(via the-fudgeinator)
(via imnotwillie)
Who, me???
(via imnotwillie)
(via m4gmar)
Langston Hughes, “Harlem”
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?(submitted by potatonutx)
I don’t like this idea of Method. I come from that school, but what I was taught was that it’s your imagination. You do your homework, and you use your imagination. People use the Method as a shield; it shields them from being vulnerable. I hear all these young actors who are like, “I’m Method, I’m gonna go live in the house, you know, I totally get it, I’ve done it, I’ve been there”, but one thing I know is it kills spontaneity. They’ll still give great performances, but they’re not playing with the other actors - it’s all about them. And spontaneity and vulnerability are gold on screen and on stage - they are the fucking magic.
omg.
