he was a genius. no doubt about it. and i went into this material thinking i’d be bored all the way through.
being able to study him is so incredibly rewarding, and today has been such a good day. his text just breathes with you, and it is life. it is real, absolute life. you just have to remember that everyday situations have high stakes too. performing it and watching it is amazing, and i’m so glad that i’m finally being guided in how to look at and navigate it.
i haven’t had this much peace in awhile. it feels so good.
dude. this is exactly how i felt. i was BORN to do Chekhov.
Watered-down tequila is stronger that way,
especially on Friday afternoons at the Mexican place:
I tell the waiter “I am dying, I am going to die”
and he doesn’t believe me.
Then I die.
Then he believes me.
They’ve replaced the art museum with piles of chairs
and I am falling asleep on them:
oil paintings of old meat drip from the walls,
I am staring at exhibits
I am staring at your cousin
I am wearing another boy’s shirt
while he kisses me against the glass windows of the building.
I don’t recognize anyone here -
the bass line casually thumps me on and off the dance floor,
the creepy guy with the mustache
loses consciousness shortly after hitting on me.
This is it.
I’ll go get the car.
Flash-forward to a year from now and
I am perfecting my ice cream scoops in the dark
I am twisting jewelry on my ring finger back and forth
debating on how best to lie to you
I’m going to be here forever
I feel like I’m never going to leave.
After twenty-two years, two months, and two weeks
my brother still hasn’t texted me back.
you know better than that
I knew better than that
knew better than that.