didn’t manage to write the though-of-Hamlet-our-brother’s-death scene for playwriting class, by the way. I thought I knew what it was, so I wasn’t able to do it. I can only write things with uncertainty. This is like the time I spent two years thinking I was going to write a poem that was “like PRUFROCK, except better” and didn’t write a thing.

Instead, I flaked and brought in a scene from a play I’m not even “working on,” something old and messy. Course, everyone liked it better than anything I’ve brought in all quarter – and the reason I’m not “working on” it is because it’s too painful – and that’s why it’s better, even though it’s as raw as (insert appropriate comparison) – it’s realer. Hrmph. I would rather be stabbed in the eyeballs with pencils than write any more of it. At least today.

Is “I would rather be (X) than (Y)” a comparison too? I have to watch it.

I don’t have a “playwriting” category. I just have “writing” and “theater.” Somehow I think this post, which is more about cowardice than courage, is not going to be the post that creates that category.