(no subject)
Well, the Southeastern Theatre Conference rejected my application because I "do not have two paid acting positions from professional live theatres as approved by the SETC Auditions Commitee."
Oh, well.
Fuck those snobby jerks. They probably just want idiotic dancers and singers to smile plastically and sing a cloned, souless rendition of RENT and get a job in the chorus for this winters production of OKLAHOMA in Mobile, Alabama ............
At least I have headshots now. I can use them in the future.
...
I have it in my head right now to move to Flagstaff, AZ, for no reason in particular other than my friend Buck said it was a cool town, and I'm completely enamoured with the landscape in Northern Arizona --
I feel like I received a vision around that area ... last year, when i was driving across the country ... I was approaching the New Mexico/AZ border and I saw -- from miles away -- a monster storm, reaching high up into the sky and dumping dark streams of rain down on the desert. For some reason I decided to go off the beaten path -- i wanted to drive out into the desert, because -- whats the rush, right? I'd never seen the desert before. So I took a side road thattook me a little further southwest -- i passed through a bit of rain, but not much -- if you imagine the storm mass looked somehat like an hourglass, i had unintentionally passed through the thinnnest point ... the gateway ... drove through a zuni indian reservation -- everyone was out talking to each other, the little children playing in the puddles -- I suppose if you're a desert-dweller, a good rain is newsworthy ... and here puttz along my little blue toyota, packed with all my belongings .... I hooked back up with Interstate 40, and looking at my map, felt an urge to visit the painted desert. I got there near sundown, when the park closes -- I paid my ten bucks that gave me three days access to the park (its a Nat'l Park, y'see) and walked around and marveled at the colors of the painted desert -- if all youve ever known are the greens and blues and browns of the east coast, you're not prepared for the reds and oranges and yellows and whites of the painted desert, and the way the sunlight plays off them .... took some pictures, and got back in my car, and started to leave, because the park was closing. I was driving along kind of slowly because i wanted to look at things as i drove, when I was struck by the sunset -- to my right was a brilliant golden sunset, and to my left was the light of the sunset reflected off of the tremendous stormclouds to the east ... It was like a double sunset, and something about made me think the name "Blake" and I turned down a little road and stopped my car and got out and marveled at the site for a while ... I got my camera and started to take pictures, but then I told myself (or a voice told me), "Brad, you're not here to take pictures. You're here for something else ." ... and I thought you're right, i'm not here for pictures, but what, what ...? And I let my head bend back to look up at the whole of the sky --
-- and the thin, low hanging clouds caught the soft light of sunset --
--and twisted in the sharp desert wind --
--twisting this way, into fractal spirals, organic swirls --
--and then the other way into more intricate patterns --
--and i became aware that as i breathed, the clouds changed.
--or as they clouds shifted, I took a breath, and exhaled, shift again ....
I breathed with the sky.
And then the sun slipped down beneath the horizon.
And then a park ranger drove up and told me i had to leave. But I was able to try and express thanks to the sky and to the land -- to whatever name the force behind these things goes by -- And drove away.
The next day, though, my curiosity was completely piqued, and I drove back to the Park and showed them my ticket stub -- walked around the ridges of the painted desert, climbed down into the canyon a ways and thanked the earth for being so beautiful... And then I drove back to the road where I breathed with the sky -- i was curious, you see, --what did it mean? Was there any significance there? -- I drove to the end of the road to find a platform built on the edge of a ravine with those big binocular things. I looked down, and found myself staring at "Newspaper Rock" - a huge black flat-sided boulder covered -- covered -- with hundreds of ancient indian drawings and doodles -- little etchings of people, and birds, and bird people -- clouds with rain coming down, spirals, suns, moons, zigzags, hands, feet ..............
Ah, I thought. The nexus of creativity. That's cool.
So I left thinking to myself, good, I recieved I sign that had something to do with the sky and wholeness and art.
So that's why I'm thinking Flagstaff, though I have no definite plans as of yet.
Oh, well.
Fuck those snobby jerks. They probably just want idiotic dancers and singers to smile plastically and sing a cloned, souless rendition of RENT and get a job in the chorus for this winters production of OKLAHOMA in Mobile, Alabama ............
At least I have headshots now. I can use them in the future.
...
I have it in my head right now to move to Flagstaff, AZ, for no reason in particular other than my friend Buck said it was a cool town, and I'm completely enamoured with the landscape in Northern Arizona --
I feel like I received a vision around that area ... last year, when i was driving across the country ... I was approaching the New Mexico/AZ border and I saw -- from miles away -- a monster storm, reaching high up into the sky and dumping dark streams of rain down on the desert. For some reason I decided to go off the beaten path -- i wanted to drive out into the desert, because -- whats the rush, right? I'd never seen the desert before. So I took a side road thattook me a little further southwest -- i passed through a bit of rain, but not much -- if you imagine the storm mass looked somehat like an hourglass, i had unintentionally passed through the thinnnest point ... the gateway ... drove through a zuni indian reservation -- everyone was out talking to each other, the little children playing in the puddles -- I suppose if you're a desert-dweller, a good rain is newsworthy ... and here puttz along my little blue toyota, packed with all my belongings .... I hooked back up with Interstate 40, and looking at my map, felt an urge to visit the painted desert. I got there near sundown, when the park closes -- I paid my ten bucks that gave me three days access to the park (its a Nat'l Park, y'see) and walked around and marveled at the colors of the painted desert -- if all youve ever known are the greens and blues and browns of the east coast, you're not prepared for the reds and oranges and yellows and whites of the painted desert, and the way the sunlight plays off them .... took some pictures, and got back in my car, and started to leave, because the park was closing. I was driving along kind of slowly because i wanted to look at things as i drove, when I was struck by the sunset -- to my right was a brilliant golden sunset, and to my left was the light of the sunset reflected off of the tremendous stormclouds to the east ... It was like a double sunset, and something about made me think the name "Blake" and I turned down a little road and stopped my car and got out and marveled at the site for a while ... I got my camera and started to take pictures, but then I told myself (or a voice told me), "Brad, you're not here to take pictures. You're here for something else ." ... and I thought you're right, i'm not here for pictures, but what, what ...? And I let my head bend back to look up at the whole of the sky --
-- and the thin, low hanging clouds caught the soft light of sunset --
--and twisted in the sharp desert wind --
--twisting this way, into fractal spirals, organic swirls --
--and then the other way into more intricate patterns --
--and i became aware that as i breathed, the clouds changed.
--or as they clouds shifted, I took a breath, and exhaled, shift again ....
I breathed with the sky.
And then the sun slipped down beneath the horizon.
And then a park ranger drove up and told me i had to leave. But I was able to try and express thanks to the sky and to the land -- to whatever name the force behind these things goes by -- And drove away.
The next day, though, my curiosity was completely piqued, and I drove back to the Park and showed them my ticket stub -- walked around the ridges of the painted desert, climbed down into the canyon a ways and thanked the earth for being so beautiful... And then I drove back to the road where I breathed with the sky -- i was curious, you see, --what did it mean? Was there any significance there? -- I drove to the end of the road to find a platform built on the edge of a ravine with those big binocular things. I looked down, and found myself staring at "Newspaper Rock" - a huge black flat-sided boulder covered -- covered -- with hundreds of ancient indian drawings and doodles -- little etchings of people, and birds, and bird people -- clouds with rain coming down, spirals, suns, moons, zigzags, hands, feet ..............
Ah, I thought. The nexus of creativity. That's cool.
So I left thinking to myself, good, I recieved I sign that had something to do with the sky and wholeness and art.
So that's why I'm thinking Flagstaff, though I have no definite plans as of yet.