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jazzfishWrote a thousand-word essay (though I actually only got to nine hundred words) last night, from about quarter of ten to quarter of one. Go me. No bonus points to Hatfield for assigning the essay three days before the due date, especially since Tuesdays are my long day (leave the house at quarter of nine, get back around eleven-thirty).
I'm auditioning for a piece called Ear, and I and Silence, which is some sort of odd celebration of five American poets (Frost, Dickinson, Stevens, and two more I've never heard of). My audition requires that I deliver a poem by one of these poets (no problem) and have some sort of movement thing to do. You know, like a martial arts kata, or a dance move, or a bit of choreography. Or, more likely, tai chi, since that's really all the choreographed movement I know how to do. Yay me. I'm not really expecting to get a part; movement's not exactly my strong suit, and there are enough people signed up to audition now that I won't get cast because there just weren't enough people to fill the parts otherwise.
David Bowie's new album, Reality, contains a really weird cover of Jonathan Richman's song "Pablo Picasso." Some people try to pick up girls and get called assholes / This never happened to Pablo Picasso / He could walk down the street and girls could not resist his stare / Pablo Picasso never got called an asshole / Not like you! Very, very odd. The rest of the album's pretty good, too. It feels like Heathen with bits of Earthling added in, which is a nice improvement.
Z is right; I really should have done this when I was answering phones for Kroll.
Day off tomorrow, except for work at 4:30, then game day Satyrday, then work Sunday, then back to the grind. The day off will be pleasant. I'll probably spend it memorising a Wallace Stevens poem and/or reading back issues of Hellblazer. Meanwhile I'm tired. Comes of the five hours of sleep. My body doesn't understand that it belongs to a college student now, and should be PERFECTLY FINE on five hours.
I'm auditioning for a piece called Ear, and I and Silence, which is some sort of odd celebration of five American poets (Frost, Dickinson, Stevens, and two more I've never heard of). My audition requires that I deliver a poem by one of these poets (no problem) and have some sort of movement thing to do. You know, like a martial arts kata, or a dance move, or a bit of choreography. Or, more likely, tai chi, since that's really all the choreographed movement I know how to do. Yay me. I'm not really expecting to get a part; movement's not exactly my strong suit, and there are enough people signed up to audition now that I won't get cast because there just weren't enough people to fill the parts otherwise.
David Bowie's new album, Reality, contains a really weird cover of Jonathan Richman's song "Pablo Picasso." Some people try to pick up girls and get called assholes / This never happened to Pablo Picasso / He could walk down the street and girls could not resist his stare / Pablo Picasso never got called an asshole / Not like you! Very, very odd. The rest of the album's pretty good, too. It feels like Heathen with bits of Earthling added in, which is a nice improvement.
Z is right; I really should have done this when I was answering phones for Kroll.
Day off tomorrow, except for work at 4:30, then game day Satyrday, then work Sunday, then back to the grind. The day off will be pleasant. I'll probably spend it memorising a Wallace Stevens poem and/or reading back issues of Hellblazer. Meanwhile I'm tired. Comes of the five hours of sleep. My body doesn't understand that it belongs to a college student now, and should be PERFECTLY FINE on five hours.
