TheatreThursday, so where’s your weekly dose of theatricality? What happened to the cheerleaders? What’s happening??
There’s been so much response from the community, I have a LOT of new work to read by a LOT of new and emerging playwrights! This is wonderful! I am ecstatic! I cannot wait to share it with you :-)
So, if you’d be so kind, give me today…