Safe is not locked. To be safe is to be locked. Unlocked. Unsafe.
The possibilities for action change, based on whether the actor is entering a scene or exiting a scene. Or, god forbid, they are hanging around in the background in the chorus. What do you do with that? But think about the motivations of characters entering: they are all possibility and potential. They hold the cards in their hand and choose which ones to lay out. The character exiting has all the cards out on the table and their hand has been read. The story has been told and perhaps there is possibility and potential there as well, but it’s found behind a dark curtain and isn’t clear yet. Both have either everything to lose or nothing to lose.
In improv, scenes are pushed forward by heightening the stakes and by the characters heightening and changing their status toward each other. You can watch a scene play out one way and then imagine what it would be like if you switched the roles or changed the status of the characters. Would they react the same way to each other? Is there something inherent in the character that would remain even as all the elements around them are altered?
Evidence. Left behind, hidden, discovered. Evidence of impact made.
I can’t possibly write anything in here tonight as I’m falling asleep, so how about we channel our inner Starbuck?
For some reason, photos of the Landmark marquee always look best on rainy days. Today was a perfect day to see a movie there and I was happy to indulge my recently-expressed desire for French New Wave by taking in Breathless on the big screen.
As much as I’d like to see all of the movies they’re showing this summer, as long as I got this one and, later on, An American in Paris, in, I’ll be happy.
I need to get a long run in tomorrow. Atrophy from my return to boxing class worked against me today.
Paul Weller was on CBS This Morning today. I haven’t listened to his new album. I think I have to accept that I’m not so into his new stuff anymore, which is always a difficult phase in fandom. The title of this entry refers to a line in Breathless, though, and not my feelings about the new stuff.
Today was a good one for activity. Got a run in this morning, then finally made it back to boxing class at lunchtime. I could tell how long it had been since I was there, but I managed not to barf. And the feeling of not being able to write or type afterward is oddly pleasing, like “I did something!”
Got over to Clark Reservation this evening for a picnic and some playground time.
Trying to simultaneously speed up time and slow it down and neither is actually happening.
I wrote this on June 1st, when I decided to start updating this thing everyday for at least a month:
And, it seems like when things are tough, the first feeling to retreat may not be the best. And that one may appreciate being able to look back and reflect and measure.
So good morning, June. What’s new?
If anything, even through cryptic entries, I can see how this month has played out, where it has taken strange turns, where it has surprised me. NOW, you all know how pragmatic and Vulcan I can be, but I’m kind of feeling the “what you put out into the world, you get back” touchy-feely kind of stuff lately.
A couple years ago, I forced myself to do some sparkly mystical life planning sheets to focus my mind on what I really wanted to be doing with myself. And at first it didn’t seem to result in much, but I realized that what it really boiled down to was saying yes to things that I might have initially rejected because they didn’t fit in with my preconceived notions about myself. Or just allowing myself to enjoy things without feeling like a hypocrite. And more recently, making the decision to really be more open with people has paid back in spades. I feel like I’ve written this same thing over and over again during this month, but I can’t underscore how different it is for me, for a hermit crab to creep out of the shell (or Adirondack hideaway as the case may be for hermits).
I notice exactly where I started finding it hard to fill up entries because words are going elsewhere, in new and multiple directions. But I need to resist the idea that I’ve hit some sort of quota and I need to put things here to, so I can continue to reflect. I think this is pretty much that whole Secret thing that was big through Oprah awhile back right? Putting yourself and your intentions out into the world pays back dividends to you?
I don’t know how true THAT all was, but I can tell you that I’m not complaining right now about the dividends I’m receiving for the moment.
I’m painfully tired, but I’m due to put something in here. Especially after eating the veggies laid out by the CNY Bloggers group. I owe it to them to keep up my schedule and at least write something. No weird videos or anything today. Just words and picture.
Ran this morning, which felt good. I feel like I’m back on track after all the bleh as of late. Got weights in yesterday and I’m squeezing in boxing this week too, gosh darn it.
The Downtown Committee Annual Meeting luncheon was today as well. Excellent food and I got all excited listening to planner-speak, something I don’t get involved in on a day-to-day basis much anymore. Then a quick stop after work to the aforementioned CNY Bloggers group to steal their food before heading to “band practice”. Which ended up being working on album artwork and was a really nice evening. But I’m also itching to play my drums again soon.
Also, if Death by Han Solo banter is a thing, I discovered that today.
Ok. Literally falling asleep at my desk. Done.
I was told by a particular fabulous lady yesterday to never stop being weird. I threw this together last night after the can opener caught my eye. Anyone that I’ve talked art with knows that Futurism is my favorite, even though it is, in today’s parlance, extremely problematic. The first line of the manifesto is a favorite though.
Courage, audacity, and revolt will be essential elements of our poetry.
It bothers me that I am not finessing that text more* but Perfect < Done. And I found something to do with the audio of an amazing glitch that I recorded off WRVO a couple months back.
*Actually really bothering me that I forgot I hadn’t set it to all Futura. Got distracted. Oh well. No work without an an aggressive character can be a masterpiece.
Ok, I really don’t know what to write here tonight. Tonight is a dud night. I wrote too much in other places and I’m ALL USED UP. Sorry Utah Phillips. So I’ll post an old photo of the cornice at Goldwin Smith Hall at Cornell.
I did get a run in this morning, which was great. And I had dinner with one of my oldest friends and his wife (she is also a friend, but… you know what I mean) and it was also great and too short.
Ok. Dud entry. Done.
I used to have a section on my website in the days of yore where I posted audio of my readings of things like cereal boxes and other bits of ephemera. I decided to resurrect that feature into a thing on here. This one was recorded in the black void of my mobile unit. First up is a tiny section of an outdated copy of the Northville-Lake Placid trail guidebook.
And you can send your ephemera suggestions to: firstname.lastname@example.org or comment on Facebook! Please!
I was going to post something else today, but uploading took forever and now it’s late and I need to sleep so that will be tomorrow’s post. Instead, here’s a photo of one of my favorite weird spots in Syracuse. It’s even better at night.
It’s the edge of the parking lot against the train tracks at the Wegmans on James Street. It’s really best at night when trains are idled there and you hear all the low mechanical sounds and then every so often a worker will come filing through the grasses. Something about it is so evocative of… I don’t know what. I just find it oddly peaceful to park there sometimes and listen to the trains.
Something different tomorrow. Checking the box, late, again.