Recommended by Jarred Corona

Sometimes you finish reading something and the major thought running through your brain is, "Cute!" Coming out is difficult. Can be, I suppose, is the better word. Nothing has to be anything. Just like life doesn't have to be lonely or feel isolating, but it often is and does. We see others and expect that life is easier for them. Maybe it is. Or maybe they think the same of us. We nerds and those jocks. But really, we all want connection. To be seen. Felt. To help and be helped. This is a lovely short.

I, too, have always dreamt of fairytales, weddings, love, and magic. I once had an ex tell me I put him on a pedestal. It was an odd thing to hear, though perhaps I did. I knew all of these human and awful things about him, but for me not to hate him in the way he hated him was too much. I couldn't be another darkness for him. So I "loved him too much." It's a faded but constant bruise. All this to say, I found myself quite emotional reading this beautiful moonlit dance of a play. Well done.

In a way, we are all of us webs of hurt, threads of pain going both to and from us, trying to figure where one ends and another begins. Which ones did we creates, which ones were attached to us, and which ones did we meet partway? The arguments in this show build in how hard they hit until all of the masks start coming off the characters. Very well done drama.

Somethings you read and they just excite you about theatre all over again, as if you're closing your first show again, living on the high, grinning and swimming in devious imagination. THIS is how you do horror. This is the sort of script that makes me want to kick my ass into gear and get a theatre company started so I can direct it, so I can throw it in front of an audience and we can all sit in such delicious terror. Read this. Perform it. And relish in the nightmare.

Some things are simply pure joy. This? This show? This is one of those things. A mustache-twirling evil dinosaur with a tendency towards puns? Dinosaur melodrama? Yes. Inject this into my veins, please. Evan Baughfman has managed to write a short that, if it doesn't bring you some semblance of joy, I dare not look upon you for you must be an endless chasm devoid of any sort of happiness. God, I want to see this so badly.

The end of this show carries a sudden and new tension for me, the kind that can spawn future entries in a detective series after a prodigy of sorts is revealed. It's a nice refutation of the original sexist point a character makes. Feeny-Williams writes well and often, putting out shorts faster than I could ever dream of. Here she showcases her skills at a longer format. One recommendation says she'd be great at television writing. On a similar note, I'd love to spend a night at the theatre filled with her detective works.

What is a frozen window in the middle of winter? It's an annoyance, right? Because it messes things up. It gets snow, ice, and chilly wind everywhere. Ultimately, it hurts. It's hard to close. Then, when you do, some ice breaks. Maybe it hits you. Maybe it even cuts or stabs you. But the cold is gone. So, too, are the warm breezes of summer. Because the ice remains. Now it's frozen shut. And that hurts, too. Which is worse, keeping the window of our soul open to someone freezing it or slamming it shut on them? Great argument short.

I'm a sucker for dreams. I love what they mean for a story. If something ends with, "And it was all a dream," I will eat that shit up. Please let me talk about meaning in the "meaningless." Which is to say, I'm sort of primed to enjoy this short. Which I do. There's violence, melodrama, laughter, and then a gut punch of emotion. That's a lovely combination to pull off within 2 hour. HTHS manages to do it in far less. Vince Gatton and his skills strike again.

What a play. Writing recommendations is difficult, because you want to SAY something. But I long to throw out my in-the-moment emotions. It's hard. Do I talk about the existential crisis, both the death kind and the kind where you find meaning from within yourself? Do I say Kirkman's writing and stage directions make every page buzz with the artistry of a novelist? I don't know. Do I say my eyes are tensed with thought, emotion? I don't use words like best. There is no objectivity. But I think this might be one of my favorite shows I've read. Ever.

Jesus Christ. And I mean that as a compliment. Breakups suck no matter the reason for the most part. But Golden Kiss? It doesn't suck at all (though, for a horrifying moment, you think it might, in another meaning of the word). It's a gilded, glorious short play. Please read. If you're like me, you'll shake your head, go WTF, and smile all the while.