Over the past two years, since my return to the stage for An Evening of Steampunk and Robot Theatre, there has always been another project on the horizon.
After Steampunk, there was the promise of a one-off encore of "Pancakes," the steampunk play I directed. And after that performance, after my friend Liz Locke told me "you need to act more," I auditioned for and won the part of "Jake" in Brian Kelly's production of Kathleen Cavalaro's At My Window. During the closing weekend of Window, I somehow weaseled my way into a small part in A Christmas Carol. When that was through, there was the promise of my participation in An Evening of Apocalyptic Theater and collaboration with Crystal Lisbon and Mary Casiello on the staged readings of Crossroads (or The Piano of Death). And the day after that wrapped up, I pitched the full stage production of Crossroads for this summer, and watched as John Herman pitched An Evening of Grand Guignol.
But now, it's over, and there are no more plays on the horizon. I have plenty to keep me busy—a revision of my novel-in-progress, the relaunch of my Website—but it feels strange not knowing when I (or my work, at least) will be back on stage.
To all those who welcomed me back to the stage after an eleven year absence, I say thank you. And to those of you who came to see any of these shows over the past two years, I thank you as well. It has been a blast to be back on the boards. And though I don't know if it will ever happen again, I have learned (re-learned?) that that is the beauty of theater: the uncertainty, the impermanence, the fleeting but awe-inspiring power of storytelling by and for people who were there, in a particular moment that can never really be re-created. A "you had to be there" moment.
You had to be there. And I was. I was.