words

Apr. 8th, 2010 02:19 pm
bluecastle: (reid 'thinking')
Once, a long time ago, I was very depressed. The can't summon the energy to get out of bed, and probably should have been under someone's care for it kind of depressed.

I don't have a lot of memories of that time period. I was just lost in a wasteland for a while, but eventually stumbled out of the forest, more by accident than by any real effort on my part it seems to me now.

I only bring this up because I am having a bad couple of days and I read something this morning that crystalized why that's OK. See, the thing is, it will never be that bad for me again. (I hope.) Because I know something now, that I didn't know then -- the words that are uppermost in my mind today --

THIS IS NOT FOREVER.

What that bad spell taught me is that there is life outside the wasteland, and even though I might wander through some dark and twisty woodlands from time to time, if you follow the streams downhill, you WILL find civilization again. (have I stretched that metaphor until it snapped or what?!)

Anyway... this is apropos of nothing except the need to put those words out into the ether. What is now, is not forever.
bluecastle: (Default)

So should it be good or bad that my dad’s surgery is one of TWENTY-SEVEN being done at the hospital today? His is a minor-ish operation, but insofar as any operation is dangerous it’s still worrymaking. Mom says the waiting room is packed. He was supposed to go in at 2:30 but they moved the surgery up and he’s in pre-op now.

Note to whoever is down the hall previewing a 16mm film… projectors come with VOLUME knobs. Stop being a nob and turn it down!!

Creepy co-worker who treats all women as if they were five years old and in need of a lollipop (speak SLOWLY so the poor frail females may understand) is getting on my last nerve here… he stops by every morning to gossip and be generally the most annoying person on the planet.

We’re at four weeks till opening, and it’s like this Emily Dickinson piece is never going to end. Granted I love being there during rehearsals… it’s just not the most stimulating event. I mostly just cinch her into her corset and then sit around for three hours while we shepherd young actress through the ways of acting. How is it that she could have an undergraduate degree in acting and we just had to explain beats to her yesterday??!! Also difficult for a 25 year old to portray the entirety of a life, so more discussions which are fascinating… but when sitting in a corner on a metal folding chair… can get a bit tedious. I wouldn’t have expected the dynamics of a one woman show to feel so different from other plays, but it is somehow.

here’s a thinky thought that landed in my inbox this morning:

Helen Hayes

"Every human being on this earth is born with a tragedy, and it isn't original sin. He's born with the tragedy that he has to grow up. That he has to leave the nest, the security, and go out to do battle. He has to lose everything that is lovely and fight for a new loveliness of his own making, and it's a tragedy. A lot of people don't have the courage to do it."

What springs to mind when I read that is “oh… so that explains all those childish reality tv “stars” that are constantly cluttering up my TV…

Off to put on my Peter Pan CD and refuse to grow up for another day…

bluecastle: (Default)

superb storytelling is superb.

caught most of an episode of The Cleaner on TV last night when I got home from rehearsal. I've seen maybe half a dozen episodes of this show and only those because there was a mini marathon on last monday when I was home sick and it was way better than any of those daytime talkshows on at ten in the a.m.

anywho. I was impressed. the acting... especially in terms ot the guest stars (with maybe the best married people kiss I've ever seen on tv by two people being paid to pretend to be married.)

What could have been a fairly run of the mill story about Benjamin Bratt's character trying to get a recovering junkie friend back onto the wagon became something so much more ouchy and thinky with the added layers. The husband fell off the wagon and went back to booze and pills after his wife was diagnosed with terminal cancer. The wife was an ex-junkie (they all three met in AA) (or maybe NA) (anyway). Meanwhile the wife is both trying to stay clean in support of her husband's recovery ... added to not wanting to go back to using herself, despite her medical need for the narcotics.

So while he struggles to get clean ... she struggles to give up her sobriety in order to ease the affects of her disease.

Thorny. right? Makes for meaty drama. Loved it. And bonus points for having Whoopie Goldberg playing the AA sponsor. She's always compelling.

Some days I wonder if anyone is telling good stories televisually anymore. But some days I don't.
bluecastle: (write)

Seems like I never actually have time to read my New Yorker magazines ... but I was paging through one last night and came across some words that made me stop and think deep thoughts...

From James Wood's review of John Wray's novel "Lowboy," about a schizophrenic young man riding the subway. I am fascinated all the way around...

"Fiction is at once real and imaginary. Not real at one moment and flickeringly illusory the next, like the fading pulse of a dying man, but both at once, as if a ghost had a pulse. Fiction is one giant pseudo-statement, a fact-checker’s nightmare. Like one of our own lies, it can be completely “wrong” about the world and yet completely revelatory—completely “right”—about the psychology of the person issuing the error."

Check out the rest of the review here.

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