#fuckyeahgreatplays

The thing that always gets me is this. You’re outside. You’re looking at the sky. And it’s a beautiful sky. You’re happy to be alive. You’re aware that you’re having a nice moment. That it’s a good moment in your life. But then how long should you let it go on, you know? Shouldn’t you just look at the sky forever? Or at very least until you get very hungry and you have to go do something else? But I’m always itching to go do something else even when I’m in the middle of having a nice moment. It makes me feel guilty.

green

I always follow two rules: Young Jean Lee's mission to 'write the last play in the world she would ever want to make.' And Anne Washburn: 'write the play you think no one but you will like.'

I will say that meeting him was like walking out of a dark wood. He's not perfect and I'm not perfect and we have our hard times but I remember moving towards him through Terminal 4 and it was like emerging from the cold and into the sun. Like waking up from the bad dream that was my life before him. And all the confusion and fear and self-hatred that I'd always felt in the presence of other people... I was shedding it like a skin. The spell had ended. And I remember thinking: everything is possible. If this is possible, anything is possible.

I hate being a person.  I wish I was a rock, you know?  Or anything.  A salamander.  Dental Floss.  Rain. Whatever happened to Jordan Berman?  Oh, he turned into rain.

...do you ever get the feeling of missing someone even when you're sitting right next to them?