2002-03-04 - 12:23 p.m.

I'm pretty sure that 'living' is the same thing as 'being constantly surprised at the wierd things that happen to you, and at the wierd things that happen to other people but never seem to happen to you.' A state of near constant surprise, if you're lucky. Catching small flashes of light on a darkened board, the gleam lasting just long enough in your eyes to bleed into the next flash, collecting these blips and mistaking them for fire, building a picture from pixels. Film is produced by showing pictures at such a high rate of speed that the patently still photos appear to be moving. That's what it is to live: to take moments, unconnected, and to see them as a story. Between these moments there is nothing, the darkness between the cells, but the same phenomenon appears to us as constant. Which is true? Which is more important: the darkness we can't see, or the light that isn't there?

That's sort of an odd thing to say, I know, but I felt compelled to let y'all know I'm still philosophizing my best. Been absent recently, and you all deserved that blast of neurosis I call wisdom.

South Pacific is not a tragedy: it's actually a musical, but I was terribly afraid our production would mutate it into one. Paired to the alchemy of the Theater (the show always becomes something once there's an audience), there's the alchemy of failure: musical to tragedy (the new ABBA musical 'Mamma Mia), tragedy to comedy (highschool Hamlet), comedy to torture (anything with Carrot Top). But this production was not a quintessential failure (Yup, just read Malraux'sbacklog). I'm getting noticed by some theater people down here, the director and crew still love me, and I've got enough experience to be entirely at ease on stage. It's nice. Still can't wait to do something a little more meaningful, tho.

I've restarted correspondance with two ex-girlfriends recently, and it's turning out oddly. First off, I'm back in touch with Allison, for which I am grateful: I've never been able to shake the feeling that I gave her way more greif than she deserves with my 'forlorn and nobly-suffering romantic' phase, and it will be nice to talk to her in an atmosphere not clouded by my own overly-dramatic foolishness. I've also started talking to another ex, who shall here remain nameless, but that's going very differently. We started writing about a month aqnd a half ago, it was good to hear from each other, happy things are going so well, keep in touch, etc. A month goes by without communication, mostly because I didn't have anything to say, really, and out of nowhere I get an e-mail saying 'fuck you, you destroyed a good portion of my life, I don't care if you ever write back'. Whioch struck me as odd, because I don't remember saying anything mean about her in the diary, or to her in person, or to anyone else about her. I read all my entries to make sure I hadn't written something stupid udring the summer, when I was very down on romance in general, but I couldn't find anything in particular. She didn't elaborate on what I'd done, so I'm a little lost, really. I wrote her abck asking for details, and apologizing in advance in case it was something in the diary, but she hasn't written back yet, and she may not. I'll wait for more info before I begin the soul-searching angst ritual you all know and love. I should have been a Spanish flagellant: save me time, and at least I'd have scars to proove my penance.

Well, that's enough stuff and nonsense for now. I'm writing a poem, I'll post it when I'm done. Oh, and Actionhero, I'll be up your way next Sunday. We must and will hang. Write me back for details, oh Prussian Kommandant, or I'll ressurect the ghost of Maria Theresa for a little grudgematch I call 'Silesian Surprise'. Ha ha ha.

�

�

previous - next

[ Previous 5 Sites | Skip Previous | Previous | Next ]

This RingSurf New College Diaryring Net Ring
owned by Pretentious White-boy Musings.

[ Skip Next | Next 5 Sites | Random Site | List Sites ]