I love your plays. Going through the NY Neo archive is not unlike cracking open a dusty volume in a school library and finding handwritten notes by some illustrious forebear.
I am in awe of you. I only did the show for a year. I was a rookie when I left. Meanwhile you have sweat and bled and grown into stedfast, veteran players.
There are plays where there aren't enough stage directions in the world to direct my imagination properly (SEE Optical Radiation Electromagnetic Amplification). There are plays that are beautiful in their ephemeral nature and can never be performed again because people key to their production have moved half a world away (SEE Everything I Need to Know About Being an Artist, I Learned in the Second Grade). There are plays that I wish I wrote (SEE Sticky Wall Guy). There are Neos I didn't even know were Neos because sometimes it's easier to not look back until you're far away.
There are things I want to tell you, Neos; but every time I open my mouth to say it, I edit myself because what do I know? I haven't been around in 8 years. And even when I was there, well, I was a Neo for a fraction of the time many of you were and are.
So I will say this: I've never been in a group of people who can push each other to achieve the heights of the Chimera.
May we come together again before #48HRTML.