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We weren't born with a name, we were given a name. A hedgehog doesn't have a name. It's just a nameless thing with a handful of flesh and skin and a beating heart. A hedgehog doesn't even know it doesn't have a name.
 
 
   
 
Sunday, September 24, 2006
 
Oh, a Rhinoceros!

And I am done with the last show of the year, the last show of my undergraduate degree, as of 4hrs ago. It doesn't feel real, probably because it all hasn't sunk in yet, and probably because I'm bushed and can hardly keep my eyes open. I can't believe I'm finished, stage-wise, with my degree. There's heaps of readings and essays to finish, God, I've 3 to write in one week.

We should all be getting seriously pissed drunk right now at our massive afterparty, the one afterparty we have been looking forward to since day one of uni. But no, instead we're all tucked up in our own beds. What a let down. I'll miss Aidan. I wanna have his babies.

What shits me is that this was THE underdog play of the year. It was the 'reject' cast. We had our script only 3 days before rehs started, we got a director noone had ever worked with before (who turned out a spectacular man, and fucken talented too), we delivered a fucking strong show who dazzled and shocked people, we pulled it all together with minimum rehearsal time, and we had fucken one and a half days to bump in, for crying out loud! And when we reached the finish line with gusto and wayyyy ahead of everyone else, there was noone to receive us with the fanfare. What. A. Let. Down. It's almost as if they expected us to fall along the way and didn't bother making the effort. Well Fuck it, it's their loss. Ballocks to that, I say. Yet I can't shake off the feeling that this was a fucking splendiferous show that I was a part of, the people who partook in it did not satisfy my quota. They didn't even fucking bother recording the show. What the fuck? The one time that Peter Snow goes abroad, he misses Rhinoceros, and noone fucking bothers to tape it. Fuck this shit. They tape ALLLL shows, so why the lack of effort this time? Fuck them, I say, Fuck them all. It was a great show, and that was all that mattered. Who cares if those shitty people didn't make the effort to see it? Who cares if it's our last show in uni and we didn't bond as a cast? Who care if we had no massive afterparty to create a sense of closure and bonding? Who cares if we were the underdogs that rose out tops? Who cares a shit. It was a fucking good show. And I want to have Aidan's babies. That's all that matters.

I'll see Aidan around, somehow. He'll always be doing stuff, and even if I don't catch him around, I know for sure he'll be on The Wedge, that horrible tv show. Afterall, it pays the rent.

It's time to go to bed.

 

 
   
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