Just a figtree of your imagination

For those of you who give a fuck:

I’m… busy. I’m working – not enough, i mean not making enough, but no one is. Cool. So. I’m working and traveling in and out of the city for fun+writing+improv+fun. I don’t have enough time to judge myself that much. sUch a weight lifted off my shoulders for the time being. I begin to live and not have so many fears about death, loss of bone density or potential worthlessness.

Meggie and I went to Harold Night and saw 3 improv teams and SO GOOD. We saw some of our new friends in the audience, were shown cool places to stand then sat on the floor. As long as you’re in the room, right???On my way to the theater, I ran into my parents at Penn station. I liked that. They were heading home and I was heading out. A quick Hi then running down 7th Avenue. Sorta like, See YA! Sorry, can’t talk, never can talk, will never be able to talk, would never want to – for a while… I watched the show trying to see where each line came from. I will be doing what they’re doing (god willing) soon and want to know how it all works- slash – laugh like a mad hatter.

I read a blog about a woman who couldn’t eat stone fruits (apples, pears, peaches, plums, cherries, etc). She was so allergic that her lips would puff up and get tingly and her throat would close up, give or take a quick trip to the ER. Every once in a while she’d treat herself to a bowl of cherries or a peach with people around her ready to call an ambulance if need be. That’s terribl


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