Randall's Wal-Mart Epiphany
Dave wanted me to get a Tumblr...so I did.
Sorry I’ve slacked here.
Two things:
1) I’m in Conneticut for the Eugene O’Neill Playwrights Conference. I’m here till the 15th. It’s prestigous as shit, I’m on the ocean, I’m surrounded by some of most important theatre artists in the country, I have no obligations, yet I’m continually getting depressed at random intervals throughout the day.
I miss my friends.
2) I think Girl Talk is fucking wonderful.
This is an AWFUL picture of me (awkward mid-sentence mouth and gonzo nose in full effect), but I AM rockin’ my Jesus to the Rescue shirt, which is a plus.
The girl is Geneva. We’ve kinda been dating (which is, ya know, smart ‘cause I’m moving in two weeks). Regardless, she’s making me dinner tomorrow night. And that’s kinda nice.
I’m changing my religious beliefs on facebook. This is kind of a big deal for me, as capital G-O-D consumes a good deal of my art, my conciousness, my sanity.
It now says Verse Chorus Verse, which is not just a reference to my play (which was my frackin’ religion at the time), but also to the endless cycles which pervade our lives, our cultures, our universes.
Lately, I’ve been fond of saying that I believe in something much more terrifying than God; I believe in destiny…
…but that doesn’t seem appropriate for facebook.
So I’m robbing a Neil Gaiman quote I stole from Seger who stole it from somebody else and so on…
That’s all.
Frightened Rabbit- Poke
“…you should look through some old photos
I adored you in every one of those
If someone took a picture of us now
they’d need to be told
that we had ever clung on tight
and maybe not with arms at night
‘I’d say she was his sister, but she doesn’t have his nose.’
And now we’re unrelated,
and rid of all the shit we hate
but I hate when I feel like this
and I never
hated you…”
Almost three years later and it’s still about the same girl.
But hey, no worries.
Life is about experiencing love.
Not being in it.
From My New Play, "...But We Were Happy."
We should unpack tomorrow, he says, gesturing towards the whitewashed walls, that single hanging bulb. This is our home now, he says, and we should unpack.
He tries so goddamn hard to smile at me as he slides a bowl of tuna my way.
I made this, he says.
God, I want to cry.
(She almost does, but then breaks into a torrent of hysterical laughter.)
On the drive home there was this dog in the road, with this tin can tied to his back left paw. We laughed so hard and I don’t know why because it wasn’t really all that funny…no, it really wasn’t that funny now that I think about it…You know those relationships that can’t exist beyond one night?
They’re not one-night stands. They just can’t exist beyond the night.
And you know how you always go through a period of resentment after the fact?
Well.
That’s where I am.
And it’s a miserable place to be.
Ladies and gentleworms… I give you the third episode of “B-Rated”!!! Enjoy the hell out of it!!! There won’t be another new episode until May.