Just dropping my demo reel off here.

real life

So I'm going to need a job in Boston in September.

Anyone care to help?

Fuck.

Impending-Real-Life-Doom-Type Situation!

I’ve decided to move to Boston this fall with my girlfriend Laura. She’s going up there for Grad school, and I figured I’d tag along and see what life is like outside of Lancaster, PA.

I’m terrified.

A Belated LOST Theory

The characters are actually the souls of recent college graduates.

:\

a dream

i struggled against the sludge tide, tied, the weedy limbs wrapping around my own, clinging as if to say, as if to say, "you are in our world tonight, and there are things to be done as you walk along. we will guide you." i took off my shoes, wet and heavy, they sank into the mire. and as i walked it seemed that the water introduced itself to me as a companion and a friend. it talked to me and i listened, and i tried talking back. but when i opened my mouth the moon appeared. i looked up and i shuddered. there was a light above me that tugged at my skull the way the weeds pulled at my feet. i felt the prickle green of heaven grazing against my thoughts, leaving paths of water and dirt that i might follow. then the moon was gone again, gone behind a cloud, and i was again motionless. i hung my head and gathered my strength, my feet sinking into the glade.

So I got rejected by Yale and NYU (big surprise--the acting programs are just so competitive). I'm actually kind of relieved, because it means I'm not going to be tied down anywhere right away. I can go wherever I want, do whatever I want, audition for whatever I want... feels good, man.

I finally finished a draft of my play for my Honors thesis, and am having a staged reading of it this Friday. That feels really good. It's been a long time coming.

Of course, now I have no idea what specifically I'm doing after I graduate. I know I want to be an actor/writer, so I know I have to just... start doing that. Dive in, try the business. Audition, audition, audition. Write, write, write. But on top of all that I also need a source of income. Do I wait tables? Do I work in a book store? Do I try to find a "real" job that actually uses my degree in English (which I'll be getting late April)? And more importantly, where? Where am I going to be doing all this? My lease runs out at the end of July (I think... :\). Then where do I go? Home for a bit? What about my girlfriend? Where's she going to be? So many details! And I really don't want to get another apartment of my own right away... I really don't want all that responsibility, and I don't want something that ties me down when what I really want is freedom to move around and audition and act wherever I want and need to.

I hate thinking about all this. I have no idea what to do.

>_<

(In Anticipation of the Resurrection of) Santa Claus, Spirit and Bones

Part One: The Dream

It's Christmas Eve.
That spirit, you know,
it's in the air.
Lights are hanging,
kids are eying their presents,
snow of course is falling.
I'm in the living room watching—
- Home Alone
- A Christmas Story
- It's A Wonderful Life
—when suddenly the image changes:
FLASH BULLETIN!
BREAKING NEWS!
The local news personality,
visibly shaken.
“Strange news,” he says.
“Devastating.”
The report:
A black hole is approaching earth at tremendous unimaginable speeds!
It will be here by this time tomorrow Christmas day!
Doom! Doom! Doom!
I rush outside to tell my family
(they were out there building a snowman
or some shit like that)
but they're all—get this—
they're fucking in the snow!
My mom and my dad, they're doing it missionary style,
My sister, she's getting it from her fiancee Carl (fucking Carl),
My older brother has two chicks lucky bastard
and my younger brother's sucking off some dude
(even though he's not gay as far as I know)
I say, “Guys, guys, there's a black hole!
We're all going to die!”
They all say—between gasps and moans,
without even looking at me once—
“We know! Why else would we be doing this?”
So I look around and what do I see?
All my neighbors are outside too,
ass-naked!
fucking in their snow-covered lawns!
I see their breath in the air, too! Their sex breath!
I run back inside and, suddenly, I don't know why,
but I'm chasing something through the house
something like magic—a cloud of it—
I keep seeing it out the corner of my eye,
dodging and twisting and twirling like nothing at all
up stairs and down stairs, behind furniture, and finally
under the kitchen table
(where as children we'd sit whispering,
watching adults' legs move back and forth).
I'm standing there about to catch it when the dream ends.

Part Two: The Memory

Once when I was a little boy—
it snowed!
But my brothers and sister, they,
ohhh they didn't wake me up.
They went out without me goshhowcouldthey?
So 10am I wake up—silence,
white, brightness from window,
and I just know it.
So I leap out of bed and get allll dressed up:
long underwear and sweat pants,
snow pants; socks (two pair)
and rubber boots.
Shirt, shirt, sweatshirt and coat.
Hat and scarf.
Mittens.
I run out the front door, excited as all get-out,
and head out toward this field by our house
and at the very end of this field is The Hill,
and up there on The Hill I see my brothers and sister
and all the neighborhood kids
and I hear far away laughing and whooping.
I begin to trudge through the snow in their direction.
But suddenly,
after no more than ten steps,
I stop.
All I see:
A blinding expanse of snow,
lines of trees,
a gray sky,
blue and green and red spots in the distance
moving around like ants.
I stand in this spot for a full minute, gazing ahead in the cold—
and then I turn around
and go back inside.
My mom, she makes me soup.

Part Three: The Incident by the Table on Christmas Day

I've just gathered up the last of the wrapping paper
left over from my nephews and nieces.
I've got it all shoved into this big black garbage bag.
I'm walking through the kitchen to take it out back when
suddenly
I stop
right by the kitchen table.
Or rather, I'm stopped.
Because right now I feel like lead.
I feel like an aerodynamically impossible thing
dying to gain flight.
Rooted here, holding this bag,
my eyes closed,
my feet tingling,
my clench fading,
I'm dizzy,
it's hot now,
I'm sweating,
and the table now
it's careening through the air
hurtling towards me
growing and growing
and now it's looming
over me like a giant,
and now I feel the cold of the kitchen floor wailing obscenities against my cheek.
Later I come to:
One of the little ones is sitting under the table
giggling and poking me with a stick.
I get up and take out the garbage.