"They say life’s the journey not the destination, but really life’s the map. The picture the Explorer creates after reaching the end of their journey to help the next traveller find his way better. Travellers are fickle though, weary of well work men whose compasses have long been cast aside in favor of a deeper guide. Travellers think if they can just find true north they’ll make it through the woods. There is no such thing as true north. There is only forward, backwards and worse, standing still."
I am directing The Breakfast Club here in Louisville. July 31-August 3. If anyone is interested in auditioning send me a message and I’ll give you some details.
I don’t want to remember running the back of my hand over the scars on your arm. I don’t want to remember the feel of your lips as they brushed against my cheek and I don’t want to remember the grip of your fingers wrapping around mine. I don’t want to remember the way it felt when you pressed your cheek against mine. The way the tips of your fingers felt brushing tears as they slipped from my eyelids against your will. Because then I will have to remember that all those things that used to comfort me are poisonous now. Your lips, your fingers, your scars, your touch burn me a little now. Because of how life ruined us. Both of us, we’re broken.
I love theatre. I love acting. I’m falling in love with my scene partner.
I just need to fall asleep while you’re holding me, holding me together. Just for one night, because I can’t hold myself together anymore. So, I’m glad you’re here, okay?
Anonymous said: Who are you in love with
His name is Antony and he is the most beautiful man that ere I saw. But he was married to this wretched wench, Octavia. He loves me though, we were in love at first sight, but that hasn’t stopped Octavia’s brother and Rome from waging war against my Greece. It is said he has gotten false news of my death, and fallen on his sword. I must away to find my snake….
I love curling up in a bed with you while lightning strokes and thunder rolls outside your window. But the blankets are soft and heavy and warm and they are our shared paradise. It’s so simple. It’s just blissfully existing.