All The World's A Stage

I'm a playwright based in Philly who likes to make supernatural or psychological theatre happen.

Sometimes I have thoughts. I write them down here.

unexplained-events:

Drawings of North Korean concentration camp by an escaped prisoner. 

Even though these are extremely creepy in nature, it’s important to note that this isn’t the past, but something that is happening right now.

(via brightddarkness)

(Source: acuareleando, via mama-pills)

College be like

vavavante:

ntbx:

Housing: $2,980
Meal plan: $1,457
Books: $1,429
Enrollment: $983
Air: $3,274
Grass: $4,284
Sidewalk: $5,284
The sun: $3,381

FASFA BE LIKE : $14.78

(via endlessloveandart)

bahamvt:

ruricchi:

Awesome art!

by: あをこ

-Permission granted! 

YAAAAASSSS

(Source: nigecha)

asaaf00:

Hayao Miyazaki talking about his passion for animation while seeing the world through his fascinating career. From the documentary: The Kingdom of Dreams and Madness (2013)

(via maybenotboring)

oceanicsteam:

la-luz-del-mundo:

fuckingrapeculture:

[If you can afford an iPhone or an iPad, then you shouldn’t be on welfare.
This shouldn’t even be a controversial statement.]
seananmcguire:

cumbersome-cucumber:

frightening-feminist:

blissy-leaves:

getoutofthewelfaretag:

thegodlessatheist:

Or a playstation or a flat screen TV or a newer car, etc and etc. I know people that work under the table for half their pay and get paid on the books for the rest and collect welfare. I know of drug dealers that collect for tax purposes even though they pull in thousands of untaxed money each month dealing. Tell me how I am not supposed to be upset with these people like I am with greedy corporate cronies? I’m not heartless. These people are selfish and unethical.

Except not everyone who has nice things is automatically cheating the system. People are given things as gifts. People buy things and THEN qualify for assistance. People save up for nice things.You can’t assume what someone’s situation is just by what they own.

We were eating only donated Panera bread, rice, and turnips. My father was sneaking to the various blood banks in town to sell his plasma at twice the rate they allow. My mother was dying due to not having her medicine, which cost well over $1,200 a month after insurance. My autistic baby brother wanted to do something nice for me. He worked for months making custom art pieces to sell. He worked up courage despite crippling social anxiety and speech problems to ask the neighbors if he could do chores for them to earn more money - raking the yard, helping clean their house, walking their dogs. For nine months he carefully hoarded his money in a jar in his bedroom. He counted it every single night and compared it to the cost of what he wanted to get for me for Christmas. Finally he had enough. He bought me a DS Lite and a pokemon game. He was so happy. Until one of our neighbors, a highly conservative jackass, saw me with it outside a couple weeks later. My brother was with me. The neighbor stormed up and became screaming at us, a pair of teenagers, over how we could be so selfish to spend money on “electronic shit” when we were a family on food stamps. Spittle flying from his lips, cuss words every other second, rage radiating off of him so violently that our father came running out of the house - at a limp, since his spine is broken, which causes him horrific daily pain beyond what I can imagine - to protect us. My brother was never the same again. There is no happy ending here. That episode in his life changed him permanently and for the past seven years he has almost never left his room and never gone to a friend’s house. He is terrified of the neighbors and believes he is a bad person. Because of fucking people like you OP. Because of fuckers who believe that they know what life is like for everyone and have a right to judge. So fuck you OP. If you know drug dealers, report them, go on and put your ass on the line then. But for fuck’s sake don’t you dare thing you understand what goes on in the life of the people who live in never-ending, grinding poverty. Because you have *no fucking clue* what goes on in the detailed lives of others. You want to talk selfish? Look in the fucking mirror.

This is an important post.

that time Bill O Reily was shocked and appalled that poor people could afford *gasp* A TV AND A FRIDGE IN THEIR APT? and went on a rant saying these ppl shouldn’t be on welfare because they have a plasma tv and fridge because obviously poor people need to not have tvs and fridge because poor ppl should be storing their food underground in holes and draw on walls with stones and sticks for entertainment.

When I was a child on welfare, eating rotten lunch meat, walking in shoes with cardboard in the bottoms to cover the holes, I had an extensive collection of My Little Ponies.  Not “one or two horses”; over three hundred, all told, and almost all the major playsets.  Maybe, oh, 10% of the total came from my mother, over the course of the eight years I spent collecting and living with her.  The rest were gifts from family members who didn’t know about our situation, but knew from Gramma’s chatty “everything is fine” letters that I loved My Little Pony.  They were from the charity groups that let you sign up and specify what your children wanted for Christmas.  They were from me saving every penny I found on the street.  They were from favorite teachers who knew how poor we were, who wanted me to have birthday happiness.  We’re talking thousands of dollars of plastic horses, almost none of which took a dime from Mom’s budget.  And the ones that did?  She was a mother trying not to break her daughter’s heart.
Every time someone yelled at us because poor people shouldn’t have nice things, we all died a little inside, and I clutched my horses even harder.  I needed something bright and beautiful in the world, to make up for the roaches in the walls and the mold growing on the butter.
Unless you’re someone’s accountant, you don’t know where they’re putting their money, and it’s not your place to judge.


I think what they were trying to say is if you prioritize luxuries over necessities and then claim you still need money for those necessities then, well that’s not good… 

Holy shit, it’s amazing, it’s like you didn’t read a single word of all of those posts where actual poor people remind you people get gifts and shit, we’re often not always poor, and the ability one time payments doesn’t eradicate a systemic poverty.

oceanicsteam:

la-luz-del-mundo:

fuckingrapeculture:

[If you can afford an iPhone or an iPad, then you shouldn’t be on welfare.

This shouldn’t even be a controversial statement.]

seananmcguire:

cumbersome-cucumber:

frightening-feminist:

blissy-leaves:

getoutofthewelfaretag:

thegodlessatheist:

Or a playstation or a flat screen TV or a newer car, etc and etc. I know people that work under the table for half their pay and get paid on the books for the rest and collect welfare. I know of drug dealers that collect for tax purposes even though they pull in thousands of untaxed money each month dealing. Tell me how I am not supposed to be upset with these people like I am with greedy corporate cronies? I’m not heartless. These people are selfish and unethical.

Except not everyone who has nice things is automatically cheating the system. People are given things as gifts. People buy things and THEN qualify for assistance. People save up for nice things.

You can’t assume what someone’s situation is just by what they own.

We were eating only donated Panera bread, rice, and turnips. My father was sneaking to the various blood banks in town to sell his plasma at twice the rate they allow. My mother was dying due to not having her medicine, which cost well over $1,200 a month after insurance.

My autistic baby brother wanted to do something nice for me.

He worked for months making custom art pieces to sell. He worked up courage despite crippling social anxiety and speech problems to ask the neighbors if he could do chores for them to earn more money - raking the yard, helping clean their house, walking their dogs.

For nine months he carefully hoarded his money in a jar in his bedroom. He counted it every single night and compared it to the cost of what he wanted to get for me for Christmas.

Finally he had enough. He bought me a DS Lite and a pokemon game.

He was so happy.

Until one of our neighbors, a highly conservative jackass, saw me with it outside a couple weeks later. My brother was with me.

The neighbor stormed up and became screaming at us, a pair of teenagers, over how we could be so selfish to spend money on “electronic shit” when we were a family on food stamps. Spittle flying from his lips, cuss words every other second, rage radiating off of him so violently that our father came running out of the house - at a limp, since his spine is broken, which causes him horrific daily pain beyond what I can imagine - to protect us.

My brother was never the same again. There is no happy ending here. That episode in his life changed him permanently and for the past seven years he has almost never left his room and never gone to a friend’s house. He is terrified of the neighbors and believes he is a bad person.

Because of fucking people like you OP.

Because of fuckers who believe that they know what life is like for everyone and have a right to judge.

So fuck you OP. If you know drug dealers, report them, go on and put your ass on the line then. But for fuck’s sake don’t you dare thing you understand what goes on in the life of the people who live in never-ending, grinding poverty. Because you have *no fucking clue* what goes on in the detailed lives of others.

You want to talk selfish? Look in the fucking mirror.

This is an important post.

that time Bill O Reily was shocked and appalled that poor people could afford *gasp* A TV AND A FRIDGE IN THEIR APT?
and went on a rant saying these ppl shouldn’t be on welfare because they have a plasma tv and fridge because obviously poor people need to not have tvs and fridge because poor ppl should be storing their food underground in holes and draw on walls with stones and sticks for entertainment.

When I was a child on welfare, eating rotten lunch meat, walking in shoes with cardboard in the bottoms to cover the holes, I had an extensive collection of My Little Ponies.  Not “one or two horses”; over three hundred, all told, and almost all the major playsets.  Maybe, oh, 10% of the total came from my mother, over the course of the eight years I spent collecting and living with her.  The rest were gifts from family members who didn’t know about our situation, but knew from Gramma’s chatty “everything is fine” letters that I loved My Little Pony.  They were from the charity groups that let you sign up and specify what your children wanted for Christmas.  They were from me saving every penny I found on the street.  They were from favorite teachers who knew how poor we were, who wanted me to have birthday happiness.  We’re talking thousands of dollars of plastic horses, almost none of which took a dime from Mom’s budget.  And the ones that did?  She was a mother trying not to break her daughter’s heart.

Every time someone yelled at us because poor people shouldn’t have nice things, we all died a little inside, and I clutched my horses even harder.  I needed something bright and beautiful in the world, to make up for the roaches in the walls and the mold growing on the butter.

Unless you’re someone’s accountant, you don’t know where they’re putting their money, and it’s not your place to judge.

I think what they were trying to say is if you prioritize luxuries over necessities and then claim you still need money for those necessities then, well that’s not good… 

Holy shit, it’s amazing, it’s like you didn’t read a single word of all of those posts where actual poor people remind you people get gifts and shit, we’re often not always poor, and the ability one time payments doesn’t eradicate a systemic poverty.

(via theangryviolinist)

Psycho (1960)

This performance tho

(Source: vintagegal, via notitlewhatsoever)

I have no idea what the hell these ad’s have to do with a bank, but they’re brilliant and I need them on my blog now.

(Source: drawing-interrupted, via sextronautt)

itsmecritter:

I’ve always wanted to see this story realized 

(via the-horror-princess)

“Fucking white people”

—   

every person ever at least once regardless of skin color, heritage, or religion (via spicy-vagina-tacos)

even white people say this

(via draggedqueens)

I legitmately say this like all the time. Like even at my self. 

(via camsfarts)

“And how hard is it to land even a minimum-wage job? This year, the Ivy League college admissions acceptance rate was 8.9%. Last year, when Walmart opened its first store in Washington, D.C., there were more than 23,000 applications for 600 jobs, which resulted in an acceptance rate of 2.6%, making the big box store about twice as selective as Harvard and five times as choosy as Cornell. Telling unemployed people to get off their couches (or out of the cars they live in or the shelters where they sleep) and get a job makes as much sense as telling them to go study at Harvard.”

—   "Why Don’t the Unemployed Get Off Their Couches?" and Eight Other Critical Questions for Americans (via seriouslyamerica)

HEY HEY HEY WELCOME TO MY LIFE. HEY HEY HEY.

(via randomlancila)

This is disgustingly relevant to my life.

(via randomlancila)

goldenheartedrose:

yukine-chan:

dollsahoy:

kkkkai:

saranae:

theknowledgethebeastandinferno:

This is a great movie.

What I want to say EVERY SINGLE TIME. 

Baristas are paid minimum wage to follow their company’s policies. That includes using whatever terms their company decides on for branding purposes. If you want a frappuccino instead of a frappe, a large instead of a venti, or whatever other thing you wanna call your drink, that’s fine. Your barista? They are paid shitty wages and work shitty hours and have to deal with hundreds of people telling them medium instead of grande, or large instead of venti (which refers to the fact that it is, actually, 20 oz of liquid, meaning you’re being a jackass for no reason).

Your barista isn’t stupid. They know what a fucking ‘large’ is and they know their store’s branding and slang sounds dumb to a lot of people. So how about, instead of being an asshole to a minimum wage worker, you consider why you keep buying $6 coffees instead of making that shit at home.

I’ll say that one more time.

Your barista is not stupid.

They know what a large is, what a medium is, and what a small is.

They also know they can be fired for not toeing the company line. And they can be fired for not standing there and taking the abuse you’re spewing at them.

They are being paid to not fight back. They are being paid to stand there all day and translate medium to grande and venti and large and regular and all while you bitch about the specific words you “have” to use. They are being paid to be welcoming and friendly and nice to you while you call them stupid.

Bitch, I know baristas with Ph.Ds, okay? Back the fuck off.

bless you

This. We are also taught to clarify the customer’s order according to our company’s wording, as evidenced in the gif set. I worked at Starbucks for 3 years and daily I would encounter someone asking for a small, medium or large and I always had to say, “so, you want a tall caramel macchiato?” It’s not hard to say yes or no, especially once the barista picks up the cup and you know that’s the size you want.

We are pretty flexible at McDonald’s. Like I don’t care if you order a frappe or a Frappuccino. I know what you meant. Now espresso drinks sometimes take a bit more clarification but still are easily ordered.

Anyway, yeah. Don’t be an asshole and it’s okay to ask questions.

As a former Starbucks employee I’m obliged to reblog this for the commentary.

(Source: brohemianrapcity, via brightddarkness)

Theatre and Its Dead Skin

The other day I read an article about the second closing of the Prince Music Theatre since I first arrived in Philadelphia four years ago. The article compounded this news with discussions of the struggle of other theatre companies and artists in the Philadelphia scene, most notably the not so secret industry secret that Philadelphia Theatre Company, one of the four LORT theatres in Philadelphia is inching dangerously close to bankruptcy. (For those of you who don’t know what LORT means, it’s the equity classification for Regional theatre, basically the largest and biggest budget theatres your going to find outside of New York.) This is the result of moving into a beautiful giant theatre space when they definitely had not raised enough money to able to afford it.

The article also focused on several local theatre artists, essentially saying to them “Hey, the industry you chose to dedicate your life to is financially unstable and risky. How do you feel about that?” The general concessus was “Well duh, but if we worried about that we wouldn’t be artists,” I guarantee you that any artist you ask is going to say the same thing. It’s that reality that is a fundamental aspect of being an artist.

The whole article had this really gross pessimistic feeling to it. It basically concluded that similar to Philadelphia Theatre Companies dismal looking future, the future of Philly Theatre as a whole is also pretty scary looking.

Perhaps, as a recent graduate with a theatre degree whose current work in the industry is largely unpaid, and is currently struggling to support himself, I might not be in a position to disagree with that sentiment. And yet, every single fiber of my being urges me to call bullshit.

Philly theatre is going to be fine. Some might even go as far as to say its booming. There are just so many factors that the article ignores, there are so many things going down in Philly theatre that goes way beyond the obvious risks of “being an artist.” And one doesn’t have to look far! In fact, just a couple blocks north of PTC’s Suzanne Roberts Theatre, The Wilma Theatre is having some great successes. It had an incredible season this past year, highlights including Danai Gurira’s The Convert and the world premier of Paula Vogel’s new play Don Juan Comes Home From Iraq (which is destined for Broadway and will probably win Tonys). As they’re pulling out all the artistic stops (including a giant constantly shifting mechanical platform) to produce awe inspiring theatre, is the Wilma suffering financially? No! In fact they just announced their Wintix program, a grant which will allow them to dramatically reduce ticket prices for the next couple seasons.$25 for general public and $10 for students, seniors and industry? Are you kidding me? Affordable tickets? Check

Or how out the Arden, who continuously produces 7 shows a year including two children’s shows? Building young audiences. Check!

Or perhaps you’re into fringier theatre? Welp the organization behind the Philadelphia Fringe Festival established a year round presence this year, starting with the opening of a brand new theatre space.

But no… Philly theatre could be tanking any minute now, or at least that’s what Philly newswrites seem to want is to believe.

Maybe it’s my position as an emerging artist that affords me some naïveté and optism but there’s so many things I see about this situation with the Prince and PTC, and looking nationally, companies like San Jose Rep. These aren’t signs that theatre is dying. It’s a sign that its changing. Or at least in desperate need of change. People have been saying for years that the Regional Theatre System is failing and that’s because it is. It’s failed to adapt to a world where if I want to be told a story, I can tap the screen on my iPad a couple times and boom: I’m watching the new season of Hemlock Grove. The next generation of potential theatre audiences has become accustomed to cheap instant gratification storytelling. Why the heck woukd they pay $30 or more to be locked in a room with strangers for two hours… Or 90 minute… Or 60 minutes…

I could spend an entire article/blog post/essay/whatever the this is discussing the myriad of ways to get this very important demographic into the theatre (and probably will) but it seems that the only effort the Regional theatre system as a whole in this country seems to be making to draw the attention of the young folk is to make plays shorter to match our attention spans, which has incredibly patronizing implications. Other than that, they’d rather continue to satiate the mob of 60+ year old white people we in the theatre refer to as “subscribers” with riskless vanilla storytelling. To be quite frank, that is the last demographic we need to be focusing on as an artform if were to live up to our purpose of fostering conversations and social change. (Just remember theatre is mostly nonprofit for a reason.) The future does not rest in the hands of old white people. And if it does, I think history suggests that it shouldn’t.

As a result of us continuously only being as brave as ours subscriber, our artform has begun to stagnate. We’re decades behind other popular art forms both artistically and functionally. Regional theatres have been telling the same kinds of stories for the past 30 years, while film continues to experiment with genres, motifs, and styles and Videogames are quickly coming into their own in terms of narrative storytelling. And thenlooking at the the technical things like marketing and the fact that theatres are stilling relying on the archaic posters and post cards, instead of focusing on things that really grab people’s attention, like I don’t know… VIDEO TRAILERS? This problem is only compounded by medieval Equity and licensing rules regarding recording of performances. Perhaps maybe even some viral marketing? The Internet is a tool people, it’s not some scary theatre company eating monster.

It’s really almost easy to see how these news writers can become so pessimistic. But they fail to make the most important connection of all: the reason why regional theatres are dropping like flies across the countries isn’t because of some mysterious force of bad mojo sweeping an artform. It’s because these theatres refuse to change. They refuse to tell stories that upset the hoard of subscriber zombies. The’re afraid to lower ticket prices because they don’t know how else to raise money (I’ll say it again. The internet can be a very powerful tool.) They buy giant glorified picture frames they can’t afford and the wonder why audiences would rather look through their screens at home. It’s a simple Darwinistic concept. Adapt or die. Regional theatres are afraid to adapt. So they die. The ones that do (like the Wilma) survive and continue.

At this years Humana Festival of New American Plays, Anne Bogart said that we are reaching a new era in theatre, that there’s a new style that doesn’t quite have a name yet. As we go through this transition, we’re not unlike a snake. As it grows and adapts, it needs to shed some dead skin. Instead of mourning the loss of the Prince, and dreading the potential loss of PTC, we shoukd view them as shed skin. A reminder of old times, and a sign of continuous growth.

donnythornpson:

I just want to make sure everyone got to see Wil’s parody of Ariana Grande’s ‘Problem’ : ‘Deven’s a douchebag’

I can’t!