Okay first of all: I LOVE FREE HOUSING! Thank you, theaters that give me housing and put a roof over my head while I’m in town!
Now that that disclaimer is out of the way, I’ll say that my current little apartment resembles nothing so much as a halfway house. I’m not sure if it’s the peeling walls or the peeling radiators or the bleak overhead lighting or the sad linoleum squares or the tomblike shower, but the whole place invites you to sink slowly and picturesquely to the floor, light an especially smoky cigarette, take out the picture of the woman who betrayed you and had a baby with your best friend while you were serving your time, take out a lighter and very slowly burn her image to ash, pace the floor in a midnight-to-6-am montage wherein you resolve never to do smack again, call your old dealer, pull on a distressed 90s jean jacket, and reel toward the door. Eventually later you will stare up at the birds sitting on the telephone wires beneath an overcast sky, and you will think of the Price of Freedom, and then eventually you will love again! (Probably the sassy barista at the coffee place on the corner, who is putting herself through night school while she raises her young son, and has resolved never again to trust her heart to another, but here you are, and you are so damaged! But so likable! And you live in the halfway house down the street!)
A lot of high school is fuzzy. Memories blur. I remember being bewildered about 98% of the time. But every once in a while, upon visiting parents, I stumble across something that brings the entire experience into sharp, if brief, relief…
Hello Philadelphia. You’re cold, but this 5th floor apartment has giant radiators, and a patchwork quilt. Until the giant radiators go on, I’ll be underneath the patchwork quilt. In other news, I fed Mazefield five thousand crickets so that he would love me, and then I got on a bus here. #parenting. In other other news, rehearsal starts tomorrow. See you in 2015, frog-child. Someday, I’ll make you tiny reverse-scuba-gear, so you can survive out of water, and I’ll get you a little skateboard, so you can travel on land, and we’ll never be parted again.
Some of the most fun I’ve had in a while. And with that, most of our cast has officially graduated from PHTS. Go get it, killers. Just make sure to wash the blood off first. Director: Mike Donahue // Scenic & costume: Dane Laffrey // Lights: Scott Zielinski // Sound: M.L. Dogg // Photos by Cait Weisensee // CAST: Stephen Chacon, Inge Crafford-Lazarus, Jenna Dioguardi, Thomas Hedlund, Ben Langhorst, Allie Leonard, Amanda Phelan, Frankie Placidi, Bubba Weiler
Our only question is what the cup-printing company was thinking, as they filled our order. (Did they agree? Did they imagine us as a stern ultra-Christian abstinence-only youth platform? Did they put aside an extra stack of cups to give their teenage daughters?) Last three shows: tonight, tomorrow, Friday.
…both old and new, some furrier than others.
Inspired by morning auditions, that began seemingly mere hours after we went to bed… The A train is also an amazing location in which to question all your life choices. Try it sometime. Like, for example, a time in which the A, B, C, D, 1, 2, 3 and 7 trains stop running. All at the same time. During rush hour.
Designer and playwright show the director their dramaturgy-meets-design research on Ariana Grande and Miley Cyrus. Close-up of the computer screens: