Fawning the Dawning

Reporting from other blogs. I thought it would be fun to go along with a blog world chain letter, or meme tag. Five of life's simple pleasures you enjoy most.

• Watching or acting in a good production where the audience and cast are really connected.


• The happy gibberish/english sounds of a young child just learning to talk.


• A clear cool Summer's day, or a clear warm Winter's day.


• Being toasty with clean soft sheets on a cold night.


• Leaning into a corner on a motorcycle or bicycle.

Another blog I stumbled across had a great idea for campaign finance. I think max donations would still be critical, but I really like the concept.

I've been in a very sour and dour place lately. Work was long, unrewarding, and exhausting. It put me behind in homework for classes, mostly Shakespeare. Not something I want to skimp on for many reasons. I love Shakespeare, don't know much, and it is integral to the training. I suspect a lot of the technical training -- hitting words or phrases, grammatical parsing, dropping and raising the voice, etc. is taught here for a sneaky reason. The mystique of Shakespeare, and the difficulty of understanding the language today make us very open to the training. A lot of stuff we need to do for modern plays, but would resist considering it indicating or overly academic.

The fact Shakespeare's plays don't come to us first hand has much to do with the bazillion takes and interpretations out there. The closest, the first folios, were put together by actors and editors years after his death from memory. It adds to the mystique and frustration. (I wish the same would happen to the plays of some modern playwrights, who hobble directors insisting not one word be changed. Humble the pretentious yet sometimes talented twits.)

Shakespeare is fascinating stuff. The project from Hell at work is finally done. I've had a few days to catch my breath and start jumping into homework. Delightful. I felt my mood turning to crap, the Winter long doldrums I lived with for so long. I knew it wouldn't last, but I hated it all the same. It feels bitingly good to be coming back.

We had a check in of sorts on Tuesday after movement and combat classes, waiting for speech call. An instructor or administrator spaced, and we were all warmed up with no one to enunciate for. People were very candid about where they were personally and emotionally as we went round the circle. I told the group I was feeling my old moody thoughts, making me feel sad and untalented. Until I was 42 I thought happy people were fucked up, and I felt myself in that disgusting place again. I knew it wouldn't last, but it didn't make me any happier. And, I couldn't think of any group I'd rather be with when I was in such a fucking dark place. It really is true, and I was also right about it not lasting much longer.

There are some blogs I read occasionally and anonymously. I would be surprised if they even knew I had a blog. Some I know of outside of the blogoshpere, some not. It seems there is a parade of people who are pulling away from theatre (or their accustomed artistic outlet) because of the pain and hardship it brings. I am actually excited for most of them. It sounds like they are learning an openness and generosity of spirit which was subdued or missing. Whether they come back to theatre I suspect the growth has the potential to be profound for them and those they care about. Why do I care? I'm not close to any of them. I don't interact with them. Is it the joy of watching an anonymous flower blossom, or something for my dusty writer's toolbox?

Speaking of flowers blossoming. Last week a pot of three or four tulips next to a window in the Freehold theatre lobby was starting to bloom. It was early, and even with the indoor warmth, the light available from that window was limited. It was lovely surprise, and I pointed out to every one in the class who walked by. I don't think they were as moved by the sight as I. Similar this picture I found at http://www.hankinslawrenceimages.com/flowers/hli_fl4_std.jpg.