Bomb-itty of Errors

Went to see The Bomb-itty of Errors last night at Syracuse Stage. It made me happy and sad. Why sad? Because I miss my classroom, the closet full of toys and props, the humor, the Improv, the theatrics of teenagers and the absolute creation of play while learning. This script was written phenomenally, all in hip-hop and the case of misidentification(s) ran the plot, but the energy it took to have it performed was what truly amazed me. It was almost a two-hour spoken word piece and if I was more creative I'd write with a bit of rhyme, but this entry is running out of time and I'm feeling like slime mold, trying to keep hold of some sort of intellectual sanity. Even with my profanity of late, my Bomb-itty of choices making me irate, I hate to dwell on the negative vibes....so I take the teasing tribes of fate as kismet fish bait meant for this frog-mate who needs to get his groove back, needing to be rollin' with the creative pack instead of the dull....y'all.