rlbourges

Titles: sometimes you find them, sometimes you don’t

In Artists, Circus, Current reading, Games, Local projects, Music, photography, Theater on October 19, 2014 at 7:06 am

Will he find the cache into which over eight months of photos disappeared? I don’t know. I trust him to try. He earns his living and his family’s working off his own Mac; helps others with problems on their own. I trust him to either find them or tell me he can’t (or that they are lost forever). He’ll work the search into today’s busy day or tomorrow’s, at the latest. Busy people get the most done, they say – true, but not always those things they most wish to do.

The glass half-full trope doesn’t work all the time – like most folk sayings, there’s always at least one other out there that says the exact opposite. In this instance, I’m thinking of the scene yesterday where a handful of artivists worked their collective talents on both sides of the river, to the delight of some. In my venue, the writing table was under the palm trees and turned toward the river. That way, we could block out the trash strewn about, a few feet away from the garbage disposal units.

We couldn’t block out the drunken arguments and some of the children kept a wary eye on someone whose soliloquy inspired a Monster page in The Story Book. One child provided the monster’s name: The Monster whose name is Nightmare- with- Saber -Teeth- who -Frightens-Children. A boy who was close to melt-down himself provided story elements when I started scribbling down his every utterance. “No, no, no, no, never, never, never in my miserable life, never, never do I shed a single tear! No, never, never, never…” and so on, until he started to get the hang of the comedic in it all.

No, no, no, this didn’t stop the drunken soliloquy but we all forgot about it.

Too much work for so little result? What can I say: getting this glass half-full is out of the question. Besides, that’s not how things work, in real time.

I’ll cover what I can today. I hope getting back to my fiction will feel something like a treat. Not because all is wonderful in my fictional world. Because it’s the closest I can get to freedom from whatever else must, needs, must, must, must get priority attention.

Current reading (meaning: the fifteen minutes before crashing down into deep sleep last night): Stephen Orgel’s Introduction to The Oxford edition of Shakespeare’s The Tempest. Interesting, what he has to say about genre. How we tend to think of genres as mutually exclusive whereas the Renaissance had a more syncretic view on the topic. Something like the glass empty, full, half-full and half-empty, all at once. A Shroedinger’s Cat approach, more or less. Now you see it, now you don’t, sometimes he miaows, sometimes he snarls, sometimes he doesn’t even leave a smile in the trees.

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