Thursday, September 17, 2009

who WOULDN'T want to count their breath for ten minutes as a group? sounds like a party to me!

Would anyone be interested in starting a meditation club? I am being quite serious. Deadly serious. Murderously serious. We could meditate in different environments, learn about and experiment with various kinds of meditations, and then drink tea and eat vegan snacks afterward. I think this could be quite beneficial. Deadly beneficial. Murderously beneficial. Meditating with a group gives off a unique energy not often found when just meditating by oneself. Or something like that.

Or maybe we should just start a pork club. Where we eat a lot of raw pork while porkin' each other. NO. BAD. IDEA. No bad ideas! All good ideas. Okay, so maybe I'm a bit manic right now. What's it to ya? Let's just sit.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

oh, and i've seen a few bison. they really don't care about us.

I've been in Wyoming, okay?

Anyway, I could be telling you all about my trip so far. About the hikes, the SIXTEEN mile bike ride (which was just a breeze, by the way), the uninteresting moose, the vegan food (uh... other blog...), the secret desire to buy multiple cowboy hats... I COULD be telling you all about this-- and I guess I just did-- or I could be giving you a painfully (pun genuinely not intended) dramatic metaphor about a wisdom tooth that is infected adn needs to be taken care of because the longer I wait to deal with it, the more infected it will become and the more I will have to rely on pain pills/distraction.

Whatever. I'm tired. I have to be at least three cups of coffee in to really sink my teeth into metaphors.

See you in two days.

Until then...


Thursday, September 3, 2009

play pitch number one

The Primary Treatment

Two androgynous people are sitting at a bare table with empty glasses. Surrounding them are television sets turned off. The couple begins a linear conversation with one another. The televisions slowly turn on and static appears. The conversation becomes more and more nonlinear as the white noise gets louder and louder. Throughout the commotion, a bizarre multitude of characters join the scene and a variety of equally bizarre situations occur. The noise gets to the point where no one can be heard or practically seen. Then there is a flash of white, the televisions switch to testing patterns, everything quiets down, the excess characters disappear, and the two androgynous people are now wearing robes, drinking wine, and eating fish. Their conversation is a repeat of what they were talking about in the very beginning, but everything is said backwards. At the end of the play, the characters sit underneath the table and the televisions switch to video of the audience that was secretly filmed during the play. The audience will sit and watch themselves for the next ten minutes while baggies of fish food are passed out to everyone.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

it's bound to melt your heart

I'm interested in and confused by white noise.

People have ideas for me. And want to buy me coffee to talk ideas. Little do they know that I just sit at home in a cat sweatshirt doing nothing. How does something like that inspire ideas?

Black licorice. I am now a fan. Is this a sign of getting older? Black licorice seems... Sophisticated. As far as licorice sophistication goes.

Okay, time to open and type in "Melt Your Heart lyrics Jenny Lewis." And then, well, read the lyrics.

Sometimes I forget about Egypt.

I need to revise my two play pitches tonight. Which basically means I need to write two entirely new play pitches. I think one will have to do with white noise and the other one will have to do with sawing off a head. I am a chronic doubter of myself.

Why don't I ever drink brandy? Or sherry?

I miss math.

"And we've lost the people we could have loved, and you...
What you know you have or what you think you aren't
It's never perfect."

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

genuine questions in post and genuine question in post title: will you answer my genuine questions?

As a nearly shameless fan of cliches, I will throw this one out there: Forgive and forget. Well, for me it's forgive mostly and have one hell of a hard time forgetting. I can't forget what happened, as much as I pretend to all day long. But then night cuts like a knife (is this a cliche? does this make sense? i am pretty much just sleep blogging, like sleep walking, but with blogs.) and I remember every shitty thing that has happened. How does one stop being so passive? How can I remember myself?