différance
you wake up one morning and everything is different. the light has shifted; it is dark in a gloomy way, which means that a new pressure system has moved in, one in which liquid, not ice, falls from the sky. there are sounds; you can open the window enough to hear sounds, yes, but the sounds themselves were not there before, sounds of birds and the grinding hum of tires on wet streets.
you wake up knowing that you are done with alcohol, and coffee. one cup of ginger tea is enough to remind you that March is for fasting, to give you body-feelings of balance where you had been strung out. you begin to fantasize about cayenne pepper and maple syrup. about long, coastal bikerides and kuromitsu sandwiches.
you wake up, and it is done. nothing may come of it, but it is done. it was cheap to do it over email, but it is done. whatever the outcome (and circumstances have not led you to expect a good one), you can, at least, be certain that you have tried; that you have lived in accordance with your ethics by putting yourself forth -- honestly, frankly, and with integrity, yes, but the main ethical injunction is to put yourself forth; something you shy from.
there is nothing you understand of all this; only that you feel it, in spite of in spite of, because of because of, and that is enough. it does not matter the outcome and it does not matter what he does with this, because you have acted in fidelity with the voice inside that tells you when to speak.
outcomes are unpredictable things; you only know that there will be one.
it may not be for you. and that is fine.
*********
"Once A Flame" was mounted in its final performance(s) last night. a second performance was added due to insane demand; the phone at the Arts Umbrella was reportedly ringing off the hook all week, and they (he) had to lock the door during the second performance because the room was filled well beyond capacity. (fire regulations be damned; a mimetic intervention in the mounting.)
apparently a woman wandered in through the backdoor during the first performance, and peeked her head out from behind the set, not realizing she was onstage. ha.
relatedly but coincidentally, today i am interviewing the female lead for my article on racism in Peterborough. interesting times...
more about Marie-Joseph Angélique, the Portuguese-African slave who was hanged in Montreal in 1734 for purportedly burning down a large section of the city, upon whom "Once A Flame" is based:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marie-Joseph_Angelique
you wake up knowing that you are done with alcohol, and coffee. one cup of ginger tea is enough to remind you that March is for fasting, to give you body-feelings of balance where you had been strung out. you begin to fantasize about cayenne pepper and maple syrup. about long, coastal bikerides and kuromitsu sandwiches.
you wake up, and it is done. nothing may come of it, but it is done. it was cheap to do it over email, but it is done. whatever the outcome (and circumstances have not led you to expect a good one), you can, at least, be certain that you have tried; that you have lived in accordance with your ethics by putting yourself forth -- honestly, frankly, and with integrity, yes, but the main ethical injunction is to put yourself forth; something you shy from.
there is nothing you understand of all this; only that you feel it, in spite of in spite of, because of because of, and that is enough. it does not matter the outcome and it does not matter what he does with this, because you have acted in fidelity with the voice inside that tells you when to speak.
outcomes are unpredictable things; you only know that there will be one.
it may not be for you. and that is fine.
*********
"Once A Flame" was mounted in its final performance(s) last night. a second performance was added due to insane demand; the phone at the Arts Umbrella was reportedly ringing off the hook all week, and they (he) had to lock the door during the second performance because the room was filled well beyond capacity. (fire regulations be damned; a mimetic intervention in the mounting.)
apparently a woman wandered in through the backdoor during the first performance, and peeked her head out from behind the set, not realizing she was onstage. ha.
relatedly but coincidentally, today i am interviewing the female lead for my article on racism in Peterborough. interesting times...
more about Marie-Joseph Angélique, the Portuguese-African slave who was hanged in Montreal in 1734 for purportedly burning down a large section of the city, upon whom "Once A Flame" is based:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marie-Joseph_Angelique