livingroomplaymakers-blog

[livingroomplaymakers-blog]

Meet Our Playwrights

Moving Stories comprises five short plays all inspired by one basement Edgewater apartment. Each play explores the varying reasons we move, told through the lens of five very different playwrights:

Erin Austin co-founded LRP with a really excellent group of creatives back in 2013.  Since then, she’s written for and/or produced eight of LRP’s site-inspired productions. Outside of LRP, she is an avid collaborative playwright and screenwriter. Recent writing credits include collaborations with Tellin’ Tales Theatre, Lyric Opera of Chicago, Chicago Dramatists, Greenhouse Theater, American Theatre Company, and Hub Theatre. When not writing plays, Erin writes and produces content for educational videos and computer games. She has an MFA in Writing for the Screen + Stage at Northwestern University (2013). Erinlaustin.com

Jonathan Baude is a Chicago-based playwright and humorist. Jonathan's plays have been produced in Chicago, St. Louis, and Norman, Oklahoma. He has received awards of varying impressiveness for his plays about President McKinley’s assassin, star-crossed chess partners, and how cool dragons are. He also collaborated with Brian Golden on the story for the spec pilot Shitty Hall, which was named a Semi-Finalist for the 2017 PAGE International Screenwriting Award for TV Drama Pilot. Jonathan has been a producing playwright with Living Room Playmakers since 2015, and he still hasn’t pitched some of his weirdest ideas.

Minita Gandhi is an actress/playwright/writer who was born in Mumbai, India. Raised primarily in San Francisco, she is proud to have called Chicago her artistic home for over 8 years. MUTHALAND is her first full-length play. It was workshopped at Silk Road Rising for their Solo Festival, selected for the Ignition Festival of new plays at Victory Gardens Theater, and invited to the Raven Theater for a special performance sponsored by the Indo-American Heritage Museum.  It will also appear in Pacific Conservatory Theatre’s 2018/19 season. She can be seen in the recurring role of Dr. Prospere on NBC's Chicago Fire, and has appeared on Fox's hit show Empire, NBC's Crisis, ABC's Betrayal, Fox's The Chicago Code, and was The Onion News Network's anchor, Nina Shankar. Minita has worked at a number of regional theaters across the country including Berkeley Repertory Theater, The Arena Stage, Milwaukee Repertory Theater, and Lookingglass Theater. She has been directed by Tony award winning adaptor and director Mary Zimmermann, and originated the role of Priya, in Silk Road Rising's World Premiere production of Rajiv Joseph's, The Lake Effect.

Jenni Lamb is a Chicago-based playwright and former improviser. Her plays include Mother Lode, Quiver, 12th and Clairmount, Memento Polonia, Period Piece, Thou Proud Dream, Ellen Bond, Union Spy and Sickly Sulphur/Florid Arabesque. Jenni’s plays have had readings or productions with The Goodman Theatre, The Road Theatre (LA), The Gift Theatre, American Theatre Company, Stage Left Theatre, Route 66, Black Box Acting Studio, Wordsmyth Theatre (Houston), and Northwestern University. Her play Quiver received an honorable mention from the Kilroy List and she was a member of the Goodman Playwrights Unit. Jenni is a producing playwright with Living Room Playmakers and a Resident Playwright at Chicago Dramatists. She holds an MFA in Writing for the Screen and Stage from Northwestern University.

Alvaro Saar Rios' plays have been performed in New York City, Hawaii, Milwaukee and all over Texas. Rios has received commissions from various organizations, including The Alley Theatre, Houston Grand Opera, and Honolulu Theatre for Youth. His award-winning play Luchadora! is published by Dramatic Publishing Inc. He is also the co-founder of The Royal Mexican Players, a national touring performance troupe. Mr. Rios holds an MFA in Writing for the Stage and Screen from Northwestern University. Alvaro recently moved to Chicago from Milwaukee and is a Resident Playwright at Chicago Dramatists.

[livingroomplaymakers-blog]

So You Want to be a Property Rental Agent?

By Associate Producer Kasey Waas

In our Moving Stories table read, Director Sonny Das asked the room to share their most memorable moving experience. This got me thinking about my last apartment hunt: what made me excited about the move. I’d only been in Chicago for 10 months when I found myself on the hunt for a one bedroom. I didn’t know where to start so I set up appointments with some rental agents. I learned a lot—mostly about what not to do:

No Frat Houses: Agent A carefully wrote down my must haves and nice to haves before we hopped into her Kia Optima and drove to a “perfect” place off Belmont. It was a windowless basement one bedroom that appeared to have at least seven 20-year-old men living there. I’m pretty sure one of them was under the pile of dirty clothes on the floor.

Check for Occupants First: Agent B had just one apartment in my price range to show me but it was a “real gem” so we were both pretty excited. While unlocking the front door it swung open to reveal an angry man in a towel: “STOP showing my apartment. I live here already!”

No Unsolicited Rape Stats: Agent C had a few different properties he thought would be a good fit. We saw one that had neither vomit nor an active tenant and that was enough for me. I just had one question – was the neighborhood safe? The woman moving out was at the apartment so she and I had a chance to chat. She was robbed a few years ago on her way home but overall felt very safe in/around the apartment. I was comfortable with that answer. Perhaps my face indicated I was reconsidering because as soon as we left, Agent C proclaimed that I shouldn’t let that bother me. After all, she had headphones in, she “should have known better” plus, I was way “more likely to get raped in a neighborhood like Wrigleyville.” Agent C hadn’t heard of any rapes near this apartment but he did list all the neighborhoods where he had heard of rapes. Agent C’s rental company went out of business exactly one year later.

[livingroomplaymakers-blog]

Our Playwrights Collective

By Producing Playwright Erin Austin

When you think about LRP, you might think first about the unique production locations, or our heavy pours of two-buck chuck, or our always-fantastic rotation of actors and directors. Sure, we have all of those things going for us, but Living Room Playmakers is ALL about the playwrights.

Our MO is giving our writers a really tough prompt:

Write a play that takes place on the shore of Lake Michigan!

Research the tabletop community in Chicago and then make a play about it!

Write a scene that can be performed forwards or backwards in an antique shop!

And then giving our writers the resources they need to actually make that play happen.

As a producer and as a writer on this project, I’ve had the unique experience of providing and arranging all of this and taking advantage of it.

Here’s what has gone into developing these plays.

We began writing these Moving Stories plays back in February.  

All of the writers were given a prompt:

Write a play about moving into this Edgewater apartment or moving out of it.

And a few constraints:

1-3 actors total

Make it a complete 10-minute play that has the potential to grow into a 45 minute one-act

Do it all on a bunch of pretty strict timelines

Then, once we got to March, the writing began in earnest.

April was all about:

Hearing the drafts out loud (aka when playwrights pretend to be able to act)

One-on-one meetings with our super-smart director, Sonny Das

Incorporating notes from our dramaturg, the irreplaceable Jessy Lauren Smith

Finding a kick-ass ensemble of actors

Now here we are in May. I started writing this while I was sitting in the basement at Chicago Dramatists, watching two amazing actors break down this hilarious play by Jonathan Baude. Jonathan was scribbling down notes. Madisen, our AD and SM was improvising sound effects, and Sonny was deep in thought.

It’s the week of the show now. The actors are off-book and our paper scripts will be tossed aside. My attention will be off of my own script as I transform completely into a producer: wrangling props and making programs and checking Brown Paper Tickets.

But all of that means nothing without those pages. The work of my fellow LRP playwrights inspires me and challenges me to be a better writer all the time. And ultimately, that’s why we are doing what we do. We are a playwrights collective and we’re so excited to share our words with all of you.

[livingroomplaymakers-blog]

By Producing Playwright Jessy Lauren Smith

A written version of Jessy’s piece is included here—but the audio version above is pretty top-notch, trust us.

Reading the scripts for Moving Stories has made me realize that I don't know how many times I've moved. I started trying to do the math and I got kind of bummed out, and then kind of proud of myself but in a gross way, and then I got sleepy. But it's a lot. It's a lot of times.

I do think that your space matters. At least, it matters to me, it matters to my health. Through trial and error, I have found that I cannot live in basements, or with seven men, or in houses that are possessed.

But it's funny to me how moving never stops feeling like a fresh start, no matter how many times you've brought your problems with you. I think of states and countries ​​and houses I've lived in and I use them to mark time, and when I picture myself in that house I see myself as a certain kind of person with a certain set of problems, like part of me is made up of that space.

I don't regret any of my moves and I believe most of them were necessary, either for practical reasons or because I felt like my mind was unraveling. I'd move, and some things would get better, and I would buy myself more time. I'd make new friends and go to new bars and have new experiences and I'd look for the piece that was missing, for the thing I hadn't found yet that would make the inside of my brain feel like it all fit together.

Then eventually, I stay in one place long enough that I'm able to apply the scientific method to the problem, and when I go back and picture myself in all of these different spaces, with different haircuts and different friends, I notice what I've failed to include in all those pictures: I'm sad. Not because I don't have my own room or don't get enough sunlight, but because I'm sad.

Moving can help but it can also obscure the things that are wrong when you move in and still wrong when you move out. It's not a substitute for getting better at relationships, or for taking care of yourself, or for therapy and medication. The thing it gives you, is that it makes you feel like the kind of person who is capable of change.

And you are.

[livingroomplaymakers-blog]

Moving (Up) Stories

By Producing Playwright Jenni Lamb

Moving to a new apartment, condo, or home often means a fresh start. This can be invigorating, transforming…. and a huge pain in the ass! 

Since living in Chicago, I count nine times that my husband and I have moved. We moved for all sorts of reasons: the street was too loud, our apartment was too small, we were too far away from our son’s school, or we were just bored of living in the our neighborhood.

The worst move we made was moving from one story to another. Our first apartment in the city was a garden-level apartment in Lakeview. We were the first tenants in the freshly rehabbed two-bedroom. We didn’t have much light, but the rent was cheap and we had a parking spot!

It was a good time, a really good time. It was the nineties. The Clintons were in office, the economy was booming, and we had lots of young friends who loved to hang out. It was good, but after two years we decided it could be better. We wanted air conditioning and sunlight. There was an opening in the apartment on the top floor, and we decided to take it.

This was going to be an easy move. We didn’t need a U-Haul or really even boxes, we would carry all of our things upstairs. And our friends had plenty of time on their hands (who we’d also helped move and so they owed us!).

There is no hell like taking the top of a copy box, filling it with your silverware, walking up three flights of stairs to deposit it in the apartment above. Then taking apart your bedding, carrying up the comforter and sheets in a wad to deposit on the floor while you figure out how to get your mattress up the stairs.

In the end, our move upstairs was actually a step down. Yes we had an air conditioner, but we had a giant bathroom but a tiny kitchen where we were constantly blowing out fuses. 

It was a terrible move, but it did give us a story.

[livingroomplaymakers-blog]

On Living Alone

By Producing Playwright Jonathan Baude

We're just a few weeks away from the workshop production of our next show, Moving Stories, so I can't help thinking about some of my past moves.

Most recently, I've been thinking about my sophomore year in college. I was living alone in a brand-new apartment building about a mile from campus. I'd been excited to move into the building, a set of lofts built into an old winery complex. It was a cool building, the floors were polished concrete, and I had the whole place to myself. In fact, it was the first and last time I'd ever lived alone.

I'd transferred to my school midway through the previous year, which meant I didn't have a lot of time to make friends. My freshman year mostly consisted of eating frozen meals in my room and binge-watching shows (before they called it that—I was kind of a pioneer). I had some nominal suitemates, who were essentially strangers I shared a hallway and a bathroom with. So for sophomore year, I jumped at the chance to live in a nice apartment, and being far from campus seemed just as good as being close.

By the end of my sophomore year, I came out of my shell, made more friends (thank you Fiddler on the Roof) and lost a bunch of weight—due in no small part to my mile walk to and from campus every day. And while my life had improved living in that space, I'd grown pretty sick of it. I was frustrated by what a pain in the ass it was to hang out with my friends, and I felt pretty Havishammy rattling around my polished concrete floors with nothing to do and no one to talk to.

The next year, I lived on campus in a suite with five of my friends. It was dingy and depraved, and it was everything I'd been missing. Since then, I've never lived alone, and I've never missed it.

In a way, I was like the kid who gets forced to smoke an entire pack of cigarettes. I thought I’d love living alone, and only once I actually lived that way did I realize how taxing it was to be so lonely.

I'm happy when I'm in a home shared with people I love. And working on Moving Stories has given me the opportunity to spend my time in a home brimming with love, laughter, and copious snacks. I really couldn't feel any luckier.

[livingroomplaymakers-blog]

Curating Personal Spaces

By Associate Producer Kasey Waas

I’ve been in my apartment for five years. Every year, I spend approximately 23 minutes looking at other apartments online, get frustrated, and renew my lease. The current apartment has its quirks, sure. The water heater sounds like it’s trying to escape the confines of the wall, the porch is crooked, and the kitchen floor gets dirty ten seconds after it’s been cleaned—but overall, it’s a great apartment (cheap, it’s cheap). After I renewed my lease this year, I looked around and thought about how the apartment didn’t really look or feel like mine.

I’ve always loved curating spaces. In my LRP role, I often have the opportunity to help craft the look and feel of a room. Most notably, I think of XV last winter and getting to turn a skeletal basement into a Cougar-worthy evening affair.

I have a knack for this kind of visual production. So that’s why it struck me how little effort and care I’d put into my own apartment. I’d cobbled together hand-me-down furniture and hung some things on the walls. It was tidy, but not really all that personal. I decided that I’d do some work. I’d stay in the affordable apartment, but I’d finally update my home.

This meant lists—so many lists. This meant spreadsheets for budgeting and measurements, color palette collages, and online shopping.

Throughout 2017, I’ve been going through the rooms in my apartment one by one and removing clutter, swapping the old for the new, and rearranging my belongings. I love the way it’s turned out so far, but I’ve loved the process more. Getting to stare at a space I see every day and think with intention and purpose about how I really want that room to function and feel is rewarding. Plus, the spreadsheets make it just plain fun.

At this point, I’ve got just one room left: the study. Funnily enough, most of the floor space in there is taken by unused decorations from XV.

[livingroomplaymakers-blog]

Moving Boxes

By Producing Playwright Jenni Lamb

We swore in 2006 that it was going to be the last time. Packing up dishes and books and bathroom supplies was too big of a pain in the ass. When you move, your life stops. When you move, it takes six months to figure out the right place to put your pictures, your spatula, and your socks. Our street was quiet, we liked our neighbors, the beach was right down the street… but our family decided it was time for a change. We spent so much time going back and forth between Lincoln Square and Rogers Park for my son’s school, and we didn’t feel like we could be an active part of either community. We spent all summer last year looking for a new place, a new start, a place to spread out—and we finally found exactly what we were looking for on Western Avenue.

So here we are. We are no longer people who live by a beach in a one-floor condo, but are people who live in a two-story apartment near a very busy street. We can no longer say “I wish we had more space” or “I wish we lived closer to the school.” So now that that is no longer an issue, what takes its place?

No matter how you look at it, moving is transformative. I think the act of moving is really about yearning to create a different version of yourself.

And I think that’s why packing those boxes is so hard. You know that when you unpack them, you are not only leaving your apartment, condo, home behind. You are also leaving habits and memories and even a part of your identity behind.

[livingroomplaymakers-blog]

A Producer’s Nightmare

By Associate Producer Kasey Waas

I’ve been very fortunate in my producer experience so far with LRP. While we’ve had the opportunity to explore a great variety of spaces, we’ve always had hosts who were excited, welcoming, and game. Each year we talk about possible locations, interested hosts, and dream spaces. I’d love to work on a production in a museum, throughout an historical hotel, or on a boat—locations that offer both challenge and promise. But for what locations would I turn down production duties, you ask?

Here are just a few that fall on my Too Much Trouble list:

An Airboat Swamp Tour

Sure, we’ve been saying for years we need a friend with a boat, but I’d like to limit that search to speed, pontoon, and sail. If the boat comes with the possibility of alligators, count me out. Gators are too still, until they are not.

That Private Island Nick Cage Bought

As we all know, Mr. Cage has had some truly inspired spending sprees over the last couple years. One of those shopping excursions included buying an island. An island he couldn’t build on because of an endangered lizard population and later tried to sell to pay off back taxes.

I envision a production on the island involving at least one actor frantically exclaiming: “The iguanas have taken the dressing room!”

My Childhood Home

This could be awkward for a few reasons. First of all, producing work inspired by the place where I had my first kiss and smoked my first cigarette might cause me to learn something profound about myself. Who has time for that?

Secondly, my parents don’t live there anymore and the people who do live there now probably aren’t too keen on having an LRP audience traipse through their Spring, Texas, home. Lastly, I’ve had this dream before and the plays never go well.

[livingroomplaymakers-blog]

No One Thinks They’re Evil

By Producing Playwright Jonathan Baude

One of the most defining lessons I think I’ve learned in my entire life is something I picked up in my sophomore acting class. It’s pretty simple, but it changed the way I think about the world: Everyone does something for a reason. 

Whether you’re writing an epic fantasy saga or just sitting in your car, raging against the guy apparently too afraid to turn right on red, you have to remember that everything that anyone does, at any time, is motivated by something.

Sometimes the motivations are arbitrary, or incredibly self-centered, or even based on deeply hateful belief systems, but they’re not random, and they’re not two-dimensional evil.

Writers know this well, although I think actors know it best of all because they actually have to portray someone and figure out what really fuels their fire. I think about this often when writing, trying to make sure there’s an actual reason everyone does what they does—not just to be the bad guy I need, or to deliver the requisite piece of exposition, or to set up my perfect punchline.

But, honestly, I take this lesson into my everyday life. Especially when it comes to people who I disagree with. I try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. I try to see things from someone else’s perspective. A lot of times, you can take a pretty good guess at why someone did what they did. It doesn’t mean you’ll excuse their behavior or forgive their actions, but it does mean you’ll be able to understand what’s really going on. 

It’s a tool for empathy, sure, but I also find it reassuring. It’s dissatisfying to view the world as filled with arbitrary, thoughtless actors. If you can figure out what makes everyone tick, you can see a clearer picture of the world around you—and figure out how best to navigate it.

[livingroomplaymakers-blog]

A Locked Room Mystery

By Producing Playwright Tony Werner

You're mingling. You're thanking people for coming to the show. You're introducing people to other people. But then someone approaches you with an awkward smile and says the words you never want to hear when you're producing: Someone is locked a bathroom.

I think they actually used the word "trapped." "One of your cast is trapped..."

At a recent venue where we had a recent show, there was indeed a bathroom with a sign taped up on the wall: DO NOT LOCK THIS DOOR THERE IS NO KEY. We all obeyed the sign and lived under its law. But after the show, both of the regular, non-locking bathrooms were in use, so an actor decided to try the bathroom with the intimidating sign. He did not lock the door, but once it latched... it locked anyway.

Once I heard this bit of news, I ever-so-calmly went to check it out, all while doing that thing you do when you're producing, where you act like whatever happening is totally normal and totally expected.

Well. Sure enough. He was in there. Outlined perfectly behind fogged glass. Pulling at the door knob. He's a great actor too, so he had this really animated silhouette. Looked like a human zoo. Whatever that is.

As I gathered my co-producer, the mind twisted with questions: Would we be able to get the door open? Who had a key? Would he have to live in the bathroom forever?

Someone had a key. We got the door unlocked. We got the actor out. And you know what? He stayed. He drank with us. He partied the night away. He redefined professionalism that night.

[livingroomplaymakers-blog]

Same Old Story

By Producing Playwright Jonathan Baude

My college playwriting professor always used to say that most of us end up writing the same story over and over again. I wasn’t sure about that at the time: I’d only ever written one play, and it was about two talking computers—with attitude.

But I’m seeing the truth in this more and more. I write a lot about what happens when you think you know someone and then dig a little deeper. I write about how we can stifle others with our attempts to care for them. I also name characters Danny with startling regularity.

Of course, my professor was being glib when he put it this way. We aren’t actually writing the same story. We couldn’t if we tried. We change and grow every day, and we start to ask different questions about life.

I find it comforting, actually, to think about this. It’s not that everything we write is a tired old re-hashing of the last thing. It’s that everything we write has a throughline. No matter how different the work might seem, whether it’s classic and archetypical or batshit fluffernut, there’s always a throughline. And the throughline is: us. We can trace  our growth as humans by looking at all of the work we’ve created. 

The story I write today, the story I wrote yesterday, and the story I will write tomorrow all have one thing in common: me. And they probably all have a Danny in there somewhere.

[livingroomplaymakers-blog]

The Wine Key: An LRP Story

By Producing Playwright Tony Werner

After the lights are set, after rehearsals have finished, after the balloons are blown up and taped, we set up the bar.

And after all these years, after how many shows and events, each time we open a show, every time we set up the bar, every god-damned time, we find ourselves scrambling at the last minute for a corkscrew.

That raw, animal frustration of "There's something inside this other thing that I really want, but I don't know how to get in there" kicks in.

The corkscrew news spreads fast through the show staff, many of whom have been biting fingernails and patiently waiting for their own glass. We text friends on their way and anyone else that lives nearby, and typically, right before the show, someone comes through. The wine is opened and a crisis is averted.

But there's more to this story.

Because, you see, we actually have a wine key. It's functional, too. We've had it for years. It's been at almost every LRP show since 2012, as far as I can tell. But, you see, it's really weird.

We bought it quickly from a liquor store on a beer run. It's weird. It requires so much twisting you think that the wine key itself and perhaps the bottle are going to shatter in your hand. It doesn't inspire confidence, this corkscrew. It's that thing that you see people pick up, look at, think about, and then set back down.

But we keep it anyway. There can't be a show without the weird corkscrew. I've seen people pick up the corkscrew, consider throwing it away, only to put it into the bag that is heading to storage. It's like that phonebook your parent refuses to throw a way. It's part of the family.

[livingroomplaymakers-blog]

A Writing Self-Help Book Quiz: THE BIG REVEAL

By Producing Playwright Erin Austin

Last week I asked you all three very tough questions, unless you understand how search engines work. Today, I give you answers.

Who Said It?

1.     Which author wrote this: “Writing is a lonely job. Having someone who believes in you makes a lot of difference.”?

A.     Annie Dillard B.     Stephen King C.     Dean Koontz

Stephen King said it in On Writing. I love this book. Actually, I think I love Stephen King after reading it. Like have romantic feelings for the man.

Anyways.

I think this observation is so important and it opens up the door for a lot of self-reflection. I’m lucky to have a few people who believe in me, as a person and as a writer. I bet if you write things, then you have people like that too. Thank them. Especially if they are your Mom… and they read all your dumb drafts of your plays you wrote in verse... If you love someone and they won’t read your drafts, or even ask about them, maybe ditch them for someone who will.

Guess what? Annie Dillard and Dean Koontz wrote books about writing novels and stuff too. I actually kind of want to read Dean Koontz’s book because that man makes a lot of money. If you read either of these and like them, let me know: erin@lrplays.org

2.     Which screenplay did Blake Snyder, author of Save the Cat, write?

A.     Blank Check B.     Home Alone C.     Hocus Pocus

Guys, he wrote Blank Check. I’m currently reading Save the Cat and I love it. It’s outdated and pretty damn backwards when it comes to sexuality, race, gender, but the man can simplify screenwriting in a way that really works for my brain. Don’t want to invest in purchasing this book? Got it. Borrow mine.

3.     Which of these dancers wrote a book that is so good it transcends the world of dance and will make you become a better playwright?

A.     Michael Flatley B.     Twyla Tharp C.     Misty Copeland

It’s Twyla Tharp! Misty Copeland also has a book out that I would like to read at some point too. Michael Flatley should really write something since he’s so into using his hands. Get it? That’s an Irish dancing joke!

But back to Twyla: I highly recommend The Creative Habit: Learn It and Use It for Life.

So On Writing, Save the Cat, and The Creative Habit are three of my current favorite books that have helped me. I’d love to hear what gets you inspired, keeps you focused, and makes you want to be a better writer.

Oh, and great job on the quiz. I bet you nailed it.

[livingroomplaymakers-blog]

A Writing Self-Help Book Quiz

By Producing Playwright Erin Austin

Hi guys! Sometimes when I’m lost—as a playwright*—I turn to book written about writing. Here are some questions about my favorite books about writing things. Can you answer them?

Who Said It?

1.     Which author wrote this: “Writing is a lonely job. Having someone who believes in you makes a lot of difference.”?

A.     Annie Dillard B.     Stephen King C.     Dean Koontz

2.     Which screenplay did Blake Snyder, author of Save the Cat, write?

A.     Blank Check B.     Home Alone C.     Hocus Pocus

3.     Which of these dancers wrote a book that is so good it transcends the world of dance and will make you a better playwright?

A.     Michael Flatley B.     Twyla Tharp C.     Misty Copeland

Write down your answers. Stay off the internet (for all sorts of reasons) and then check our blog next week, when LRP will give you all three answers.

*When I’m lost as a person, I yell at my phone until it helps me. Yes, I’ve been in Chicago for six years and I still can’t find my way around the Loop.

[livingroomplaymakers-blog]

YES.

[livingroomplaymakers-blog]

And we dream and dream.