lost at sea

XC

Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now;
Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross,
Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow,
And do not drop in for an after-loss:
Ah! do not, when my heart hath 'scaped this sorrow,
Come in the rearward of a conquered woe;
Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,
To linger out a purposed overthrow.
If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,
When other petty griefs have done their spite,
But in the onset come: so shall I taste
At first the very worst of fortune's might;
And other strains of woe, which now seem woe,
Compared with loss of thee, will not seem so.



I am at a loss for words today. I think of the weekend, Emma singing "Goodbye" and yellow leaves falling on the grass, wind blowing through my hair.
Meet me at the wrecking ball. I'll wear something pretty and white and we'll go dancing tonight.

charlie parker

said- if you don't live it, it won't come out of your horn.

And today I was reminded how pitiful my writing is. As in acting, one can never fully reach perfection.

The first day of the school year ended without a hitch. My classes, although too early to tell, seem relatively well-mannered. I am the one who gets a little manic when up in front. I know that I spoke more today than I have in three months; since the last day of school at my music stand.

Today I am feeling vulnerable and ridiculous. It is the shame that lingers--a deep penetrating shame that turns to self-loathing and bottoms out into destructive tendencies. The past, no matter how insignificant today, still haunts me. Lost time (and pride) but many lessons learned. So why does it seem like I am right back where I started?

a new favorite

it's funny what time does to a person. i spent the whole of my afternoon scrutinizing and observing my colleagues-- you can see the tired look in some eyes; the hopeful, inspired look in others. others you see the unspeakable hollow pain that only the eyes can reflect. still others there is a deep sadness,loneliness and longing; and still in others i see the prolonged abuse of drugs and booze to escape life's tragic events--or just life. i fit somewhere in the midst of that endless highway of life.

some people never seem to leave my mind. they linger there and the smallest of detail washes over--hands, eyes, lips, gate, voice, chest. others whom I have known for a lifetime are a fleeting thought; a memory or a character read in a book by chekhov. bitter lip biting, leaves caught in a wind tunnel, phermones strong and overpowering. its an unquenchable thirst--i put my head down, set my jaw and slip into the night.

when i used to perform, once the butterflies ceased, i knew it was time to give it up. the audience would be able to see in your eyes the insincerity of the performance.
this is the first year i don't feel the butterflies.

just finished reading chapter 1 in richard bloeslavsky's book on acting "concentration". my friend said that was the only book on acting i would ever need. he was right. right on.