sunday, february 11

Sitting here trying to summon the courage to go finish the rest of my dishes that have been sitting in the sink for an obscenely long amount of time. If the kitchen was a place I was normally during they day – and I didn’t spend so much time here contemplating my life in this blog I’d have clean dishes. I think I’m going to have to schedule a mediafast in a few weeks. No TV, no magazines, no internet – I can do email and blog but basically no incoming mass marketed media interruptions. It is sort of a mental colonic. After the first few days the outer noise starts to die down and you begin to hear your inner voices. It has been a long time since I’ve felt I’ve channelled writing and it is time to get back to that. Stop blaming or attributing the quality to myself but become a conduit. That’d be a fun multiple blog project – to have a bunch of us report on our experiences when our media are taken away. I hardly watch any TV as it is now but I’m a total net whore and it is becoming a default activity – which is not always a good thing. And if I didn’t surf the net at work I’d be able to finish my work in the morning and leave in the afternoon to come home and work on client sites and stuff for the plays.

Rehearsal tonight was a confection. Karen, Brigitte, Alan and I – actors I’ve known for nearly seven years – in a room together. Back to square one. In theatre you really don’t build on the work of previous research as in science. You always being back in a stark empty room with you, the actors and a script. Such sweet simpllicity. Familiar rhythms in dialogue and cadence came out as we worked through the play and sketched out basic blocking and traffic… these actors are so much fun to work with. If I could get paid to do this – get a salary for a few hours funtime with my favorite playmates – it would be a glorious wonderful dream.

I had lunch with Kelly Green today. She’s such a crazed gal. I was telling her all about my massage stuff and how I was sort of disappointed that I wasn’t having a catharsis – but she said it sounded like I was as I recounted all of this rage and intolerance I seem to be coughing up, lately. I’ve always known that there is a well of grief as well as a well of rage inside me. I rarely ever act out my anger – and rarely ever in front of other people. I’d hate to appear displeasing. I’d hate to appear less than gracious or happy, right? I always feel like the damage caused by an angry outburst in front of people is somehow unforgivable and less desirable than a calm and placid sensibility (or facade). Rage is a thing I keep confined to closed doors – or an open stage. I think I’m too sensate sometimes and I intuit other people’s energy – I know stuff but I can’t explain why. Just call it masculine intuition.