Je...voudrais...? MAIL, ANYONE?

November 27th, 2009 (02:29 am)
music: Exo-Politics, Muse

I WOULD LIKE TO SEND MAIL.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO RECEIVE MAIL?

For real, I'm rather enjoying this letter and random-sending thing... If you would like some sort of letter, random mail, or whatnot, please to be leaving your address below. Comments will be screened, and all.

Cannot promise when anything will be sent. Because depends on where brain is and how large is-be the train running into and over it. BUT. Mail will be sent.

So if'n you would care for mail, please do leave a comment. Danke much.



Edit-edit. Heheh. Fiend basket.

Fiend bucket.

(no subject)

November 26th, 2009 (03:30 am)

Apparently, dramaturgy was canceled for Friday. Discovered this tonight after note-discussion, and am still "O_o?" over it. Because, you know, changes in plans, what is this madness? Sooo... hokay.

And as brain is not so useful just now, it's meme-time. That music meme. YES, YOU KNOW THE DRILL.

Check the lyrics. Guess the artists and songs. And I may or may not remember to put up the answers at some point, but whatever the case, hey, have a go.


1. I'm not there all the time you know some people, some people, some people, call it insane, yeah they call it insane.
2. I'm beginning to hear voices, and there's no one around.
3. It's holding me, morphing me, and forcing me to strive to be endlessly cold within and dreaming I'm alive.
4. You thought the leaden winter would bring you down forever, but you rode upon a steamer to the violence of the sun.
5. Rapid heartbeat pounding through my chest, agitated body in distress. I feel like I'm in danger, daily life is strangled by my stress.
6. We say this game's not of our choosing; why should we risk losing?
7. Now that the war is through with me, I'm waking up, I cannot see that there is not much left of me.
8. You can't fight the tears that ain't comin', or the moment of truth in your lies.
9. We've got molten metal dripping into forced open eyes, taking out your teeth with a rusty wood file. Cutting off your skin as your tied down to the bed, listen to you scream as I drill into your head.
10. I've cracked a piece of broken glass.
11. I stay close to this frozen border, so close I can hit it with a stone. Now something crawls right up my spine, that I always got to follow.
12. Give your soul to me for eternity, release your life to begin another time with her.
13. I doubt it's your style not to get what you set out to acquire. The eyes are on fire, you are the un-forcasted storm.
14. Some try to tell me, thoughts they cannot defend, just what you want to be, you will be in the end.
15. In public the strain's hard to bear. She exudes such a confident air, but behind she is not without care, but she sweeps it right under her hair.
16. Sometimes I think it's a shame, when I get feelin' better when I'm feelin' no pain.
17. One day I'll face you all alone, enduring out with wind and ice. It's payback time.
18. She's well acquainted with the touch of the velvet hand, like a lizard on a window pane.
19. Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place where as a child I'd hide, and pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by.
20. Confess, don't be boring; say "yes," don't be dull!
21. My red is so confident he flashes trophies of war and ribbons of euphoria. Orange is young, full of daring but very unsteady for the first go 'round.
22. Beneath a bare light bulb the plaster did pound. Her sister and I in a screaming battleground. And she in between, the victim of sound, soon shattered as a child 'neath her shadows.
23. Not long ago, but far away, a rainy winter's day.
24. For life is quite absurd, and death's the final word. You must always face the curtain with a bow. Forget about your sin - give the audience a grin; enjoy it - it's your last chance, anyhow.
25. Too dark for forgiveness, I can’t seem to do anything right. When I try to rebuild I see, my humble shelter just fall to the ground again.
26. I broke apart my insides. (Help me.) I've got no soul to sell. (Help me.) The only thing that works for me, help me get away from myself.
27. Crack a smile and cut your mouth, and drown in alcohol.
28. Cancel my subscription to the Resurrection, send my credentials to the house of detention.
29. A gigantic nuclear furnace, where hydrogen is built into helium at a temperature of millions of degrees.
30. I'm patient of this plan. As humble as I can, I'll wait another day before I turn away.
31. Tan me hide when I'm dead, Fred, tan me hide when I'm dead. So we tanned his hide when he died, Clyde, and that's it hanging on the shed.
32. I tend to think I'm getting nowhere, I drag it out whenever I can. Some day I'll get back there and find the world you dropped from your hand.
33. As the light is gently bleedin' out of my soul, penetratin' the evening as I ride on this endless road.
34. Hey you, see me, pictures crazy, all the world I've seen before me passing by. I've got nothing, to gain, to lose.
35. There he is wrapped in a ball, doesn't seem to move at all. Perhaps he's dead, I'll just make sure... Pick this book up off the floor.

(no subject)

November 26th, 2009 (02:28 am)

For Thanksgiving this year, celebrate Rutledge.

(no subject)

November 25th, 2009 (02:36 am)
music: the underscoring needs to leave.

Heheh. "Shoefucker." I don't even care much whether they're saying it now; the thought is there.

Shoefucker.

Also, "Let's watch Fix poke things." But preferably not perform silent intercourse onstage.

"C'mon, boy." XD What.

Also, the really happy old man.

Also, "my case!"

And the skipping-gleeful-thumbs up.

And, of course, giving the ol' "FUCK YOU" to the balloon.

Whoo, fun.

(no subject)

November 22nd, 2009 (02:12 am)

Kicked off a grad app. Rgh. Kick me in the fucking face now, right.

Rgh. Starting with this one, adding another, and... We'll see beyond that. Because I really ought to apply to MORE programs. And not just two. *facepalm* PhD for one, MFA for t'other, and neither'll accept.... But for now, I'll pretend that it's a possibility.

Also kicked off Christmas-type shopping. Whoa, whoa, what. Zany. The truly zany part is that I actually have some money in the thing-of-bank, so am actually able to do this Christmas-type shopping. Whoa.

Much of room-cleaning has been accomplished. See? This is what happens when suddenly, there's a day without being at the place o' theater. Also got some more Cyrano-related reading going. And thoughts on that because, oh hey, yeah, he is a figure better suited for the Romantics. Or the pseudo-Romantics. Or whatever the hell Rostand wanted to call himself, recall, so on.

Tomorrow is dress rehearsal for Around the World in 80 Days. Check it. 's a co-production with Lookingglass Theater, and I am very, very much a fan. The treatment that Verne friggin', er, deserve (or somesuch), is what I'm saying. And if you're anywhere near Baltimore between this week and the last week of December, I very much suggest stopping over for a show.

I kind of completely want to see Alice. And Icarus. Damn.

My head. It is not behaving. Fuck that shit. But it's been a productive day. Right, and next week? Part of ze family is-be visiting, as well as seeing the show. Sooooooo, WHOO. Excitement, and all. And should be a purty rad week, all in all. Previews-previews, Working-work, aaaaaaand god knows whatever else comes up. WHOO YEAH.

(no subject)

November 20th, 2009 (12:55 am)

If any of y'all Westeros types should happen to find a moment and wouldn't mind taking a shot at mein stamping application, would be much appreciated. Yes, right, because I've been so very good about doing anything for anyone else. Well, y'know. Worth the asking, and danke. At the very least, the mix of responses thus far has kind of made me laugh, any road.

I don't even fucking brain man I don't even know where to begin because really it's not so much anything with a beginning so much as it's currently just sort of I don't know murk mixed with head to the wall, and I am really very glad of the coming weekend. Because there isn't any bartending this weekend, which means maybe-maybe giving brain a moment to chill, and illness a chance to not be. That, also, would be appreciated.

Around the World in 80 Days is lookin' pretty kickass. Dress rehearsal Sunday. First preview Tuesday. Jesus goddamn christ. And it's almost the end of November.

What, I mean what in the fuck happened to time?

I finally read Medea. Among other things, but I've been meaning to hit that one for a while. Yay. Yay, yay, yay. Oh, right, and much of last weekend was devoted to reading American Gods, which'd be the first non-research/non-play thing that I've just sat down and read since arriving in Baltimore. So... That was different. Unfinished, and haven't really touched it sinc the time of weekend, but hey. Some point.

Have shiny new stack of Cyrano-related articles. And Murakami. And I'd really rather start in on the latter, but, um... That's pretty much the last concern. Last as in, oh, that doesn't go down until April (shit, I think it's April... March or April? I vote April. could check, but fuck that). So probably ought to be reading autres things. Whooooooo France. Whoooo Richelieu. And fabled jumping contests with de Guiche, what?

Yeah, I don't know.

(no subject)

November 11th, 2009 (01:45 am)

Meme-thefting from YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.


1. Pick 10 of your favorite books or series. Or just pick ten books. Or book-like works. Man, it works however it wants.
2. Post the first sentence of each book. (If one sentence seems too short, post two or three!) AMENDMENT: I'm actually posting a mixutre of first and closing sentences. Because I bloody well can.
3. Let everyone try to guess the titles and authors of your books. And if you want, go ahead and guess on first line(s) versus last.


1. The bloodred dust blew down out of the sun. He touched the horse with his heels and rode on. He rode with the sun coppering his face and the red wind blowing out of the west across the evening land and the small desert birds flew chittering among the dry bracken and horse and rider and horse passed on and their long shadows passed in tandem like the shadow of a single being. Passed and paled into the darkening land, the world to come.

2. Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo....

3. Here ceased the powers of my high fantasy.
Already were my will and my desires
turned--as a wheel in equal balance--by
The Love that moves the sun and the other stars.

4. She looked at the steps; they were empty; she looked at her canvas; it was blurred. With a sudden intensity, as if she saw it clear for a second, she drew a line there, in the centre. It was done; it was finished. Yes, she thought, laying down her brush in extreme fatigue, I have had my vision.

5. The sky had cleared, the clouds raveled to tatters, and at four oclock the sun broke through, silver on the bright green of grass and leaves and golden on the puddles in the road; all down the column men quickened the step, smiling in the sudden burst of gold and silver weather. They would point at the sky, the shining fields, and call to each other: the sun, the sun!

6. But to me the future is still black and blank--is a vast ignorance, lit at a few casual places by the memory of his story. And I have by me, for my comfort, two strange white flowers--shrivelled now, and brown and flat and brittle--to witness that even when mind and strength had gone, gratitude and a mutual tenderness still lived on in the heart of man.

7. The Nellie, a cruising yawl, swung to her anchor without a flutter of the sails, and was at rest. The flood had made, the wind was nearly calm, and being bound down the river, the only thing for it was to come to and wait for the turn of the tide.

8. Mason City.
To get there you follow Highway 58, going northeast out of the city, and it is a good highway and new. Or was new, that day we went up it.You look up the highway and it is straight for miles, coming at you, with the black line down the center coming at and at you, black and slick and tarry-shining against the white of the slab....

9. She closed the compact and from beneath her smart new hat she seemed to follow with her eyes the waves of music, to dissolve into the dying brasses, across the pool and the opposite semicircle of trees where at somber intervals the dead tranquil queens in stained marble mused, and on into the sky lying prone and vanquished in the embrace of the season of rain and death.

10. I wish either my father or my mother, or indeed both of them, as they were in duty both equally bound to it, had minded what they were about when they begot me; had they duly considered how much depended upon what they were then doing;--that not only the production of a rational Being was concerned in it, but that possibly the happy formation and temperature of his body, perhaps his genius and the very cast of his mind;--and, for aught they knew to the contrary, even the fortunes of his whole house might take their turn from the humours and dispositions which were then uppermost:--Had they duly weighed and considered all this, and proceeded accordingly,--I am verily persuaded I should have made a quite different figure in the world, from that, in which the reader is likely to see me.


-----------------------



In other news, I guess I'm still here. Ish. By which I mean here, around Baltimore and sort of vaguely around the internet, and here, a little bit around the journal-thing. Just not... fully coherent all of the time. A lot of the time. Rrrrn, brain. Rrrrrn, so on.

But I heart this internship. For real. And have already learned worlds more than in t'others (which were also thumbs up, just not so involved), so zay and yay.

Earnest went away Sunday afternoon. 80 Days is in rehearsal. Cabaret this weekend. 80 Days starting, what, the 21st or so, as far as previews go? And December'll be all kinds of mad-crazy fun. Actually, seems to be mad-crazy fun all 'round, but what the fuck's better'n that, eh? Mein GOTT... Something, something, something.

Goddamn, short-circuiting. And very likely ill but trying not to overly acknowledge the fact. But really? Fuck's any of that really matter? The grad school side of life does give cause for concern... But there are some plans. Notions. And I need to get the Northwestern app going, at least. Towson can wait, other-possibilities seem able to wait, but need to get on the former... Bah. Need to clear headspace for that. Maybe this weekend. Very least, the following (during which there should be no bar shifts, so nothing to think on there, whoo).

Em... Em... 's kind of fun, this working on this show-that show-'nother show-that one show-etc. over the course of a day. Breaks concentration, but THAT is fine. More thinking on the go. And god knows, I need to just... Suck it up and be able to spit out coherent thoughts. Ah-HA, caught myself, there... First, I need to have coherent thoughts. Shite. This could be a problem.

Well, jay-zus fookin' chroist, what else is new?

(no subject)

November 10th, 2009 (09:57 pm)

OMG TODAY WRECKED THE EDMUND FITZGERALD!!!!11!!11!11!!!

DAMN YOU, SOME MILL IN WISCONSIN! DAMN YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

(no subject)

November 2nd, 2009 (01:22 am)

Dramaturgy share time.

First off, Digital Dramaturgy for The Importance of Being Earnest. Including the fun and surprises of etiquette. Also including Oscar Wilde meets facebook, as seen through Robert Ross' newsfeed.



With much appreciation for ze land of graphics for transforming ze-words into ze-image/layout/etc. Whoo. Follow the above-link for the full version, yerp.

(no subject)

November 2nd, 2009 (01:10 am)
music: wow it's some MAGNIFICENT bass going on

Your bassline. It seems particularly unnecessary. If you would turn your fucking music down, there would be much gratitude. Or relief. Or something.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

This is probably an exaggeration of response (or non-response, given passive journal bitching). But for fuck's sake. Please.

Friday was The Adding Machine, musical style. Would say more, but jesus fuck...

Stabbing something. It will happen if this fucking music doesn't fucking a) stop or b) at least quiet the fuck down a little bit. Same fucking thing, over and over. Fucking smother it.

Pull a Bromden. Jump out the window. The thrills, the thrills, the thrills. And all the while, Brad Dourif's bleeding on the floor.

Otherwise, it all started with throwing a couple of guys out a window.

...okay, so that's being a little glib about it. Pretty bloody glib, actually.

And on it goes. And goes. Jesus Christ. This is not at all helping the focus. Or the headache. Not that it matters. Because, whatever, people are obviously free to listen to music or whatever the fuck they want. So what the fuck ever. Pretty much always what the fuck matter. I probably should've just tried that staying in the theater all night thing. Only splitting headache kind of killed that idea. Well, feck. Feck, feck, FUCK.

Note to person: No one was "casted" in the play. Absolutely no one. The practice of casted-ing has not yet spread to this particular theater.

Anyway. This post clearly brought to you by a supremely thrilled individual. OH THE BITCHY. Perhaps it will cool. Only if placed on a windowsill, I am told, but then you must watch out for the cats...