A Quote by Tony Todd

October's a busy month for me. I usually find myself working but I also try to do one or two conventions in that period. Then whatever city I'm in, they want to drag me to their local horror theme park.
It's very difficult for me to explain myself. I used to park blocks away from NBC when I went to work there so I wouldn't have to tell the gate-man who I was. He'd always repeat 'Who?' And I'd have to go through who I was again and where I was working. So I'd just park on the street and find a fence I could climb over.
We are starting to see more and more Roblox games that offer creation. An example would be Theme Park Tycoon, which lets anyone construct a theme park on any device. You get to build roller coasters and theme parks, your work is saved, and when you come back, you can keep working on your creation.
I try to busy myself elsewhere, to arrive late; but I always lose at this game. Whatever I do, I find myself there, with nothing to do, punctual, even ahead of time.
Keep me preoccupied Keep me busy, busy, busy So I won't have to think I don't want to think Because it only brings me pain I just keep running away from My problems Keep me busy Give me a million things to do So I can keep running away from myself.
I've made a way to allow myself to do big films, small films, dramas, comedies, action films, horror films, or whatever interests me, as a movie-goer. I like watching myself in movies. I want to choose movies that allow me to enjoy myself, the way that I want to entertain myself.
I definitely want to do more movies, and I'm also a writer, so I have a few screenplays that I'm working on, one of them based off my one-woman show that I used to do in New York. Two of the screenplays I've written by myself, and then I'm also working on one with my writing partner, Tom Riley, who's in London.
I'm not sure if it's because I'm older and I'm thinking about family more, but I'm trying to set up this thing where I can play in one city for a month, and then write music for a couple months, then play in another city for a month, write music for a month. Just so it's not these two schizophrenic, Jekyll and Hyde kind of things; you don't have to be this monster. You get inspired and you can go write one song from that, and then you go back and play a few shows. If I could've done that in the 90s, I would have.
For me, it's very easy to write a horror movie that's just a succession of scary sequences, but it's hard to find horror movies that have a genuine theme to them that are really exploring some aspect of our psychology and our fears.
I recycle and try to be nice to the earth. But flora and fauna have always interested me, and it is because of so many years of summer camp and growing up in DC with Rock Creek Park fairly near me, or Glover Park; I lived in Glover Park for a while and that park was in my backyard.
I have all my tricks to unplugging. Sometimes I just close my eyes and I breathe a couple of times, even if I'm in the middle of a conversation. It centers me. Dancing also helps me to unplug, so does writing music. I really enjoy going to Central Park and Upstate New York, when I really want to unplug from the city. Going to the library is great, too. There's just a nice equality about libraries, there's everyone from kids to senior citizens to students, it's a nice environment. I grab whatever book I feel attracted to and then I just sit there and read it for a little while.
Ghost Team approached me. They said, "Hey, it's mid-October, do you want to go shoot a movie on Long Island for three weeks about stupid people chasing ghosts?" I had never done anything like that before. It's kind of a mock-horror movie. What I didn't realize was the whole thing takes place at night, as a horror movie should, and so I didn't realize that we'd be working until 6 in the morning every night, or morning.
A game: say something. Close your eyes and say something. Anything, a number, a name. Like this (she closes her eyes): Two, two what? Two women. What do they look like? Wearing black. Where are they? In a park. . . . And then, what are they doing? Try it, it's so easy, why don't you want to play? You know, that's how I talk to myself when I'm alone, I tell myself all kinds of stories. And not only silly stories: actually, I live this way altogether.
I make appearance at local park and recreation agencies when the program starts, when they have the qualifying meets at the local levels. Then I try to go to the regional competitions, and of course I'm there in Hershey, Pa., in August for the North American final.
It used to be that I'd do drag, then get out of drag, and try and be as much of a boy as possible. That didn't feel entirely authentic for me, but it felt like what I had to do at the time.
At first it was like, 'I don't want to date no drag queen.' I guess it's considered taboo and funny. I always have to set my friends straight and say, 'We're two gay men, and that is why we're attracted to each other.' We don't kiss in drag usually, it messes up our lipstick. Sometimes I'll try, and she'll be like, 'Get away from me.'
Am I in love? --yes, since I am waiting. The other one never waits. Sometimes I want to play the part of the one who doesn't wait; I try to busy myself elsewhere, to arrive late; but I always lose at this game. Whatever I do, I find myself there, with nothing to do, punctual, even ahead of time. The lover's fatal identity is precisely this: I am the one who waits.
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