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Saturday, April 19, 2008

Next week will be better

The 2004 Hyundai Accent apparently hasn't hit the salvage market yet, which is certainly a good sign for the 2004 Hyundai Accent, but a terrible blow to my poor smashed car. Replacement parts for the hood, lights, and radiator are so expensive to source new that my car has been declared totaled. I tried not to take the news too hard, but I'm depressed -- mostly, I think, because I find the entire episode incredibly embarrassing.

Yesterday I went to the body shop to clear all the possessions out of my car. I had forgotten how much I live out of my vehicle; there were three garbage bags of crap to carry away, including street maps for eight Pennsylvania counties and Washington DC, various stuffed toys (Baby Cthulhu!) and bulky bedding materials, so I had to take a taxi back to the theater. Unfortunately, the cab I hailed wouldn't accept a credit card (I'm pretty sure that's illegal, but meh) and I only had six bucks in my pocket, which wasn't enough to cover the journey. However, the driver started ranting to me about the Second Coming (we only have three years left, who knew?), and in a wily move that would make my mother proud, I humored him so lavishly that he knocked about four bucks off my fare and took me the whole way. Oh, you should have heard me. I ought to become an evangelist.

Today I'm going to a dealership called "Deals on Wheels" (seriously) in Levittown, where resides a car of the exact same make, model, and year as my dead car, but in black. The asking price is almost exactly what my insurance company is paying out, but there are 7,000 miles less on the odometer. I'm going to try to talk the price down some because the previous owner installed one of those stupid coffee-can-sized tailpipes. What the hell is the point of those things? [EDIT] That car was waaay too riced out, BUT the dealer had this car on the lot, and I'm buying it!! $4500 for an Elantra GT is pretty awesome, I think. It's bigger, but gets better gas mileage, and it has a SUNROOF! It's also a manual, but I can deal with that.

Gay City News says nice things about Pericles.

Monday, April 14, 2008

Madam, I am not well.

Today (yesterday), I crashed my car.

This week is up there. Really up there.

I'm fine. The car is going to need some work.

I want to fall down a hole and never climb out.

I can do nothing but cry and cry, and wish and wish. Wishes are agnostic prayers, I suppose.

The rift between the levels of success in my personal and professional lives continues to broaden: the Broad Street Review loved Pericles, and said some lovely things about me.

Wednesday, April 09, 2008

Frabjous day

Personally it's raining, professionally the sun is out and the birds are singing.

Yesterday I discovered that I won the Gangemi composition scholarship at West Chester, which is lovely. I did a happy dance in the dressing room.

That afternoon, I received a call from Mike Lemon casting in Philly, asking if I'd do a voiceover gig on Friday. I have an appointment to get on their books next week, so it's kind of awesome that I'm being offered jobs before then.

I just cried on stage in Juliet's "Romeo is banished" scene for the first time -- usually I reserve the tears for the second act, which will probably suffer as a result, but yay for the "banished" scene.

Thursday, April 03, 2008


And if that weren't all bad enough, my mother back home has lost her mind again. In the wrong season, too. Most strange. Most rare.

Mixed in with my dread of the inevitable crash is a measure of envy. Her insistent late-night/early-morning voicemail messages are quite mad, but at least she's having a good time, being in the grips of a full-blown joyous mania which is making her happier than any normal mortal can be without the assistance of methylenedioxymethamphetamine.

Here's a direct transcript of her most telling message to date, left at 5:52am on Tuesday. Her voice starts off loud and gets steadily louder. By the time the phone cuts out, she is screaming.

"Hello, Melissa. Hello, Melissa? Hey! I'm very happy. You know what I found out? Hey? Ah hahhhh! The America tried to kill the communism, and all the communism is the animals, you know? The monkey - you. And the lamb, Matt. And I am ... I am the mother of you, so I am monkey! Hahahah! And then, we join together, and kill the human beings! That's the American! Understand, Melissa?

"Melissa? Melissa? I love you! I love you, sweetheart! Listen to me! I want to tell the whole world that I LOVE YOU! NOBODY CAN TAKE YOU AWAY FROM ME! OK, DARLING? LISTEN TO ME, I--"

Wednesday, April 02, 2008


Things fall apart. The center cannot hold.

In a matter of months, six at the most, I've thought myself into a black hole. With nothing but brainwaves, I've turned a life of near perfection into a quagmire. I hate myself for it. I don't know what to do.

I'm so afraid of being alone. I always have been. Yet, for the first time, I also feel like I need to prove something to myself, by myself. My dismal scene I needs must act alone. Something like that.

Fuck. It's a selfish thought. It's not just my life. For the first time, I baulk at the idea that my life is not entirely my own. I have never been in this situation. I don't know why I'm having these thoughts now. I don't know where they come from. They are destructive and disastrous. I shouldn't be having them. I shouldn't be writing them down.

I don't know what to do. I don't know what would be best for everyone. Maybe, in a few days, I'll bleed and stop being so goddamn dramatic. It could all be nothing, just so much bullshit in the mind of a woman with bad genes who is becoming increasingly right-brained as she ages. (Stupid aside: which way do you see the dancer turning? I stare as hard as I can, focus my eyes every which way, and I can only see her going clockwise. If I scroll down so I can only see her foot, can make her go the other way, but blink hard, and it's clockwise again.)

This is so awful. I feel like I'm in an abyss. What am I doing.

Tuesday, April 01, 2008

A review and a poem.

A review (of Pericles) (a nice one).

A poem (of Yeats) (an excerpt).

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.