twenty minutes on the t.
twenty minutes in 10 degrees, -10 degrees windchill
to my hooey acting class
where we march around the room in a line,
flailing our arms, chanting nonsensical gibberish
like mentally challenged children,
“bong! whee! grr! clap!”
and where we live life by flying, floating, sculpting and radiating.
i’m tired of the juvenile improv games,
but i suppose it’ll teach me sobered uninhibitedness.
twenty minutes back to the t
and by then,
i can’t feel my lips
and my boogers have frozen,
but i don’t mind so much.
yeah, i’m still a sojourner in boston,
still the kid from california
decked out in the winter gear scarf, doo rag, gloves,
poofy jacket and cargo pants,
with my headphones tucked inside my ear,
singing along with jenny about the rocks she’s got.
life in boston has been quiet.
and just because i’m not the notoriously rowdy party kid anymore
doesn’t mean i’m not happy.
because i am.
i just miss you guys sometimes.
theatre and spectator.