You asked what I was like when I was young. What lessons I learned coming of age. You’ve heard stories. Women I performed with who work at the hardware store. Men who get excited about lawn chairs, summer nights, and racing down country roads in an orange El Camino.
I grew up out of place. I had to improvise a lot. That usually makes a good story.
I learned that:
+ Acting gets you dates.
+ Kissing feels like falling.
+ Everyone’s a poser.
+ Music is therapy.
+ Belief is an excuse.
I learned that people who drive clean farm trucks in the city are usually assholes.
I learned that the best kind of people are the kind who have midnight picnics in cemeteries and play Brahms on violin and get excited when they see The Milky Way come into focus.