I RAMBLE AFTER 1 a.m. — PRETEND SURPRISE
Right blog post. Let’s go.
Posting videos on Twitter for songs I put on a mixtape for Gayle the year before we started dating. My senior year of college (and the summer after) was a time of poetry (Muses and Moonlight Reflections), wandering the Northwestern Lakefill, brunettes (’Help Me, Rhonda’), liquor, friends, a social worker who helped me deal with the “I don’t want to graduate because everyone graduates, puts on a suit and changes their personality’ issues — I couldn’t claim distress over figuring out I was gay, nope that was just an ‘oh yeah, duh” moment. There was also Israeli folk dancing, not dating, more not dating, accidental dating, telling my actually gay alt best friend’s girlfriend he was leaving for the Navy a week early so we could have a real party before he went (he spent the entire period post party to breakfast locked in the bathroom dealing with too much alcohol in his system), exchanging letters and religious arguments with Gayle who was off in Kentucky lifeguarding at Bible Camp while I lived off my small store of money and tried to figure out what to do next. Didn’t type fast enough for The Windy City Times so I went to work for nuns as an ER Admission clerk and spent quiet after midnights doodling, starting stories, and making friends, one of whom would get pregnant on the night her boyfriend broke up with her. Cue: Labor Coach Michelle.
And this is not what I was planning to blog about. I’ve just had a lot of stuff rolling around in my head after Twelfth Night finished (it was EXCELLENT; the cast aced it. I am so proud). There have been too many 8 a.m. future of the theatre meetings and emails. I usually hibernate after a show’s over, at least for awhile.
I have been reading yuri manga and discovering that emotions are much more understandable for me when you add a movement component, even if it’s a 2-D drawn one. Gestures add volumes. Probably why I love musicals (the Fred Astaire type) and martial art movies. So I’ve been considering the writing-art split in my brain and how theatre (and poetry) seems to be able to merge them. And wondering if, with this new understanding, I can write something with the emotions of a manga but describing gestures, not showing them. I’m also considering if I might get somewhere on the In The Bleak December sequel if I storyboarded it like a movie first. To finish it originally, I treated each chapter almost as if it were a short stand alone story. Perhaps I just need to ask myself, what would Sally do. And maybe read Nathaniel Hawthorne or non Sherlock Arthur Conan Doyle.