starving artist complex

Woke up this morning with a little bit of a cold. So, I’m drinking heavily. Drinking tea heavily I mean…

I found a book about Rent and Jonathan Larson on my roommate’s bookshelf. So I read it. Inspired, I listened to the soundtrack of Rent all the way through for the first time in about four years. My roommate presently works at the New York Theater Workshop, which is the theater where Rent got started. Last night over our french fries at the bar she told me a story about meeting the guy who directed Rent when he showed up at NYTW. She didn’t know who he was, and so was snappy with him for being rude to her. Anyway, listening to Rent again and reading about Jonathan Larson resparked the romantic desire to be a starving artist. How does that sound for a life goal? It’ll work for today at least.

In my work to become part of the starving artist community, I finished reading a play for NYTW today. My lovely roommate got me set up as a reader, where I read plays for them and they give me comp tickets to their shows. This week’s play was really bad. At the end the protagonist woke up and the whole thing was a dream set on her by her dead mother who then appeared as a ghost. This playwright needs a good smack up side the head. In the most loving and nurturing way possible.

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