As of today, I have now been fully vaccinated for over a month, and, in many ways, it’s everything I expected it to be. A visit from a New York grad school friend spiraled into a spur of the moment road trip, and the slow return of full-fledged in-person theatre has been downright marvelous to behold.
Though I have now lost count of the number of times that I have tried to leave the orbit of the theatre, something always seems to drag me back. Ever since I, as a pre-teen, emerged entranced from my very first Broadway show, nothing has ever quite managed to eclipse my passion for it, nor has any supposed change in priorities kept it from taking center stage in my life.
To say I’ve been haphazard with this blog since the huge theatrical shift that happened in March 2020 is a bit of an understatement. And though I do plan on getting back to reviews and whatnot once more in-person theatre is like, possible, I did want to pop in for a second to talk about some stuff I’ve been doing, because, single as I may be this Valentine’s season, I am seriously feeling the theatre love!
So, at about this time last year, I wrote a Thanksgiving post vaguely inspired by my participation in New City Players City Speaks storytelling event (don’t bother looking at it now, though—this one is long and winding enough!) The post ended up being more properly about stories and gratefulness in a larger sense, and it also ended up being one of the most terrifyingly vulnerable pieces of writing I’ve ever shared publicly.
As devastating as the COVID-19 pandemic has been for South Florida theatre (and most everything else), it’s also had some unexpected but undeniable bright sides — and today, I’m talking super-nova bright. Thanks to Zeezou’s Stardust Extravagnza, the inaugural production of Area Stage’s Miami Queer Theatre Collective (or MQTC), I’ve managed to expand my theatrical horizons as far as outer space without ever actually leaving my house!
“Do you think all this being in masks is hurting people’s souls?” My mother asked me one day, as we put on ours for a routine trip to the grocery store.
How the hell was I to know? I’m a writer, not a theologian. And, on the off chance I do have a soul, I assume mine is already plenty scarred.
Though it’s been one of my favorite musicals for over a decade, I don’t think I was actually mature enough to absorb the full emotional impact and nuance of Rent until late this March, when I decided to revisit the musical for the first time in several years.