Finally got my letter from Juilliard.
The wait is over.
Memorial service for False Hope to be held tonight. In lieu of flowers, please send donations to The Foundation for Real Hope, c/o The Commission To Figure Out Just How The Hell I Can Get From Here To There * When It Feels Like The Momentum From Columbia Was My Last Best Hope And I Piddled It Away On Ill-Conceived, Poorly Executed And Grandiose Plans To Apply For Admission Only To The Most Prestigious Playwriting Programs In The World, Somehow Hoping That My Admission To Any (Or All) Of These Impossibly Exclusive Programs Would Be A Message From God And The Message Would Be: "I Love You, Kid" And There Would Be A Postscript, Handwritten, That Said: "You're In. Now You Can Stop Wasting Your Time Being Afraid That I Gave You Keys To Unlock Doors That Are Within Castles To Which You Will Never, Ever Gain Entrance, No Matter How Much Wishing You Do. I'm Not That Cruel. Your Crippling Weakness, Your Mind, Is About To Become Your Greatest Asset. Keep Dreaming. I insist."
* ("There" representing a place where I can have the opportunity to use my actual talents in an atmosphere where they are artistically and financially encouraged, even the slightest bit, in a real and concrete way that involves more than words, but actually, really only money would be the sign that I have arrived, am appreciated, because, sadly, the only way I can judge my worth and the worth of my work is by how much money I make and what I really mean is not the Opportunity To Show My Work And Have It Appreciated, but Not Having To Do Any Work And Being Appreciated For My Essence, For My Potential, For The Brilliance That IS Within Me, Yet Hasn't Yet Found Its Way Into The World In Any Form That Can Be Exchanged Or Displayed Or Submitted For Money.)
The wait is over.
Memorial service for False Hope to be held tonight. In lieu of flowers, please send donations to The Foundation for Real Hope, c/o The Commission To Figure Out Just How The Hell I Can Get From Here To There * When It Feels Like The Momentum From Columbia Was My Last Best Hope And I Piddled It Away On Ill-Conceived, Poorly Executed And Grandiose Plans To Apply For Admission Only To The Most Prestigious Playwriting Programs In The World, Somehow Hoping That My Admission To Any (Or All) Of These Impossibly Exclusive Programs Would Be A Message From God And The Message Would Be: "I Love You, Kid" And There Would Be A Postscript, Handwritten, That Said: "You're In. Now You Can Stop Wasting Your Time Being Afraid That I Gave You Keys To Unlock Doors That Are Within Castles To Which You Will Never, Ever Gain Entrance, No Matter How Much Wishing You Do. I'm Not That Cruel. Your Crippling Weakness, Your Mind, Is About To Become Your Greatest Asset. Keep Dreaming. I insist."
* ("There" representing a place where I can have the opportunity to use my actual talents in an atmosphere where they are artistically and financially encouraged, even the slightest bit, in a real and concrete way that involves more than words, but actually, really only money would be the sign that I have arrived, am appreciated, because, sadly, the only way I can judge my worth and the worth of my work is by how much money I make and what I really mean is not the Opportunity To Show My Work And Have It Appreciated, but Not Having To Do Any Work And Being Appreciated For My Essence, For My Potential, For The Brilliance That IS Within Me, Yet Hasn't Yet Found Its Way Into The World In Any Form That Can Be Exchanged Or Displayed Or Submitted For Money.)
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