longing for a life of more acting less drama

i wait...
wait.
wait.
i wait minutes, hours, days, a week passes, and i wait.
i wait, calmly at first, anxiety increasing with each day gone, then each hour, then every minute. i wait anxiously, breathlessly, hopefully, hopelessly, tearfully, lifelessly, energy drained by emptiness+loss, rekindled momentarily each time the phone rings, dashed when it isn't the call i await. when will it come?
he must come, promised to come...my lifeline, mental connection that feels arterial, plugging me into the matrix, opening the whole world to my touch...pick up the phone for the millionth time, fully knowing the ringer on but checking because i must pass the interminable wait, scrolling through items i haven't responded to because i too distracted by waiting, watching, listening, perking, boiling over in waves of rage, where is he?! calm after the storm, realisation of reality and the futility of frustration, acceptance of inevitability, he coming when he come no matter what i want or how i wait...then slowly anxiety builds and the cycle begins again...the wait wears on, wears me down, depression threatens, i begin to despair, and then finally, the call...
never so elated to hear from a stranger as when the tstt internet technician ring to say he need directions...
technician reach and i make it clear we have no internet access a week+ now and tstt play the arse about fixing it so we vex for days, then me+ma ole talk like our usual selves. as he leaving he say he find i familiar so i say i sometimes perform and was onstage a lot this carnival and maybe tha's why; he bawl "...performer, an actor, tha's why! the whole time there with allyuh i feel like i was in a play, for real..."
he leave and 10minutes later phone ring; after a whole week+ of them not organising a bloody technician, me near tearing out locks on the phone with them daily, learning their blasted hold-music by heart, now all of a sudden a 2nd technician wanna come fix our box today too!
seriously though, the lack of internet was killing me, right at the time i was intending to bury myself in work+script, much of which requires access; of course i thought of multiple posts that i already overs and cyah be bothered writing again but was totally frustrated at my inability to at the time...at least i get some "real writing" done; a little script progress for the 1st time since fred dead, thanking the universe for that small mercy...no-internet also right as i was about to link up so i could close tabs, because the canalshow+jouvay were amazing and consuming my entire being and my postcarnival equally so, so now the inevitable backlog+clutter must go, so look ting:
love these creatures of adland...
and this letter from giles coren to the times sub-editors not just a brilliant+hilarious read, but sweet peek at the level of detail the writer's mind works at, knowing many will miss most of it...
and super-cool photoset of the motorbike girl gangs of morocco.
and images of the sexiest works of art...
and you need to listen to this piece of genius@work; beat it demo with michael using his voice for all the instrumental work.
this track i loving to tears right now, and very like the video too; get free by major lazer featuring amber of the dirty projectors: 
and these excerpts of wayne mcgregor's chroma choreo are lovely, and gorgeously executed (as always) by ailey dancers:
Wayne McGregor's CHROMA from Alvin Ailey on Vimeo.
and yuh best had mark this work... 

walk good.
ps: almost forget, thought this article a worthwhile contribution to the dialogue on hashtag activism...