Required Reading: Laura Axelrod
Laura Axelrod has written an excellent post on how (and why) she hated theatre and how writing her latest play helped to rekindle her relationship with said saucy mistress. It's great. Go read it.
I particularly liked:
When I finished the [new] play, after a tremendous amount of work, I discovered that I wasn't the problem. What I wrote wasn't the problem. Theater was the problem. The model of theater I chose to pursue was an extraordinarily screwed up version. It guaranteed that I would have to hang out with people I didn't like, work with people I despised. Throughout it all I'd have to remain super-conscious of everyone's status, including my own. I would have to create a 'social persona,' an image that could be manipulated so people would believe I was more intelligent and important."
Very, very well said.
Laura's entry reminded me why I'm so glad Pete and I formed Nosedive as early as we did the way that we did, since I realized I could have so easily gone down this road had I decided to listen to the shitty advice of the little demons I met when I first moved to New York.
When I think of the Alternate Universe Me (which is weird, considering I recently posted a comment on Laura's blog saying I try not to think of alternate realities, since I find myself easily getting bogged down in playing the "What If...?" game in perpetuity) that ended up playing the development hell (pardon the redundancy) game, thereby writing less and spending more time hanging out with [gag] theatre people, I definitely understand Laura's frustration.
What are you sticking around here for? Go! Read the entry.
Not liking a dawdling staff,
James "Perry White" Comtois
Labels: of interest, theatre
1 Comments:
This warms the cockles of my little centaur heart. It inspired me to try to pick that epic poem I've been tinkering with for the last few centuries. It's working title is "The Centauriad".
Anyhoo . . . I have to head to Whole Foods to pick up some organic centaur kibble. I'm heading out to Fire Island with the boys this weekend for a big beach party.
I'll talk to you next week.
Clop, clop . . . clop, clop
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