oh man do i miss this show.

(Yep, this is what I did at work today.)

more onions

how much truth is in this article?

Art II

something to do while p'nui is on the phone

i may be paranoid, but it seems as if the majority of the words I have to learn for the GRE are about negative things: pusillanimous, harangue, fulsome, and vitriolic.

My guess is that the ratio of negative to positive definitions is 3:1

God bless the mouths that are fed off of all the money I'm dishing into this test...

Today's ee

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of allnothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

A thing like facebook can be detrimental to one who has too many acquiantances. For instance, the other day I got a request from someone named Joshua. I did not recognize this guy but I figured that I must know him from

a) middleschool?
b) high school?
c) Joseph and His Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat when I was like, ten?
d)Was one of the munchkins in the Wizard of Oz but he's all grown up now?
e) My section for Anthro 101?
g) What about my Modern Dance Class in 2004?
f) In a tap class with me when I was eleven?
h) In Redford Youth Theater?
i) Someone I met at the Brothers on a particularly "Zooropa" -ish day ?
g) Blue Lake Fine Arts Camp in '94?
h) Mosiac Youth Theater?
i) On a soccer team with me when I was eight?
j) In the shoe dept at JC Penneys?
k) An audition?
l) From Marjorie's church youth group?
m) 5th Grade?
n) From the United Generation Council anti-drug summer job I had my soph. year of HS?
o) Dance class at James' house?
p) Michigan Opera Theater?
q) RYT when it was Tinderbox?
r) Gymnastics when I was pre-11 years?
s) One of the students I met in South Africa?
t) Someone I was particularly friendly with at a rest stop in Tennessee?
u) Applebees?
v) From InterVarsity?
w) Worked in the Animal Testing Lab with me?
x) How about the Bug Range?
y) A frequent visitor of the Jamaican Jerk Pit?
z) Preschool?

I accepted his request, as he could have been from any of those places. Then I saw that we had no mutual friends. Hm.

Days passed.

Today I got a "friend detail request." Thank Jesus! The mystery can be solved. Yep, it was Joshua.

He put that I was his "Facebook Friend."

What the hell is a facebook friend?

I don't know, Josh. You tell me.

...I just don't understand modern art.

i also miss my waterbee

i miss
dive bars that don't have prostitutes in them
redskinned mashed potatoes
cigarettes
sweaters
ebonics
having a kitchen
hymns
upstairs at the ant
jukeboxes that have songs in english. good songs, i mean.
meals that don't involve rice or noodles

i don't miss
plexiglas
cleaning the sink and around the sink
driving
boxed macaroni and cheese
the post-audition waiting period
socks

Janis Joplin covered St. James Infirmary. I guess that was to be expected. Oh well, it probably won't be the last song she covered that I will cover later.

Ha.

Back to this Blog

After some consideration, I decided that I miss my outlet for thoughts that I'd like to broadcast that aren't really intended for the general audience. I like my Bangkok blog, but sometimes I just want to be random and I am tired of hitting the "Publish" button wondering how that thought will go over... So I'm going to add to this one occasionally, for those find that they still check it. I guess it's going to be esoteric now and I won't be expecting comments.

Here's what I've been thinking about. I'm tired of feeling that there is restrictions on what I can say about my faith in my writing. Who am I writing for, I wonder? Are there enough people like me out there who will care about what I have to say about Jesus? About injustice? These thoughts are kind of discouraging to me. Maybe I shouldn't have so much of an agenda. In my latest story I wrote about working at a dying department store at christmastime. I tried to just write about my coworker, but I knew all sorts of things would come out. She was obsessed with racism, so that's in there. I can't write about her and not have her obsessed with it. Also, the people around her were obsessed with Jesus. Anyway, I don't want to have all these hidden agendas but I guess I agree with Natalie Goldberg, that all art is political. It's just unavoidable.

Maybe the same people who don't mind Bono might want to read my stuff one day... Because I think we have the same agendas.

Okay, with that aside, I have been listening to satellite radio online and been writing down some musicians that have really caught my ear:
--The HOLMES BROTHERS have a new album, Simple Truths. Actually, it's not new, I just don't have it yet.
--I think I would like to own THE BEST OF GEORGE HARRISON
--There is a guy with a great blues voice, named JC BURRIS. His album was called Blues Professor. I remember liking the guitar on there.
--I heard a guy named DAVID FORD today who was singing along with Kim Taylor. He was edgy and truth-seeking. I liked his voice a lot. He's from England and he swears a lot.
--Another blues guy, WARNER WILLIAMS was good too. His album was called Blues Highway.

I wrote those down so I can hunt them when I get back in town... I had an amazon fiasco lately so I know better than to order it from Bangkok...

I really miss music. Live music. My favorite is the blues, as you can see. I wish I could just listen to music and not feel like I have to reach for my guitar. I guess I miss playing for people. The Thais have a cool picking style. Maybe I can pick that up. Ha.

I think the next song I'd like to learn on the guitar is St. James Infirmary because it's about time a woman sang it and it always blows my mind. Joel brought it to my attention via the Gypsy Strings. Maybe I'd like to learn a bunch of standards to throw into my mix. Viva la Tradition.

So Long, Been Good to Know Ya

That's a Woody Guthrie song, for those that didn't know...

I'm off today. My plane leaves at 4:55pm. I will arrive in Bangkok tomorrow night around 11:30. (What will be 12:30pm, their time...)

My stomache is a bit upset this morning. I guess that's to be expected. But I had a nice send-off. I got to pray with Harry, Chuck, and my dad and then Harry gave me a Message Bible that he really likes. I'm liking it too. Last night I brought Joel to the Menczers for dinner and then we stayed for their study, so I got to see some people, like my grandma, for the last time in a while...

Saying good-bye is awkward; sometimes I wonder if it would be better if I just split outta sight without hugging anyone. Maybe if no one knew I was leaving it would be easier... I guess that wouldn't be right. It's good to know that people will be thinking about me and praying for me.

Last night, as I usually feel after Dave's teaching, my head was filled with good thoughts and Joel and I felt at peace about the situation. I was pretty happy about that. Nancy Kammer (director friend)pointed out that that the fact that we can trust each other while we're gone is a really big and important thing. So that was encouraging...

I'm sorry if these thoughts aren't reading well. I'm having trouble typing, i feel so nauseous. I hope it goes away soon...

While I'm gone, read about my adventures at NoraInBangkok.blogspot.com

Much love to my homies.

My mother bought me a massive blue suitcase. She thinks it's too big; I can't imagine packing for a year away in anything else. I haven't even begun packing. I'm thinking I'll put it off until after the campout. The plane ticket's in but I haven't applied for a visa because I'm still waiting for the letter if invitation from the university where I'll be working. I'm halfway between excitement and panic. The dreams have started, too. Last night I had a dream that I didn't have enough of a goodbye to Joel and I was racing up and down the terminal trying to find him but it was too late and i cried for the whole plane-ride, and when I got to Thailand they put me straight to work and I found that I was incompetant and lost as to how to get anything done.

Every time I get a moment by myself (I've had many today), the question pops into my head: What do you want out of life? It's not like I'm asking myself, "What do I want out of life," but more like someone else is asking, "What do YOU want?" It's a dramatic question, yes, and haunting. It's haunted me for months now, seeming to go hand in hand with the idea of leaving.

Some have asked, "Why are you going there?" I've had several answers. I've said that I want the experience of being stripped of direct communication--a language barrier. Whether I really want that or not, I'll have it; I know one or two phrases in Thai and I'm not sure if I'm using the right tones. I've said that I want to escape this social life (or theater life) that's kept me from writing stories and essays. I've said that I just feel like it's right. I feel somewhat guilty because I think I should probably have some inspirational martyresque answer having to do with God.

I have these answers but none of them satisfies that other burning question. I'm sure if I was able to answer it, which I am not, I would know that this thing, whatever it is, could no easier be found in Thailand than in Detroit. I know it's time for a change. I know I'm an experience-addict. I know going there will be "awesome" because that's what everyone tells me it will be (or at least I hope everyone's right...) I know the Lord will be with me.

One friend asked me why I was going and I said, "I have no idea." She said, "Well even if you did have an idea, you'd probably find the real reason once you're there, don'tcha think?" And maybe that goes for the deeper question "What do I want out of life?" I continue on, wherever my feet happen to take me, trying to serve God the best I can because I know that guy and I trust him, but I won't know what I've really wanted all this time until I see His face.

Bored?

www.nightlights.com

what's your favorite?

Bangkok here I come

So, i haven't mentioned on here yet because I haven't been so certain about it (and if you read this blog, you'll see that my plans change quicker than most...), but I have taken a job teaching/consulting for English in Bangkok. I leave on August 24th. I'll be working in the office at a university research center called the ABAC Poll (of Assumption University). Those of you who know my friend/college roomate Jenni Goad-Piotrowski, it's the same university she worked at back in 2003/04. I will be living in what is called "The ABAC Hotel". I think it's kind of like a dorm with a half kitchen in the rooms, but we'll see.

While I'm there, I might have a bangkok blog. I'll let you know.

There might be a party for me on the 19th. I'm not sure where or when yet. Details about that are coming...

Hope you readers are well,
NJ

How to Eat Like a Director (Boh. Imp. Vol. IX)

"Set your mind before the mirror of eternity
and everything will work." ~Franz Wright


I've done it. I've directed a children's show at Park Players. It's called How to Eat Like A Child and it opens tonight. It's made up of lessons for scenes: "How to Wait," "How to Behave at School," "How to Beg for a Dog," etc. It features songs that ask: "Why is no the only thing a parent can express?" and claim: "There ought to be as many ways of saying, 'Yes.'" But best of all, it features 29 hilarious kids that were surprisingly easy-going. I had a great time and the parents are pleased with what they saw at the final dress rehearsal last night. I'm a little sad to let it go, but not really all that sad. I think acting attaches me more to a show than directing... And I've found that directing isn't as stressful as I had anticipated. Maybe because I've had the attitude: "I gave that kid the direction three or four times now. If he doesn't want to listen, it's him that looks bad, not me."

I've also started my job singing around Greenfield Village. Thoughts and reactions to this job are being recorded in what I hope will be a lit nonfiction essay that's currently called "The Henry Ford." I will say this, my faltering patriotism is recieved there with open arms...

I'm also booked to direct a short play for the Pandora's Box Fest this year. Anyone have a name of a good female playwright whose written a short? I'm going to check if there's any short Beth Henleys. We'll see.

I have read all the Harry Potters that are out. I must say that the last one let me down in many ways (not in the obvious ways that the readers of this book might think,) but full opinions of the series will be given after I've read the 7th.

Adios for now.

Poem 06/28/06

the world's in flame
or so it seems
i hear cannons and popcorn
two neighborhoods away
i see red and blew
dust and smoke crawls
over pines and maples
and oaks in bloom
surrounding my subdivision

this is not war, this is
celebration, the grand finale now
mimics the more exuberant display
over windsor, hart plaza, for fearless
crowds who've dared to cross
the city line.
canada and states unite
to salute the flags that stream behind
jets above the river tonight
explosives equal freedom

we are free
mysterious creation
the sliver of pink haze moon
still glows. you can find it
somehow still more spectacular

Adventures in Bohemian Impoverishment Vol. 8

With Sir John Garrett at the moment. He's waiting for me to fill the "bubble pool" with a hose. It's not even 9am yet, so I am biding time with the old blog.

I feel like every time I update, I have something completely different going on as the last time. Right now I'm trying to get a job teaching overseas and the best candidate is Bangkok, Thailand. But that's the future (November). I'll go into what's going on now.

I completed my second rehearsal with Greenfield Village, and delighfully, my voice doesn't feel that bad (as I had expected.) I am singing too low for my range as an alto. I'm trying not to talk too much today and I had lots of water yesterday, but i feel, like I said, pretty good. Last week at this time I could barely talk. But the voice isn't like a muscle--at least getting lower... It is like a muscle when you sing high (I'm told that you can exercise to make your voice higher) but going too low could do some damage. Thats what my voice teacher said, and the man teaching me the music.

I just cast my first play as a director... I'm directing a childrens show at Park Players called "How to Eat Like A Child." The auditions went great--I've got Mike Fiedler on board as the music director and it's hard to go wrong there. We cast 30 kids. Holy Moses. But some of them were so cute at the auditions that I turned bright red sitting "behind the table." Is there a book somewhere about blushing? It's a weird phenomenon. It can't be helped and it can be triggered by so many things. One kid got up and sang "My Girl" and changed the words a little... I wish I could remember what he said, but he did a little sway as he sang. And another girl did Missy Elliots rap in Ciera's song about moving your body. I nearly fell out of my chair. At the first audition, a girl sang supersonic, which I had no idea that 7 year olds knew about. What can I say, but this show is going to be a trip up the old staircase.

Manny and the Mirror practice starts on Saturday. We're doing one performance for the Michigan Theater Festival.

Anyone have anything ELSE for me to do?

The Elmores

Alec and I have set up a music page on myspace.

myspace.com/theelmores

Please come give us a listen.

We're starting to hit the illustrious metro-detroit open-mic scene. Tonight we're going to the New Way Bar in Ferndale to play at the open mic hosted by the Gypsy Strings...

Cento:

A poem pieced from other poems.

Neruda, Cummings and F. Wright:

Que ves con ojos ciegos?
Soy el tigre
(and God have mercy on my monster)

No one is a stranger, this whole world is your home.
Entre los heros pasero
By that bum who's everyone
Quienes son los que sufren?
No se, pero son mios
I'm leaving here, I still don't know.

Let's all be thankful as hell
In time of lilacs who proclaim
Let beauty touch a blunder
Dive for dreams
Deja el viento corra
Because you aren't afraid to kiss the dirt
(And consequently care to kiss the sky)

I shake hands with the sky
Riete de la noche.

Adventures in Bohemian Impoverishment VII.

Seven counting the catastrophe. No time to dilly dally... here's what's new:

--went on a fast for 6 days (instead of 10...) no longer a smoker, sugar or caffeine addict. feels good. pretty good. miss the smokes.

--just got back from house sitting for four cats in AA.

--Alec and i had our first "Elmores" recording session at Uncle Fred Freers... (Timmy's dad). It went OKAY.

--Reading Harry Potter--on #4. help-me-i'm-obsessed.

--got a poem published in a very small publication. black book press. Look them up on myspace. Submit to them! they publish just about everyone new.

--watching the pistons. hurray. pretending not to be hurt by the dead-wings.

--had a brunch with joel's family sunday. it went very well, they are cool people.

--did an i was just kidding show today. went well.

--also recorded sleepy hollow for hannan house.

listen to our Christmas Carol. My grandma is on it.

--driving legal for the first time since... september? since stanley died.

Sorry to be so brief.

Memory Lane

I did something I thought I'd never do... I added to my old geocities cite today. How about that? Want the link?

www.geocities.com/njlimabean

For those of you who don't know what that is, it's Jesus is in Ann Arbor Too. It's a collection of spiritual essays, called "thoughts" I wrote while in school. I noticed that it still gets a few hits a week (on some tracker they have) so I thought maybe I should update it.

If you aren't into my Jesus-side, I don't suggest you look at that. But if you are, there's some nice stuff on there, I think.

The latest is number 24, under the thoughts link, called "Relationships."

Enjoy
(or not)

Adventures in Bohemian Catastrophe

There's a line in the play that goes "You look feverish. You might have pinkeye."

Ladies and gentleman of the observation seats, I might have pinkeye.

I am at Marjorie's apt. She's doing laundry for her trip to Florida next week (she gets Spring Breaks). It's good to see her. I just wish I were more pleasent this weekend because, as frustrating as it is, I seem to be a magnet for chaos. Two weeks ago it was the phone and the dead van battery. This week, it's my left eye.

It turned pink on Thursday. I thought it might be infected but had no time until today (Saturday) to hit the doctors.
(My schedule:
THURS--8am-1130 John Garrett, Noon John to Vitales, 330pm take John home from South Lyon, 4pm buy Erinn a Bday gift, 4:30pm Head out to Brighton to meet carpool to Lansing, 8pm show.
FRI--8am-4pm Vitales, 5pm Meet Marjorie, take shower, 6pm go out for dinner, 8pm show
TODAY--Doctors.

Last night I went out with Marjorie and her boyfriend, Peter, after the show. My eye was killing me. In the bathroom at her apt, late at night, I folded the bottom left eyelid down and found a black speck in my eye. That made me think it wasn't pinkeye. An eyelash! No. Pretty soon I had Marjorie and Peter hovering over my eye with a q-tip. They couldn't get it. I went to bed.

Today I went to Sparrow Hospital in Lansing. I went to the Fast-Track Emergency section were I watched a screaming baby wait for his name to be called while blood gushed from a gash in his head. Ew. After he went "behind that door" that leads to emergency care, I finished the Alchemist. A nice book. Weird, but nice. It made my wonder why I couldn't just will the speck out of my eye (perhaps because I had a plank in the other eye?) Finally, they called my name to the desk. I had a long epic about my insurance coverage . My dad said I was covered but it took the guy a few minutes to find me on the Blue Cross database. He found me. Hurray. I was called and then, I too, got to go behind the door.

A bubbly nurse helped me. I described to her the speck I had in my eye. She asked the last time I got my Tetnis shot (sp?). I had no idea but after I talked to my mom, we figured it was probably HS. That was too long ago, so I got one today. I asked the lady if it was going to affect my performance that night. "Oh no, not at all," she said. "May make your arm sore." She poked me in my left arm, hoping it'd use it less in the swing dance. It was the best shot experience I ever had. Didn't feel a thing!

If you are sensitive to Eye issues, skip the next section.

Then the doctor (assistant) came in. He numbed my eye and then I told him where the speck was. He made me sit in one of those eye magnifiers where the optomotrists (sp?) shine a blinding light into one's eye. He found the speck! But wait, it was embedded in my flesh! He said skin grew over it. He told me he would try to remove it with a very tiny needle, but preferred that I saw an eye doctor. I told him if he could remove it, please do because Lord knows I have no time to see an eye doctor and it hurt! So he numbed it some more and scraped at the spot for a while and then said "You know, I'm not sure that that's a foreign body..." He said he would give me an antibiotic and then if it's still hurting in a few days, see an eye doctor.

I wanted to die.

So, I took the prescription to Meijer. I was dizzy--lack of food. Finally I found, in that world of a store, the pharmacy. While I waited for the prescription to be filled, I filled my arms with toiletries that I needed. I love buying soap and q-tips and make-up (sigh, I love buying make-up...) so that put me in a better mood. But that mood was quickly demolished when the pharmacist didn't fill my prescription because she couldn't find my name on the Blue Cross Account. She kept asking me if I was sure I had the right card. I called my dad and he gave me the right numbers. It still didn't show up. She called Blue Cross. They said I wasn't covered. Without the insurance, the EYE DROPS would cost $99.00. I tearfully took the prescription back, put my makeup and soap back on the shelf and waltzed out of the store.

I called my dad and he had a solution for me to get it filled at the drug store where he works. I will pick the eye drops up tomorrow night.

Meanwhile, I found food at Marjories (leftovers from last night) and wanted to have a good cry. But I waited to cry until I got to the Boarshead, after I screwed up the swing dance because I was dizzy. The Sailor told me that it was getting harder and harder to dance with me. I went up into the bathroom and cried. When I came out, Kelly found me and I related to her about my day and she said the reason I was a wreck probably had to do with the shot I had. She said those things can make you loopy. That explained why I fell during the dance call. I felt loopy, all right, like I had no muscles. My arm felt great, but so much for the shot having no effect on me.

I did a long warm up, forced myself to breathe, and did the show. It's amazing what ailments performance pressure will cure for the endurance of the show... but the eye started actingup again after I got out of costume.

We had a fine audience. Tonight, Sailor Steve and I were graced with our own standing ovation, initiated by a tiny man with a glowing beard in the front row. I guess things usually turn out okay...

I am just starting to wonder why this stuff happens to me. Does it happen to everyone? I'm convinced that they do, from the bee stings and infections I've had at campouts, to car accidents and other car troubles, to almost losing my keys 100x a week, to constantly double-booking myself. Is it a spiritual thing? Or a tetnis shot? I guess I'll never really know.

Adventures in Bohemian Impoverishment Vol V

Hello from Lansing. Lots has happened since the last post. We open Mooglow tonight, after a week of audience-attended dress-rehearsals and performances. We have had a standing ovation every night from these audiences. I was amused to find, today in a local metro-times-esque publication I read while dining at a Mexican restaurant, that Wednesday's "Dress Rehearsal" was a theater party put on by the housing commision here in Lansing, well advertised... It cost $30 to attend (20 of which was tax-deductable) and there was fancy food there. Hell if I knew... Oh well. That night was a full-house. A house full of laughers. Very encouraging.

So, we closed Anne Frank. It was an odd year to be in the show; it just seemed to be full of complaints and it never really set in. Maybe part of it for me was the fact that it was sandwiched in between Moonglow runs. But I'm happy to be back with the Moonglow cast, even if I have to travel a lot on the road to do the show. I've been staying at Marjorie's place on the weekends, but during the week I carpool (we have performances Weds-Sun) because I have day jobs.

Today I felt inspired, during my day-long break, to look up parks around here and go for a nice walk. I found the Fenner Nature Center, which was a lot like walking around Rotary Park in Livonia (though with less graffiti--how does one spell that word?), but nice all the same. It was similar to Rotary in the way that I would walk for a while until I hit civilization and then turn around and walk in another direction. It was pretty cold and cloudy, but nice to have time to just think and notice things. I noticed these weird spikey cocoons hanging from the bare branches of a tree near a farmhouse. They were hollow white things, with openings at the bottoms that seemed to be for two creatures to break through. I also found a totem pole that was replicated by a fourteen year old boy (replicated from Native Americans from the Pacific Northwest and then donated to Lansing). There are weird and wonderful things to notice, I was reminded today. If only I could remember to keep my eye out for them or to take advantage of opportunities to seek them out.

Last weekend my brother(s) were in town for the East Lansing Film Festival. I saw 21 carbs (again) and enjoyed it (again). I also saw a disturbing documentary called "Fat Boy" about dieting. I think it broke something in me, because I've noticed that I've wanted to be healthier since I saw it. I think I actually have been a bit healthier, if only a tad. The next evening, I saw some movie that I can't remember the name of--Marty worked on it. It was a suspense film that turned out to be a little on the goofy side. But after that film, I saw Charlie Don't Shake at a party for the festival participants, and they were fantastic. I'm looking forward to seeing them play again.

The notable occurance of the week was, after my cell-phone past-away (still wondering why this happened), I woke up on Saturday morning, got in my van to go to rehearsal, and noticed that the battery was dead because I left the dome-light on for nine hours. Bravo for me. So I was stuck in Marjorie's subdivision with no phone and no friends (marj was in Grand Rapids). I ended up using the phone in the welcome center here, and getting a hold of Sailor Steve, who picked me up and later gave the car a jump. I bought him dinner in gratitude. I'm happy that I didn't flip out too much at being stranded.

My overall sentiment has been heavy, lately. It seems that there are a lot of people going through hard times. For one of them, I wrote this poem:

Will you go crazy? You can
Paint your pain; streaks
Across the wall of your composure.

Will you go crazy? You can
Scream your frustration, a sword
Slicing the flesh of your disappointment.

Will you go crazy? You can
Cry, alone or exposed, waves
Along the beach of your betrayal.

Will you go crazy? You can
Sing, washed in wonder, buckled
In your rolling haven.

Will you go crazy? You can
Go crazy. You can go crazy.
You can.

On a final note, I was pretty disturbed this week about the protest at MacKenzie HS in Detroit on Wednesday. Between 120-200 students walked out of class and marched down the street chanting (according to the Det. News) "No Books, No School." They walked out because there weren't enough text books, the bathrooms were disgusting, and they didn't want to wear uniforms. Obviously, it's the first two reasons that have got me disturbed... I guess the protest got out of hand (the kids marched in the street, the Freepress says a bottle was thrown, and there was swearing). 32 kids were arrested because of this--those under 17 had $500 fines sent to their parents. Those over 17 were taken to jail. I am upset because any child in a DPS could walk out at any time for a number of good reasons. Who will stand up for the Detroit Students, who want a fair education like any one else would? I wish I could do something...

Well, that's all for now. Thanks for staying with me, if you read the entire post.

ANNE FRANK STUFF

Does it ever occur to anyone that I have to say this and not laugh? :

"Who wouldn't want someone to visit with every night and have deep serious conversations with and who knows what else..."

Oh well, green-green-green-i-thought-they'd-never-end.

Feel free to add your favorite line to say.

Boh. Imp. Vol. IV

I'm at the Carl Sandburg Library in Livonia (Clarenceville, Livonia, Michigan, USA). I'm here with the Garrett boys. They are over playing on another computer. I'm here because Tommy called out sick from school (when you're in school, you call out rather than in) and I picked him up and took them both here while we wait for Elizabeth to get out of the middle school down the street.

We opened Anne Frank this morning. Seth is alive. I asked him where he'd been and he said "Underground." That brought a very wide smile to my face. The kids were very well behaved today in the audience. We're to have small audiences, I hear. They still made plenty of noise after the big kiss, and Peter got the biggest applause.

I got a free issue of a lit mag called "Sun" last week and I can't get over how wonderful it is. Part of the thing that drew me to it was a reader letter from Lilly Tomlin (sp?) in the beginning. There was a short story called "Leda and the Swan, essay #38" That was incredible, I thought. It's told in the form of a GIRL's rambling, poorly written high school essay on Leda and the Swan, a Yeats poem. I think the author's name is Eric Puchner or something like that. It's full of hilarious anecdotes, like she calls Othello Shakespeare's only African American. Anyway, I subscribed to this magazine because I'm kind of an idiot, but I think it will be well worth it. It has poems, essays, and stories, and photos.

Anyone trying to get rid of a bed? Mine is killing my back.

And that's all for now.

Adventures in Bohemian Impoverishment, Vol III

Hello. I'm at the Garretts with John, who is wandering around the room singing "I don't wanna I don't care" over and over.
He has been begging me to push a button.
So, I'll let him:
jkkkkkkkkkkkl

Today I am taking him to the Vitales, a place he calls "The Big House." At 7:45am he asked me if it was 10:30 so we could go. I told him he'd have to wait a while. His response? "I hate your car."

Those who know me or know the abominable (sp?) snow van I have been fated with, know how I felt about that comment. But for those of you who have no clue how I feel about the vehicle, well, yesterday on the way home from the JET it stalled out seven times in the rain and acquired a nickname that once belonged to my laptop. If you still don't know what I'm talking about, well, the other day I told my wife that my plan for the van was to drive it until I can pack up all my things and move to Chicago, unpack my things there, and then push the van off into Lake Michigan. That way I won't need the van that I currently need too much.

I miss Stanley. Now that is Bohemian Impoverishment, but I really miss Stanley Kowalski, may he rest in peace.

Lately in the life of me...

Hello kids. I have a lot going on. Two more performances of Moonglow in Ann Arbor. My Uncle Paul and Aunt Faith are coming tonight, as well as my wife.

Last night I had a dream that I moved to Chicago, in with Leah, Faith's sister. I have been thinking a lot about moving to Chicago , lately, but my main worry is who I'd live with... So it was funny that my dream offered me that idea... It was summertime in the dream; I was about to go see the Cubs play the Tigers at Wrigley Field. How disappointing to wake up to my busy schedule in Michigan in cold weather.

The director for Moonglow saw our show on Thursday and mentioned that after six weeks, it was still quite fresh. This pleased me to hear. I wonder how we do that, repeat and repeat and still give a fresh performance. I think the audiences have a lot to do with it... the chemistry is different every night. Also, though we would never make them intentionally, little mistakes help too. But I feel that because my character is so vague--she's in and out and dancing, a ball of energy, basically "youth" personified, I'm discovering bits about her all the time. I am not tired of the show at all. I'm looking forward to taking it to Lansing at the end of the month.

We started Anne Frank Rehearsals on Tuesday. It's very odd to think that a year has passed since we last put that one on. I am almost too stressed to enjoy it at this point, but hopefully things will slow down a bit soon. I met Joel in Anne Frank last year, so that adds an interesting layer to the process (especially because last year I decided that my character, Margot, can't stand Mr. Dussel most of the time... He kicked her out of her bed, etc... Sorry Joel!) Annie and Roth-Cloth (Dan) are in the show too, and I think the four of us are going to be trouble, soon... Scheduling rehearsals has been a real trial because during the mere two weeks we have, I have Moonglow to close and three day-jobs... I'm trying not to think about that too much. I'm glad my character only has about a dozen lines to review.

I will miss my time with Bethany (Bose)... I'm at a coffee shop with her right now, playing on her wireless internet.

Well, until next time...

bored

You Are 46% Evil

You are evil, but you haven't yet mastered the dark side. Fear not though - you are on your way to world domination.

How Evil Are You?

INNER LIMITS

I WROTE THIS FOR LOS FRIARS (A BLOG I SHARE WITH JOEL, ROB, ROTH CLOTH, JOHN TODT, AND OTHERS. DID I SPELL TODT RIGHT?) I CHANGED IT TO BE MORE BROAD... BUT IT'S ALSO AT LOSFRIARS.BLOGSPOT.COM


inner limits

I was made over a decade after the flight. We stayed behind.
Our rockhouse (worn with new furniture) still stands yet
I am a stranger there. There is no room service. My room
Now belongs to guests. I am no guest. I guess
I cannot measure myself with habitat.

I arrived on time, to the day (I'm told) and on that day
My brother planted a tree out front. Taller than the neighborhood,
I found comfort in the height (my true place in the sky?)
Last week I found a pile of sawdust in its place. I guess
I cannot measure myself with nature.

I grew outside of my own skin. I searched for my face
In the child's den of imagination (sheets on chairs make Kenyan huts)
When no one had implanted my Anglo wall. I learned about
Inflexible features the hardest way I could. I guess
I cannot measure myself with exterior.

I let my spirit soar. It has not returned yet
So I wait for it in cigarette swirls. I like the way
They dance on sunlight. They say five minutes of me
Has gone up in smoke. I am supposed to care. I guess,
I cannot measure myself.

a new poem

LOVE IS THIS
I scald my lips and tongue
On steeping tea. The white
In the window frame blurs
Sky to ground. Everything
Hides behind gray between.

Forgive me, I went again
To the mailbox for encouragment.
Naturally, I found nothing.
What was I expecting? A line.
I desire a line across

This blank page. I'll loop
That line and dot it and wait.
I'll ignore the mailbox next time
(I'd like to promise). You say
Salt must be sprinkled

Here I am: a block inside
A crusted window. I watch
The snow descend and hope
To find, among the fractals,
A silver arrow pointed "next."

Sometimes there are no lines
And if we step our steps make circles.
In blank weather, drowsy tea,
Sinking couch, and silence: keep watch:
A streak of color from the clouds.

another step toward mental stability

Yesterday, George MacDonald described depression or low spirits in the little anthology I have... I'm going to have to paraphrase what he said because I don't have the book with me (I'm in the Angell Hall Fishbowl at UofM waitng for James McNaughton to finish his lecture on Great Books). Anyway, MacDONALD described that these feelings could be overcome, not by forcing ourselves to try to feel rightly spiritual, but by doing good works. By taking action.

I had a rough Tuesday day and then night after Dale's Bible Study--which may mean that the Bible study was good and the opposing forces were trying to keep me from retaining any of it--and I woke up Wednesday morning with a dark cloud hanging over me. I felt so crummy that I considered calling off my Hannan House class because I didn't think I'd be able to make it. Not physically, just mentally. But after I read the MacDonald, I felt like he was telling me to meet my responsibilities, despite my feelings, and they would somehow lift my mood. And I'm so glad I followed that advice because heaven knows what my day would have been like if i'd just stayed inside and stared at the wall.

Hannan house was hysterically funny. My grandma brought photographs of her paintings and took 30 mins of class time to explain them all to the her READERS THEATER classmates. I loved it, because of how much fun the others had while looking at her work, the way they praised her work, and the reminder that this woman is 87 and still productive, even if the process has gotten a little wacky. It wasn't a problem to start so late, since our Ichabod Crane arrived to our rehearsal/class just as my grandma was finishing up her presentation. (She called you Karl, by the way Ian.) One thing that struck me is when one of the classmates praised my Grandma's ability to capture shadows and light in water, my Grandma responded (a bit lucidly) with the fact that she's always been able to find beauty in simple things, without having to look too far.

After the class my mind started to clear--maybe it started to clear with my grandma's beauty comment. But that's what it's like--having a cloud over my mind so that I can't see straight and then some kind of positive idea pierces through that cloud and it dissipates into clarity. Anyway, I guess it all goes to say that I am NOT taking my time with my grandma or my hannan house people for granted.

gratitude

I'm grateful for Eric Bibb lately because he sings "Learn from everyone, that's what life is for." He's coming to the Ark next Thursday but I have a show.

To add to the adventures in bohemian impoverishment, i have been hanging out with john garrett some more for the van's sake. Our last adventure went something like this.

(Garrett House, 8:35 am. Breakfast nook)
JOHN: I want lunch.
NORA: It's not even 9 am. How bout a snack...?
JOHN: Lunch!
NORA: I'll make you a snack. What do you want?
JOHN: A just-jelly sandwich.
(She makes him one.)
JOHN: (screaming) I want only half!
NORA: Chill. You can eat it later, around Lunch Time.
(John finishes his half and then stands on his chair, reaches around to the cookie jar and sticks his hand in.)
NORA: What are you doing?
JOHN: I get a treat after lunch!
NORA: You didn't have lunch. You had a snack.
(Nora checks the cookie jar to see if they are oatmeal or peanut butter or other cookies acceptable before 9am, as it is now 8:55. She finds ho-hos, or whatever those individually wrapped chocolate covered cream cakes are called)
Nora: HA! No way, dude. You can have one after lunch.
JOHN: (Screaming again) But I did have lunch!
NORA: You did not have lunch before 9.
JOHN: I get a treat!!!
(John procedes to scream for no less than 20 mins. Nora leaves the room and goes upstairs so she won't have to deal with his constant "I hate yous". When he's quiet she goes downstairs again.)
NORA: I need to go to the grocery store. Wanna come?
JOHN: No.
NORA: I'll be getting food this time...
JOHN: Let's go right now!

Other news. At Hannan House we're performing The Legend of Sleepy Hollow next. This time my Grandma will play someone named Van Ripper. With this in mind, life won't be boring for a while yet...

We opened Moonglow this week. I hear the audience reactions pretty clearly. Tons of laughing or sniffling. The woman who plays Maxine (me when I'm old, sorta... you gotta see it) is astounding. I have a greater appreciation for the play as a whole since we've had good audience feedback so far, much which comes from my Joel. I had no idea how much his opinion mattered to me... but I guess I don't want to embarrass him any more so enough about that. But I'm glad that he liked it. I'm very encouraged after this weekend, from Joel, from the director and the from the playwright. I'm glad to be a part of the show.

It sure is nice to be paid to act... And it's nice to be paid PERIOD, since now I can go grocery shopping, etc. I have been well-taken care of in my time of broke-ness, and I'm super grateful to all that helped.

I leave you with something I caught Stevie Wonder saying today at the bit of pre-show I got to see between shows today. (And WHY he didn't have the halftime slot in the motor city is totally beyond me. Who makes these decisions anyway? He sounded great, by the way...) After singing "Now is the time for love" or something like that, he said, "Remember, it's not the religion, but the relationship..." I had no idea Stevie had been attending Dale Batten's Bible Study!

Adventures in Bohemian Impoverishment

Living from paycheck to paycheck is a fine way to live (I guess) until one of your paychecks falls through because the lady who is supposed to sign it went out of town. And then some of the kids you are supposed to be nannying get the stomach flu... So, I've been scrounging around for ways to put gas in the car so I can go to work in Ann Arbor. On Thursday, I had a little adventure.

I babysat John Garrett (who's parents are letting me pay for the van they let me use by babysitting for them for free). While he watched the Labyrinth in Erinn and my living room, I remembered the bottles and cans from the Christmas party that were bagged and in the basement. After the movie, I loaded John and the deposit-fest into the van and headed over to the Value-Plus grocery store where I knew there was a deposit despenser...

I did not think about it much. I didn't take into account that John has my coloring and therefore looks like my son. I didn't think about the fact that I would be entering a grocery store with a cart full of beer bottles, a four year old (who looks six), and no wedding ring. It didn't cross my mind that I would be going in there with bottles and a "son" and coming out with cold cash. It all just never crossed my mind until I got there.

While we were throwing the cans in the despenser (and taking joy at the crunch sound they make), an elderly gentleman parked his walker by the shopping carts to get a closer look so that he could display his obvious disapproval. I got tons of looks from other people and then wondered if this is what being a young single mother would be all about... Though I guess the beer cans were 60% of the reactions. We had to wait in line to get the slips cashed from the cashier. She gave me an amused look. On the way out John asked why we didn't get any food. "Because I need money for gas." He, also, glowered at me in disapproval. I never felt so poor in my life.

I couldn't help but be thankful that I'm no single mother. And wonder if this is the kind of mother I'd be...

happenings

i don't know if that's a good title for this post, but i am tired of just writing "update".

So, i live half my life in ann arbor with this show. the dancing is fun, but it doesn't seem like nearly as much dancing as when i started. the moves don't seem that difficult anymore (maybe because i've been sort of watching ice-skating, which looks sooo much harder than swinging.) because it's a new show, the playwright keeps adding lines so the other day i got three more pages of dialogue for the last scene. this is good but a little nerve-wracking. the show is coming together. we're moving into the theater tonight. i'm excited about that because the rehearsal room isn't big enough and i'm always afraid that i'm going to dance all over (and kick) the director and stage manager.

I'm still staying with Bethany a lot, but this week I stayed with Alec (from Inherit the Wind) as well and stayed up till 4am jamming with him. We may have written a song. I'd written the words earlier that day (while Ella and Olivia watched their daily Dora the Explorer marathon.) So we put my words to a chord pattern Alec had. That was a blast though we may have blasted the neighbors out of sleep. it was a fiday night, come on. I haven't been taking guitar lessons though, because a) no money and b) no time. I would like to get back into that.

I've been pretty upset lately because my theater addiction has been preventing me from meeting people's requests to sing at weddings and funerals. Well, one wedding and one funeral. Twice, I had to turn people down this week because I can't be let out of crucial rehearsals. This makes me question how much I should be doing theater. In a way, I'm doing it for the money (can you believe that?), but I was really bummed out about having to tell those people no. I guess it's because I like to feel like I'm using my singing to serve the community and I just can't. I wonder if all artists face this fear of selfishness, or if any other business is as rigid.

please excuse the typos. i didn't have time to proofread... i'll fix em later

LINKS

How does one put links on their blogger template? (Like you have, Ian).

George MacDonald quote of the week:

"For he regards men not as they are merely, but as they shall be; not as they shall be merely, but as they are now growing, or capable of growing, toward that image after which He made them that they might grow to it. Therefore, a thousand stages, each in itself all but valueless, are of inestimable worth as the necessary and connected gradations of an infinite process."

a silly poem and a more serious one

Bethany Goad and I started a braided poetry exchage (like I do has Meg, like Joel has with Rob, like they got the idea from Jim Harrison and Ted Kooser). She wrote a poem about tuna fish. I write one about

AN IMPRESSION OF CHILDHOOD

In my early childhood,
Chicken of the sea was all I'd eat.
The name disguised the fins in feathers,
That's probably why.

A cartoon mermaid graced the can
Another, the silver screen,
To my horror: Her face matched
The fins she'd sacrificed, when
Served palace seafood.
She had a nice voice.
I wanted that voice,
Those breasts, that face.
My tolerance for seafood
Washed away with the seafoam
Mr. Anderson originally wrote
As the mermaid's doom.
When Disney dumbed down the ending
For family audiences.

In my early adulthood, I find
The voice shrill, the breasts fake,
The face cliche for the company,
And seafood delicious.
---
The other poem I wrote was based on her wonderful line, "All ideas plagarized somehow." :

ORIGINAL THOUGHT

tell me an orginal
thought I'd tell you
about surprise: wit and
poetry: words

sewn and strung,
pulled, dunked and
hung out to dry on
the tip of my lips.

my lips are thin
my tongue, burnt
on boiled thoughts,
seeped and brewed

chewed to mush,
pulp: an unborn child
shall remain hushed in
search of an original soul.

in the beginning there was
the word and the word
was original and the rest
is xeroxed. I'll take the xerox
if it's a copy of the Original.