E.P. Corey

Ever since I was little, I’ve loved writing. Check out my Wattpad, if you can (here), and maybe fall in love with the works I’ve fallen in love with, too?

A Love Letter To Words

I don’t see words. I see stories. I paint words that dapple, and blend, and reach until they project themselves into my mind, and I’m almost where the work’s soul is. It’s a movie, both vintage and modern, but also real, and sometimes I forget that it’s not really happening, sometimes I forget that a dream’s not reality, and my words sometimes contort themselves and make themselves up and I think that they too are dreams. I write in purple prose, but my words are kaleidoscopes and rainbows, and they shimmer and shine on their blue or black ink that splotches across white sheets of love—until coffee or tea spills and those sheets are yellowed, or until the words—in their ink (that resembles the intangible abyss my ideas really live in) has covered the entire page, like kisses all over a lover’s face.

I want forever to feel the rushing heart beat, and hear the thrashing waterfall in my reddening ears, as I listen for the voices of my characters and see them come to life in my eyes and in my mind. When I dance across the snowy dead trees like this—my pen my waltzing partner—my fingers and eyes and ears blossom and bleed like blooming red roses–as scarlet as a running heart. Our steps are so swift and delicate that a candle’s flame would not be burned out in our joined hands, so graceful that a pile of books would not even teeter or totter on our burning heads. But sometimes we figure skate, sometimes we jog side by side. Yet, other times we turn together, or thrill skate, or extreme roller blade, or run, or race, or gallop. And even other times we lazily stroll or just sit and look around. My words and I, my pen and I, and my mind and I search for inspiration or muses. Sometimes they find us instead. Actually, they usually hunt us down when we’ve given up playing hide and seek with ideas and possibilities.

My favorite part of the adventure and the tale, however, is when we climb a mountain. We’ve crossed the sea, found the treasure, told our tale and lived. We still live. I color my words in colorful makeup to make them feel more beautiful, because they are already Guinevere to Lancelot, and Rosalie or Juliet to Romeo. They dress in royal robes and gowns, made from precious fabrics and rare dyes. I join them in their glamour, as my love is complete, and together we present ourselves to the world—be it a poem, a short story, or someday, a novel. I will always live side by side with my words, and they are what I seek to achieve and to hold, and what I have won in my birth. My words.


The Matchmaker

Everybody’s looking for a little adventure in life. I mean, after all, what’s life without a little farce, a bit of pudding, and tons of laughter? The Matchmaker is a farce play in four acts based on the novel by Thornton Wilder. It was adapted into the (ridiculously charming) classic play, before evolving into its final form as the musical that everyone knows and loves…Hello, Dolly.

Horace Vandergelder is a grumpy old man who doesn’t want his niece, Ermengarde (lovingly nicknamed “Ermagerd”) to marry the love of her life, an artist named Ambrose Kemper. Enter the titular *read this in a Southern Beau/Belle accent, even though this takes place in New York* Dolly Gallagher Levi, who wants to help the two young lovers get approval from Uncle Horace, while she arranges Vandergelder’s own marriage: first to Mrs. Irene Molloy, the fiery hat-maker (“millineress”—not a wicked woman, at all!), then to the almost-20-something Ernestina Simple (a faux bride), on to (and secretly all along), at last, her own love-seeking, adventure-brewing, money-pining self. Throw in Vandergelder’s two clerks—the famous Cornelius Hackl and the troublemaker Barnaby Tucker—who are looking for a fun time in the wild city and a pair of lovely girls to kiss; the cutesy, ditsy Minnie Fay—who knows “THERE’S A MAN!”; Malachi, the suspiciously overrated every-employee; a cab-man with terrible advice; a Cook who puts up with the flighty, smelling-salts addicted Ms. Van Huysen; Vandergelder’s barber (who’s had enough of his antics); the adorably confused Gertrude; a waiter who bursts into tears at everything; and his snobby boss, and you’ve got a good time! Who wouldn’t want to see a grumpy old man’s life fall apart and then come together again in the end, with his redemption in tow, while “everybody’s falling in love with everybody?”

The show teaches a lot of important lessons about adventure, love, money, and life in general, as it amuses and draws-in the audience. It’s full of timeless humor and classic, quotable lines. The best thing about the show, however, is the feeling of nostalgia and the sense of community and “a happy ending” that comes along with Act Four. Not to give too much away, but it’s an ending worth seeing, and one that will pull at your heartstrings until you’re left feeling happy and content, but also a little reminiscent, inside.

This year, the show was lucky enough to have two casts portray the memorable, and (mostly) lovable characters, courtesy of Director Mr. Beck’s idea for a Primary Cast and Understudy Cast show. The intrigue behind the idea was to give more people who auditioned the chance to be up on stage, and also to have two (equally charming and worthwhile) interpretations of Wilder’s classic characters and tale performed. Every show put on was done with everyone’s best effort, and each performance came out, daresay, professional and engrossing. If you’re lucky enough to see any live take on the show, however, definitely go watch it. The humor may be a little more old-fashioned—so a bit hard to grasp for those who prefer more modern entertainment—but the show has something to enjoy for everyone. If you want to checkout the Primary Cast’s performance on Closing Night, head on over to Joe Hassett’s channel on YouTube (the link is provided on paperlion.org) and enjoy the show.

Everyone in Playcrafters put everything they had into the show, and it turned out to be a real success. Cast, crew, and director really pulled through to put on a spectacular program, and it could not have been done without every single person who dedicated their time to The Matchmaker. I bet Thornton Wilder would have been pretty proud if he could see The Farmingdale High School’s Playcrafter’s production of his heart-and-soul-(and-mind)-child. To be completely honest, I’m extremely grateful to have been able to work with everyone in Playcrafter’s, and I know that this review was a little (more than) biased, but the show and everyone who took part in its happening really deserve it, and this experience means a lot to me. I’m going to miss being a part of this-something-great, a lot. Thank you, Playcrafters, and to those who saw the show and got to witness the story come to life: Thank you. Now, “there isn’t anymore coffee, there isn’t anymore gingerbread, and there isn’t anymore play, but…” “we all want to thank you,” and remember: “Have just the right amount of sitting at home and just the right amount of adventure.” And the curtains close…scene.


(P.S.: “Moo!”)                

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