shoutout to the poor people on the train that had to listen to me and my friends yelling about how trigorin from the seagull gets pegged by arkadina
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shoutout to the poor people on the train that had to listen to me and my friends yelling about how trigorin from the seagull gets pegged by arkadina

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TRIGORIN (cerca in un libro): Pagina centoventuno... righe undici e dodici... Ecco... (Legge) «Se un giorno ti occorrerà la mia vita, vieni e prendila».
Anton Čechov, Il gabbiano, atto III
Characters I’ve played - Trigorin (The Seagull)
“For some reason, as soon as I’ve finished one novel, I feel I must start writing another, then another, then another. I write in a rush, without stopping, and can’t do anything else. What is there radiant or beautiful in that, I ask you?”
Ivan Ozhogin as Trigorin in the new russian musical “Чайка” (A. Chekhov, “Seagull”)
Ivan Ozhogin as Trigorin in the new musical “Чайка” (A. Chekhov’s “Seagull”)
The premiere was on 07/09/17

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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NINA Your life is beautiful. TRIGORIN I see nothing especially lovely about it. [He looks at his watch]
Excuse me, I must go at once, and begin writing again
I am in a hurry
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NINA
Think of me sometimes.
TRIGORIN
I shall never forget you.
I shall always remember you
as I saw you that bright day--do you recall it?
--a week ago, when you wore your light dress,
and we talked together, and the white seagull lay on the bench beside us
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you are very young and very kind
but I don't know what is so delightful about my life
you have heard of obsessions, when a man is haunted day and night
say, by the idea of the moon or something?
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well, I've got my moon
day and night I am obsessed by the same persistent thought
I must write, I must write, I must write . . .
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no sooner have I finished one story than I am somehow compelled to write another, then a third, after a third a fourth
I write without stopping, except to change horses like a postchaise
I have no choice
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what is there brilliant or delightful in that, I should like to know? It's a dog's life! here I am talking to you
excited and delighted
yet never for one moment do I forget that there is
an unfinished story waiting for me indoors
I see a cloud shaped like a grand piano
I think: I must mention somewhere in a story that a cloud went by
shaped like a grand piano
I smell heliotrope. I say to myself: Sickly smell, mourning shade, must be mentioned in describing a summer evening
I lie in wait for each phrase, for each word that falls from my lips or yours and hasten to lock all these words and phrases away in my literary storeroom:
they may come in handy some day
when I finish a piece of work, I fly to the theatre or go fishing
in the hope of resting, of forgetting myself
but no, a new subject is already turning
like a heavy iron ball, in my brain
some invisible force drags me to
my table and I must make haste to write and write
. and so on for ever and ever .
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