I've been feeling empty and complacent, like I'm surviving the world without touching it. Like I'm nothing near the person I claim to be.
Well suddenly I grabbed hold, and I'm shimmering and shaking like a child on an electric fence, charged and resisted, but squeezing and holding fast, just to feel the sensation coursing through me.
You may or may not know who I am, what I am. I claim to be an artist, but I have stopped creating. I claim to be a writer, but I don't have the time to write. I claim to be a composer, but I don't have the technical instinct to do it easily.
I have told you once, twice, thrice that I am Broadway-bound.
And lately, I have felt like a liar.
Well I take it back. I will not feel false, I will not talk about plans, I will talk about actions.
Queen of Amsterdam (or whatever the bookwriter is calling it these days) is performing June 18th and 19th. This is a "mini-musical" about duelling prostitutes, for which I've written music and lyrics. It has been the source of intense frustration, but all the same, hello! My work! Onstage!
Come see it if you are in Chicago.
Sideshow opens this weekend. Sideshow is a musical about Siamese Twins in a freakshow. It's a very personal look at them, not as freaks, but as very flawed, amazing women, struggling with the strange gift life offered. The show is sassy, fun, and moving. Given that I spend the rehearsal backstage frantically ending emergencies, I have no idea what it looks like. But the score is amazing, the performances are rich and gorgeous, and I Get to Take Care of a Boa Constrictor.
It runs through July 9th. Come see it too!!
The rebirth of artistically active me is matched by the death of my internet presence.
It's not that I've stopped my photography and writing, it's that I've been frantically composing, rewriting songs on the whim of my partner, acting like an authority when I know nothing about what is happenning, dressing and undressing two very pretty ladies, trying to gather materials for a graphic design project, and allegedly finding time in between all this to practise my violin.
So if you can't get ahold of me and think I may be dead, hold off on calling the police until you notice a funny smell.
Well suddenly I grabbed hold, and I'm shimmering and shaking like a child on an electric fence, charged and resisted, but squeezing and holding fast, just to feel the sensation coursing through me.
You may or may not know who I am, what I am. I claim to be an artist, but I have stopped creating. I claim to be a writer, but I don't have the time to write. I claim to be a composer, but I don't have the technical instinct to do it easily.
I have told you once, twice, thrice that I am Broadway-bound.
And lately, I have felt like a liar.
Well I take it back. I will not feel false, I will not talk about plans, I will talk about actions.
Queen of Amsterdam (or whatever the bookwriter is calling it these days) is performing June 18th and 19th. This is a "mini-musical" about duelling prostitutes, for which I've written music and lyrics. It has been the source of intense frustration, but all the same, hello! My work! Onstage!
Come see it if you are in Chicago.
Sideshow opens this weekend. Sideshow is a musical about Siamese Twins in a freakshow. It's a very personal look at them, not as freaks, but as very flawed, amazing women, struggling with the strange gift life offered. The show is sassy, fun, and moving. Given that I spend the rehearsal backstage frantically ending emergencies, I have no idea what it looks like. But the score is amazing, the performances are rich and gorgeous, and I Get to Take Care of a Boa Constrictor.
It runs through July 9th. Come see it too!!
The rebirth of artistically active me is matched by the death of my internet presence.
It's not that I've stopped my photography and writing, it's that I've been frantically composing, rewriting songs on the whim of my partner, acting like an authority when I know nothing about what is happenning, dressing and undressing two very pretty ladies, trying to gather materials for a graphic design project, and allegedly finding time in between all this to practise my violin.
So if you can't get ahold of me and think I may be dead, hold off on calling the police until you notice a funny smell.
VIEW 13 of 13 COMMENTS
tororo:
Hurray for the rebirth of the artistically active you!
theraccoon:
Man, I am so close to living in a house with internet again. Gimme like one more week I swear.