.waxing.gibbous.
[video]
It's good to return to lapsed habits. For a time I was able to visit Berend's and Folkehaven, as well as the booksellers in the Market, on a weekly basis. I lost myself in work for a while and hadn't realised how poorer my routine had become, and how adversely affected my work, without such excursions.
Clearly it was only a matter of time before I found a copy of this.
[He holds it up for the forgescreen to see: a thick, rust-coloured brick of a book, with faded gold lettering nigh-unreadable on the spine. He opens it to the first page to show the words Complete Works of William Shakespeare]
The inhabitants of this land have done wonderful things with very little, having lost so much. When one is living so close to the verge of survival, continuance, chaos, one realises how much you can do without. And then go further. Past previously expected boundaries. Things start to feel unnecessary, and the effect can be cumulative.
Survival mechanisms can go too far, however. They can become habit, and become themselves destructive. Doesn't mean we should keep doing without if the opportunity reverses. And there can be more than survival and order.
This is an open invitation, to any interested cohabitants, to join me Wednesday nights at the dojo for playreading. Anyone can play any part, you can attend only to listen not read, you can change your mind midway through and stop reading or start; and we'll work our way through.
If anyone would like to provide different material-found or original-we can do that too.
You can reserve a space if you like, on this channel. You can also just show up. I will decide contended roles for the sake of minimising animosities, or we'll take it turns. And listeners are equally valuable to readers.
We'll do one play a week, after sundown. This week, unless moved otherwise, we'll start with As You Like It.
It's good to return to lapsed habits. For a time I was able to visit Berend's and Folkehaven, as well as the booksellers in the Market, on a weekly basis. I lost myself in work for a while and hadn't realised how poorer my routine had become, and how adversely affected my work, without such excursions.
Clearly it was only a matter of time before I found a copy of this.
[He holds it up for the forgescreen to see: a thick, rust-coloured brick of a book, with faded gold lettering nigh-unreadable on the spine. He opens it to the first page to show the words Complete Works of William Shakespeare]
The inhabitants of this land have done wonderful things with very little, having lost so much. When one is living so close to the verge of survival, continuance, chaos, one realises how much you can do without. And then go further. Past previously expected boundaries. Things start to feel unnecessary, and the effect can be cumulative.
Survival mechanisms can go too far, however. They can become habit, and become themselves destructive. Doesn't mean we should keep doing without if the opportunity reverses. And there can be more than survival and order.
This is an open invitation, to any interested cohabitants, to join me Wednesday nights at the dojo for playreading. Anyone can play any part, you can attend only to listen not read, you can change your mind midway through and stop reading or start; and we'll work our way through.
If anyone would like to provide different material-found or original-we can do that too.
You can reserve a space if you like, on this channel. You can also just show up. I will decide contended roles for the sake of minimising animosities, or we'll take it turns. And listeners are equally valuable to readers.
We'll do one play a week, after sundown. This week, unless moved otherwise, we'll start with As You Like It.