spotlights...

What is it about the theatre that so captures the attention and passion of its players?

Is it the ability to become someone else for three hours every night? The pride from the applause at the curtain call? The addiction to the vanity of seeing one's name and picture in print? The discovery of the internal actress who has always existed in one's soul? The creation of some slightly new art at different performances? The satisfaction of presenting material that causes thought and philosophizing late into the night? The rush of blood as you forget all of your lines 1 minute before you're on, only to remember them as soon as the spotlight blinds you? The combination of exhaustion and adreneline as you walk home in the dark cold, singing harmonies?

Greater men than I have wrestled with all of these questions, and they could not find an answer either.

I don't expect an answer. I simply send out my thoughts and wishes into the void.
So, goodnight, dear Void.

[opening night]