For the past few months, I’ve been meeting with my friend, Brandon, to hone my skills at writing for theater. It’s fascinating to learn the business behind the curtain and I’m surprised at how fulfilling and enjoyable it can be to distill stories down to dialogue and extrapolate lyrics from presenting a character with a realization, desire, or emotional transition. A song, as Sondheim says, must be based on one succinct “want” from a character and is different from a poem in that it relies on music to buoy it up. A poem, on the other hand, suffers when sung. Read more

What if money was no object?



What do you desire? What makes you itch? What sort of a situation would you like?

Let’s suppose, I do this often in vocational guidance of students, they come to me and say, well, we’re getting out of college and we have the faintest idea what we want to do. So I always ask the question, what would you like to do if money were no object? How would you really enjoy spending your life?

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People Watching New Yorkers in Spring

When I left the house this evening, I didn’t plan on making my Friday night in Manhattan all about people watching. I’d hoped, rather, to be able to meet up with the latest girl that I’d been deluding myself about. But rather, in tune with the last few weeks of trying to see her, we never ended up together. In my head, I composed the perfect email to let her know we’re through, but delivery will wait until tomorrow morning (when I’m clear-headed). You lucky readers won’t get such a reprieve, but rather the unfiltered stream of consciousness that was my evening. Read more

How to Put an Animal Down

Things have changed. They’re no longer what they used to be.
An eager smile with nonjudgmental eyes.
Unflinching devotion and unconditional love.
It’s quite common, they say. Time can do that.
Everything that is so reliable.
Everything that’s safe.
Simply, plainly: Given enough of it,
time will take it all away.

But how do you know things cannot return to what they were.

The stability begins to falter, but you react with reassurance.
Shrug off the incidents with disbelief.
(Optimism is a good thing, you’re reminded)
But the defensive wounds begin to show.

And you know.

When it’s time, it will painfully come back to you.
Crawl across the aluminum table while life slips silently away.
To lay beside you and rest its head on your arm.
Struggle to find your face in darkness, if only to say,
It’s all right. Everything will be all right.

When it’s all over, time will have momentarily gotten its fill.
To leave you with nothing but scars on your hands and over your heart
and be better for it all.