Circling the Apartment, Logging Miles

I’m trying to write.

No, really, I am, I swear!

It looks like this.

And like this:

Sometimes like this:

And often like this:

Because I get bored with writing, and when I get bored, that’s right, MUPPET FASHION PARADE!

The best thing about the Muppet doppelganger is if the writing is bad, you can blame the play on her.

Here’s a list of things that are vaguely related to writing (BUT ARE CLEVERLY NOT WRITING!) that I do so that I can convince myself that I am writing, but I am very much not):

1) Make a long list of people to invite to my show so that my career will take off. While generally connected to the Toronto theatre community, in certain flights of fancy, the list can include such luminaries as Julie Taymor, the Ghost of Christmas Past, and Pope Pius XII.

(There is a sub heading to this category, and that is the list of fictional characters who would get this piece. This includes, but is not limited to Holden Caulfield, Esther Greenwood, Timon from The Lion King, and, once again, the Ghost of Christmas Past).

2) Look up festivals, shows, events where I could remount my as-now-unwritten show. Aggressively pursue such opportunities, all of which require a complete script to enter. Shows in places that allow me to travel to exotic locales are preferred (Hello, Avignon Theatre Festival!)

3) Make track lists of

a. Songs to use as pre show music

b. Songs to use in the show

c. Songs that various characters would like

d. Songs that I will write to, when I am, in future, writing.

e. Songs that are just great to dance to, cause, like, great songs, gotta dance!

4)Make up fantasy sequences of taking my bows (Several. Extended.)

5) Make up fantasy sequences of post-show euphoria in which various gentlemen callers ask for my hands, artistic directors flock around me, writers burst forth from the walls to offer to write amazing new parts for me, and everyone in my life gets along and we all drink and laugh with open mouths together forever. Taxes are abolished and death flees from our joyous party, as there could never be an end to such merriment and artistic ass-kickery.

6) Make up fantasy sequences of post-show euphoria in which my enemies come to the show , wherein I stun them, not only with my amazing show and now-amazing life, but with my incredible recreation of Destiny’s Child ‘Survivor’, which I sing to them, in three part harmony, by myself. Back up dancers appear as if from no where to assist me in finger-wagging. Enemies vanish in clouds of ignominy.

You know I'm not gon' diss you on the Internet...'cause my momma taught me better than that.

7) Muppet fashion parade (previously discussed).

Oh, and 8) Blog about all this.