staccato heartbeats give away the true rhythm of the night
��������� �����[never try to understand me / expectation makes me old]or bored. i think it's old though.
tonight was the staged reading for playwriting class. had some good feedback, others kinda didn't make much sense to me. most did. jason & nate did a good job, and anthony too, as the direction-reader. then to a dinner at piper's apartment, with the class, where we sat around and berated one another goodnaturedly. the evening consisted of cheap-end cabernet sauvignon, and labatt blue, and guinness. not to mention faux petit fours and lasagna. piper's house is very cluttered, in a pleasingly aesthetic way and dr. stump told me he loved a line from my play and that he might even steal it someday.
which made me laugh. i made a good number of jokes, and felt very .. central to the proceeding action. it was very enjoyable.
began to pack tonight. boxes piling up. how did i accrue so much ... stuff? three boxes of books, hardcover and otherwise, books still scattered about. it was the year of Finding My Size, as i explained to peter, and so the clothing i own currently ranges from size 34 to size 32 in pants and i have every size everything else. it's all very odd to me. time to make a trip or two home to drop some stuff off, i think. get rid of some of this material accretion.
so much. i have so many things. they occupy my time. papers. posters. a box entirely devoted to DVDs. and i'm not even done yet. it's going to be a bitch to move. because i'm a moron. i need to find a summer job. tomorrow i am going out to apply to various places, and find something ... somewhere. maybe do some summer theater if i can.
on another, different note. the dynamic is shifting again ... a warning sign, a redlight going off in my head, but this time kind of shrugging it off ... hoping it's all for the best. and that it will sort itself out. a strange sort of half-smiled faith in myself, in ...
[did you know my name? you don't recognise me ...]
it's a gary jules kind of day. rain, haze, wet roads, slick asphalt. boxes. bright lights, big city. glancing around. i doubt i will miss this room as much as i will 249. but moving to anderson hall in one week and counting. for another 115 days of summer ... but this time new. and on my own for the most part. i'd like to see what it's like to live alone. i'm going to change my routine i think. a bit. "mad world" comes on. gary jules.
maybe some physical regimen to begin with. set up times and such. move more. don't just sit so much. run. work. be productive, be ... useful? stop monopolizing oxygen for no reason.
soon. a new number, a new place, a different view of the horizon. the courtyard of robie-andrews has become boring. and sedate. bare, small rectangle of rocks and overgrown weeds. the "art" yard. a giant gnarled tree spanning the breach. could swing down on the branches to josie's room. i will miss the odd connection between the rooms. the little acute triangle - scalene - between the quad, josie's and our room. lights on lights off.
the wall by my closet is bare. a black gap hat hangs there. i have to remember to roll the rug up by the door. i have to do laundry tomorrow night. get a haircut. do some errands. [oh it's getting better now]
routine. tired eyes. bedward-ho.