ericboy's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- \"And I bought this for you\" - Glassjaw I finished another script for a one-act show. I wanted to tell a story about people making connections; coming together in this world and giving and taking to and from each other. I wanted to bring two characters together and alleviate their mutual sadness by empathizing with each other. I wanted to show a glimmer of hope inside darkness. It took me about a week of writing, off and on. Probably six hours total spent writing in my binder in various locations. I finished it last night. As soon as I was done, I gave to Nicole and asked her to read it. I caught up with her later and she said she loved it. We talked about it for a while with Kelle in the room, and then Kelle finally said "Alright, I've gotta read this." Then she read it and said it was great and expressed an interest in playing the lead role of Sandra. I, of course, leapt at this, because if I put this show up, I need a very, very, very strong actress to play Sandra. The play is leaps and bounds from my former understanding of relationships and human nature. The dialogue is natural and the subject matter is mature; more mature than I've ever been. And oh so dark! I played with things I knew nothing about and made them work. I believed in myself while I was writing this script; believed in my ability, in the idea of love, and in the reality of tragedy. This play is like nothing I've ever done before. And even though it is nothing like my life or my tragedy, it is very much based in reality. It was my time spent with her; confused, bewildered, sometimes crushed. It was the beauty of the beginning and the frustration of the aftermath. It was the pins and needles, the eggshells, the distance, the silence, the apprehensiveness. The pensive glances, stolen moments, insecure touches. It was the mixed signals, the allure of possibility, the crushing reality of defeat, of seeing the flower for what it really is: an organic thing of beauty that will only die. It was all so wonderful, and I didn't know where it would go, what we were capable of. When it went nowhere, I was disappointed. I don't hold any illusions that I love her, but I did love the idea that I could have loved her. And I am unhappy with the outcome in that I will never know. She made me. She inspired me. I wrote this for her. 4:38 p.m. - 2004-07-14 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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