Crazy Dreams
So I had a dream last night. I was in a cargo bay of an airplane with Ichiro Suzuki (Yes, the Seattle Mariner) and someone else. And I got depressed and then I blacked out. When I came to, I was no longer on the plane and had no idea whathad happened, when someone (I think it was David) explained to me that in my mental lapse I had gone on a homicidal rampage and killed a whole bunch of people. I found myself crying at the news, sad at having killed people, horrified at having done it, and also certain that I was going to go to jail and be executed for my crimes. Then, out of nowhere, some wasps showed up and covered my face. .... and that was about the whole dream. WTF?
Todd in class today gave me the note that I was playing Jason too reasonably. This made me smile for three reasons: 1, it's the beginning of the play. If he's psychotic now, then there's nowhere for him to go for the rest of the show; 2, I had had a conversation with Laura only a few days ago about Jason's tragic ability to rationalize EVERYTHING he does and in so doing avoids recognizing his own flaws; 3, the scene is basically two monologues between Medea and Jason. Now if Jason were intercutting her monologue with little one-line "Oh yeah?" kind of things, then sure, he could be angrier. But he lets her keep talking and say her piece. I remember getting a note in Playwriting that I let my characters talk for three lines at a time and "people wouldn't let them do that." So, why doesn't he interrupt her and tell her to go call somebody who cares? Perhaps it's because she's a witch who might cast a spell that would make spiders lay eggs in his stomach or something... which means he can't just say anything to her. He has to be very calm and rational, otherwise she'll blow up.
People have said some ridiculous things at this school, teachers especially. If I have to do one more exercise where I smell, taste, touch, etc. something..... I will walk out. I've already upset everyone enough by my continual laughter at the absurdity of the whole thing.
Today was my first day at my new job. I work in the library at school. There are some long hours there (6.5), so I run out of things to do quickly. So today I read Coriolanus which I really liked. While the word "proud" was used far too often in that play, the idea that someone who refuses to flatter other people, who just wants to do his job and not deal with anything else, who speaks the honest truth as he sees it and feels it, could be tragic for those reasons was interesting. And yes, unquestionably, the hamartia was inside the character. He agrees to be counseled by his mother who tells him, "Look, just apologize to the plebs and you'll be consul. I know you don't want to do it and it's not 'the truth' but just do it and then be yourself after," and then lets his righteous anger get the better of him later. He's a soldier, and he's one of the few Shakespearean heroes who are military men and, well, really aren't good at speaking. Saskia commented when she read Rose that as soon as Joan said, "Oh I'm not so good at speaking" you knew that a beautifully written monologue was destined to follow. It's just how that works. Which is why Binyamin in Tears of Jerusalem is so different. For the first act, his sentences are active and short. He relaxes a little bit when he gets on to the battle field where he feels more natural and at home, sharing a little more of his inner dialogue, but still... he is the policeman: he keeps his mouth shut and does his job.
I probably shouldn't have drunk that pimpjuice with dinner. I forgot that it was an energy drink and now I'm not in a going to bed mood. Maybe I'll read some poetry before I go to bed. I'm in a reading poetry, appreciating beauty, aesthetic kind of mood.
I've written 73 sonnets. 73! I'm very steadily approacing the century mark. I've more than Dante, but less than Shakespeare or Petrarch. Then again, sonnets are all Petrarch wrote, so I'm more in competition with Shakespeare (surprise, surprise) than anyone else: 38 plays and 154 sonnets. I've got 4.5 plays, a TV show (Scotch on the Rocks!), a movie, and 73 sonnets, but lots of time to catch up.
Continuing on my new Jewish theme, this summer I think I'm going to finish the Hitler play. That was actually looking really good.
Enter away message text here.
This new medicine is ridiculous. $50 for 10 pills that don't even work. LAME!
Why are people chatting in my hall outside my door at midnight? Can't they go be social someplace else?
AND WHO KEPT CALLING MY ROOM LAST NIGHT? Someone kept calling saying, "Is this room 1425?" "Yes" "Oh" and then they'd hang up. Ugh. College age kids. Achavi! (that's Welsh for "Ugh" or "That's disgusting")
Todd in class today gave me the note that I was playing Jason too reasonably. This made me smile for three reasons: 1, it's the beginning of the play. If he's psychotic now, then there's nowhere for him to go for the rest of the show; 2, I had had a conversation with Laura only a few days ago about Jason's tragic ability to rationalize EVERYTHING he does and in so doing avoids recognizing his own flaws; 3, the scene is basically two monologues between Medea and Jason. Now if Jason were intercutting her monologue with little one-line "Oh yeah?" kind of things, then sure, he could be angrier. But he lets her keep talking and say her piece. I remember getting a note in Playwriting that I let my characters talk for three lines at a time and "people wouldn't let them do that." So, why doesn't he interrupt her and tell her to go call somebody who cares? Perhaps it's because she's a witch who might cast a spell that would make spiders lay eggs in his stomach or something... which means he can't just say anything to her. He has to be very calm and rational, otherwise she'll blow up.
People have said some ridiculous things at this school, teachers especially. If I have to do one more exercise where I smell, taste, touch, etc. something..... I will walk out. I've already upset everyone enough by my continual laughter at the absurdity of the whole thing.
Today was my first day at my new job. I work in the library at school. There are some long hours there (6.5), so I run out of things to do quickly. So today I read Coriolanus which I really liked. While the word "proud" was used far too often in that play, the idea that someone who refuses to flatter other people, who just wants to do his job and not deal with anything else, who speaks the honest truth as he sees it and feels it, could be tragic for those reasons was interesting. And yes, unquestionably, the hamartia was inside the character. He agrees to be counseled by his mother who tells him, "Look, just apologize to the plebs and you'll be consul. I know you don't want to do it and it's not 'the truth' but just do it and then be yourself after," and then lets his righteous anger get the better of him later. He's a soldier, and he's one of the few Shakespearean heroes who are military men and, well, really aren't good at speaking. Saskia commented when she read Rose that as soon as Joan said, "Oh I'm not so good at speaking" you knew that a beautifully written monologue was destined to follow. It's just how that works. Which is why Binyamin in Tears of Jerusalem is so different. For the first act, his sentences are active and short. He relaxes a little bit when he gets on to the battle field where he feels more natural and at home, sharing a little more of his inner dialogue, but still... he is the policeman: he keeps his mouth shut and does his job.
I probably shouldn't have drunk that pimpjuice with dinner. I forgot that it was an energy drink and now I'm not in a going to bed mood. Maybe I'll read some poetry before I go to bed. I'm in a reading poetry, appreciating beauty, aesthetic kind of mood.
I've written 73 sonnets. 73! I'm very steadily approacing the century mark. I've more than Dante, but less than Shakespeare or Petrarch. Then again, sonnets are all Petrarch wrote, so I'm more in competition with Shakespeare (surprise, surprise) than anyone else: 38 plays and 154 sonnets. I've got 4.5 plays, a TV show (Scotch on the Rocks!), a movie, and 73 sonnets, but lots of time to catch up.
Continuing on my new Jewish theme, this summer I think I'm going to finish the Hitler play. That was actually looking really good.
Enter away message text here.
This new medicine is ridiculous. $50 for 10 pills that don't even work. LAME!
Why are people chatting in my hall outside my door at midnight? Can't they go be social someplace else?
AND WHO KEPT CALLING MY ROOM LAST NIGHT? Someone kept calling saying, "Is this room 1425?" "Yes" "Oh" and then they'd hang up. Ugh. College age kids. Achavi! (that's Welsh for "Ugh" or "That's disgusting")