ah, Hollywood. I was one of those actors of whom you malign, but you know, I lived it so I get it, no hard feelings: there is a moment you are stuck on the 405 on the way to a Dunkin Donut commercial and you realize how far, how sticky, how grotesquely sad and stupid to spend any more of your time as a tiny cog in that silly slipshod devoid of meAning machine. And if you make a conscious choice to quit — even if you are MFA trained, even if you actually are pretty good onstage — if you actually take hold of the wheel that drives your life and exit swift-like (in that way of catching the unconscious and making it conscious and actuay listening g to your own damn heart beat) you may have quit but you’ve won. Or to put it in slightly less glamorous terms, no matter how famous, we’re all going to die.

Freelance writer of plays/short stories/poetry/narrative non-fiction; lover of humor, chocolate, pratfalls, my children and husband (in no particular order..).

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