Dear Stephen Daldry,
A year ago today, my catterwalling sounds during Skid Row caught your attention and you bought drinks for Jason and I at my very first musical monday. It opened a door to a place that is my escape, my favorite night of the week, the chance for a couple of hours to be the fiery starlet I always wished I could have been, belting as high as I can. A place that has given me a reason not to repeat dresses, to delineate between gay pretty and straight pretty, a reason to find my pretty again, and many new friends and smiles and misadventures-- home base. And it all started with you, Mr. Daldry. (Your work is pretty epic too. I looooved The Hours.)
Love,
me
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