Someone knocks at the door of an apartment to borrow salt or sugar, people run into each other in the elevator, and in this way become inscribed in the spectator's memory.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
Me and my roommate wrote and directed a little short comedy called 'The Elevator.'
In a building with apartments, of course, you want to make connections. Life is easier that way. There's salt if you don't have salt; you can knock at someone's door, like in any city. But you know, you can hear the others, and you want to sleep, you get annoyed.
I remember when I was in 'Rent,' Daphne Rubin-Vega threw a party. At the time, she had a loft in TriBeCa, and the elevator opened right into her apartment. I was like, 'I've never seen anything like that.' I didn't know it was possible.
I'm trying to go over my lines. I woke up on the floor, somebody had me in their arms. I didn't quite know who, people looked so unfamiliar. That's about all I remember.
There was a train that would come by our house every night, and I'd hear the whistle blow. That is the sweetest memory I have.
The lights go down, you hear the applause and you're up there, and then everything else is forgotten.
Many in the world are searching, often intensely, for a source of refreshment that will quench their yearning for meaning and direction in their lives. They crave a cool, satisfying drink of insight and knowledge that will soothe their parched souls.
Everybody talks about that one when they first meet me. 'Man, I still remember the play you shook Jordan.' Everybody gonna always remember it because it was Jordan.
In the cellars of the night, when the mind starts moving around old trunks of bad times, the pain of this and the shame of that, the memory of a small boldness is a hand to hold.
People who live in a glass house have to answer the door.