January 30, 2004

Katie and I took off our shoes during yesterday’s fringe rehearsal and measured our feet against each other. My sole felt incredibly warm as I pressed it against hers, and I smiled. Her feet, it seems, are nearly as big as mine (at least size 11), so I guess we’re on equal footing, especially when it comes to the fringe play.

Neither of us has much experience acting, and we’re both learning to be really mean to each other on stage. The play paints us both as sensitive savages that harbour deep mistrust of other people’s humanity. As in real life, I cling on to some ideals, and refuse to show my savageness, until things blossom into violence. I’m always passive-aggressive.

After the rehearsal and debating, I ran into Jason again, who made me tea in his kitchen, and let me ramble on about my loneliness and everything else. I talk too much and I don’t listen enough. But Jason’s kitchen felt warm and hospitable, and whenever I hang around him I feel at ease and I become mildly confessional. I left feeling more human, and Jason remained in the kitchen with my worries compounded on his own.