Poetry

Getting back into the writing classroom means I'll be putting up some poems again.

Poetry work today--well, yesterday; it was homework--involved composing respresentations of more abstract ideas and vice versa. I rather liked some of what I came up with, so I'll put them here.

Exercise: A salesman of the body for the price of sweat
Amusement: A capering buffoon
Wretchedness: The cowering of the leper beneath a thousand glares
Locality: The province [eh...got stuck on this one]
Velocity: Overtaking the world
Attraction: The strings that pull the eyes and the hand that beckons the body to follow
Dryness: A tongue’s desert
Spiciness: Arcs of lightning popping the taste buds one by one
Agitation: A taut neck below wide, unfocused eyes
Deception: The dagger in the comforting hand
Insufficiency: The withered sum in a debtor’s palm
Authority: A gavel-pounder on high
Success: A ribbon whose ends flutter in the runner’s wake

//

Puppet: Manipulation
Hummingbird: Agility
Lightbulb: Alertness
Brick: Inertia
Playing card: Risk
Newspaper: Information
Wastebasket: Rejection
Padlock: Security
Mailbox: Expectation
Dust: Neglect

//

A world retreated quicker than a thought
Although I heard no whistle of the wind
And in an instant every speck forgot:
The actions spent, the earthly portrait dimmed.
I ope’d my mouth the passage to recall
But caught not even dust to savor well,
For in departing hence in part and all
The world left not a breeze behind to tell.
I clasped my temples, and in vain I strove
To wring from them a poor, delaying trace
Of what had been; my fruitless efforts drove
The tang of sweat to bead upon my face.
But even if I wait until my last
I’ll ne’er return to nor restore the past.

We also had to write poems about a "disappearing world." The first interpretation that came to mind for me was the present disappearing into the past.

Time to tuck in.

Convocation

Sitting in the bleachers. The same as last year, but one grade up. Another flag to sign. Walking over, thinking, Okay, I signed as Trotsky last year. How shall I sign this year? Disconcerting? Progress?

No. No more shells. This year I can sign as myself.

--Peter

Old quote

"I could see V relaxing in sweatpants after a long day of killing people, but the Phantom would never be in anything less casual than a smoking jacket."

Lantern said this (the last bit is paraphrased) whilst we walked to BART from the two-week camp one day. I don't know why it came to mind right now.

Matter, form, and two wrongs do not make a right

You know you'll be engaging in a lot of philosophy when your homework consists of watching the sky.

I've picked my audition monologue. The only plays to which I have easy access are Shakespeare, TLI, and The Pillowman. A Pillowman monologue is most appropriate for One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, and T said that he wanted to hear something from me on the dramatic (vs comedic) side. I believe he mentioned he wanted to hear something that leads to some sort of release at the end. Looking through the play, it appears that the best monologue for this audition is Ariel's monologue in the third act when he prepares to torture Katurian and talks about his hatred of anybody who would even think about laying a finger on a child. It stands alone well, and it has a lot of emotional potential, just so long as I leave out the last line. It's a dark laugh, but it's a laugh line nonetheless.

I have just over a week to prepare.

Desire

We discussed desire in Humanitas: why we desire, what we desire, how Eastern schools of thought seek to eradicate desire differently from Western thought. Desire basically comes from a realization of what you do not possess, yes? Either you realize that there is no "you," that there is effectively no difference between you and what you desire, you attain literally everything you desire, or you understand that that you cannot reach the end of the road and become content with your position.

I believe that one cannot eradicate desire. At least, one cannot eradicate desire fully and live for more than a few days. Unless you desire, you may as well be a rock. Nikhil described true happiness as enlightenment, as the absence of desire, but then you may as well die, unless the happiness is its own desire. Then desire becomes something you maintain every instant. If people attempt to eradicate desire, that itself is desire. On the other hand, sometimes desire itself can be the object of desire. Thoughts like this lead one to believe that the first-degree desire is "real," whatever that means, and before long will arise a desire for the desire of desire. Confused yet? I am.

Homework for Thursday, unsurprisingly, is to make note of what I desire and understand why.

Obviously, you cannot attain everything you desire and continue to live. If you engange in the most basic of activities--eating, drinking--than you indicate a desire for future life. The only ways to escape such would be immortality or somehow existing at every point in time at once.

I desire a trip to the drinking fountain.

It begins: the sequel

First day as a senior. All of my classes, including Stats, are shaping themselves up to be interesting.

I have the same teacher for Poetry as I did for creative writing last semester. She's already thrown out to the class the possibility of taking the seminar for Honors credit. I may do so. Our first project was to write name poems. We could pick a single adjective for each letter or work them into a sentence. I chose to take the latter route:

Progressing
Every day
Till I have
Experienced the
Right life for me.

Shakespeare I will definitely be taking for Honors. I already talked about which plays we're reading. We'll also go to Ashland in late September to see Romeo & Juliet, As You Like It, and The Taming of the Shrew. I noticed throughout the day that all my classes are slightly on the large side and that I have a lot of repeating classmates.

The AP Statistics teacher is new this year, but he seems like a good find. No homework yet, but today he introduced us to a logic game called Nim (Nihm? Nym?). I was surprised that he lost one round; it looks like the sort of game where you can win every time if you know the proper trick.

Someone in Humanitas is taking it as a schedule filler. *knuckle crack* You could be denying another person who really wanted the class! Interestingly, this class appears to have two teachers aside from...I'll call him Zeus, as he rivals L. Peter Callender as a status elemental. I'm really looking forward to the meditation exercises; Bedlam's descriptions of them were highly interesting and curiosity-piquing.

Vince and Nixon are both in Classical Worlds with me. Ya-harr. As a matter of fact, eleven or so of us are returning students from his seventh-grade class. We have only one junior among us out of seventeen. This class has the largest non-text book.

Zeus is teaching The Divine Comedy as well.

The fall play was confirmed as Cuckoo's Nest. I'll audition for McMurphy (who isn't?) with Billy as my second choice. Tech Girl seems to think that role would fit me well. Better start looking for good monologues. The musical is still up in the air, but it definitely will not be Guys & Dolls.

Bedlam was visiting today! Yayyy! *Internet hug* I thought she would be at college by now, but she doesn't leave town until Friday. Come to think of it, there were several graduated seniors sighted on campus.

I switched out of T's advisory this year. Nothing personal; I'll be seeing plenty of him anyway, and I wanted to see more of Pillar before I graduated.

I have homework to do. Unorthodox homework, but homework nonetheless.

P.S. Odd dream last night: I was fitting "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" to a 3/4 meter. Not too hard, but I would like to know why?

I hope that another creative writing contest is staged this year. I have a couple of pieces in mind, and I would like an excuse to polish the end of my Lucid story.

School tomorrow...associations.

What to say?

What has been at my fingertips for these last few days? Everything or nothing?

Either way, it's about to get very specific again.

I should get to bed soon. It's relatively early, but I don't want to risk sleeping in.

Then again, isn't that what alarms are for?

I suppose I'll learn the play tomorrow. Please be TLI.

Cuckoo's Nest would be fine, but I'm really hoping for a chance to play Wargrave.

Can with blue people on it.

Pig's head on a stick.

Rolling rock.

Indiana Jones.

Harrison Ford.

How to save your marriage in seven easy steps.

Dramatic reading.

Dramatic writing.

F.

Fun and failure.

Arrested Development.

Bygone.

Graduation.

One Year.

Looking back.

Uneasy.

Snap out of it.

Glass of water.

Ice.

Liquid nitrogen.

Hasta la vista, baby.

Governator.

Eh.

Shrugging.

Gestures.

Vocal gestures.

Voice and Movement.

Omnipotent. Softy.

Goddess.

Greek Mythology.

Classical.

Beethoven.

Amadeus.

Zombies!

Survival.

Survive the coming year.

I'm a senior.

I still don't feel like it.

No choice.

I have a journey, sir, shortly to go.
My master calls me; I must not say no.

Glad

"Are you glad that X is happening?"

"Are you excited about Y?"

These are questions I'm rarely sure how to answer. Given the choices of yes and no, the most accurate answer is no, but to say so is misleading. I am not averse to the suject, but I would not go so far as to say that I'm excited about it.

Slow day.

Home. Bored. Potluck this evening. Old friend. Months since last seen. Maybe be there. School in two days. Ready? Don't know. Everybody quiet. Dreams. Vague. Shakespeare. Monologue or sonnet? Can't remember much. What's this? Cal Shakes newsletter. Old. Goodbye.

Rites of passage

Today was senior registration. I acquired my photo ID for this year, which looks pretty good despite the Sparkly Blue Pustule on my head. Everything else went off without a hitch. My selection of books this year is pretty interesting: I only have one full-size textbook (for Stats), but they make up for size with numbers! I have copies of Romeo & Juliet, Richard III, The Taming of the Shrew, Dante's Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso, and four other books for my various and sundry seminars of the Humanities.

I also learned the requirements for those students who take Shakespeare for honors credit: aside from the usual (an extra [take-home] question per test, etcetera), an honors student has to memorize fourteen lines! And (mark this) emote them in costume! Gee, I may have to rethink going for Honors! *giggle*

Heard good things about Occidental College. It's going on my list.

...goes clomping around wearing boots like Gaston!

I have new shoes.

That is the most interesting part of my day.

At last.

Day 18. Boy, am I stuffed. When we got off solo today I put away two thirds of my cheese block, my orange, all my cliff bars, a bowl of mashed potatoes, my chocloate, and a cinnamon bun. One of the bars was peanut butter, but I liked it anyway. I don't know whether my tastes are changing or I just didn't care. After lunch we backtracked to resupply and then hiked about a mile into Grapevine Canyon to our campsite. We'll be staying here for two days, as tomorrow is rock climbing.

Day 19. Whoa! First things first: M2 discovered the mangled--no, the shredded carcass of a coyote right behind our campsite. Reactions ranged from running off shrieking to nodding and saying, "cool" to me: I crouched over the carcass in my super-bloody shirt with my blood bandana tucked in as a napkin while N2 took a picture. He'll be sending it to me when we get back...That quesadilla was so wonderful! Felt like I was eating real food again. Climbing and rapelling were also enjoyable. My hands are grey from the rope.

Day 20. After a few hours of steep hiking, we've stopped for lunch. I am not very perky at the moment: while I was setting down my backpack my kneecap went out again. It popped back in on its own, but I could tell from the pain that this was the worst yet of the trip. It always happens when I'm putting my pack down. P2 says that if she catches me moving my pack on my own she'll beat me up. Fair enough; I have no desire to have my knee deteriorate into evac condition. But it still frustrates me, as I know I'm strong enough to handle my pack and I'm otherwise in great condition. I'll have some ineresting knuckle scars, however, and I stabbed myself on a joshua tree on the way up here. In other news, we are now on independence (read: the home stretch of AWE). After today it's just another day and a half of hiking.

Day 21. Ugh. Last night was one of the worst nights of my life. A too-tight knee wrap kept me awake and in pain well past midnight until I could remove it, and I couldn't get to sleep until almost three because it was freezing! I estimate I'm operating on three to four hours of sleep right now. We've hiked three and a half miles this morning, and there are sill several to go. The terrain should be easy, so we'll make good time. As predicted, the high/low pack contained chocolate. I ate mine this morning...Now I appear to be developing an ankle condition. Fortunately it isn't too serious, and N & K recommended just making sure my boot is tight. We've broken for lunch. Bored...Now it's evening and we are at our water refill area. We're about an hour behind schedule, and we still have two miles to hike before we reach camp. Tomorrow we have to hike eight miles to reach base camp by two-thirty. To think that AWE is almost over. I confess myself disappointed; I expected AWE to be deeply meaningful or impact my life somehow, since the seniors made it out to e that way, but all I'm taking away from this are a slightly improved physique, a dozen or two pages of journaling, and some new scars. E just suggested we skip dinner tonight to save time. I could go along with that. I just polished off my gorp and I still have food to spare.

Day 22. Independence is over. In another half hour we'll hike the last mile or so to base camp. During the morning we hiked through a narrow, smooth-walled canyon that just had to have been used in a movie at some point. At the end of this break I plan to get out my old, blood-spattered clothes with which to hike in. Here's a funny note: as we packed up this morning, for whatever reason I was thinking about how to meld Pokemon with the Mutants & Masterminds RPG system. I may have to get out my old Pokemon games when I get home. I stil remember huge amounts. It's actually a bit scary how much I remember from the old games (I stopped keeping up with Pokemon before the third generation was released).

...And that does it for my Death Valley journal. If you want to read the rest, search through my blog history. I'm too lazy to go hunting myself.

Keeps going...and going...

Solo, Day 3. WAFFLES. Right now I am terribly missing waffles. I don't even eat them that often and I miss them. Anyway, it's morning of Day 3. Some 48 hours since I last ate and I'm barely even hungry. I ought to give Survivor a shot if it's still around in five or six years. Cold. Actually, I currentlym iss all sorts of breakfast foods. Except cereal. Cereal has come in abundance over the last two weeks. I've also had oatmeal a couple of days and cream of wheat for the first time. It's pretty good once you add brown sugar. I wonder what I look like at this point. P2 said that I was getting a bit of a tan. That plus dirt plus facial hair will be interesting to see when I get back. Bit by bit the sun is creeping its way toward my position. Too slow! I need chapstick. That's better. Too cold. I'm getting back into my sleeping bag until the sun reaches me. Goodbye...Hello again. Tunes from a Maurice Sendak children's video have been playing through my head on and off for the last few days. They are highly annoying, and it must have been at least a decade since I last heard them. The human brain is a funny thing...The wind seems to be clearer today. If I recall correctly, we're supposed to arrive at base camp on Day 22. It's be Day 21 by my reckoning, as I don't count the all-day prep on March 10th, hence the label of Day 0. Today is Day 17, and I come off solo tomorrow morning, which will be Day 18. The rest of that day is rock climbing, so we have three days left of hiking. Our instructors will be staying out of the way for those days, letting us run everything. March 10th last year was the day I dislocated my knee. I'm just glad it didn't give an encore performance, as being shifted over to the High Sierras trip would tear my summer plans to pieces. It is still surprisingly cold, so I'm going to put my long underwear on now...Oh, why do I have to be fasting? I checked my mailbox just now and there was chocolate in it! One more thing to look forward to when I get off of solo...Clouds are back and the wind is picking up. The result? It is cold again. I haven't had anything to drink yet today. I shoud probably get on that...Two more things I miss: toffee and (why didn't I think of this before!?) mint. Licorice just came to mind as well. I really ought to be using this time to work on the poems I need for creative writing, but I don't feel particularly poetic at the moment. Snickerdoodles. I miss those too. Potato skins and that delicious potato cheese soup at Marie Callendar's. The potato dish I found at Trader Joe's a while ago. Apricot logs rolled in coconut. Taco Bell. Lean Pockets. Eggnog and skim milk. The dehydrated milk we have here might me skim; I can't tell. I miss the "dragon breath" sandwiches I made for myself fom time to time: the ones with pepperjack, pepperoni, garlic salt, wasabi mustard, and maybe some horseradish, all between two slices of extra sour rye. I miss french toast bread. Smoked salmon in a bagel with cream cheese and capers. I miss sushi and Chinese food. I miss the sandwiches from Subway and Quizno's. I miss that one sandwich (the Italian?) from Garlex. I even miss Togo's, and I haven't eaten there in ages. Oh, how could I forget? Greek cuisine! I miss gyros, spanakopita, and above all I miss stuffed grape leaves!...I see some weather activity on the other side of the valley. Whether it's rain or just low clouds I can't tell. I really hope it's not rain; the day is cold enough already! I miss sauerkraut and habanero cheese hot dogs. I miss California Pizza Kitchen. I miss Sweet Tomatoes and Fresh Choice, particularly their focaccia and herb biscuits, respectively. I promised myself at the beginning that I wouldn't torture myself by fantasizing about food. So much for that...Well, that's just peachy. What looks like rain on the horizon and the main rope keeping my tarp up snaps. I tied it back together, but it if breaks again I'll be out of luck, as the loose end is now used up, and that could lead to a very miserable night. At least my rain gear is--Guess what just happened. I'll give you a hint: Murphy's Law--on hand...By completely retying the ridgeline I managed to secure it again, but now my tarp is sagging almost beyond the point of useability. I am now bundled up in my rain clothing. Even if it doesn't rain I welcome the extra insulation...Things are looking up. No sign of rain and my tarp is holding together. Once again, I have been in my sleeping bag for some time to keep warm. We're into the afternoon, but it can't be very late as I see that my mailbox is still in its unchecked position. Still cold. Grr. Brownies and lemon squares. More foods that I miss. Maccaroons...Evening checkpoint has come and gone. N/K left me another rope. Yay. This one continues to hold, but it's nice to have a backup. I'm guessing that it's now around five in the afternoon. For the last, maybe a hour, bits and pieces of Aladdin have been playing through my head. I remember a surprising amount. This gets me to thinking when I get home my vegging may take the from of a Disney binge. I'll start with Aladdin, of course, and then go through The Lion King, Pocohontas (spelling?), and The Hunchback of Notre Dame in no particular order. Besides being a nostalgia trip, there can be something comforting in seeing old-fashioned cartoon animation. Not everything has to be done with computers. Also, now that I'm older I'll probably get more of the adult jokes they snuck in. The Groucho Marx reference sure went over my head the first few times I saw Aladdin. I'm still amazed K doesn't know the Marx Brothers...Just did fifty jumping jacks. Now I can't be accused of spending ALL of solo loafing around. The sun has sunk behind the mountains. It's still pretty light out, but solo is definitely nearing its end. Just the rest of this evening, sleep through the night, and then N gathers us up tomorrow morning. 72 hours without eating. Twice what I've gone before, and it wasn't hard at all. I'm still around the 60-hour mark right now, but I doubt I'll be getting up o fix any midnight snacks. Naturally, as soon as solo is over I will begin stuffing my face with the ration pack. First the block of cheese, hen the peanut butter and chocolate Cliff bar, then the chocolate my instructors left to drown out he peanut butter, then the orange, then the oatmeal-raisin bars, and I'll make the raisins my gorp for the rest of the trip. Ten and a half pages. Not too bad.

Getting old, I know

But I am determined to finish my Death Valley journal, even if it is nearly five months late!

Solo, Day 2. Here I am. Day 2 and feeling fine. Master of all I survey, so long as I only survey to the east. My tarp is right on the western edge of my territory, which might make it difficult for N & K to reach my checkpoint unseen. The sky is completely overcast right now. Hopefully it won't rain...Apparently, N & K can still sneak by just fine. I wonder why I haven't been in much of a journaling mood this morning, especially after doing more than five pages yesterday. I'm feeling alert but low on energy. I have more than a gallon of water per day available, so no worries there. Sky is clearing up over Saline Valley to the northwest, but it's still quite windy and chilly. I estimate the time to be around noon, based on the sun's position. Right now I am thinknig of all the foods I miss. I miss guacamole. I miss Mexican food covered in warm, melted cheese with refried beans on the side. Nachos. I miss barbecue sauce. I miss pizza. I miss reubens, grilled cheese, Caesar salads with anchovies, and everything else I order at Max's diner. I miss their steaming sourdough rolls I tun into mustard sandwiches. I miss dark chocolate. I miss boneless buffalo wings at Chili's and the Hot Rocks burger at Fuddrucker's. I miss fresh fruit of all kinds, especially the tart ones. I miss ice cream. I miss tortellini. I miss everything pickled. I miss spinach artichoke dip. I miss yogurt and those sweet potato fries at the Scharffenberger Cafe. I've got to stop torturing myself. I'll do something else now...I've spent the last (insert interval of time here) buried in my sleeping bag to escape the wind. Just now I dropped off the self-evaluation sheet assigned (I hate those) and tightened up the ropes on my tarp. By now the sky has grown significantly clearer. Schedule for when I return from AWE: 1. Go to Baja Fresh. Order a "dos manos" bean cheese, and carnitas burrito with a side of guacamole. Eat. 2. Go home. Restablish contact with the Venetians. 3. Take a LONG shower. 4. Eat ice cream. 5. Blog my journal [Editor's aside: 5 must have dropped to 95, eh?]. 6. Soak in the hot tub. 7. Eat the most delicious thing I can think of at the time. 8. VEG OUT. 8 1/2. Sleep in late. 9. Find someone to talk to. 10. Go to Max's and eat some more...This tarp may serve for shade and rain protection, but it's not good as a wind shield. I get up and walk around for a couple minutes, come back, and my sleeping bag, sleeping pad, and ground cloth are all blowing away. We're definitely into the afternoon by now...Early evening. Still gonig strong in the fasting department. Sky is almost completely cloudless, but the wind is ever-present...Second and last checkpoint of the day accounted for. I must admit that my instructors are good at sneaking. The sky has begun to dim noticeably. I expect I'll retreat into my sleeping bag soon, so good night.

Maybe I will finish transcribing tomorrow.

Long time, no see!

While visiting Gentleman's blog I learned that Omniscient has just started a blog. You can find it in the library of linkage to the left.

Library...that reminds me I still have a book to return. I'll do it tomorrow.

I also added Lantern's blog. (Just another excuse to use "L")

Senior retreat

Four-hour meeting at school this morning/early afternoon for all the rising seniors. I don't know whether this takes the place of orientation...scratch that; it does.

Hee. Semicolon.

I wonder if we'll have any new students in the class this year. I'm guessing we won't: AWE is a graduation requirement, so it doesn't make sense to allow newcomers the year after.

I do seem to be recovering from the summer seeping schedule. I was awake shortly after 7:00, and I could drag myself out of bed before 7:30. Cut that back another half hour and I'm good to go.

Here are my thoughts. Give me my penny.

I miss Cal Shakes. It's only been three and a half weeks, but it feels like an eternity. Thinking about Cal Shakes brings me to thinking about the immediate future of theater at school. It's kind of sad to look ahead and know that the plays we put on are 95% likely to not be as good as what I and so many others were in less than a month ago. Less available time to work on the plays, no guarantee of a strong pool such as there is at a class (calling it a camp trivializes it to my ears) fully devoted to Shakespeare for 5 weeks--not to say that we don't have some fantastic and committed actors at school, because we do--and no Omnipotent/Softy directing us.

I attended a leadership workshop today where I heard that One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest was confirmed as the fall play. I will be auditioning for McMurphy, of course (the more I think about it, the more I realize that I get cast primarily as the nutjobs, so I'm very confident that I will be cast as somebody), but I've heard that Klute will kill for the role, and he apparently is a huge fan of Ken Kesey. He was good in Reindeer Soup. I suppose the main concern for that play is Chief Bromden. Vince has the height to play him, but he's a bit on the skinny side. Whether Iona or Nixon will get Nurse Ratched I do not know (yes, "Nixon" is a girl): Nixon's a senior, but Iona has a bit more experience in the school plays.

9:00? *groan*

I have really got to return to a school-oriented sleeping schedule. Of course, it didn't help last night that it took me ages to fall asleep.

Boo yah!

Or is it "Booyah?" Or "Boo-yah?" Anyhoo...

I just realized that I don't actually need to complete the UC prompts by Tuesday! That email was just informing me that the prompts had changed. And here I was, thinking that I had to write two more essays for homework. Silly me. :D

The adults are right.

I checked this morning, and apparently I do still have a bit of growth left in me. As of today I am five feet, ten and a half inches.

Now to catch up on the last couple of days.

On Thursday I saw The Triumph with Loyal, Knight, Lantern, Lantern's younger sister, Sunshine, Gentleman, and Squeak. The play was delicious, but mostly I was glad to see them all again. It's only been three weeks, but the elapsed time since King Lear feels like an eternity. Miss it...

Friday was my grandmother's 96th birthday, so in the morning we had a gathering of relatives. My cousin was there, whom I have not seen in a long time. He's a retro gamer and is picking up quite an interest in computer hardware. During the afternoon Loyal and I went to the Lindsay Wildlife Museum. Hearing all the animal facts and the exposure to some new areas really drove home for me how long it's been since I was last there. Kind of sad when you have a parent who works there.

"Streamed over" is not a phrase!

One of my brain's most annoying habits must be deciding to change what I'm saying in mid-scentence. It certainly doesn't do wonders for coherence or image. If one can apply the word "image" to one's manner of speaking, but I'm sure you know what I mean.

Take a gander at the new link in the appropriately labeled sidebar. Makes you wonder how the guy was ever accepted as Superman. I think #94 is my favorite.

Brrr...

Summer homework required me to fill out the Common Application for college. Picking a topic for the personal essay (short, at least) took a while, but I decided to write about how the Bay Bridge crash affected my views on driving: I hate it. I can never feel comfortable behind the wheel, knowing that a second's distraction could cause a nasty injury or worse. If I never touch the freeway, it will be too soon. Even writing >300 words about it feels icky, as I discovered just now. At least my parents were kind enough to give it a rest for a few months.

Enjoy this haiku.

Horrid aversion
To the looming driver's seat
Dominates my thoughts

Let's talk about something else now.

My uncle is staying over for a couple of days. He's cool.

Bye.

And now, your Highness, we will discuss the location of your hidden rebel base....

Looking through the pantry just now revealed two INFESTED cereal boxes. Throwing those out should have decimated the moth population. But more have been spotted in the overhead lights...

Tomorrow I attack again.

Wheee!

It's over!!!

None of our campers screwed up! Yay!

Lear got through his performance with no problems! Yay!

I remembered my sound cue! Yay!

Loyal came to see the last performance! Yay!

Staff and interns (sorry, Softy and Lantern) had fun in Berkeley! Yay!

Interjective sound bites! Yay!

Psycho Kid is history! Yay!

I still haven't seen any Star Trek...Non-yay!

Softy will be introducing us to Slings & Arrows! Yay!

I think I'm forgetting something...so just Yay!

Oh, that's right: I've fufilled 255% of my required community service hours! Yay!

[Beat]

Interestingly, one of my campers said today that he has never seen me smile. He must have only been looking at me when I was telling off Psycho Kid.

Need for catharsis...rising...

Camp today was exhausting in every possible way. I do not wish to go into details, but suffice it to say that Lantern I were lucky to escape with our sanity and Psycho Kid was lucky to escape with all of his limbs attached! Lear monologues can be rather therapeutic, particularly his angry ones.

If I can't work myself up to some kind of emotional release before school starts I am going to either crash or explode.

On a lighter note, Softy will be teaching another fall class. Yahoo!

Back from the whorehouse!

...Or something like that.

Camp today was rather eventful. Apparently the first Lear in the oldest group is feeling poorly and may not be over it by Friday, so Omnipotent was looking for an understudy this morning. That understudy now be me. Learning (read: recalling) his lines will pose no challenge, to be sure. Sadly, this guy is the one who is working the hardest and committing the most to his character. On that note, Lantern and I each saw snippets of their rehearsal, and we can see why Omnipotent misses us so much. The guy playing Lear in the storm scene (not "my" Lear) appears to be physically incapable of grounding himself. I know my view is skewed because I ground myself too much, but I know that you don't bobble backward and forward while delivering, "Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks!" Lantern said that in 5.3, the girl playing Kent was acually giggling as she delivered her lines. Oh, and several of them are using rehearsal time to flirt with each other. Grrrrr!

All right, enough badmouthing the campers for now.

Learned that Psycho Kid is actually ADHD Kid. That explains a lot, but it still shouldn't impair his ability to take directions.

Toe Surgery, Round 2 was today. This time plans have been laid to permanently narrow the nail. Dr. Stewart is a cool guy. He reminds me a little of Christopher Walken.

No mercy!

My house has become a battleground. On one side, me, equipped with snatching, swatting hands. On the other side, countless moths that live in the cupboards. They fall in droves, and yet they come on. One day I will crush this insignificant rebellion of vermin.

Speaking of conflict, just when I thought Psycho Kid was settling down...Lantern will be calling Loyal while I locate a dark alley. By now the little bugger has used up all of his chances. One more cause to fill otu the discipline report and he is gone. I probably shouldn't be saying this, but I will be glad to see the back of him, one way or another.

By the way, here is a picture of me from camp. Clocked in the mouth or secretly a vampire? You decide.

I don't know how to turn it right side up.

The Man Made of Ash

It's been forever since I wrote a poem for its own sake, so getting this out of my head at last was a relief. This reads more like a song than a poem to me, but I don't have a melody. One could sing this to the tune of "Babes in the Woods."

The widow came home on the funeral night
She lit up a fire and cried out her woes
And the flames must have heard, for just before dawn
A man made of ash from the embers arose

He looked 'round the room for the widow with eyes
That glowed with the heat of a fire gone dead
He saw her, called out, but no sound could emerge
For the man made of ash had no tongue in his head

He sat by her side as she cried in her sleep
His hand on her cheek as the morning did break
As the sun touched her face she started to stir
And the man made of ash saw the widow awake

She looked up in fear at the dark, looming shape
Who held out his ands as if pleading to stay
But she struck out, her hand driving into his heart
And the man made of ash slowly crumbled away

Then the widow cried out for the man not to leave
But by then he had vanished without any trace
She begged for forgiveness; too late had she seen
That the man made of ash wore her dead husband's face

So each night thereafter the widow would set
A fire in the hearth and leave it to burn
She cried o'er the flames till she sank into sleep
But the man made of ash didn't ever return

Kneel before your goddess!

I have a cult. Lucky me.

A few of the girls in the second-oldest age group at two-week camp have taken to accosting me whenever we cross paths and addressing me as Leslie, Monica, or Puppyhead. I have no immediate objection to this, but I would like to know WHY. If I were a girl, I could possibly see my name being Leslie, but I am definitely not a Monica. 'Tis most unusual.

Psycho Kid has improved since last week, although he still needs to occasionally be told to shut up (not in those words). Lantern was feeling poorly today. *sad face* Hope she's better tomorrow.

Working on a poem/song. I'll post it later this evening unless I forget.

Ya-harr.

It had to be said.

Btw, I saw The Simpsons Movie this afternoon. It was good, as expected, but disappointingly lacking in the pop culture references.

There are two kinds of people in this world: primitive screwheads and Deadites. Bruce Campbell does not fall into either category, for he is no mere person. He is a god.

8:40 same evening--I just finished watching last summer's performance of The Merchant of Venice. Ah, memories...

Time to turn topsy turvy

I've been feeling down for the past few days, so apologies if that bleeds into my post too much.

Yesterday a number of us met in Berkeley. We went to an Indian restaurant, checked out some books from the library, started to read Love's Labour's Lost, didn't finish, bought a few copies of Oscar Wilde plays, and read part of The Importance of Being Ernest. It was getting late, so Gentleman and Atlas went home while Loyal, Bedlam, and I crashed at Lantern's apartment for the night. We read more Wilde, talked about fairy tales, about life, and many other things besides.

Lantern walked with me back to the BART station this morning, which I appreciated. A random meta-thought question of mine was, "Do you ever think a thought and then wonder what the subtext was?" I asked because, while watching Hunchback the other night, I thought that Quasimodo did not have his head on entirely straight during his first song when he claimed that one day "out there" was all he asked. Quasi, methinks it would be better to stay up in the belltower than to step out for one day, realize what's out there, and never be able to go out again. When I brought this up, Lantern said that everyone needs to determine for themselves how much time one should spend in the belltower. Never leave, you'll go crazy. Never go inside, you'll go crazy. Everyone has their own balance. When we reached the station, she told me that I need to look for what's good for me. "And that doesn't mean riding roughshod over other people; you're not Richard III."

I don't know what I need most, but what my life does not need right now is more time up in that belltower! I've lived up there so long that it's become easy. It's easy, but it's not fun. Gargoyles make poor conversation!

*temple rub*

Cootiephobia is now in full swing at the two week camp, exacerbated by the fact that we have four sets of Beatrice and Benedick.

Singing lesson in a few minutes.

Can one make three purchases more diverse than The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Casio Royale, and the Zombie Survival Guide? Only by including Shakespeare.

Lantern and I performed a 60-second King Lear in improv class. I was Lear and Gloucester while she was everyone else. 1.1 went as follows:

"I'm splitting the kingdom. Do you love me?"
"Yes."
"Good. Do you love me?"
"Yes."
"Good. Do you love me?"
"Uh..."
"Get out!"

Fun. Hee.

Got to run.

Digital damnation!

Orthopedist appointment next Wednesday. My toe is turning nasty again. Curse you, nail! Why not just hack the whole thing off and have done with it?

"All right, you primitive screwheads, listen up!"

Battle lines are being drawn between Psycho Kid and Lantern (and me, by extension). If he continues to act up I will not hesitate to brandish the dsicipline form at him. This afternoon definitely counted as Step 1, and if we reach Step 4..."You see this? This is my BOOMSTICK!"

Nice talk with Gentleman on the train today. Then I was stupid and backtracked a station. Pth.

Strange subconscious blurb

Last night I dreamed that the heads of Mount Rushmore gained elemental powers and played out an Animal Farm scenario against humanity. Make of that what you will.