there is nothing like a sweaty backstage four am no mirror no room to move barely room to breathe. i wouldnt be and know all the things that i am and do without that experience without that claustrophobia without that existentialist feeling staring at the mop from the kitchen, placing my panties against the steal cabinet next to an old crate of beer thinking to myself: is this what i am, is this what i do, is this what this moment in time looks like. there is knowledge there, something in that physical knowledge of doing that, of being there, of sweating there, of holding others there. i dont want to forget it ever all those moments all those places i have placed my body.
