When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek

150 posts later, I still don't know who I am.

But I think I'm getting somewhere.

I want to be Ginger Rogers and live in a beautiful romantic world all the time and not worry about anything and never, never cry again.

I tap danced to that last week. Somehow Fred did it a little better, I think.

I'm in school right now making templates for every section of the paper so the damn editors can do their own layout for a change. I shouldn't have to do everything--just oversee it. I'm still losing another saturday over the templates, though, so I kind of wonder if there's any point.

I went to 38th street to drop off my play and there was an elevator that shook and I could hear the metal chains collapsing underneath me as it went up and when I got to the third floor the whole thing was painted lime-yellow-pukeish and the paint was falling off everywhere and the doors were all ornate cast iron rusting away and there were drip marks everywhere and low lights and there was a single sheet of paper taped to the door that said "Young Playwrite's Association has moved. Youth Playwriter's Competition 2006 deadline is December 9. Mail to (adress)."

So I have another week.