Antshillvania was my breakout performance: a seven-year old flower who brought the wrong colour tights and had to stand out in front of everyone white-legged instead of brown in my green plantsuit, head bewigged with oversized yellow petals, but I gave my “Go away!” to the marauding weeds on cue, projecting and enunciating with as much expression as I was able, despite my shame. Theatre of some sort – much of it wooden and prosaic, rotely recalling lines and following stage directions – was my constant extra curricular pursuit til my college years. A college professor with a long history as a jock who joined our little band of supposed creatives (on my part) surprised me with his observation that in all his years of team sports, he’d never experienced as profound a sense of team as in doing theatre. I’m not sure if my lack of understanding was due to an over-hyped ideal of sportsmanship bred by inspirational movie scenes, or my familiarity with theatre, or perhaps my failure to ...
a smattering of brain droppings from a self-styled writer