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In which I ponder the recent SF general election and look ahead to see what it means for me artistically speaking.

San Francisco Theater Pub

Charles Lewis listens to his other self. Both of them

King Ghidorah

“Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.”
— Matthew 6:34, King James Version
I hadn’t planned on writing about anything too serious for today’s entry. I’d planned to just do another “Of Olympic Proportions” piece about how the festival finally started last night; how much fun I’d had at the Opening Night party; how stoked I am about my script being read THIS SATURDAY, YOU GUYS; how my cast will be dressed like a box of Crayola crayons-turned-sentient-attractive-people; and how much I’ve been looking forward to this all year.
Then… reality set in. And, as reality often does, it sucked. As a San Francisco native with a bit of an obsession with the Freudian model of the human psyche, it…

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