Wild

Just for a Friday, and to keep you all on your toes, here's me talking about something other than my own plays …

http://meanjin.com.au/blog/post/wild-surmise/

If you are in Melbourne, do what you have to in order to get a ticket. I've read the Crime Act and I'm pretty sure there's a section that absolves you of all things in the name of good theatre.

Making the parents proud

I'm sorry. I know. Stop with the new light shine talk. OLD NEWS! But this cracked me up and made me feel inexplicably proud

In my google books page, my key terms for New Light Shine are Mad Old Cunt, fucking and Kitty Bits. I know. Right? Literary. Genius.

New/New

Good god, where does the time go? If you are me, mostly on wine. But let's not wallow in who did what and who didn't blog and why I promise things I constantly fail to deliver and let's get back to all the things we love, namely talking about me. Because while you have been fretting for me - You are fretting for me, aren't you? If you're not, you should really start. Like now. I am totes worth a goodly amount of fretting time - I have been busy pushing send on my email and sending plays into the world. So, if you live in New London, New Hampshire (and if you do, god bless you, because that is the greatest town/state combo I've come across next to Paw Paw, Michigan) you should go to this at the Sawyer Center Theatre which is so big, I'm sure you could fit the whole town in it. It's 10 bucks! Which means I am worth $1.11 of your hard-earned cash. I couldn't be cheaper if I tried. And trust me, I'm not.


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Fine and Performing Arts Fall Production of "The Biggest SNAFU Ever'


Thursday-Saturday, Nov. 1-3 – Sawyer Center Theatre, 7 p.m.

This fall production of the SNAFU tradition features nine original short plays, selected from more than 600 that were submitted by award-winning theater professionals from around the world. The plays will be directed by primarily Colby-Sawyer students and faculty member Michael Lovell.


Tickets are $10 for adults, $5 for non Colby-Sawyer students and children, and free with a Colby-Sawyer College ID. Purchase tickets using our online system here. Please call the Sawyer Center Box Office at (603) 526-3670 for more information.


The plays include "10-minute Antigone" - by Stephen Dierkes, directed by Christi Wilson. A retelling of the story of Antigone, in ten minutes or less. Stephen Dierkes is a member of the Playwrights Unit at Ensemble Studio Theatre-Los Angeles. His plays have received productions and readings in St. Louis, Milwaukee, Spokane, New York and Los Angeles.


"It's the Jews" - A comedy about the difficulty of getting your vision put on stage, written by John Minigan and directed by Alex Banat. Minigan was named “Best Playwright of 2011” in the 8-Minute Madness Festival in New York City and was the winner of the 2010 Firehouse Theater New Works Contest and the 2010 KNOCK International Short Play Competition. His plays have been produced in New York City by the Circle Repertory Company, Turtle Shell Productions, Quaigh Theatre, Gran Mal Theatre and Shelter West and by theaters throughout the country and in the United Kingdom. He has been playwright-in-residence developing new work with the Orlando Shakespeare Theater and the Utah Shakespearean Festival's New American Playwrights Project. His scripts have won the Playwright's Collaborative Award and been selected for the Samuel French Best of Off-Off Broadway Festival and the Boston Theater Marathon. He is married to choreographer and dance scholar Lynn E. Frederiksen and, when not writing, teaches theater, Shakespeare and writing. Minigan is a member of the Dramatists Guild.


ME! ME! ME! ME! ME! YES, IT'S ALL ABOUT ME! ME! ME! ME! ME! ME!

"Piercing the Skin" - A drama about what is important and essential in one's life, written by Shannon Murdoch and directed by Brianna Cram & Thomas Buckley. Murdoch is the 2011 winner of the Yale Drama Series Award for her full-length play New Light Shine, which was also selected for the National Play Festival 2011 in Sydney, Australia. It has received staged readings from Yale Repertory Theatre and Monkey Wrench Collective and is published by Yale Press. Other plays include One Cloud (Theatreworks, Melbourne), Everything in Between (Smith& Kraus) and Act Accordingly (JAC Publishing). She holds a first class honours degree in Theatre and Creative Writing from Griffith University and is a graduate of The Playwrights Studio at the National Institute of Dramatic Art (NIDA).



"Japanese Schoolgirl Night" - A comedy about a college professor who is mystified by her student's behavior, written by James McLindon. and irected by Joshua Hardy. McLindon currently a New Voices Playwriting Fellow at the New Repertory Theatre in Boston. His play, "Comes A Faery," was developed at the O'Neill National Playwrights Conference, Sean Daniels directing and was a finalist for the 2011 and 2012 Humana Festival. His new play, "Dead and Buried," was an O'Neill semifinalist for 2011 and will be produced by the Detroit Rep this spring. His play "Salvation" was produced in New York this fall by the Hudson Stage Company, directed by Giovanna Sardelli, to critical acclaim. Hia full-length play, "Faith," was the winner of the John Gassner Memorial Playwriting Award, and another full-length play, "Distant Music," has just been published by Dramatic Publishing and was featured as a Main Stage staged reading at the Great Plains Theatre Conference last summer and was most recently produced by the Brigit St. Brigit Theatre in Omaha. His ten-minute play, "Laying Off," was produced at the Samuel French Festival and another ten-minute play, "Safe," was a finalist for the Heideman Award.



"The Sum of Your Experience" - A drama about whether, given the opportunity, we would give away the painful past experiences of our lives, written by Trace Crawford and directed by John Clarke. TRACE CRAWFORD: Recent: NYC: Playhouse Creatures, Sundog Theatre, Turtle Shell, Rapscallion Theatre, BrooklynONE, Truffle Theatre, Love Creek, Between Us, GI:60. CHICAGO: Point of Contention, n.u.f.a.n. ensemble. REGIONAL: Arts Center, Askew Theatre, Black Box, Bloomington Playwrights, Carte Blanche, Chameleon Theatre, Ensemble Theatre, Fusion Theatre, Future Tenant, MadLab, Majestic, Mildred's Umbrella, Shelterbelt, INT'L: Insignificant Theatre, New World Theatre, Pint-Sized Plays, Seoul Players. UNIVERSITY: Roxbury Rep, Flathead Valley. A Dramatist's Guild member, Trace was interviewed by David Ives for the July/August 2012 issue of The Dramatist. A theatre educator for the past 15 years, he has also organized a quarterly state-wide (OH) improvisational comedy competition for high school students since 1999. Three of Trace's plays will be published in the coming year.

"Midnight Rubes" - A droll comedy about two tower guards hoping to survive the night by Ron Fromstein and directed by Michael Lovell Ron Fromstein is a Toronto-born playwright who has also lived in Vancouver, New Orleans and Chicago. He is a four-time winner-finalist of the Toronto Fringe 24 hour Playwriting Competition and three time winner of the Canadian National Playwriting Competition (2006, 2007, 2009). For the present though, he is extremely excited that for summer 2011 three of his shows will be performed in at least five separate fringes.


"Jinxed" - A smart and funny comedy about a post-apocalyptic fight over whoopee pies written by Alexa Mavromatis and directed by Jamie Newell Alexa is a 2012-2013 New Voices at New Rep Playwriting Fellow. Her play "The Back Room" was the 2008 third place winner of the David Mark Cohen National Playwriting Award, presented by the Kennedy Center American College Theatre Festival and the Association for Theatre in Higher Education. Alexa's short plays and one--‐ acts – including "Bastard" (a finalist for the Actors Theatre of Louisville's Heideman Award in 2008), Bone China, Jinxed, The Quiz, and True Blue (a finalist for the 2012 Arts & Letters Prize for Drama) – have been produced across the country and internationally, and are published by Bedford/St. Martin's and Smith & Kraus. Alexa is a member of the Dramatists Guild, StageSource, Small Theatre Alliance of Boston, Theatre Communications Group, and Rhombus Playwrights. She holds an M.F.A. in Playwriting from Boston University, and a B.A. in Drama from the University of Georgia. In addition to her work as a playwright, Alexa manages the Boston Playwrights' Theatre blog


"Killing Naked Roses" - a comedic drama about the vagaries of fame, love and bad art, written by K.K. Gordon and directed by Michael Lovell. Kenneth (K.K.) Gordon holds a B.A. from Marywood University, where he majored in English and minored in Philosophy and Religion. He has worked with Scranton's Diva Theater for over 13 years and is a creative consultant to Scranton Public Theatre's Jason Miller Playwrights Project. He also is a Penn state rostered artist who is currently serving as an artist/instructor specializing in theater and poetry for the NEIU's Art Save program for at risk youth.
As a playwright, Gordon was mentored by Mark Medoff (Children of a Lesser God) and has seen 21 of his plays produced in the Northeastern Pennsylvania area and has won thirteen NEPA Theatrical Alliance awards including four Best Original Productions, Best One Act, and Best Drama.

"A Vital Dilemma" - Roomates make a bizarre discovery. Written and directed by Zach Matson. Matson is a Colby-Sawyer College student.

Book Recommendation

In case you're looking for something to read other than my play (I know, as if!) you should buy this. And then read it. Because it is awesome and I'm very jealous that I didn't write it and I want to go and get drunk with Sheila Heti and just talk about stuff for like, forever.

Whore

I know. Enough with the shameless plugging. But in case you have something against Amazon (and really, no one is going to blame you for that) and you're an Australian, you might want to go to Fishpond and get New Light Shine there. Look at me. I'm really cheap. Thank god I'm not easy … Oh. Wait …

New Light Shine

So, you've all been waiting, patiently, somewhat silently, for New Light Shine to be published. Well, it's time to get excited because it is done and out in the world! I know. I'm jumping up and down too. Well, I would be, if I had an ankle that could jump. But I don't, and thanks for bringing up the fact that I'm a cripple on a Monday morning. Really appreciate it.

But if you're in the mood for some new writing, get your wallets out and go here or here and lay me down some cash. I'll be giving out free kisses to all that buy a copy, and you so know that I'll slip in some tongue.

Day Thirty-One

Okay. So I was going to be oh so good and blog my way through 31 plays in 31 days. But then, you know what happened? I HAD TO WRITE 31 PLAYS IN 31 DAYS! So, you know, back the fuck off. And I did. I have 31 absolutely atrociously written new plays. I couldn't be prouder of myself.

 

    

Day Two

Oh, day two was hard. Day Two was very hard because Day Two was supposed to be easy. I know that sounds like ridiculous logic but there you go. Life is nothing but moments made up of ridiculous logic. Sorry to turn the music off at the party kids, but there's nothing to look forward to. Kidding. There's plenty of things to look forward to. Like alcohol. So, yesterday I was going to write a monologue. It was going to be short, sharp and to the point. I knew what it was about, I knew enough to write it. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. This thing became like a labyrinth where every turn seemed to open six new different paths that all looked good and interesting and weird and possibly the right path and it all turned into a bit of a mindfuck. But it's done. And I realised I'm not that good at monologues. Which is horrifying and something that must be fixed. Is there a pill I can take for that?

Day One

Well, the great 31plays31days challenge has begun! And while it got off to a rocky start for your favourite fearless playwright … Fine, I'm not so fearless, but … No, I have nothing. Anyway, first play is written! It doesn't have a title and it's eight pages long and most of it was written in a notebook that I bought yesterday, because you can't write 31 plays in 31 days with the millions of notebooks that you already own. No. This requires a new notebook. There are rules, people.

So, it's a short play that has a beginning, middle and also an end and is based on a news article I read yesterday about a man that lured a woman into a car by telling her that a man was following her. And she believed him. And then he sexually assaulted her. I wanted to riff on what he must have said to get in the car, and I did, and now we have a play.

On to day two!

The brave/stupid continuum

I've come to the conclusion in the last few years that you never really know. I always thought that I would get to the point as a writer and probably more as a person where I could instinctively tell the good choices from the bad. I was wrong about that. I was so wrong about that I want someone to invent a time machine so I can go back to my 17 year old self who was trying to recover from a broken heart, broken by a terrible, terrible man and trying to tell herself that one day she will instinctively know the good from the bad and just hug her. My 17 year old self really needed a hug. In fact, I always need a hug. Hug me next time you see me. But you don't know. It's all up for grabs and it's all just a little bit of luck.

So, in an effort to just do things and see where they go, I'm doing this next month. Yes. I really am. You are all welcome to come to my house on 1 September 2012 and hug me or slap me, depending on whether it turns out to be a good choice or a bad choice. Or, you can come and join me and make some choices of your own.

Same old, same old

Oh, the slackness. Just when I think I have this blogging thing under control and I'm all in the groove and whatnot, I stop having useful things to say. Or I get so freaking busy that the thought of writing one more sentence sends me lunging for the wine bottle … Even though I talk a lot about drinking, I'm really not an alcoholic. Or I'm only partially one. Or I'm a really high-functioning one, which, by the by, I once heard Janeane Garofalo say on stage was her biggest regret. God bless Janeane Janeane Garofalo. She also instructed us all that if you find yourself as the object of an intervention, start crying and don't stop until it's over. She should really write a book. Anyway, the main reason I have been absent is due to writing a screenplay. Now, I've contemplated some stupid enterprises in my time but OH MY GOD! Writing a screenplay is really hard. Even when you are a playwright. So many scenes. So many characters. So many rules. So many story threads to try and hang yourself with. But it's done. Or a draft of it is done. So now I have to write many more drafts, write other documents to explain the document I have just written and fill out lots of forms in the hope that someone somewhere will give me some money to do some more of this. God bless this writing life.

Muse

So, I was walking to work this morning in the freezing freaking cold (It's not even May Melbourne. Why don't you just calm the frack down!) and I had an idea for a play. This is not great news. In fact, it's not even good news. Because that is what I need more of. Ideas for plays. Yes. Who actually needs plays when you can just come up with ideas for plays? Because plays, compared to ideas for plays, are awful, awful things. You should see the face I'm pulling right now just thinking about plays. It's not a pretty sight. I hear children screaming and they’re aren't even any children around me. Plays are nothing but the messy aftermath of beautiful, pink, pristine ideas that seep gloriousness from every pore. Ideas for plays sparkle and stand out from the crowd. They whisper genius to you and you believe them. Plays, on the other hand, are black, stinking messes of things that whimper in the corner, refusing to show their ugly bruised faces to the world. They are like those girls that keep going back to the boys that hit them. And they smell. Plays smell like prawn shells left in the bin on hot days. Rancid seafood. That is the smell of plays. Tell me I'm wrong people. Tell me I'm wrong. So the idea for the play was exciting, but not as exciting as this. I got the idea for the play at the exact same spot I got the idea for New Light Shine. SHUT. UP. You know what this means right? Yes, Virginia, there is a muse. And it's an ugly-ass brown sculpture that makes no discernible sense as a piece of art and probably cost the GDP of a not-so-small African nature to commission. But it's mine and forevermore it's going to be the well from which I dip from. Seriously, I'm filling out petitions and contacting badly named government agencies so we can get this thing rubber-stamped as a national treasure. After that, I want guards protecting it around the clock from the uncreative riff-raff (read: lawyers) who put their stinking bodies all over it as they wile away their 10 minute lunch breaks talking about incomprehensible things like stock portfolios. And truffle oil. Also, please do not be alarmed if you happen to walk past the corner of Burke and William Street in Melbourne and you see a playwright hugging an ugly-ass brown sculpture and pleading with it to give her the ideas. No. Just keep walking …

New Light Shine

So, many moons ago, I sat down and wrote a play. Then I rewrote it. Then I rewrote it again. And again. And a bit more after that. Then I sent it off to the other side of the world. Eight months later, early on a Tuesday morning I got a phone call from John Donatich telling me that my little play had won the Yale Drama Series Award. That was enough. They didn't have to fly me to New York, rehearse my play, throw me a party, make John Guare hug me (he may have done that by himself) and then publish my play. That's right. It's getting published. In September. I know. So long to wait. What are you going to do? Oh wait, I have the answer. You can go here and pre-order me. You only have 152 days to wait. I suggest you use this time to write your own play and get it into the Yale Drama Series Award by August 15^th.

Website

After flaffing around for a year and a day on all things not necessary to being a playwright, like writing plays, I've finally got my website up and running. I know. Could you be more excited? Could you? Shut up. No one wants to hear the 6.000 ways you could be more excited. Rude.

Anyway, here it is … www.shannonmurdoch.com.au

And look, I'm smiling in it. How can you not love me? Really, I don't want to hear.

Still here

Good god, has it really been this long since I've blogged? I know. You are all used to it by now. I'm fickle. Sometimes I love you, at least a couple of times a week and then I'm all, no, don't want you, don't care, sure, you're dying on my doorstep but I'm trying to finish this scene and actually I think it's quite rude that you are dying in my writing time. I admire those people that can find something interesting to post about every day. They are all like 'Look at this juice I just bought!' and I do and I think 'Self, drink more juice'. But then I make more coffee in my 'Keep calm and stop carrying on' mug and get on with staring out the window. Maybe I should do a series of 'What I thought when I stared out the window today'. Hey … GENIUS!

Life of a writer

Here's a day …

Wake up. Usually from a nightmare where I'm being chased or I've lost all my teeth or I'm caught out in a crime (do other writers have nightmares?). Rejoice for 10 minutes straight that I don't have to go to day job. Make coffee. Check emails. Check Facebook. Slap myself on wrist for clicking link on cats that look like Mussolini. Move away from computer. Make more coffee. Sit at kitchen table even though there is a perfectly good writing desk in the perfectly good writing room. Sigh. Read over what I did yesterday. Sigh, dramatically. Scratch out words. Declare none of them good. Go back to computer. Research whether it is too late to enrol in medical school. Calculate it is too late to become a doctor. Sigh, loudly. Take a bath. Read a book. Walk to shops and run into seven crazy people. Slap oneself on back for moving to a place that has so many 'interesting' characters. Walk home. Check clock. Too early for wine. Make more coffee. Sit back at kitchen table. Scratch out more words but spend most of the time staring at the mess and thinking other people seem to keep clean houses. Slap oneself on back for being slovenly. Sigh, in pain. Check the clock. Heat up more coffee. Sit down again. Scratch out more words. Things start to come together. Could write for hours. Rustle at the front door. Boyfriend walks in from hard day at work, demands attention. Sigh.

The Shannon/SHANNON debate

When I look at the people that come to this blog and no, it's not obsessive or egotistic, no, not at all, nothing needy or desperate about me, I really like how some people search for Shannon Murdoch and some people search for SHANNON MURDOCH.

Because some days I am Shannon Murdoch. I'm small and quiet and don't really want to talk to anyone and other days I'm all WHAT'S GOING ON BITCHES (I don't think I've ever said that phrase but you get my drift … do you get my drift? Is your head exploding from all the capitalised words? Really? You should work on that because that's weird. It's just a capital. SEE. Okay. Stop crying. I'll stop with the capitals now, even though I was making a point. Well, trying to make a point but I get it. You’re the audience. You're way more important than me. Or something. I think I remember something about the importance of the audience in some theatre class I took but look, really, I was probably hungover. Or high. And I was in love with a married man, so it's all a bit of a blur. I do remember once that Skye Patchett - and really, that's her name. I should probably use a false name to protect myself from defamation or something … I do remember once that Fkye Fatchett did a real number about artistic dignity when we all had to be trees or farm animals or something and then about six months later dropped out to become the ingénue on the remake of Flipper. No. I didn't make that up. I can't make those things up. I'm really not that clever. I do have an exploding chicken in my new play. That's pretty clever. Well, it will be if it gets produced and someone figures out how to make a chicken explode on stage. I have no idea how to make a chicken explode on stage. But I trust that someone does. I'm sure they teach that at University these days. We were not taught that … or maybe we were and I was just, as previously stated, hungover, high and giving all my attention to a man that did not deserve me and used me like a rag. Well, not really a rag but I was 19 years old and that man was a long way from 19. That's all I'm saying. I'm just saying that …well, who knows what I was thinking? I'm pretty sure I wasn't. I'm pretty sure I was too hungover and high to do much but drift from situation to situation with the iron clad belief that I knew everything there was to know. I do remember that my friend Moyra and I (and that is her real name) found Jerzy Grotowski so hilarious that we created a long-running comedy sketch on him. Those were the days … BITCHES! Ha! You thought I had forgotten. I forget nothing. I'm like the Catholic Church that way).

So anyway, all this was because I think it's funny that some people think I'm Shannon Murdoch and other people think I'm SHANNON MURDOCH and … Well, now I've forgotten my whole point. Thanks for nothing bitches.

Wiki love

Just in case you were wondering, and I know you all hang off your seats in a perpetual state of unease, distress and pure bewilderment regarding my wellbeing, NO! I AM NOT COPING WITH THE WIKIPEDIA SHUTDOWN. It's 11.00am in the morning here and apparently I have to wait until 4.00pm this afternoon before I can get my intellectual crack.

Things I should know about but can’t because Wikipedia is offline include methods for stuffing a chicken, besser blocks and which number child is Peaches Geldof. I want to say that all this is research for the play I’m writing but I don’t want to lie to you. Will someone please go and change the law or whatever and get Wikipedia back. I can’t get any dumber. I just can't.

Train talk

Things heard on the train this morning (Part1)

- Baby, you need to be an app

- Darren, defrost the fish fingers or suffer the consequences

- I got explosives on my mind.

I should also point out that these looked like ordinary people.

Conclusion: THERE ARE NO ORDINARY PEOPLE!

I need to get a new train.

Love

I started out this afternoon writing something about Valentine’s Day and came out with this …

MINNIE: Just so we are clear, I don't think about dating serial killers. Well, I do, but not in a creepy way. And not all the time. I hold down a job. It's not a particularly exciting or demanding job but it's mine. I turn up. I sit at my desk. I don’t do much more than that but in this world, turning up is usually enough. I also am a member of a book club. Or I was, but they threw me out because I kept calling the other members stupid. They were. That's an absolute. Anyone who calls Dan Brown a deep and probing thinker deserves to be called stupid. They also deserve to have Dan Brown in hardback hurled at their head, and I hope the scar it left on Betty’s face is a long, red rope of a reminder about how angry the stupidity of others can make a person. They threw me out but forgot to remove me from the email list so I still get their poxy exchanges about what books they are reading. I should remove myself because it’s incredibly upsetting to read that The Time Traveller’s Wife is glorious and Pride and Prejudice was full of people that spoke weird … Also I just think I am going to be one of those people that ends up with a serial killer. You know. I'm just the type. I look like a serial killer wife. So I've got to put a little bit of thought into it all. You know. Prepare myself. Are you a serial killer Jason?

Somehow I don’t think this is going to have a happy ending …

Good/Bad

Things that are bad but really good

1. Getting drunk for no reason on a Sunday night and having to front up to work on Monday morning.
2. When you wake up in the middle of the night with a pounding headache and you drink a big glass of water.
3. Coffee in the morning, with a hangover and when that doesn’t work, the justification of an egg and bacon sandwich.
4. Listening to crappy songs on your ipod and feeling like you can take on the world, once you’re rid of your hangover.

Baby, I didn’t mean it

So, I've been working on this play, which I was calling the Rainbow play and then I was calling the f*(#@ing rainbow play and then ended up calling it the Thing. What are you doing? Hating the Thing. I was trying to rewrite it, I've been trying to write and rewrite the thing for a couple of months, on and off, and well, I think I've killed it. I think I killed it until it is dead. I'm not quite sure what I did or whether it is actually dead or just in a head trauma deep coma from the banging with a blunt instrument (read: my pen) but I've come to the conclusion that once you start calling your play The Thing, it's time to put it down. Let it rest. Let it heal. I hold hope that there will be a time in the future where it will flicker its eyes and I will know what to do with it. I have so many plays like this. My writing room is really an intensive care facility for plays in various stages of recovery from the brutal beating I have delivered in the pursuit of artistic glory. I'm like the neighbourhood thug. Plays should really run and hide when they see me coming. But then again, plays survive. The beatings I gave New Light Shine would make normal people weep at the sheer, thuggish brutality (For one draft I set it all in a forest – for anyone who has read it, you know what a beating that is) but it recovered, it really did. Some plays don't know how to die. So deep down, while I beat the crap out of plays some time, I really do love them all.

Best Thing

Sometimes, when it is all too much, and you just can't be arsed, it's time to go to the pub. Drink, eat, talk absolute shite, come home, write 13 pages. In my ongoing series on how to write, tip number 34923 … Just go get drunk.

Important information

Okay. Here's a tip for all you newbie playwrights out there. Are you ready? This is great advice so you might want to sit down. Are you already sitting down? Don't get too comfortable. This is important. I don't want you nodding off halfway through. Do you have a drink? Do you want a drink? Do you have a drinking problem? I don't want to give out this advice and have you forget it because you have one too many Bacardi and cokes. Do people still Bacardi and coke? I used to drink Bacardi and coke and then vomit everything from my ribcage down. I'm getting away from the point. Here's my tip … When you start something, finish it. Don't start it, think I don't know where I'm going so I might just stop for a while and do something else OR I'm halfway through a draft of a play but I have a publishing contract for another play and I need to get this play perfect because I don't want to sit down with my published play in a couple of years and DIE OF HUMILIATION … just as an example. Start it, finish it. Trust me, you are going to save yourself a lot of angst.

Also, I really hate summer.

That is all.

Houston baby

If you happen to be in Houston, Texas at the end of this month or the start of next month, you can check out my new short play, Piercing the Skin, at Obsidian Art Space along with some other fine playwrights. If you don't happen to be in Houston, Texas at the end of this month or the start of next month, then you are dead to me. Kidding. Sort of.

You can check it on out here

OMG!

Holy crap! It's 2012. How the hell did that happen? I swear to god it was like 1993 twelve minutes ago. I was graduating high school without a clue in the world about the … world, and then a couple of decades passed and, well, I have no idea what I did with them. Where does all the time go? WHERE?! Because it's 2012. 2012! I've got to go and … get a clue about the world.