Bedtime and art ...
My eyes are getting heavy, but before I go to bed I felt the need to at least write a little bit of something on here for good or ill. I don't really know what I want to say, exactly, but I can't help but think back to earlier when the sky lit up with lightning, silhuoetting the branches of the tree against the momentarily bright sky. I watched this, briefly, before going back to whatever it was that I was focused on at that particular moment (probably some computer game, if I remember).
Like always when school is out and my morning obligations are cancelled, my sleep schedule has immediately taken a turn for the odd. I'm going to sleep now around dawn, waking up around two and then repeating the cycle. Who knows what will happen if I suddenly have the change this, but I have a feeling it will not be pleasant for my body. Who knows?
I have a reading tomorrow with all of my actors sans two. Or three, but I'm not counting the third because tomorrow is serving as a cold-read audition for someone, one of Harlan's friends who he has vouched for (and if Harlan vouches for them I suppose I might as well give them a good shot at it). An odd mix of people, but I suppose that is good. The show is an odd mix of people and personalities and I think it takes all kinds and all styles to really bring out the nature of the script. Or I could just be babbling and have no idea what I'm really talking about. That is a very definite possibility and my directing the show is a very scary thing for me. I'm finally doing what I want to do, or what I think I want to do, and it may turn out that I'm bad at it. And if I am...well I suppose I'll stick with writing. But...I hope things go well. And I can only hope for the best and trust the process and see where everything takes me.
Writing has been going okay for me, I suppose. I'm more productive than I usually am, and I think it may carry through for the rest of the summer. (Just a note, I'm really finding it annoying that in my journal I tend to begin each successive paragraph with the word "I," and as a result I'm attempting to vary my beginnings if for no other reason than to suit my own anal retentiveness about my writing.) Some plays, some prose, some other stuff all floating around in my head and waiting to get out. I'm still waiting too long to put things down on the page/screen but I'm getting better at not doing that; writing down ideas as they come to me rather than trusting myself to remember them. They lose their essence if I don't get them down soon, and I don't like that. I like the words that are in the forefront of my mind. The new words that I have never put together in a sentence before. Those are the ones that seem to carry the most weight for me, as if by thinking on them for too long their power is sloughed off and lost.
There's a typewriter that I one on eBay that is being mailed on Tuesday. I had no idea Monday was Memorial Day until someone told me. I'm still looking for a writing table and some other miscellaneous knick-knacks to clutter my (yes and it really is) clean room so that I can write. I may have mentioned this before, but I want the typewriter for prose. Something just doesn't feel right about writing prose on my computer. I like the tactile sense of the paper and watching the pile to my right (clean sheets) dwindle as the pile on my left grows fatter. There are also the memories of typing on the typewriter as a child, spewing out stories at a fever pitch (like the time I was typing at my grandmother's work and people stopped by to see who was pounding away at the typewriter so quickly and steadily only to discover it was an ten or eleven year old kid).
For now I'm going to try to get to sleep, but I know I won't. I've been plagued with strange dreams lately, and I always seem far more tired at the computer than I ever am lying in my bed. So I'm going to stretch out on my bed, close my eyes and see what happens. Hopefully I'll be asleep soon, but more likely I'll end up watching the sun slowly ascend through my windows.
Below (under the cut for some reason that I don't remember now) is a link to a website that is pretty interesting and fun. It is, more specifically, a link to a piece I created on the website which--I must say--I'm quite proud of. Apparently when I'm tired I have some natural sense of composition. But maybe I like it better just because it is my own thing. It's not like it was hard to make, basically mouse clicks, but who knows? there might be something in it.
Later.
http://artpad.art.com/gallery/?igzj131bg3z4
Like always when school is out and my morning obligations are cancelled, my sleep schedule has immediately taken a turn for the odd. I'm going to sleep now around dawn, waking up around two and then repeating the cycle. Who knows what will happen if I suddenly have the change this, but I have a feeling it will not be pleasant for my body. Who knows?
I have a reading tomorrow with all of my actors sans two. Or three, but I'm not counting the third because tomorrow is serving as a cold-read audition for someone, one of Harlan's friends who he has vouched for (and if Harlan vouches for them I suppose I might as well give them a good shot at it). An odd mix of people, but I suppose that is good. The show is an odd mix of people and personalities and I think it takes all kinds and all styles to really bring out the nature of the script. Or I could just be babbling and have no idea what I'm really talking about. That is a very definite possibility and my directing the show is a very scary thing for me. I'm finally doing what I want to do, or what I think I want to do, and it may turn out that I'm bad at it. And if I am...well I suppose I'll stick with writing. But...I hope things go well. And I can only hope for the best and trust the process and see where everything takes me.
Writing has been going okay for me, I suppose. I'm more productive than I usually am, and I think it may carry through for the rest of the summer. (Just a note, I'm really finding it annoying that in my journal I tend to begin each successive paragraph with the word "I," and as a result I'm attempting to vary my beginnings if for no other reason than to suit my own anal retentiveness about my writing.) Some plays, some prose, some other stuff all floating around in my head and waiting to get out. I'm still waiting too long to put things down on the page/screen but I'm getting better at not doing that; writing down ideas as they come to me rather than trusting myself to remember them. They lose their essence if I don't get them down soon, and I don't like that. I like the words that are in the forefront of my mind. The new words that I have never put together in a sentence before. Those are the ones that seem to carry the most weight for me, as if by thinking on them for too long their power is sloughed off and lost.
There's a typewriter that I one on eBay that is being mailed on Tuesday. I had no idea Monday was Memorial Day until someone told me. I'm still looking for a writing table and some other miscellaneous knick-knacks to clutter my (yes and it really is) clean room so that I can write. I may have mentioned this before, but I want the typewriter for prose. Something just doesn't feel right about writing prose on my computer. I like the tactile sense of the paper and watching the pile to my right (clean sheets) dwindle as the pile on my left grows fatter. There are also the memories of typing on the typewriter as a child, spewing out stories at a fever pitch (like the time I was typing at my grandmother's work and people stopped by to see who was pounding away at the typewriter so quickly and steadily only to discover it was an ten or eleven year old kid).
For now I'm going to try to get to sleep, but I know I won't. I've been plagued with strange dreams lately, and I always seem far more tired at the computer than I ever am lying in my bed. So I'm going to stretch out on my bed, close my eyes and see what happens. Hopefully I'll be asleep soon, but more likely I'll end up watching the sun slowly ascend through my windows.
Below (under the cut for some reason that I don't remember now) is a link to a website that is pretty interesting and fun. It is, more specifically, a link to a piece I created on the website which--I must say--I'm quite proud of. Apparently when I'm tired I have some natural sense of composition. But maybe I like it better just because it is my own thing. It's not like it was hard to make, basically mouse clicks, but who knows? there might be something in it.
Later.
http://artpad.art.com/gallery/?igzj131bg3z4