A to C

It’s kind of like they’re saying, Anoush, all those times when you associated days of the week with people or colors or songs… that was NOT a waste of brainpower. it makes for good fuckingimprov. Not yet. You’re still not “good” yet. (Me talking to myself) But… for god’s sake, don’t’ stop. How baking a pie reminds you of the Snow White Movie reminds you of Easter… Fucking keep it! How you look at that curly pasta with chopped red peppers in that yellow ceramic bowl bought in Mexico and think, “Mommy!”

I’m still not good-good. I guess I feel like I have to make that clear or that I understand that about myself so that I don’t come off as a total improv-fucker. I’m aware that it’s an ephemeral, delicate artform and that just by taking a class I’m not the co-founder of the UCB. I mean, i know I want to kill, but it’s still raw, you know? Be careful, build those muscles. Just cause you know all those cool places in Williamsburg, it doesn’t mean you own it – doesn’t even mean you’re hip. Means you needs-a the attention. (We’re not talking about Brooklyn, we’re simile-ing or analyzing.)

And i want it so much that it scares me. I fall asleep thinking how i could’ve made that scene better if i could do it allover again. Going to shows, standing forever – standing for the show. Inner voice says: But that’s not COOL! You have to be seductive and in sunglasses. Ok, I can be seductive with sunglasses. We practiced falling. It’s tough to fall for the stage. My first time, my head hit the floor and she was like, “Oop! Oh my god, are you ok?”

I said, “I’m fine. How was the fall, though?”

I believe that humility saves you. Not the self-loathing humility (that’s only-sometimes-hot), but the regular kind.

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