broadwaycom:

Tony Winner Jessie Mueller Set for Waitress on Broadway; Dates Announced

culturenlifestyle:

London-based artist Robert Montgomery has chosen an unorthodox and fearless way to share his poetry. By hijacking large billboards and back-lit bus, he showcase some unspeakable truths, as well as beautiful words.  Political, poetic, and controversial in nature, Montgomery’s work is showstopper to any bystander. 

Keep reading

(via wordsnquotes)

and-allthat-jazz:

where Natalie is a trans girl. She transitioned pretty early, enough to where she is the “little chubby girl” in the photo album Diana looks through in Act II. Dan took the change very easily, immediately recognizing her as a daughter. Diana does her best, and does everything outwardly that she can - dressing her up, calling her by her chosen name, Natalie. But secretly, Natalie’s transition only strengthens Diana’s psychosis - the sheer fact that she truly doesn’t have a son anymore.

(If anyone cares to add anything, go right ahead!)

gaymilesedgeworth:

so has anyone done this yet

(via algernonmoncrieff)

indyfalcon:

Hello! my name is piece of trash! and I would like to share with you this garbage art 

(via )

finnickthefanfnaf:

Reblog this from anybody. literally. ANYBODY. even if you dont like them or even know them that well. YOU COULD SAVE THEIR LIFE.

(via musixals)

ollieoneillpoems:

They said:
Write all your mistakes into poetry,
Into the living room, behind the
Light socket. Make them ordinary.

Now my house is full of words
I wish I’d never said and
Intimacy I wish I’d never spent and
Sometimes it leaks through the ceilings
Drenching my mother in confusion
Spitting hospital threats as she wipes down the mess
From the table.

They said:
Write all your mistakes into home cooked meals,
And aprons, onto the shopping list,
Place them in the oven. Let them nourish you.

Now I find myself pressing piano keys into
The cold kitchen tiles. In between
All of our gaps and our cracks, this place
Is full of poison, pre packaged and
Beautifully disguised but
I am immune to the sirens now
And besides, they stopped singing for me.

They said:
Write all your mistakes into birth certificates,
Bury your guilt with your past and
Birth something new, something better, something untarnished.

Only,

Now my body is a graveyard
But nobody is buried here. I am
Empty but for every wrong doing
That I’ve ever done wrong. All my poems
Now read more like obituaries, more like
Epitaphs,
More like hymns for funerals.

And you can’t give birth in a morgue.
There are no midwives in funeral parlours. 

(via thatwhalehasissues)

aljeerian:

no offense but why do baby goats scream all the time when they’re not even the ones aware of capitalism

(via thatwhalehasissues)

monkey-monkey-underpants:

Casting Director: We’d like for you to do a monologue, do you have anything memorized?

Me: Yeah, of course

Casting Director: Go ahead

Me: “Thank you with all of my heart. I’m going to take a deep breath and you think I would’ve written something down by now, but I haven’t. I haven’t. I wouldn’t allow myself to do that, but I will say this: I love what I do. And I don’t need this, but now that I have it, I’ve got some things to say–”

Casting Director: I’m sorry, is that Kelli O’Hara’s Tony award acceptance speech?

Me: [runs out of room]

(via yitzhakandtheangryinch)