There is one question every child is asked, from the moment they can vocalize a complete thought, until the moment... Until, the moment. "What do you want to be when you grow up?" It's a quandry designed to plant seeds of goal and resposibility in one's head, to allow one to begin dreaming and planning, without limitation. At nine, I was asked "What do you want to be when you grow up?" A priest. I'm sure, many thought this came out of a strong Catholic upbringing. I knew it was because priests only had to work a few hours on Sunday and got a free house. At twelve, I was asked "What do you want to be when you grow up?".A lawyer. I'm sure, I was thinking of the help I could bring to those wronged by life. The divoree next door was sure all lawyers, like her Sonny Bono-looking, poor excuse for a husband, were dogs. Through high school, syllibi are designed and programs created to focus us on what we want to be when we grow up. As much as it leaves us open to explore all life's choices, it's also asd if we've been given a time bomb, attatched to a sun-dial, in a rainstorm. Sure, the bomb's going to blow. When? When do we grow up? Ask an intelligent child and her answer should be somewhere in the shamillion-katrillion's. Kids are smart. Their imagination makes them that way. After spending my "formative years" in Manhattan and Cleveland, I've learned one keeps his imagination or one will perish. The day those yellow dragons stop screaming down 5th, with beasts riding high atop become just another angry cab driver, rushing to make a buck is the day you should stop mid-intersection. When the tree-made archways, in a man-made park no longer trasport you to another dimension, where you're Supreme Ruler Of All And Everything, life is just another dull walk in the park. Without imagination there is no future. How else would a boy on a budget turn Easy Mac, Doritos and a can of tuna into the best 3AM, "Oops, I drank too much," microwavable tuna noodle casserole on Earth? How else would that same boy, me, Mr. Peter "Strap On My Sword And Grab Me A Fairy, I Won't Grow Up Pan, stand in a nightclub, normally filled with lip syncing drag queens and barely-legal boys and see a theatre, producing real plays and musicals in a unique space? As I sat in that space, Wendy on my left, John on my right, they listened as I spouted lofty goals for a theatre company that did not yet, but was destined to, exist. They didn't laugh at my Neverland. Wendy had never seen Peter so motivated. Peter told John that the thought of things to come scared him. A business? People depending on me? My Pan butt, on the line? Was it worth it? John turned to Peter and held up his hand to quiet his ramblings. "What do you want to be, when you grow up?". Without hesitation, Peter looked at John and Wendy and thought of all the pirates he'd battled and all nights trapped on a rock, tide coming in, looked at his new Neverland and answered. "Exactly what I am right now." And that, my friends, though he'll never admit it out loud or let it show in mind, body or spirit, is the day Peter Pan knew he was a grown-up.

Okay, it's working.

Now that I figured out this actually works, I'll, once again, be writing more. It's kind of nice having the desire to write and share and actually having things to share. Brink of thirty... Exciting shit!

On my way

On my way to the YACTA Marquee Awards. I'm nervous as fuck and need a drink. Is this blogger thing working?

Think: WONDERLAND

I read for a modern film adaptation for Alice In Wonderland today.
Parts I need you to picture me in:
Cheshire Cat
Caterpillar
Mad Hatter
and...
They want to cast a drag queen as
Queen of Hearts


OFF WITH HER HEAD!

Heartgasms <*POW*3

A Gift From Me To You

It's currently 4:39:18 AM and I can't sleep.
For once, it's not for the usual reasons that I can't normally find my way to Little Nemo's favorite adventure place.

I'm kept awake by memories. Happy ones... Actually, happy is too bland a word for these memories. Pure. Heart-filling. Life-changing. "Heartgasm" is the best term I can make up in order to express the orgy of joy currently running rampant from my chest to the tips of every finger, out my feet and bursting forth from the tippy top of my noggin.

It would be far too long of an essay for me to explain each memory. So, I've decided to make a list... Almost an acceptance speech, if you will. If you won't? Fuck off. It's my heartgasm. Not yours.

I would like to thank...

A certain lady for writing the brilliant and humbling "Shucked," allowing my lifelong dream to star in a play on 42nd Street come true.

A certain gentleman and two certain ladies for trusting me to carry their vision all the way to my first acceptance speech.

A certain lady for days and nights full of bubbles and colors and balance.

A certain gentleman for making me nervous event though he has no idea I exist.

A certain gentleman for reminding me that I AM worth it.

A certain Goddess for the basic necessities and beyond.

A certain lady for a certain song of which my rewrite is almost finished and will make me FAMOUS!

A certain city for immediately welcoming me and currently missing me.

A certain city for constantly reminding me that my time there wasn't wasted.

A certain city for always causing internal battles about where happy should be.

A certain city for holding something for me, something to be discovered when I arrive.

A certain lady for thanking me for her strength and helping me realize that I am, too, strong.

A certain community for making me feel like a star.

A certain community for making a certain alter-ego a star.

A certain gentleman for helping me see that no one really knows it all and afraid sometimes trumps logical.

A certain force that protects and prevails over the bullshit and regrettable.

A certain Universe that gives me everything I ask for, in abundance.

A certain self.

Pick a number 1-100.

Grab your favorite book off the shelf.

Turn to that page.

What are the first words you read?

That's my thanks to you.

=) I'm sure it makes sense.

I love you, all.

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU

I hope you can feel this. It feels good.

EnErGy

It's been five days since I left Chicago and five days since I've had any strange and unusual substances in my system.  It's strange and unusual how my sleep patterns vary from all day to up all night to up constipated to up eating ice cream.  

I feel these strange surges of energy that fell as thought they are being topped off by something, like a lid has been placed over the little energy bug to keep it in the jar until it's little tail light goes dim, rendering it fecal energy matter.  How do I get that energy out of the jar and into productive use?  

I need help unscrewing the lid and letting little lightning bugs in my brain go freeeeeeeeeeeeeee...

Choose Your Own Adventure

Wednesday January 21, 2009 (12:30A.M.) I finish work, speak to a friend on the phone and the decision is made.
Wednesday January 21, 2009 (2:15A.M.) After rushing around, packing, my cab arrives.
Wednesday January 21, 2009 (3:47A.M.) Delay.
Wednesday January 21, 2009 (4:30A.M.) Delay.
Wednesday January 21, 2009 (5:00A.M.) I, finally, board the train and proceed to sleep.
Wednesday January 21, 2009 (11:32A.M.) The train arrives at it's final destination.

Union Station, Chicago, IL, USA

I've never done anything quite this drastic before. Uprooting so quickly, on a whim, and heading out of town to a city that I've only visited twice to stay with a friend of a friend and pray something work-wise will materialize soon... Soon enough that I don't overstay my welcome in my friend of a friend's apartment and can move into someplace else.

I pull out all the stops: posting on craigslist for a room to rent for $50-$100 a week, even asking if anyone needs a housesitter... Desperate times.

Monday January 26, 2009 (2:10A.M) Still keeping positive that things will work out. Starting to feel as if, maybe, I've reached beyond Friend Of Friend's comfort zone and need to go. I've been very respectful, I keep my things in the corner of one room (a backpack and a small suitcase,) I clean the bathroom every time I take a shower, I try to pick up around the place whenever I see it slightly out of order and, frankly, just try to stay as invisible as possible. I understand, however, that sometimes people just need their space, free of any foreign objects... Including runaways from Cleveland, Ohio.

Luckily, I met someone today who has a room he may be willing to let me use for a one or two weeks. Cowboy Brian seems like a genuine guy, constantly playing the host, never speaking ill of anyone., taking care of those who need it.

I hope my ride on this underground rainbow road doesn't end soon. I'm kind of enjoying my adventure. It is slightly unsettling not knowing what comes next. At any moment I could be in a cab on my way to the Amtrak... Back to Cleveland.

I'm so close to breaking past IL and to all of the other states beyond... States I have never seen (except a weekend in California) and would really like to explore. There are times I wish our society was still as it was years ago, when a traveling man could hitchhike his way across the U.S. and stop at farms, offering assistance in return for a hot meal and a place in the barn to hang his hat for the night. Now, there are just too many forms and required ID's and suspicious people for anything like that to happen.

So, keep faith. I am. I will accomplish what I've set out to do. It's sort of like my own reality show, my own survivor.

Survivor: United States of America.

Stay tuned for the next episode.... It's bound to be an exciting season.