| Date: | 2008-04-24 00:32 |
| Subject: | Blyech... |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  discontent |
The apple of forbidden thought pluck'd hence
From yonder tree did tempt an eager mind
That wreckless in abandonment has since
Rudely gorged upon the fruit 'till rind.
The juicy sweetness dabbed by fruit like lips,
Whose temptation is no mere devil'ry.
A sumpt'us kiss not written in the scripts
But dressed only by one single liv'ry.
Barrenness bless'd by locks of golden hair
That, life like, come and go o'er supple skin.
A grand surprise, no doubt, with out compare,
That makes me wonder if I'm going to win.
Beware of fable and of lore, my friend,
Or else be doomed by repeated, bitter end.
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You frustrate words that want to tear apart
The simple truth you cannot understand.
I'll join you on that precipice of hearts
In a place that seems like la-la land.
Yet hidden in this magic world I fear
That some where, maybe unbeknownst to you,
Lurks a demon's voice, but one you cannot hear,
Or one whose words you cannot listen to.
A serpents tongue that feeds a fragrant flame
That casts an eerie shadow cross your eyes,
And noxious fumes that waft like ghosts whose shame
Bursts forth and froths on lips sealed by your lies.
Now, standing on that precipice, alone,
The wind and me, upon that lonely stone.
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I dream for shame of persecuted thought,
For, dream I of scandalous enterprise.
And though thou haunt those dreams, i am caught
By Many thoughts of foul and frenz'd device.
I awake, and want for sleeps bless'd return
Where fantasy has reign of my mind's eye.
Unlike the waking hours where i yearn
For you to be about, and by and by
That waking thought that makes me burn.
That waking thought is fueled by love and hate,
That makes me want for seas to overturn
With tides allied to wash away my soul mate.
A dreamer lost, a scape one can't escape.
A lover's dream, now an amorphous shape.
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| Date: | 2008-03-24 14:51 |
| Subject: | Spring? |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  okay |
I awake, a weight upon me
A sole, sore soul upon me
A dream with gray poupon trees
And a wind like breath upon me
Blows its curious courier course
Around the nape and bight
And fright, I fall from fearful force
And fight my dream across the night.
With swords, a cling and clang,
'gainst hoards who sing but never sang
For lords, whose lands have been forgotten
Gone to seed and left for rotten
...
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| Date: | 2008-01-08 22:16 |
| Subject: | Birgito |
| Security: | Public |
Of all the woe the world has to offer,
Why have I been sentanced to your laughter?
Why have I, your ever faithful servant,
Been served only dry and moldy currants?
While I, in ever waning courage, wake
and light the fire at dawn to bake a cake.
For you, Queen, my gorwingly ungrateful.
For you, Queen, I'm growing ever spiteful.
And you, my Queen, are running out of time.
We near the Roman city, know your crime
And sin are evident, and believe my
Child, you will be held accountable! By
Now you must know that your downfall's looming.
I can hear the Catholic's church bells booming.
Hark! I see that ancient city, please dear,
Though I know you think you're witty, please fear
The past. Please fear for what you love, for love
Is all that's left. Your perfection, above
all will be corrupt. Perfect virginity!
Away your powerful singularity.
By stepping off this mountain top, my dear
You will be sacrificing your career
For a Cardinal who uses his words
like singing swords and singing birds.
He'll tear a hole so holy. Whole
memories revealed, He'll see your soul.
So be prepared my love, your end is near.
I wreap no grapes of wrath on you, now walk,
The Pope awaits Christina. I'm not a seer,
But I can tell that you will need to talk.
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Ahhh, ok. Some silly and simple questions that i think y'all might be able to answer. So i am working on this mix, it is called "The List". Is it kosher to have one artist/band repeated on the mix? Secondly, is it kosher to have a song repeated on the list even if it is done by 2 distinctly different artists?
OK, so here is "The List" You tell me.
1) What i got. Sublime
2) Little wing. Stevie ray Vaughan
3) Romeo and Juliet. On the rocks
4) Sleeping in. Postal service
5) Bang Bang. Dispatch
6) Bohemian Rhapsody. Queen
7) All along the watch tower. Jimi Hendrix
8) Pride and Joy. Stevie Ray Vaughan
9) Dulger. Omar Faruk Tekbilek (Perfect love's dance if any one saw Arabian nights)
10) Un Simple Historie (A simple story). Thievery Corporation
11) Mohamad Bouya Mohames. Ilham Al Madfai (The family dance, if you saw Arabian Nights.)
12) All Along the Watchtower. Bob Dylan
13) Refuge. Matisyahu
14) Road Trippin'. Red Hot Chili Peppers
15) Something about us. Daft Punk
16) Punky's Dilema. Paul Simon
17) LInus and Lucy. Vince Gauraldi
18) The Show must go on. Pink Floyd
Side note- The middle feels a little weak to me. I don't know, just insecure. Beh.
Just listened to the mix for the first time straight through. Thats where "side note" comes in. Thinking about replacing Bohemian rhapsody with Fat bottomed girls. Also i don't like the second stevie ray vaughan song, just doesn't fit. also thinking about nixing the dylan tune, maybe for another one, same goes for the chili pepers song but i don't know what i would replace it with. Maybe a different ending, end on a higher note or something. There needs to be a Pink Floyd song on the list or it isn't "The List"
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| Date: | 2007-12-17 23:51 |
| Subject: | next semester |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  irritated |
Looks like i'm up for another cluster fuck of theater. So lets spell it out. All semester i will be involved in UT in a number of different capacities including but not limited to UT radio, UT Films and if i am feeling very aggressive on the proactive front, general manager or some title like that. We had a meeting the other day at the grotto for UT folks and its pretty clear that there needs to to be some sort of central leadership in the group or alot of the side projects that we all want to see get done some how will fall through the cracks. UT has turned into a real powerful creative force and it needs to be channeled. I don't know if I am the right person for that but UT is too big for its britches right now. I'll think about it a little bit more and see if i can't brain storm some sort of solution there.
Also Directing for IMF until the middle of February. That is going to eb a trip and a very significant challenge, becuase we only get back on the 22nd of january, which means that i only have 1 month, or really if you think about it, 3 weeks with an extra week for tech to make the show everything that i hope that i can be.
Also i am involved in Star Wars in some capacity, one of which i'm not entirely sure about. I was asked to be Assistant director/stage manager but only found out about the meeting through the grape vine. I don't want to start leading that show too much cuase i don't don't want to step on emily's toes as its really her brainchild. So really i figure my job is to lay low and be as useful as possible, only speaking up when i feel like its necessary, and if i'm lucky that will be rare.
Also, also, I seem to have volunteered for sound design in Tom Dewey's show Beyond Therapy, for festival. I like sound designing, so that will be a fun way to be part of the festival circle, which i think is really important for growing as a theater student, but for growing friendships and knowing about how to work with people of all type.
I think that is it for now, but i can't say that for sure. Oh yeah, i remember something. there are these things called classes that i have to pretend i give a shit about . great. I'm going to go to bed now so that i can pretend to sleep so that i can pretendto care about gettting the copious amount of work done that i need to to pass this semester's worth of classes. shit. I don't sound jaded at all. good night
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| Date: | 2007-12-13 19:42 |
| Subject: | Yuck |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  uncomfortable |
I have a bad taste in my mouth, a bad feeling in my stomach, and a pile of obligations to take care of before I leave Tacoma on Thursday. So in less then 7 days, what do i have to take care of? School: 2 papers for theater history, 1 paper for play writing and a burla for a full length play, some spanish bull shit about events i didn't attend and if i'm feeling chairitable some revista practice problems. Extra curricular: a meeting for Kiltartan Cross to talk about the characters and how we feel about the play and to give assignments for winter break, multiple parties and get togethers. Home: Cleaning the fucking pig sty of a house up, packing for home and for moving. I think that is it. I guess it doesn't sound like too much but, i just don't care. For example: I am having a hard time going to a party i've been looking forward to for a while. I just don't care. I want to see some of these people but the effort that is involved is more then i care to exert at the moment.
Hokay, so, this is the real dish. Raise your hand if you have ever had a crush on some one. That's right, hands in the air everywhere, pretty standard. But the other shoe drops right? and it brings its friend 'obsession'. Thats not ok. I am not OK with being obsessed. It is not healthy to be obsessed with some one, especially when she has no idea. OK, So i don't know that she doesn't know, but it seems reasonable, or maybe its obvious as hell? I can't tell. I am not an objective third party. But boy i wish i could be. That would make things so much easier. Cuz I am straight up not comfortable with being obsessed. This is beginning to actually worry me, actually bother me, actually get underneath my skin. WHY? What does it mean? Why can't i process it in a logical and productive way, rather then just going around and around on this stupid subject. its really fucking annoying. and at this point i am just vomiting words out of my fingers . just noise. just free range thought. just the ideas coming from my head only edited by proper spelling, at least as far as my limited vocabulary will allow so what is this obsession? It has to to with being lonely. that is a large part of it. i don't know if it is the largest part, but it should not go with out mention. also she is fucking sweet. beautiful, happy, friendly, funny, out going, fit, better at things then i am, worse at things then i am, independent. none of these words are doing justice to the emotion that i feel inside of me. its really just a quivering bundle of used up nerve endings. kind of like when its time to put up the christmas lights and they are tangled as fuck and you get so tired of un-knotting the frayed mess of blinking flashing lights, that you just hang it from the top of the tree and hope at its not too much of a fire hazard, all of the lights burning the fucker down. Born one down mother fucker. burn it down or ill burn you down.
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| Date: | 2007-12-13 19:42 |
| Subject: | Yuck |
| Security: | Public |
Hokay, so, this is the dish. Raise your hand if you have ever had a crush on some one. That's right, hands in the air everywhere, pretty standard. But the other shoe drops right? and it brings its friend 'obsession'. Thats not ok. It is not healthy to be obsessed with some one, especially when she has no idea. OK, So i don't know that she doesn't know, but it seems reasonable, or maybe its obvious as hell? I can't tell. I am not an objective third party. But boy i wish i could be. That would make things so much easier. Cuz I am straight up not comfortable with being obsessed. This is beginning to actually worry me? WHY? What does it mean? Why can't i process it in a logical and productive way, rather then just going around and around on this stupid subject. its really fucking annoying. and at this point i am just vomiting words out of my fingers . just noise. just free range thought. just the ideas coming from my headed only edited by proper spelling, at least as far as my limited vocabulary will allow so what is this obsession? It has to to with being lonely. that is a large part of it. i don't know if it is the largest part, but it should not go with out mention. also she is fucking sweet. beautiful, happy, friendly, funny, out going, fit, better at things then i am, worse at things then i am, independent. none of these words are doing justice to the emotion that i feel inside of me. its really just a quivering bundle of used up nerve endings. kind of like when its time to put up the christmas lights and they are tangled as fuck and you get so tired of un-knotting the frayed mess of blinking flashing lights, that you just hang it from the top of the tree and hope that its not too much of a fire hazard, all of the lights burning the fucker down. Born one down mother fucker. burn it down or ill burn you down.
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| Date: | 2007-12-10 15:10 |
| Subject: | Sol and Mickey |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  mellow |
An introduction. The beginning. A start. Who knows. Who cares?
Sol is on stage sitting behind an old oak desk. He is reading a newspaper and chewing on a pen, reposed with that gotta-be-here-don’t-gotta-do-shit kind of attitude. He is wearing a simple white button down shirt accented nicely with the holster of his concealed weapon. His new black shoes squeak a bit as he fidgets with them propped up on the desk. Off Stage we hear Mickey in the adjacent office fumbling with papers and just generally being incompetent. From off stage. Mickey: Hey Sol, did you ah…pick up the uh… is Frankie out there? Sol does not react, just reads the newspaper, masticating the pen. Sol: No Frankie ain’t out here, and yeh I did. It’s in your bottom left drawer. Mickey: Not so loud, eh. What if Dolores hears? Sol: Dolores ain’t here either. Its Sunday for Christ sakes. Mickey: Oh… yeah. Um they ain’t anything in here Sol. Sol: Other left numb nuts. Mickey: Heheh, oops. Ummm. Still nothing in here man. Sol: Not even a fucking paper clip? Mickey: Uh, there’s a thumb tack, er, and me Tommy Gun. Sol, finally getting concerned takes his feet off the desk and looks stage left where Mickey is standing holding the tommy gun in his hand, pointed at the ceiling. Sol: Put that away Mickey. What the hell are you doing? Mickey: Oh Sorry boss. Mickey lowers the gun but in doing so sweeps it across Sol. Sol, cringing, grateful that he is sort of covered by the oak desk. Sol: Ok, Gimme that, You’re done. And they ain’t nothing in your desk neither? Mickey: Neh. No, I checked, I promise. Sol: You checked? YOU checked? Mickey: Maybe Frankie got it? Sol: Yeah, Frankie’s got it. If he got it, boy he gonna get it. Sol walks off stage pissed, to go check one more time in Mickey’s office, just in case. Mickey: Where you going? Sol: To make sure you just dumb and not blind. Mickey runs off stage to try and help find the missing package. Mickey: I’m not blind. Erah…I promise.
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IMF!!!
I feel like you might have seen this sort of irrational display of happiness some where at some point. I don't know where.
It's happening, I am one of the director's and I am having a hard time waiting. Scripts tonight. Auditions a week from tonight. Show something like the 23 of february or there abouts.
So, it seems like there is a lot of time but there isn't really, especially when you consider school gets back the 17th or something like that. Just over a 1 Month of rehearsal for a full length. I can do it. It will be hecka bomb-ass!!
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A question I find myself asking all the time, and the answer is always unsatisfactory. And yet I find myself continually asking it, over and over and over. “The surest sign that some one is crazy is the simple repetition of a task expecting the results to be different.” So I am a little different, but in an altogether trivial way. My expectations haven’t changed and neither have my tactics. I still expect the same thing to happen and feel let down when the outcome is anything other then what I expected. So, what am I doing and why isn’t it working? That’s two questions but I can try to answer them all the same. The former: I am not doing anything. I am not aggressive or particularly forward with any one. I don’t instigate conversation much, and when it does happen I am often reserved and shy. I don’t make bold statements, and am mostly ruled by small talk. I think that is an accurate description of what I am doing, and I think it does a pretty good job of answering the second question. The latter: It’s not working cause who is interested in that guy. Small talk blah blah blah, intimidation, ahhh, I’m scared of you. Nobody wants that guy. That’s the guy that gets his ass kicked in romantic comedies. That guy is lame. (Did I just call myself lame?) Why don’t I do something? Because I’m scared. It’s the simple answer. That’s the answer you were looking for in the first place. Why am I scared? Two reasons. 1) I hurt myself once, that’s the only way to describe it. I didn’t know what I was doing and I hurt myself, I got in deeper then I could even imagine, deeper still then I think I can fathom. That’s the main reason why I’m scared, and I think that is one of the reasons that I keep faltering. I want what happened before to happen again, I want it to surprise me in a way as to profoundly change the way I live and breathe and think about the world. That’s what happened before, why can’t it happen again right? Well, because I’m waiting for it. There is that old adage, “A watched pot never boils.” Well I keep sitting here waiting and watching, and the only thing that is boiling is my sex drive. 2) Ok so number two is a little more complex, but I will try to spell it out as clearly as possible. I am afraid of expectations and commitment. So that is 2 things but they go hand in hand. In a relationship there are expectations. I expect you to call me every night or I expect you to understand when I need time alone etc ad infinitum. An expectation is a different word for assumption and we all know what happens when you assume. “I assumed you would do something for our anniversary” is not so different when you replace assumed with expected. There is some sort of unspoken element that causes problems. So maybe my problem isn’t with any of those things so much as it is about communication. There is nothing more important then communication. With out it, there is chaos and anarchy. He said that she said that they were going to blah blah blah. OK so here is what number 2 boils down to (I think): I am bad at communication, which makes me scared of having expectations and making commitments. I am bad at understanding what is expected of me, and i need you to communicate your side of the story, because we are talking about a two way road here. You cannot assume that I know and that I am going to do something about it. Subtlety is nice in landscape paintings and wine, not in serious relationships. Now I am going to really muddle this all up and add the third and most important reason “why I don’t anything”. This just came to me and I don’t know if I can stress it enough. I am serious in every thing I do. Now before you start laughing, this is why: Relationships are not to be taken lightly, they are mutual and only meaningful when this is the case. I want mutuality and longevity. I am not saying I want to marry you, yet. But I won’t stand for 1 night stands any more, not even 3 month stands. Not if I don’t have to. I am not interested in wasting my time, because it is the most valuable thing to me. It’s like money in the stock market. You aren’t going to invest your life savings into something that there is even a shadow of a doubt in. Or maybe you do, but I don’t. Longevity is the key; call me selfish or shallow or whatever but a relationship isn’t something that I want to waste. So, Yes I am waiting and watching, and Yes I am frustrated that “the one” hasn’t come along yet, and Yes, my curiosity is bleeding with the pique you have so graciously anointed me with and No I’m not doing anything about it, yet. We need more time.
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| Date: | 2007-11-19 15:09 |
| Subject: | Subtlety |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  anxious |
Is not my strong suit. Or maybe it is and that is the problem. This song won't leave my mind. It's kind of like loosing the game, but on a much more profound and painful level. And that is what i hate about the game, you can't win but you can't stop playing, you just have to forget. And blocking memories isn't very healthy. So i'm just going to post this song and let you think about it from there. Don't read into it too much, it only fits perfectly, in every lyric and subtext. It's all there. I can't decide if i like Mark knopfler's version or the On The Rocks version or Matt Nathanson's version best. The original, the acapella, or the live acoustic...
So with out further ado...
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How can i put this into words? That is really what has been choking me up about this is, that i don't know how to express it in any sort of cathartic way. And recently i've been doing it with excercise. It's nice i guess. I have worked out 5 days in a row now. Running, push-ups and sit-ups, biking. I feel like i am training for something, or at least numbing my brain so that it doesn't have to keep going round and round about this.
The simple answer is that, dueling X-chromosomes lead to endless agony. What can you do about it huh? Squat. And especially what can you do about it when there is no 'right' thing to do? Just let it drop.
Smitten: Affected with intense romantic attraction, Enamored, Enfatuate. Once bitten, forever smitten. I've said that before and fear that i will be saying again, though i can't say how soon.
So like i said let it drop. I am not the right person to try and make the X-chromosome's see the light. Thats not my place. I could, but it would be irresponsible you know what i mean?... I suppose you don't. Let me try to explain. This girl is in no state of mind. She, and i have this from far too reliable of a source, is crazy. But ain't that the kicker; they are all crazy. But she is too crazy. To messed up and confused to know what she wants. I know this, she knows this, we all are aware of how fucked up the situation is. So what do I do about it? Nothing, thats right. Its not my job to try and help this person. Or is it? I can be there for her, sure, but that changes my role from friend (where i stand at the moment, albeit not particularly close one) to counselor; which in my opinion almost completely eliminates me from any romantic angle whatsoever. The reason i say this is i have played the role of counselor before with the exact intention of beginning a relationship. And look exactly at where i am. Thats right, fuck all, nowhere, the doldrums.
So like i said, let it drop. But that doesn't give me any sort of personal outlet. I am still just frustrated and alone. Exercise is nice but it still only emphasizes that alone that i find my self increasingly wallowing in, which is what i am trying, ultimately to avoid.
Ok so the other answer is there are plenty of other fish in the sea. Plenty of other beautiful woemen (I did that on purpose.) out there that i would love to get to know better. Do i bait the hook and see if anything comes up? I don't mean to troll, I am thinking of some very specific people here, but it seems un-wise to try and distract myself from what my heart is telling me is the most important. So here i am at an impasse. My heart, a very powerful source or motivation, though one distinctly lacking reason and judgment is saying go for it be strong, what do you have to lose, and my mind, a similarly powerful force, though more rational, is suggesting that i wait and let time take its course, while a third part of me (and one that i don't really have a name for) is proposing another path similar to the first, though with a completely different party. So lets see analogies huh... First, Sacrifice the queen, its your only path to success; Second, Save the queen and pray that sloth will save the day and; Third, throw the game in the air and play shoots and ladders with someone else.
What would you do?
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| Date: | 2007-11-05 23:16 |
| Subject: | Mourning |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  depressed |
A small church. There are only a few rows of old wooden pews. There are 3 short stairs that go up at the back to a raised pulpit. A stained glass window shines a colorful image of the Virgin Mary on the center of the stage just before the pulpit. We hear humming off stage, a very slow rendition of “here comes the bride”. A women walks on stage dragging a military rucksack. Her steps are haggard and it is clear she has been crying, but for now it’s the simple tune and a slow march up the aisle. When she reaches the steps she sits down letting the rucksack rest against one of the pews. She sits there a moment leaning against the pulpit and looking up at the stained glass that is projecting right upon her. She gets up and grabs a bible from one of the pews and returns to the steps. At first she doesn’t open it, just letting it rest on her lap. After another moment she reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a flask and then takes a long pull on it before capping it and setting it down next to her. She now opens the bible and flips around aimlessly for a bit until she finds a passage that the likes. Mumbling incoherently under her breath she gets to a line that suddenly makes her stop. She reads it over again and then stands up abruptly throwing it against a pew in rage. She stands there seething before remembering the rucksack. She goes to it and opens it tenderly. Now rummaging through the things at first slowly then more frantically, she unearths a helmet, then an old camouflage fatigue that she puts on before the panic begins to set in. A can of sterno, a stove, some c-rations, boots, a blanket, his old watch. She finds what she is looking for and is visibly relieved. She pulls out dog tags, fondling them like there is nothing more valuable. She holds them to her nose smelling them and then reads them over and over before putting them on as well. She now takes a moment to smile and reassess where she is. Looking around she sees the bible on the ground and picks it up and puts it back. She takes a deep breath and assumes a different character, that of her husband, disciplined. She sits down cross legged and starts setting up the stove. She’s never done it before but its not too hard to figure it out. When the fire is going and the food is cooking she gets back up and goes to the rucksack again and pulls out his bible that is book marked by folded pieces of paper with writing on them. She holds it gingerly and opens to the book marked page but doesn’t reach for the letters, just trying not to cry. She closes the book again and goes to the flask, drinking again a long drag. She swishes it around realizing there’s not much left and finishes it with one gulp. The light has faded from the room now and the Virgin Mary image is gone. There is not enough light to read by so she goes back up to the pulpit, bible now tucked under her arm pit so she can us both hands. She grabs as many candles as she can hold, some in her pockets, one in her mouth, she wants as much light as possible. She goes back to the food which is almost ready now and lights the candles on the stove setting them up sometimes in order, some times wantonly. The candles are set up now, but she has forgotten why she was setting them up, she panics again but only for a moment, as the book is right beside her. She picks it up and stands, again tucking it under her arm. She goes to the rucksack and rummages again, finds a spoon to eat her soup and picks up the blanket, wrapping it around herself for warmth. She sits back down amidst the candles, eats her soup after turning the stove off. When she finishes, she lays her head down on the helmet like it were a pillow. She reopens the bible to the letters and doesn’t hesitate to open them and read. The church bells start tolling now, it is late. Each time a bell rings it gets darker and the women falls asleep. The last image we are left with is her kissing the dog tags around her neck and blowing out the last candle.
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Written for no one, about no one, inspired by no one... Yeah right.
A campus diner. Students are wondering around, ultimately queing themselves in line to purchase food from a garden variety all-you-can-eat buffet. Michael and Hannah stick out from the crowd as they are wearing color. Hannah is kind of frumpy, exercise clothes sums up the day. Michael is more dressed up, a nice coat and combed hair. They get in line Hannah, then Michael. A short pause as Michael agonizes a moment whether or not he should speak. Michael: Excuse me. Would you mind too terribly if I asked you a hypothetical question? Okay…Ummm You’re sitting or walking alone some where on campus. Lost in your own thoughts, Just minding your own business and some one stops you. “You look very beautiful today.” What do you say to them? Is it flattering, or are you creeped out? Do you thank them and continue talking or turn the cold shoulder and scurry off? What would you do? Hannah: That’s a good question I guess. I don’t know. What would you do? Michael: Did you just answer my question with a question? Hannah: I believe I did. Why? Michael: I’ve just been thinking about it all morning. Hannah: Clever. Were you going to try it on me and see if it works in real life as well as it does in your mind? Michael: Well I didn’t ask you did I? I asked another question. Hannah: Not a wholly different question. Do you think I am beautiful? Michael: I think you look rather plain today, actually. But… But, you can’t be on display every day, can you? Hannah: On display huh? Are you on display? I mean you look like you’re all gussied up. What’s the special tonight? Michael: Yeah I guess I am. Suit jacket and a clean shave. Hannah: So who you trying to impress? Michael: Well no one in particular. I mean an audience, I guess. It’s opening night. Hannah: Oh yeah, For what? Michael: A festival I’m producing. Three comedies and an error. Er. Hannah reaches the cashier. Hannah: Thanks. Yeah, ham and cheese to go. What time? Michael: Seven o’clock. Front row center. Hannah: Thanks. See you later. Exeunt. Later that night. Michael walks across stage as if walking down the sidewalk to a house, up the metaphorical steps, and a knock, knock, knock on the door. Hannah opens the door revealing herself, a butterfly from a grubby little caterpillar. Michael: You look very beautiful tonight. He takes her hand and leads her to 2 front row seats and the real show begins.
Oh yeah and TOWN CRIER!!! 7 OCLOCK, RAUSCH, 3 DOLLARS. THURSDAY, FRIDAY, SATURDAY.
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IMF!
I couldn't hold on too it much longer.
Oh yeah and...
TOWN CRIER!
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There is a moment in every one’s life when they crawl out of the mud after hours or days or months or years of suffering in the most horrifying of circumstances. And in that moment when the rain washes you clean, you stand up and look at the stars and see the light, or at least the lamppost.
That moment happened to me this summer. I just ripped my clothes off and ran in the rain unabashedly soaked to the bone, no part of my body dry but every part of my soul cleansed and refreshed. If I thought hard enough I could probably pin down that day to the hour.
It was late after a late showing of Die Hard 4 aka Live Free or Die Hard. And as we, being the members of the Grotto, walked out of the theater, flash floods came out of the sky. Rain so heavy it obscured even the brightest of head lights. So warm and thick and thundering that talking in the car over the drumming on the roof became yelling. A deluge of sorts and upon arrival home in the car park at the house, there was a palpable “A fuck it” in the air and just enough adrenalin running through our system that the phrase “I don’t even care” seemed to be in everyone’s head. At first just standing and splashing in the back alley but before long that didn’t seem to suffice. I turned and ran after Rupert towards 15th past potholes and trashcans, weeds and rusting old cars in the dark. No light made it from the lamppost on the street and even less from the light over the car park at the Grotto. So for 20 seconds all I could feel was the flexing of my muscles and the heavy rain hitting my face and chest and soaking my pants in this place of limbo. Light in front of me. Light behind me. But nothing in the abyss between, And on the other side standing in the middle of the street underneath that lamppost, looking up and seeing only the streaking raindrops in that storm, I could feel another chapter being written.
It just happens like that I guess, but that night I felt like I was in a movie. I felt like I had crawled through 3 football fields of shit in a tiny sewer pipe to my salvation and freedom. I saw that lightening strike nearby and heard the thunder shake my old neuroses away.
I can still remember the feeling that I had that night standing in the cone of light from the one lamppost and looking over at Rupert. “Lets go back,” he said, and back again we went through the tunnel, through the darkness, back to the real world, back to a new part of my life. That moment will stand forever as if it were not part of this world.
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| Date: | 2007-09-07 10:02 |
| Subject: | Friday. |
| Security: | Public |
| Mood: |  restless |
TGIF for the first time. What a week and everything has only just begun. I need to get settled in a bad way. Right now i am still living out of bags and boxes and it is terribly disorienting. Where did i put my tooth brush? Is that the clean pile or the dirty pile. I need to set up my computer. Thats what is making things the most difficult. When that gets up and running more things will smooth out. (I won't have to use matt's computer for one, and i will be able to do my home work, even though i've sort of been doing it at the library.)
The other thing that has been throwing me for a loop is people. You think you've got them all figured out and then straight from the blue they hit you with something you never would have expected. People from all walks of my life. How do you deal with that? Run with it? Thats pretty much all that i've got... Inconsistency confuses me.
Ok so today. Go to my meeting at CES . Go to the sub after and get some food, go to the library and read until class. Go to class, go sailing, come back to Log jam and take over for clayton, chill out.
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As it is want to do as often as it can. Matt Beman is in town. Happy story, he slept in our room. It makes us sound like we are sleeping together. Well we are, but you know, in different beds. He saw the place last night and this morning. I'm not sure what his reaction is but i gather rather un-satisfactory. But here is how the thick is plottening. Kerala and Melissa have a pseudo empty double in another oncampus house some where near. (When i say pseudo i mean they were assigned a house mate but it may or may nor be easy to negotiate with this person.) So in 15 minutes i'm gonna meet Matt and Kerala at this new place and see if it is any better. I guess it could be worse but the room we're in is already unbelieveably small. And with that piece of info my hopes are not high, but there is a glimmer. (Maybe the basement will be decent.)
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back_lit's journal
drained
chipper