Decompressing from class

They say that improv makes you barf up all the stuff that you normally would keep inside, and then look at it and play with it. That sounds gross. But basically, in a recent megaphone I described what came up during one such barf-fest. Last night, something else came up that I realize now is a pretty accurate portrayal of how I was feeling that night. Again, it came from being totally alone onstage and having to just start. I had a gun strapped to my leg, but I didn’t know how to use it. That was my little mantra for that scene. And that sort of captures how I felt last night, and about this class in general: powerless. It’s just a really hard class. I know I’ve got power hidden somewhere, but damn if I know how to — or have the guts to — wield it. Or even untape it from my damn leg.

I found a knife strapped to the other leg by the end of the scene, though. That was pretty cool.

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