It's about 9 p.m. at the Brooklyn Center for Theatre Research. My acting class ended about an hour ago. I'm puttering around. There's nobody here. Upstairs there's an ambient concert with little squeaks and sonic and synthetic lips. It's an absolutely lovely night—cool without humidity, with a breeze. It's been a mentally exhausting past 48 hours, from working on the next draft of *Doomers*—basically redrafting the play—to writing a whole 25-minute comedy set. I've never done stand-up before, but both events went well. My stand-up was divisive; but I found it exhilarating. I enjoyed it way more than I thought I would—and gave less of a shit than I thought about what people would think. A torrent of verbal and emotional energy pouring out of me. My tongue was loose.
[50% off year subscription: https://matthewgasda.substack.com/9f372ace offer expires July 27th]