The Real Thing

Today was the runthrough day for the musical. Ohhh boy.

This was the "Real Thing" speech I was looking for. By Tom Stoppard. I saw this play years ago, didn't think much of it. Reading it was a much better experience than the performance.

Annie: Why aren't you jealous?...why don't you mind?
Henry: I do.
Annie: No, you don't.
Henry: That's true, I don't. Why is that? It's because I feel superior. There he is, poor bugger, picking up the odd crumb of ear wax from the rich man's table. You're right. I don't mind. I like it. I like the way his presumption admits his poverty. I like him, knowing that that's all there is, because you're coming home to me and we don't want anyone else. I love love. I love having a lover and being one. The insularity of passion. I love it. I love the way it blurs the distinction between everyone who isn't one's lover. Only two kinds of presence in the world. There's you and there's them. I love you so.




That feels like some truth to me, yo.