Disclaimer: I do not, nor ever will own Rent. It belongs to the genius mind of Jonathan Larson.
Enjoy!
If I could live anywhere, I would move to Santa Fe. Yes, I'd pack up the few possessions I own and drive the thousands of miles to Santa Fe. Yeah, Santa Fe is the way to go. It's what I've dreamed about since I realized what a shithole New York turned out to be. Yeah, a small house in Santa Fe. But not a lot of windows. No, the sun isn't really my thing, come to think of it. Not at all. Huh. Maybe Sunny Santa Fe isnt the way to go...
Ok… Maybe I wouldn't move to Santa Fe.
Maybe I would stay in New York, but move up east, out of the city. Yeah, get a house in the suburbs. Wait. I don't like the suburbs. And where would I find a good bar in the suburbs? No, no, moving up east won't do.
I'd find a small spot in the city, that's what I'll do. I'll stay in New York, but move out of this freezing cold loft and into an actual house, or apartment. I'd play my music to pay the rent, and use the rest to help pay for my AZT and other medical bills this fucking disease hands me on a silver platter. But I've decided to beat the virus that runs through my veins. I decided to beat it so I could, one day, move to my own apartment in the City. You know, an apartment with more than 2 rooms. And an apartment that has heat would be a nice change…
Yes. That's what I'd do. I'd move to an apartment in New York City, avoid the drugs, play in bars, get paid, pay off the rent, pay off my medical bills, use the rest to survive, and have a perfectly content life.
But that sounds kind of lonely. Don't get me wrong, it sounds nice, maybe a little boring, but it sounds too lonely.
I don't know why though. Maybe because there's no Collins bursting through the door, bearing vodka and Captain Crunch. Or no Angel set to dance on our table at any second. Or no Maureen and Joanne fighting in the living room, while Mimi stalks in, bringing with her Popcorn for us to eat as we watch the intense, but entertaining argument unfold in front of us.
Or maybe because there's no adorable little filmmaker sulking in the corner by the window, recording some fight happening on the street below, or a sunset, or all of us smiling and happy. Mark always did manage to catch on tape the moments when we were all noticeably happy. Even my moments, and let me tell you, there are very few moments where I am noticeably happy.
The moments that I am always seem to be around Mark. The little blonde punk just seems to bring out the best in me.
You know, maybe, if I had to choose, I'd stay in our little drafty loft, our little home that has no heat, and no food, and no cash flow.
As long as I could have my favorite little filmmaker there by my side.