Gather your papers as ye may

In Circus, Hautvoir, Local projects, Music, notes, Querying, Rejection, Revision, Sanford Meisner, Scene Prep, Story material, Synopsis on December 5, 2014 at 9:15 am

I guess Sanford had never heard about the slack line. And Goethe, even less. I’m referring here to the quote posted on the wall in Sanford Meisner’s office: “I wish the stage were as narrow as the wire of a tightrope dancer, so that no incompetent would dare step upon it.” Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749 – 1832). With the tightrope, an acrobat deals with up-down bounce (and gravity, of course). With the slack line, there’s side to side swaying added to the mix. I’m not about to attempt either one.

The title: yes, another set of papers to put together in a different configuration for yet another stroll through Adminlandia. Only a fool would complain about the nonsense involved. Dealing with nonsense is better than dealing with perfect and becalmed indifference, yes? If nothing else, the nonsense sets up a rash of frustration  and/or bouts of violent sneezing. In the absence of other goads, frustration helps to get a job done. I know: loving kindness, peace on earth and goodwill towards men don’t sound like such a bad combo. There’s some of that hanging around too. Mixed in with aggregates of everything else. Nuggets of pure gold don’t litter the streets anywhere.


Let’s say none of your most cherished dreams come true. Not a one. What do  you do? (I mean beyond rolling into a tight little ball, crying, wailing why-why-why and/or getting stoned/drunk/violent/catatonic.)

There was a protracted interlude in sleep time during the night. The three am and onward wide-eyed staring at the ceiling while the grimmer scenarios play out. The only solution: waiting until the brain does its equivalent of coping with the slack line. This too shall pass, whatever will be etc. Whether Jesus died for our sins or not, he won’t show up to die my death for me, nor to live my life either.

The last sentence in the preceding paragraph: I’m using up a line  I wish I had served on the two women who pulled me out of a cold apartment into a colder day, yesterday morning. Waving a pamphlet at me, they were. Saying it contained answers to most of the questions I was asking myself. The crib sheet. Damn. Sixty-eight years into the exam and now they show up.

Never mind. It’s your life. If nobody else gets the joke, laugh anyway. They’ll think you’re crazy? You are, so where’s the problem?


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