To Whom it May Concern,

I am issuing a public plea, an appeal, if you will, to the hearts of my readers as a last humble effort to obtain the support I need to follow my dreams.

Sometimes I get a sneaking suspicion that acting is not a highly respected vocation. In fact, if my findings from my grant search are any indication, the world is actually more interested in finding a cure for cancer and promoting peace in the middle east than it is in cultivating the next generation of Shakespearean actors. Did you know that the Peace Corps has no theatrical division? And that you can’t get a deadline extension on the Fulbright?

When “philanthropists” like Warren Buffet and Bill Gates ignore my queries and Tony Hopkins won’t return my calls, I feel so hurt and confused by the lack of generosity in this world, I ask myself, “Where is the Love?”

Fifty thousand dollars seems so little to ask. What is it, a shiny new car? A downpayment on a house? Think of what you could be buying with your hard-earned money, if you stopped thinking about what the suburban middleclass bourgeois expected of you, and started thinking about what you expected of you…..

If I fail to inspire you, gentle readers, with the spirit of Giving, then for the length of my sojourn in London, I will have no choice but to eat conventionally-grown fruit, wash my face with tap water, and toil for 10-15 hours a week in some sweaty oppression inflicted by the school’s ministry of “Work!Study!” This will leave precious little time for Sloane-ing, coffeeshop blogging, or contemplation of The Beautiful. And from what I hear, the mines just don’t pay like they used to.


And do the right thing. Cash, personal checks, and applications for pre-nuptial divorce settlements gratefully accepted.

Sincerely, Larissa

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1 Response to To Whom it May Concern,

  1. If there was any justice in the world, I would have 50 grand to give you. Alas. I blame the Republicans.But maybe there will be a Web terminal in the mining office, a flickering, washed out 12″ monitor above a stained and sticky keyboard. You could steal some stale coffee, swirl in a dab of powdered “creamer” and contact the outside world. At least until they catch you.

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