I am awaiting my eighth wind.
Something you learn when directing a sketch is, moments of chaos won't bring any reaction if they're not bordered by moments of calm. White doesn't show up on white, like Owen Burke said. Throw a pebble into a pond, it ripples. Throw a pebble into a choppy sea, you just wasted a pebble.
In a month, give or take, I will lay on grass. I will have a twenty four hour period in which I have nowhere to be. I will kiss a girl. I will take my little brothers to a movie.
Someday, I will buy a gun, set my alarm clock for the end of the three day waiting period. When it goes off, I will go get my gun, then I will go to the middle of the desert and shoot my alarm clock into tiny pieces, then drive back into town and sleep some more. When I awake of my own volition, I will return the gun and use the money to buy beer for my friends. On second thoughts, maybe I'll buy beer anyway, and keep the gun to ensure that no one dares use the phrase "I can't, tomorrow I have to wake up and..." etc. as an excuse not to talk bullshit and freestyle and make gross generalizations about the opposite sex until the sun comes to shave another day off all our youths.
Last night between the eight o'clock Hammerkatz NYU show and the ten o'clock Hammerkatz NYU show I sat alone in the park across the street looking at the arch all lit up and through it, the Empire State Building, my favorite thing in the world besides a woman's neck, hip hop, and sandwiches, and I smoked a cigarette I bummed from Steve, and thought, We did it again. Goddamn us, we pulled it off again and lost the minimum amount of fingers. It was warm out, warm as night at home in August. Then I went back upstairs and when I got there it was raining out the window in big drops, and it was back to it. Fatigue be damned I would not trade my dirty room and my protruding ribs and my comedy shows for anything. Except meeting Jay Z.
In six and a half hours, it's back to it. We can pick up my eighth wind on our way to Massachusetts.
Posted by DC at April 9, 2005 02:40 AMLife is a moderately good play with a badly written third act.
Posted by: premature ejaculation