It’s the first snow of the year. My feet are cold as I sit backstage. Stage manager just came around giving me 20 till show. I’ve been scouring Craigslist for a room in LA, bought some cut-off corderoys at Marc Jacobs. WHAT IS MY PURPOSE?!? I’ve wasted my twenties blacked out & drunk and now I can’t get back lost time. I want to be this great artist like my heroes but I’m not sure how. My experimental films? My shitty little watercolor paintings? My ameteaur theatre roles? The indie film roles? I feel so cheesy, so ameteaur. I dream of making a film the world will see. I dream of selling a book with my watercolor paintings and I dream of being a movie star and on broadway. Just like the rest of us. Yes I feel poor and sucky and run over and over looked. One day I’ll be dead.