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Saturday, September 5th, 2009
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2:55 am - I wondered when I would be able to post this
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I suppose the answer is now.
Scribbled in a small notebook.
5pm
I'm not really sure why life happens this way to me, but it sure seems to.
Here I am feeling sick from - gosh, I guess the meat I've eaten, certainly I'm not drunk enough to throw up - so here I am in the bathroom, right after M says "justo cuando te miro estas aburrido en mi boda," and they play U2 for the first time (I've been waiting for it), with or without you, as I stare into a toilet bowl, and you give yourself away, and I see if I can stomach it, and you give yourself away, I try to gather myself, and they announce something in Spanish I cannot understand or hear, but I know they are asking us to dance, with or without you, and I think I'm alright, I emerge into a crowd, and there you are dancing with her for the first time as man and woman, husband and wife (que dice la iglesia, que por cierto no me importa), and I am just trying to get to fresh air, to cool atmosphere, to escape --
August 22nd, 2009
current mood:  drunk
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| Saturday, July 25th, 2009
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11:04 pm
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I have a been a little absent lately. From myself as well as from this blog. By that I simply mean that I am out a lot and also working a lot. Always one or the other. Haven't been journaling much either.
Turns out I have more friends in Chicago than I anticipated. I have never had such a busy social schedule, I really have to say no to people just so that I can have a night to myself.
I also haven't been great about writing here because I've begun writing my book, Vincent's Yellow. It's been thrilling - finally! I feel like I've been waiting years to write a book (my, I say such precocious things sometimes, I hope you'll forgive me) but was just waiting for a solid idea. This one is of course more than solid, it has been gestating for years already. It's about van Gogh, of course.
I'm still working on the play, and hope to put it up in Chicago in a year. It will probably be a long rehearsal process, and I need to go through his letters with a fine comb before I can hand a script to actors - but that's pretty much all I'm waiting for. I'll attack the letters all Fall, and should be ready to get on our feet come Winter/Spring. I also am writing the music. But in the meantime, I've been writing the book. I found my angle, know where to begin and can't really help myself. On top of it, I leave in about two weeks for Europe, where I'll be visiting many important research sites for me. I'll be spending nearly a week by myself, traveling, and most likely writing constantly. I am pretty excited about it. I will enjoy the quiet and the solitude, to be honest. A writer's got to be alone sometimes...
I've also been working on the digital aspects of this project (I see it as a constellation with three stars: book, play, and website - no repetition, different expressions of this thing that has taken over my life). If you haven't seen it already, check out Vincent at Twitter and/or Facebook. I am posting daily quotes from his letters on both of these sites - his letters are really exquisite, he is such a deep thinker and just an incredible writer... It's part of why I'm so drawn to him. Plus, I'm picking the quotes so I only choose things that are interesting to a modern audience. Oh, I'm also matching the date as closely as possible (today I posted a quotes from July 25th 1888) which allows things to feel more contemporary. He wrote his brother Theo over 600 letters over ten years and so I have plenty of material to choose from every day.
The website will be coming very soon, and it will be where I do my updates while I'm traveling for all of August. I will post the address here once it is ready.
In the meantime, I have to start practicing French every day! The things I do for a dead man!
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(comment on this)
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| Friday, July 17th, 2009
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11:18 am
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"I think it's something that will work itself out," he shrugs slightly, while squinting into the sun. Her eyes try to dart around his glasses, but between the slight grimace and the reflection, there's no reading him. "Come on," he says with a casual wave of one hand, the other tucked neatly in his pocket as he crosses the short bridge over the canal. She looks down at the stones in the street, her brow quietly frowning, but a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth of its own accord.
She shakes it off her face and follows.
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| Wednesday, July 8th, 2009
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1:37 am
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| Thursday, June 4th, 2009
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1:27 am - My Vincent Map
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Works like this:
Current locations or last known whereabouts of van gogh's paintings on display to the public. Numbers are more or less in chronological order, colors are for time periods.
Red: Paintings done in the Netherlands. (1880-1886 roughly)
Blue: Paintings done in Paris. (1886-1887)
Yellow: Paintings done in France, outside Paris (1888-1890)
Created by myself. Will be posting more updates soon.
Looks like this:
THE MAP
current mood:  accomplished
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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| Wednesday, May 27th, 2009
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11:30 am - [ ] book spawns [ ] dream
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I have been reading House of Leaves. It's good - actually, pretty incredible. Unique, convoluted, deep and thick and layered. I read a passage that last night slid seamlessly with a few sentences between a narrator whose voice sounds like I picked up a journal I would rather just put down (if only he hadn't happened to encounter something worth reading about) into a prose so poetic, so effervescent, it spun into the ephemeral, shimmering then disappearing from the grasp of my mind. I realizing I had lost content, I tried to reread it with more attention, but still found no footholds.
It makes shifts like these, it performs its own metaphor, it mutates in the shadow of my focus from academic to so every-day I'm bored to hair-raising. The only problem I see is that it is, supposedly, a horror book. If that is all this 650 pg book does - scare - then I will feel very sorry for the energy, hours, creativity, and intellect spent making it. But I'm on 50 pgs in, so we'll see.
Perhaps more interestingly, I had a dream about the author last night. Only I believe I called him David Foster Wallace (another great male writer of the same generation, who I have yet to read and intend to - also worth noting that he committed suicide last year). However the man I was interacting with did not look like either of these authors, who both would be in their mid-forties. The man I spoke with was in his sixties, and looked more like the French theorist Roland Barthes (whose writing I adore).
Even more interesting, the dream began with my having sex with him (yes, with Barthes). The sex was great, and then he attempted to treat me like some pretty little thing who had accidentally wandered within his snarling reach. He had had his way with me and was done. He tried to just toss my clothes at me and tell me he had work to do.
( Read more... )
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(3 comments | comment on this)
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| Tuesday, May 26th, 2009
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3:21 pm - ...oh...my...goodness.
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| Monday, May 18th, 2009
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8:32 am - She spoke at my graduation and the deafening applause reminded me of everything else.
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12:57 am - I'm
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i'm a realist
an idealist
a romantic
somewhat pedantic
but only on occasion
i'm pragmatic
enigmatic
i like details
and retail
but only on occasion
i like to drink
and sink
also smoke
and soak
but only on occasion
i'm a writer
and a fighter
a biter
an all-nighter
but only all the time
a poet
and a know-it(-all)
you know my wall
nothing to hide now
nothing to ride now
but my blood
a guitarist
an anarchist
a dancer
and a cancer
but only some of the time
a singer
and i linger
all day
my way
or highway
but you like it
and you know it
a shouter
and a doubter
a teaser
and a pleaser
and you know it
i like my cream
and my dream
especially in combination
a shape-shifter
and a sifter
a keeper
and a leaper
that's all the time
a fistful
and tad wistful
i sparkle
and darken
most of the time
soft
and rough
a lady tough
a diamond in the loft
most
times
i kiss
and tell
an honest
sell
you always know what i'm made of
the bravest blush
a fiery touch
a smile of
imperfect bones
a giving sigh
a brazen lie
but always taking care
an open heart
a vulnerable tart
i'm actually always at your mercy
but you wouldn't know
...would you?
probably
not yet
current mood:  calm
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(2 comments | comment on this)
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| Sunday, May 17th, 2009
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12:23 pm
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| Saturday, May 16th, 2009
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10:00 pm
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I turned everything in. I rocked every last final. ROCKED. Like blew people away. I finished on the best possible note ever.
My family was here all week and I went through all the offered rituals of my university to mark the moment. I saw Whoopi and Hillary speak - that was pretty cool. My whole family and various close friends got to see me perform in a piece I wrote as my final project for my Grotowski class. I've rarely been so proud of a piece, and my family finally got to ALL see what I do, what I really do, and what I'm capable of. I think they get it now.
It meant and still means the world to me. It meant and still means the world to me that so many of my friends were there; the performance was really conceived as a gift to the audience in many ways, so I was happy to share with those I care for.
Now my family is gone. Today was my first day since graduation that was entirely of my design.
I finally feel like an adult.
Today feels like the first day of the rest of my life.
It feels (I feel) great.
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(comment on this)
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| Saturday, May 9th, 2009
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2:04 am
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The worst is over, and now I am set free.
I have never seen my path so perfectly.
I know now what I am made to do.
Nothing could feel better.
current mood:  clarity
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(2 comments | comment on this)
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| Thursday, April 23rd, 2009
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3:08 am
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1:57 am
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| Tuesday, April 21st, 2009
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2:27 am
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| Wednesday, April 15th, 2009
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12:01 pm
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| Thursday, April 9th, 2009
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8:41 pm - I know I've said this before but...
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| Monday, April 6th, 2009
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11:55 pm
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| Thursday, April 2nd, 2009
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1:44 am
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| Sunday, March 29th, 2009
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4:04 pm
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