The Hamlet Project

Everything feels all “No” today. I feel like there’s a Broadway song about worlds of NO and YES and I don’t want my mind to turn toward Broadway, but it’s hard to control the associations that pop up. Particularly while sitting in the middle of the theatre district.
Which, you know, doesn’t feel like MY theatre district, despite theatre being my passion, or vocation, or compulsion, or career, or curse, or cross, or love, or burden, or despair, or hope, or dream, or reality, or whatever it is to me.
This theatre district which I sit in the midst of, feels so far away from who I am or what I do or what I’m interested in. It doesn’t feel like it belongs to actors or writers or directors or designers or artists of any kind. It feels like it belongs to bankers who, after having made enough money, decide on a new vocation, or marketers who like to watch people sing and dance and figured they could sell that to. This isn’t my theatre. This isn’t my theatre district. The problem is, nowhere else is either. No.