Too Much Time

Time.
Time flies.
Time wounds all heels.
Time Bandits.
Time old dogs was dead, ain't you glad you a puppy.
Time Machine.
Time Magazine.
Time.


Hours, minutes, days, nanoseconds...I measure them in terms of how quickly an application can be filled out or how many push I can do...

Tonight we are in the big theatre at VCC (goodbye Black Box, we hardly knew ye). It'll be nice to create a few nice memories to balance out some of the miserable ones I have of that building, or at least of the lobby. All the shows I've seen there have been good (Marcie's Aunt Mary monologue is a benchmark I hold everyone to now).
I don't think Into The Woods will touch anyone quite like that...but I hope that it's a good product, something people enjoy. Funny thing is...as much as I wanted to do ITW...I feel detached from the whole process. I don't know if it's the knowledge that my costume is going to be a pale refection of what I imagined or what...or if there's more to it...maybe it's feeling looked down upon as, "the cow, hahaha' by people that (singing talent taken out of the equation) I'm more talented than. I don't know. The whole thing just seems like, "Oh yeah, I'm in Into The Woods, we open in a few weeks". No nerves. No excitement. No...no nothing. Six shows, then next....and I'm hoping that next is working with John Didonna on Oedipus The King. I know, I know...I should be thinking about all these resumes and applications...and I am. I just feel like...one of these things will play out and that will be that...I'm still in the running for the Rollins job...the museum doesn't open until this fall (after renovations). I wonder what sort of talent pool John will pull in. All I think about is the next show...my hobby consumes me. Last night Steve was telling me about a One Act he's writing with a part for me in mind. Him being the theatre queen that he is, I'm pleased that he thinks I'm good enough to be involved. I always think of everyone else as the actors - Marcie, Sarah, Jeff, David - me: I'm a clown, a hobbyist, a pretender. I wish I had something...I don't know...more...I wish I could say I had a moment on stage like Marcie's Aunt Mary monologue (or was quick on my feet like David, or made everything seem easy like Sarah, or could command an audience like Jeff)...maybe my moment is on the horizon. Maybe it'll happen while I'm wearing a hideous cow head. Or maybe Oedipus. Or Picasso. Or something at Fringe. Or Steve and David's show. I hope I'm open to it if/when it happens.

Tomorrow is: more applications turned in various places, more push ups, maybe finally going to Target to return that stuff, maybe (if he doesn't have a date) going with Jeff to Trapezium....Friday, Sarah's off.....some mischief, I'm sure....then, the weekend....I can't think that far ahead. I'm numb from time.

"A TOAST TO TIME." - FRANCIS FARMER, NIRVANOV

We remember the things we want to, the way we want to remember them. My color blue is not your color blue. Truth is relative. Truth is relative. Your side, my side, no side. It doesn't matter. And fifty years from now...wait, maybe less than that...it won't matter. Good or bad...marks need to be scratched onto the surface of the planet. WE WERE HERE. I'd piss my name onto the moon if that was a talent I was given. Moments. Gathered. I carry some dim memory of everyone. And I'm carried by your too, good or ill. Print the legend. Memory and Thought -- weren't those Odin's raven's names? I'll refrain from breaking out into, 'Dust In The Wind' - and I'm sure you'll thank me. My mood is just...strange right now...not low...not bleak...but there's bleak stuff on my mind...it just doesn't make me feel depressed...I don't know how to describe the feeling. Maybe it can be described as unemployed. Too much time. It darkles. It tincts. It plays tricks, rewards, banishes, tortures.

Time for more push ups. How many can be done between now and six when it's time to go Into The Woods?