Hot damn. What to make of me in this new backdrop.
It's becoming more and more obvious that the writers weren't kidding when they said "the world's a stage".
We are only players, play-acting in a new setting, our roles every so often impacted by a flubbed line or a missed cue-
technical errors in lighting or costume that come just short of making up for the fact that improv is dead.
I'm in mourning.
I want the unexpected. I want the bad reviews. This play was never meant to be a critical favourite.
The awards show is fixed.
Throw out your scripts, and then lets do lunch.
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
skirt_the_issue's journal
