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July 14th, 2005
11:30 pm
All right, Bill, I'll do it too.
[Jan. 14th, 2005|03:30 pm]
Dry weather + not enough sleep + wierd eating habits (thank you, ACTF, for buying us dinner) + not enough water = minor nosebleeds. And not just one, not just two, but several little interspersals, as if my body is trying to say, "oh, don't worry, I'm watching you."
Aah, theatre. how do I love thee.
[Jul. 14th, 2004|02:51 pm]
OK, so I can get Mom or Dad to both visit and co-sign for me, and hopefully I'll have an apartment by the time I have to move to Illinois. I'm crocheting a blanket right now in the hopes I'll have somewhere to put it this fall.
I think Mark and I had a fight last night. He bought his new car, and then spent a lot of money buying a new stereo system for it, which resulted in kind of overloading the battery and so he had to buy a capacitor for the battery. I am of the opinion(s) that a) he spent too much, b) the system was very much not necessary, and c) anything that overloads the brand-new battery on a brand-new car is not a good thing. But it's one of his toys, and he set about to get it, and he had the money....but at the same time, he's been talking about moving and has now put that off, he's consolidated his student loans and could have paid some more of those off and didn't, and a couple other things that I wish he would have thought of or taken care of before he installed that silly stereo. I told him as much and I think he took offense. It's something he does, that when he wants a piece of gear he liquidates as much as possible to get it. He didn't have to sell anything or work off anything to get this, but still. I don't understand why he does that.
So.
My favorite part of Metamorphoses [Jan. 18th, 2004|09:38 pm]
[ Current Mood | peaceful ]
[ Current Music | my love, on the phone ]
He said to himself--they had to be behind him
Said it aloud, and heard it fade away;
They had to be behind him
But their footsteps were ominously soft.
If only he could look back, just this once!
But looking back now would ruin this entire work, so near completion--
Then he could not fail to see them--
Those other two, who followed so softly:
The god of speed and distant messages,
A golden crown above his shining eyes
Slender staff held out in front of him
Little wings fluttering at his ankles,
And on his left arm
Barely touching it
She.
A woman so loved that from one lyre there came more lament than from all lamenting women; that a world of lament arose in which all of nature reappeared: forest and valley, road and village, field and stream and animal. That around this world, even as around the other, a sun revolved, with it's own silent, star-filled heaven--a lament-heaven, with it's own disfigured stars--so greatly was she loved.
But now she walked behind the graceful god
Her steps constricted by the trailing graveclothes
Uncertain, gentle, and without impatience.
She was deep within herself, like a woman heavy with child
Being dead filled her beyond fulfillment
Like a fruit suffused with its own mystery and sweetness
She was filled with her vast death
Which was so new she could not understand that it had happened.
She had come into a new virginity and was untouchable
Her sex had closed like a young flower at nightfall
And her hands had grown so unused to things
The god's infinately gentle touch of guidance hurt her
Like an undesired kiss
She was no longer that woman with brown eyes who had once echoed through the poet's song; no longer that wide couch's scent and island, and that man's property no longer.
She was already loosened like long hair, poured out like a falling rain, shared like a limitless supply.
And when the god put out his hand to stop her, saying with sorrow in his voice
"He has turned"--
She could not understand, and softly answered,
"Who?"
Far away, dark before the shining exit-gates, someone or other stood whose features were unrecognizable. He stood there, and saw how, on the strip of road amongstthe meadows, with a mournful look the god of messages turned, and began following the small figure already heading back along the path....her steps constricted by the trailing graveclothes.
...Uncertain, gentle, and without impatience.
2000 people stood up for us. It was the best...show...ever. We didn't get the handtruck, but who needs a spray-painted dolly to tell us we kicked major and total butt? In a week we find out if we're still in the running. Meantime, I have permission to cut my hair.
A shacking goo, man, totally and completely.
I remember that...has it really been only eighteen months since I first discovered Normal? Only eighteen months since Neen's NDE?...and in two weeks, hopefully I'll be able to see her. Only eighteen months since Someone tapped me on the shoulder and said, hey, this is a place you could belong.
huh.
[Jul. 21st, 2003|03:32 pm]
[ Current Mood | awake ]
How-deee-doo dere.
Most exciting thing lately is that I bought and devoured HP5. I want 6 and 7 out now, dammit....
Ummm. Not a whole hell of a lot going on here that I can think of. Mark's going to be here in a couple weeks, for a couple weeks, and then it's just a couple more weeks and I'm back in LaCrosse where, I'm sure, there'll be much more exciting stuff to deal with.
Like what?
Well, the fact that I'm going to have to deal with a renewed wave of bitchiness from Fish and Christine, I'm sure, since Fish started talking shit about Mark and I earlier this summer. He says it's calmed down, but I can only imagine what work's going to be like after I get back. I mean, Slev mentioned something at my review about letting me kind of do really basic training with the newbies--setup for the cellar, procedures, cable rolling, etc--and Carrie's there now, so I might not have to deal with the other staff much, and Mai's apparently up for the bigger gigs, so I think I might be able to retreat into that. But then it's going to be the four of us, and there's Fish and Christine on the outerskirts, kinda. Oh, this could be messy. But it's not here yet, and I'm not going to worry. I have half a season to get through yet.
Donna's printing Cai and Aeslin....so much so that she killed her ink halfway through. Ooops. Hee hee hee. She thinks she'll love it...I hope so. Seven years is a long fucking time, man.
Um. Oh yeah--RENFEST THE WEEKEND OF SEPTEMBER 13, if anyone's interested. Mark your calendars and get down/up/over to the cities, fools! Donna has promised me that we'll endeavor to be there before the gates open this year. Must get Matt and Laura out of bed!....
So that seems to be it for now. Love ya'zalls, even though I haven't gotten much from you by way of mail....h'mm.
Fwa!
Oh, that was a good night. 10 July 2003, up for 36 hours to finish my book. I don't think I've ever felt so clean and complete in my life, like someone came in and shop-vacced all my cobwebs and dust out.
There ya go.
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| Date: | July 15th, 2005 05:31 am (UTC) |
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Wow. I have to say - this was interesting to read. It's interesting to look back at a friend's life before I met them, be able to cross-reference it with a point in my own life, and say "I was here, you were there"... I don't know why, but it is. Feel free to go back further in my archive; I've got four years of inane personal drama longing to be dusted off. right now, your icon is skipping along in time to "Tom's Diner" by Suzanne Vega. I thought you'd appreciate that serendipidy....ooops, song's over. ;) |
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