Saturday

Saw an invite on Facebook yesterday to participate in workshopping a play today, so I signed up and went.  We spent seven hours looking at/reading language, doing group movement exercises, working out harmonies in a song, doing a read-thru and then a discussion of the script, and what we discovered, and then working out some specific movement to feel out sections of the script...basically, taking the words off of the page and seeing what they looked like when you physicalized/vocalized them.  There were three of us (I think) that were neither cast nor crew for the show, but everyone more-or-less participated in all aspects of the process.  It helps to get everyone on the same page, and also to see the process, and the work involved with each element it takes to put a show together.  For me, having had my foot out of the process for the past 2 1/2 months, today was a godsend for experience.  I learned new ways of looking at character and movement; some historical, song-learning techniques; history, use of language, etc.  I'm glad they were open to letting me participate (it turned out that I do know a cast-member, but walking into the room this morning, I knew no one.)  I know it's not all that common to get this experience while working on a show, totally depends on the director and/or the budget, so, I'm grateful to have been a part of this one.

Went to the third night of 14/48 Mixed Tape last night.  (Plays from past 14/48 shows were selected by the public(?), and then the four directors got to each choose seven to direct and cast from them.)  Last night seemed to be broadly played for laughs, and the audience enjoyed it.  My favorite plays were the more serious ones, felt like the actors dug a little deeper, with the exception of "21 Run" by Matt Smith, which was sorta' humorous in a dejected way.  A man is celebrating his 21rst birthday all alone because his best friend forgot him, and he doesn't actually seem to have any friends, and Jason Harber brought moments of vulnerability to that, especially when he starts taking 21 shots in his living room, all alone.  Ben Burris played his imaginary Ninja Armadillo friend, and he was wonderful.  Hannah Mootz and Trick Danneker in "Pause Rest Worship" by Heidi Heimarck also brought a lot of depth to a mother who gave up her child (and then apparently went to prison for a while) and her boy who has grown up not knowing her, only she visits the roadside chapel where she gave him up, once-a-year to pray for him.  And my favorite was Mark Fullerton in "Bliss Potetntial" by Scotto Moore, about an aging, ecstasy-addicted, rockstar who grants a no-holds-barred interview to a rock journalist.  He was lovely.  He brought much vulnerability and subtlety to that character.  All directed by Paul Budraitis.  I could only afford to go to one night, (have tuition and rent due).

I have no closing thoughts, so I'll leave that hanging then.

Gnawing

I think we decided to postpone the clown show, not enough material ready to present, short on members to perform.  Maybe in the mid-fall.

It's a relief.  While I have work I'd like to explore, I'm still trying to figure out who my clown is, and to be truthful with that.  Also, I want the work to be solid, explored more completely.  To me, that matters, as clown here (as opposed to say Europe or S. America) has such a bad association (i.e., scary, creepy, etc), and it doesn't have to be that.  There's an honesty to it, a sharing with the audience, that when it works, can be transformative...and I'm not nearly there.  It's also practice, and since it's not my top priority right now, I haven't been doing the time.

For me, I started it because I wanted to push my boundaries, to get to places in myself I hadn't been able to access.  And it definitely helps with that, in the right situation, with the right mentor/group/etc.  Working with George definitely pushed me, broke walls.  I hope it's made me a better actor.  And that was why I did it, continue to study it, not as an end in itself.

Also, I love the people I've been working with.  I love when we connect, when we find something, when we go into those imaginary worlds and run with it.  And I've stayed with the group because of them.  Still, there is only so much energy to be spent, and I'm way too scattered with mine.  I think my heart/passion is in other work.  I want to keep the community, but focus on the work that I need to do right now.  I feel as if I'm hiding behind all these other things, and not facing what I want because I'm afraid of failing...but clown teaches how to fail, it's all about failing, so what is there to fear?  (Disappointment?  Rejection?  Making a fool of myself?)

I need to stop making so many obstacles for myself.  They're not real, but they are everywhere right now.  Excuses to not move forward.  Whatever it is I'm afraid of can't be worse than stagnation.

Memorial Day

Never did end up making it to Folklife, which makes me a little bit sad.  Used to live for Folklife, back in college.  I worked at the film festival all day today, a bit chaotic, three theatres turning over all day, with handstamps and balloting. (A bunch of shorts, whose ballots take much longer to count because there are 10 votes to tally per ballot.)  And the traffic flow was off somehow, which made it feel more chaotic.  Ran into two people I haven't seen in probably 20 years: a woman I went to high school with, and a man I used to work with.  (And other people I know, from around.)  And though I wasn't feeling I was looking particularly masculine, a man said, "Thank you, sir," to me.  He was probably distracted, but I get mistaken for a boy more than seems reasonable.  I should try to go see something else before the festival is over.  We got four ticket vouchers for the shift today.  (I have a bad habit of volunteering in all my free time, so that I don't get around to using the tickets.  I still have World Series comps I need to use from last year.)  I can exchange five vouchers for a membership if it comes down to that, but I'd rather see something now.  I don't tend to go to movies much during the rest of the year.

I went to Ilvs Strauss' "Manifesto" last night at Velocity.  It was one of the shows I really enjoyed at NWNW last year.  She expanded that 20 minute piece into 70, added twelve dancers to the second half.  I guess they were supposed to be her brain, but I'd thought they'd represented the life-cycle of sea cucumbers (because she'd been talking about that right before the dancers came on stage in sea cucumber costumes.)  The piece is about her decision that she wasn't going to have children (there were two exceptions), and also about the California Red Sea Cucumber.  It was all done in voice-over, no one spoke onstage.  There was a talk-back after.  Just listening to her (and the dancers) talk about the process makes me think she's someone I'd like an excuse to work with one day.  It's how open she is to exploration in the process.  Again, loved the show.

I told my naturopath that I was feeling tired and she gave me five (!) more supplements to take.  (I can barely make myself take one.)  I think I've been overextending myself and maybe I need a vacation.  Possibly getting anemia again, too.  Mostly what I did all weekend was sleep (and dropped off the art supplies, and worked in the garden, some...I need to find where I'm going to put the tomatoes.)  I have half-a-day off tomorrow.  Living it up.  (I have five weeks of vacation at this point, but was saving it, in case I needed it for something, like a show, or travel...I feel like if you are gonna spend all that money on a plane ticket, you should stay a little while.)

Had a dream I didn't get in the show and had been showing up to group rehearsals, but no one told me until I looked in a book and realized my name wasn't in it.  And I guess there will always be something else.  Also dreamt about a big room with wood floors and hardly anything in it.  Liberating, in a way (a clean slate, to do with it what I want.)  It was mine.  And then being with a bunch of people I went to high school with, which is funny now, having run into someone today.  (It's because we have a reunion coming up, and someone posted a "save the date" yesterday.)

I'm trying to work on scripts everyday, I should probably get to that.

Film

Went and saw the film Atlantic, by director Jan-Willem van Ewijks last night.  About a wind-surfer from a small village in Morocco that decides to cross the Atlantic to Europe.  It left me with a lot of mixed feelings.  On the one hand, there's the excess of the first world, where relatively wealthy citizens vacation in impoverished third-world countries, bringing along with them a vision of a different life, one unavailable to those whose country they visit.  Leaving behind a longing for something more out of life as well as anything they no longer need, i.e., discarding (out of sight out of mind) their trash for someone else to deal with.  The director talking about how he had found this particular village because the wind and waves were good, and how when they left, they left behind their broken wind-surfing gear.  How the locals repaired it and taught themselves how to use it (and on a bright note, how one of those locals is now one of the top wind-surfers in the world.)  It brings back memories of living in Central America in college.  We (my class) were having an argument about bringing "modernity" (for lack of a better term) to those villages.  The argument was actually about a can opener.  On the one side was "who are we to deny something that makes life easier," on the other, the bringing of trash and of changing a culture.  Plastic bags had recently been introduced, and that was somewhat of a bane.  There was no garbage service, so pits were dug, and everything was burned.  Plastic is rather toxic to burn.  But things like indoor plumbing, and electricity, and appliances can also be seen as a good thing.  Or the idea of education to give people a choice, a way out of poverty.  Anyway, I think once you let the genie out of the bottle, it's not possible to put it back.

As far as the film itself goes, it was probably too long, and could've done without the director inserting himself into the middle of it, and all the wind-surfing tricks, which while interesting, kinda drew the focus away from the journey.  I would've liked more of the journey.  The parts that worked the best were his struggle on the journey, and the flashbacks of his relationships with the people in his life.

That said, the director did an amazing job of creating a sense of longing and loss, moving between the actual journey and flashbacks to his life in the village.  The village itself being run-down.  The family fishing and coming up short while in the distance we see a commercial fishing vessel, it's massive nets loaded with fish.  What was the future going to be if he stayed?

But how does one choose to leave?  It was ostensibly about a woman, but more about wanting more from life, that which was denied because of where he was born.  So he decides to leave, to cross the ocean on his board, at one point when he finally leaves behind the coastline of Africa, 300 kms of open water.  In the flashbacks there is a sense of finality.  Of essentially choosing death over staying.  Of everything one leaves behind, knowing you can't return.  Of not really even saying goodbye, but leaving, and in that moment of choice, being separated from everyone and everything you knew.  Already homesick.  Already lost.  No luxury of second chances.

So in that sense, the saddest movie I've ever seen.  Empathy for loss.  It's not an easy choice.

Crow

Culling through my old art supplies because I found someone that will take them...how many sketchbooks do I need really?  The lure of the possibility kept me buying them, and I was using them for a time, but it's been a while.  Otherwise, it's the weight of projects I never got around to doing.  There is no scarcity.  Also, I have things stored at a friend's house, and his landlord recently sold it, so will have to deal with all of that as well, so the less I have, the better.

The sky has clouded over.  The slightest possibility of a thunder storm.  If I go for a walk do I leave the windows open or not?  The airflow is nice.  (Ain't even summer, yet.)  It's predicted to rain for the next couple of days.

As soon as I got near the lake, a crow languidly started following me.  A woman eating dinner on the grass offered it leftovers, and then as I walked past she commented, "Oh, it wants something you have."  Then, "It's definitely following you," as I changed course.  It was rather half-assed about it.  Flying slow, cawing not quite aggressively, following only for about 4-5 trees.  It was nearing sunset, the day had been warm, I suppose it was tired.  (And perhaps it mistook me for someone else, I haven't harassed any crows lately.)

That was the highlight.  Lots of people out, enjoying the evening.  Some kids playing bluegrass on guitar and fiddle ("All of Me," I think.)  Fish jumping.  Osprey circling.  Herons creeping along in the shallows.  A sunset.  Now evening has set it.  My hand hurts, so I'll stop typing.

How?

Re-read the play today.  Really need to figure out how to make it happen.  I was talking to someone about it last night, she had done it (produced a play outside of existing companies) before, said she and the other people formed a company for the production.  She started to talk about figuring out a budget, too, but we weren't able to finish the conversation.  Need to talk to more people.  At the least, I'll use it for a monologue or two, but I'd like to do the whole thing.  I love the writing.

I need to get my back worked on before the physical theatre workshop, that's coming up in less than three weeks.  Yikes.  Time is flying.

Chomping at the bit to start or move forward, but seems to be a week to wait.

Nothing really

Worked at an auction last night (for the acting school.)  Ended up being the highest bidder on this salon package, which is good: I could use a decent haircut.  (I read this survey the other day that had a couple of "requirements" of being considered "conscientious" as being: regularly cutting your hair, ironing your clothes, and being available to your job when you are technically "off work."  I'm failing on those counts...but how shallow.  I think we can have messy hair, dirty dishes in the sink, and wrinkled clothing, but count where it matters.  But if that makes me selfish, more power to me.  And if  I had to choose between an always perfectly groomed person who was more concerned about how they came across to others vs someone with messy hair and some wrinkles in their clothes but who cared about me (and others), I'll take the latter every time.  And yeah, the person who wrote it was probably referring to self-care, and that matters, you can't put yourself last, but it seemed to be focused on behaviors that people outside of you could approve of and not inner integrity.)  So, that's a tangent.

I had also bid on a knitting class and a horse camp.  I crossed my name off the latter, not sure how I'd get there.  I had a riding accident when I was a kid and would like to get over that, plus I like being around them.  Keep wanting to volunteer with horses, but would need a car.  Was out-bid on the knitting, just as well.  I have a bad habit of bidding to "stir the pot" as one person referred to it last night (plus I get competitive.)  It can get expensive, even if it is for a good cause. (Also had a couple people tell me they liked David and mine's final performance for Meisner last year.  That was nice to hear.)

I was talking to this dancer over the weekend.  He's part of a company that was in town; they work 40 hours/week, with two weeks off each year, on creating new work, and bringing new members up to speed on the earlier choreography.  It got me thinking about how we (clown group) need more dedicated space/time to come up with material.  We have a couple pieces I'd like to expand, but it might be too soon to present them, we just started exploring them....three months of even twelve hours of rehearsal/month doesn't feel like enough time to come up with a full hour's show (though improv groups do it.) There are other ideas, too, clown improv, that could be ready, and interesting. We only have a month at this point (it was three months between shows) and I'm out most of June for another training.  So...time to get cracking or postpone, I think.  Cheers.

Sunday

In spite of my former opinions, Tennessee Williams is now one of my favorite playwrights and "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof," is on of my favorite pieces of writing ever put down on paper.  Just, so, good.  Finally went and saw it today (at ACT, Kurt Beattie, Director), the last day.  I had meant to go, but have been busy, and I really disliked the poster, so had been on the fence about it.  It was a depiction of Maggie (photo) looking a little too knowing and sly, (and she's not, she's desperate) thankfully, she wasn't played that way.  The dialogue is great, especially the scene between Brick (Brandon O'Neill) and Big Daddy (John Aylward) in the middle of the play.  And in this particular production, I liked the tension that was in the air whenever Maggie (Laura Griffith) and Gooper (Charles Leggett) were on the stage together.

Coming home I had my second encounter of the week of an inebriated man sitting way too much in my space...ugh, so uncomfortable, both times started to feel trapped.  My inherent "give them the benefit of the doubt"-ness keeping me from saying anything, though I was ready to physically shove if they got any more close.  Something to work on, though I'm hoping I won't have an opportunity to for now.

Guess since I came home and it's still daylight, I should do all those things I took the days off for.

Not so different

Guess I'm going to a workshop afterall.  Used two of my movie vouchers yesterday, and then went to a solo performance in Fremont, so didn't end up getting much done around the house.  Almost skipped the solo show because my stomach hurt so bad and all I wanted to do was crawl up into a fetal position somewhere.  I did that when I got home.  Mostly doesn't hurt now.

That show was José Amador´s "El Hijo Prodigo," which was based around a trip he took back to Puerto Rico, which then brought in elements of life in Puerto Rico, family, and childhood stories/memories.  It had played at a solo/fringe festival earlier and I hadn't been able to see it.  I'm interested in Puerto Rican life (which I've mentioned before, my grandmother was from Puerto Rico.)  Much of what he talked about, I'd heard bits and pieces of before (not his story, but of life in general), still, I found it helpful to hear again, to explain things, to understand where I came from, if that makes sense...neither of my parents talk much of family history, but it's under the surface permeating everything.  Again, like with Sonia Sotomayor's story of her parents, the telling of his stories are similar, and similar to my grandma's, as well.  I said something to him about it after, and then started crying while walking down the street, it's the pain that lives in the blood.  It drove people to want something better, it drives people still.  I appreciate the honesty of the story.

The two movies I saw were "Paris, of the North," an Icelandic film, and "Flowers," a Basque film (the latter of which I thought was Hungarian for some reason, probably because I had looked at a bunch of movie descriptions before choosing one, and was surprised by how many Spanish-speaking people were in the audience, initially.  The film was in Euskara.)  They both had slow story telling.  Both portrayed non-sugarcoated people.  Both dealt with the messiness of life, the non-resolution, non-idealistic outcomes, though the Basque film had a little more closure, but there weren't any answers.  I liked all three performances for the same reason: there is no perfect life.  There is no shiny outcome.  Everyone is struggling, and in spite of the varnish we see and read about everyday, how everyone is more perfect than you and you just aren't trying hard enough:  you are actually alright.

The older I get, the more I feel like I missed something, forgot something.  Got left behind.  It didn't bother me as much in my 20's.  But now, the bombardment of messages of who you are supposed to be, and what you were supposed to be by some magical age ("20 under 25 to watch!" and the like), and even I know these articles and headlines ("30 things everyone should know/have done by 30!) are fluff, they get to me, the constancy of them wears at me, makes me feel like I haven't done anything with my life.  Makes me tired.  (I know why I made the choices I did.  They felt necessary at the time.)

Anyway, these three shows made me feel better.  Not because they make me feel like I'm better or worse than anyone else, but precisely, because they don't.  Because this is life.  And when we are alone, with no one to impress, we are here, deep in the muck of it.

New Project

Years ago, when I'd first moved back to Seattle, I'd wanted to do a portrait/interview project for people to tell stories about their lives; not newsmakers, just people I encountered on the street or in my life.  It never went anywhere, mostly because I was too afraid to approach people and ask (this would be the main reason I don't do photography much any more, I say it's the cost of equipment now, but in truth, when you're driven enough, you find a way to make it happen.)  Flash forward a few years ago, I was talking to someone else about a similar project, of a particular community, this was based on the idea that we learn more about people at their funerals than we do in life, also it's easier to judge people on one small facet of their lives when we don't know anything else about them, so it's an empathy building project as well.  (The project Humans of New York does this.)

So, that also went no where, life got busy, I suppose.  Last night I went to this committee meeting I haven't been to in ages, and that was brought up once again (through a completely different avenue) because other people have also seen the need.  Anyway, I guess I'm now part of that group, and it's going to happen.  I'm a little less intimidated by the interview process (both due to the performance class during the winter, and due to the fact that we will have a list of questions to choose from, we will promote the project, and there will be both a photographer/videographer and an interviewer at each session.)  I'm excited to finally start.

Took two days off to get my life more together, but then ended up volunteering for the film festival today. (So, not really a day off.) Gotta run.

Saturday

Found this one-act, two-person play, that I want to do.  Strong writing, interesting characters.  Haven't a clue how to go about doing it anywhere without a company.  I did start a conversation about it with someone that runs a small company/space.  I need to follow-up with him.  A friend offered to shoot head shots...I need to follow-up with that as well.

Saw two shows today, left early from the second one because I felt like I was getting a sinus infection.  Lots of chaos on the streets as I was trying to get home.  (Took almost two hours to get home, suppose I could've actually stayed for the second show at later venue.)  Not sure what was up with that.  At one point I asked a man who was restraining a woman (really was for her own good, she was totally off her rocker and throwing kicks and punches and racial epithets at people, as well as running screaming into traffic) if she was alright, he replied something about her going to prison.  He must have meant jail: apparently she decked someone.  Maybe they just ended up taking her to detox.

Earlier in the day I'd gone to see Seattle Shakespeare's Othello.  It's a play I'm not crazy about (have seen some very dull, drawn out productions of it), had thought about trying to see if I could exchange the tickets for a different show (I'd won two gift certificates at a Freehold faculty event).  In the end, I'm glad I went.  Fantastic.  Super strong cast, bold directing choices (John Langs), and a hard-driving story line, all of which made it engaging.  Darragh Kennan as Iago was probably the best role I've seen him in, the man nails both the character and the language.  Sean Phillips as Othello, Quinn Franzen as Cassio, Trick Danneker as Roderigo, and Keiko Green as Bianca (for her brief time in that role) were all excellent.  Hillary Clemens as Desdemona and Alexandra Tavares as Emilia just kicked it up in the second half, for the first, I was wondering how she deals emotionally (as an actress, I wondered about that with Ryan Higgins in Live from the Last Night of My Life, as well) with what was asked of her (from the bath to her final breath) and the latter moved me to tears throughout the last act with her impassioned pleas to Othello and loyalty to Desdemona.

From the opening wedding ritual full of a sense of peace and love and all being right in the world, to the final scene and the bodies of the four main characters strewn on the stage, the lean story telling (carried through the schemes and words of Iago) narrowed all possibilities until there was only one inevitable destructive end.

So well done.

Home again

Re-irritated by the landlord, because he did change the lock, and didn't fix the light, and the remembrance that I think he's supposed to give us 72 hours in writing to come into the house, much less change things (like locks)...and then I go look at art and a fiber artist explains her process to me and offers guidance and resources if I'd like to learn (I do.)  In another shop a painter/photographer talks to me in detail about how her work came about (and it's a new form, she created the process) and how you just have to let go of pleasing anyone else and take a risk (second time I've heard that today.)  Another photographer makes his own cameras, offers the blueprints for free, explains his process.  And a gospel choir offers the opportunity to learn how to sing like they do, sing with them (the volume is pretty amazing.)  So much generosity and a feeling of belonging in the world, washing away the stress of the earlier day.

One extreme to the other

Empowerment.

Had this wonderful experience at On the Boards last night.  A friend had given me her ticket to Complex Movements' "Beware of the Dandelion."  A group-immersion experience (less than 35 people), where we all stood inside a "pod" while video/graphic/music/poetry streamed around us.  There was some audience participation involved.  It was remarkably moving: truths being told that we don't often get to hear, the lasting thought "Wage Love." (It was also a way to make connections between Seattle and Detroit, the company is from Detroit.)

After, we were led out into a room, where everyone said something they were willing to fight for (to "wage love" for.)  Three of us in a row said "affordable housing."

So, from that, came home to our toilet still running (for hours.) I fixed it to the point of it not running and then the landlord showed up.  I walked out of the bathroom just in time to hear him say that he was changing our front lock...it's a bit paternalistic, and we all just signed a lease under certain conditions.  It feels wrong in my gut (especially since he hasn't said when he's doing it, nor why he feels it needs to be done), and I don't want to come home late and be locked out of my house (which would also be illegal, I think.)  Been pissing me off all day.

And then lots of piddly things that wouldn't matter on top of all that...all of which are annoying me more than I'd like them to.  So...I'm in a crappy mood.  (And while there are many reasons not to be, I am.)

I guess I feel like since we signed a lease and are paying for the house we should have some control over our living situation.  It's the lack of knowing, the fact that he changes random conditions and leaves things broken, or un-working, and never knowing where things stand, or having a say (which we should have - none of us want the lock changed.)  He'll do it regardless of what we say.  It's a constant state of instability, of always being on guard, of not having any say in my own life.  I'm not looking for another authority figure.

Dis-empowerment.

Later, lots of art.  And foul mood foiled by a combination of helping someone and the effort of a friend.  Coises!

Mid-week

An embarrassment of riches is what we are.

In one part of my life, I'm trying to come up with story ideas for clown.  Still liking the love triangle thing, also, want to do something where I get to play an animal.  We've got a lot of work to do.

Also finding it easier to believe in imaginary circumstances (and be affected by them) over the last couple of days, so letting myself run with it, in hopes that the practice makes it easier in the future.  Essentially, it's like being a kid again, though sometimes I still get self-conscious and drop out of it.

In another part, I'm purchasing carpet.  Not only taking into consideration the space itself, but multiple opinions (and as someone pointed out, isn't really possible to please everyone, so whatever is chosen someone is gonna sit there and think, "Man, what awful carpet.")  Is it better to go with a strong opinion and deal with the fall out or to compromise to "blah?"  I suppose the almost black carpet isn't going to fly, but it looks fantastic.

And in yet another, observing how leaf and wing has rushed in to occupy space recently devoid of it.  I was cold and feeling inert because of it most of yesterday, still made myself go out for a walk, quite late in the day.  Wild roses are in bloom.  An eagle flew overhead (explaining the lack of visible ducks on the water.)  Swallows are back in full force, diving low over the water then swooping up to circle the air.  A hawk shot out of the (already) tall grass as I passed by (probably a Cooper.)  And some sort of lone sandpiper probed the shallow pond with its beak. (And notes on the sighting board said that both the green heron and ring-necked pheasants had been seen in recent days...something to keep an eye out for at any rate.  Thought the pheasants were long gone.)  From out of the noise of crowds, I made out the tapping of what I thought might be a woodpecker, and wandered off until I found it.  Hairy woodpecker, maybe?  (At Greenlake.)  Closer to home, some wrens have taken up residence in a hole cut out of the ceiling.  I had noticed what I thought might be a nest a week or so ago, but had forgotten about it, then yesterday, I happened to look up just as a parent was flying in with food:  three gaping mouths appeared in the back corner.  Opportunity never wasted.

Letting go

Guilt and regret occupy too much space.  Digging through the boxes and drawers again.  Took away two bags of clothes to donate and two bags of recycling before I could change my mind.  I don't feel as if I've gained much space, but the weight of those things is gone.  I need to walk away from it all now, even though I've more of a mess of things.  It makes me a bit melancholy to spend so much time at home on the weekends.

Earlier went to a SIFF volunteer training (basically, more of a rundown on how the venues were different, what to expect, and what each job entailed.)  I haven't signed up for any shifts yet.  Then worked at a bake sale for my P-Patch, and during a break, bought too many plants.  Sometimes when there are too many choices, I make no choice, and sometimes I over choose.  I only bought four tomatoes though, so that's progress.  My plot is still not ready to have plants in it, don't know where I want pathways...it's a blank slate.  I buried half the plants/containers so they wouldn't get stolen, and only took the tomatoes home.  Even so, someone offered me a ride.

I think one of the watermelon seeds might have germinated.  It's too soon to tell, could be some opportunist, lots of those.  I'll let them grow until I can identify them.  The peas have possibly rotted in the ground (or been eaten by birds.)  The bindweed is thriving.

The sun has set, a breeze is kicking up, and the birds are well into their evening song.  I think it's time for a break.

Blah

The poetry runs shallow, exhausted in all ways, have not found the means to fill the well.  Still staring down (only three now) the things I'd like to finish writing but find I lack the mental capacity and energy to finish.  Bits and pieces abound here and there on scraps of paper, jotted down as they arose.  A brief nap turned into ten hours of sleep, after dozing off at a cooking demonstration last night, but leaving for a show, shortly.  The cure for the blah might be creative effort more than a vacation or more sleep. (Or a media fast, my attention span is lacking.)

A breeze has picked up and the air is cooler, ten minutes until the bus.  Maybe I should change.

Friday

Well, I sent my application in, after which I noticed that the formatting was wacky on the script.  Won't find out until some time in June, so, I'll forget about it for now.

Saw "Kurt Cobain: Montage of Heck" the other night.  First film/book, etc, I've looked at/read/watched since he died (most of those seemed exploitative to me, a way to make a quick buck off of his name.)  Nirvana was the band that broke me out of my "Brit-Pop" phase, and colored so much of that era of my life (Olympia, Seattle, college, friendships, shows, the haunting of record stores, etc.)  It was strange looking at all that again, a lifetime ago, and hearing him speak about his life 21 years after his death, as if he would walk out on the stage again.

Some observations: his childhood was really sad (and pre-Nirvana was the majority of the film); I know there was some controversy regarding the depiction of the drug use, but to me it seemed balanced, didn't demonize nor glamorize it.  It was a part of the picture.  There was a lot of loyalty between Courtney and Kurt (I remember witnessing that before, at a show after Francis was born.)  Why did I not go to the record-release party at Beehive?!?  I lived down the street.  Tabloid and irresponsible journalism suck (eloquent, I know.)  Even at the time, it seemed common knowledge he was in a lot of pain, but what a freaking loss, all the same.