I’ll tell you what’s going on – I have been inspired! I don’t know if it was Wagner, or Paul Lansky, Radiohead, Sara and I in the summer, or a combination of those things; but here I am. I am writing on wordpress for the first time in like five months. I didn’t finish my seminar assignment, but I had a small breakthrough. I don’t know what I have broken through, but something has snapped. And it has connected with something else.

i was worried about so much of my life being completely fucked. sometimes we worry about things like this so much that it’s hard to see anything good. sara and i have been a little meloncholy for a while now. morose, if you will. and everything has been piling up and up and up and up.

but she bought yoga pants. and being in the store inspired me to want to get fit.

i started doing my seminar assignment, only to realize that i can go back to any book or score that we have looked at and examine it more. and summer time is going to come my way. and there will be free time. and driving time. and music is always here. music has never left me. even though for the last few weeks i feel like music decided to abandon me.

but i have found music again.
and with found music, comes found hope.

i am renewed, albeit temporarily, and my engines are now running in contact with the gears.

and, ever since, i have convinced myself that there is nothing that could get in my way.
i decided sometime in march that i was going this year no matter what.

but something has happened.
and something is now in my way: myself.

between the price of tickets and plane tickets and the car and the food and the missing of work, i’m considering the option of not going. i have so many bills that i need to pay. and the experience is looking like it would cost around 1500, all said and done. that could be put toward bills that i’ve been dragging for a year. that could be put toward my car. that could be put toward getting the records that i’d like to have on hand and update my music library. or buying clothes. or just generically saving.

i mean, there’s the lineup.
but i don’t even remember what was so great about the lineup.

tickets just went on sale six minutes ago.

i’m going to check the website.

there was only this:

wow.
this was a mere 8 minutes after tickets went on sale.

this is beyond anything that i can/want to handle right now.
i’m not that enthused.
i want to meet donald glover, and i found this article.

maybe i will skip coachella this year.

here’s an excerpt from the article. (or at least the parts that made me feel better.)

“I’ve seen so many of these bands already …”

“Snoop and Dr. Dre? I’m gonna get so high.”

“RADIOHEAD!”

“Ugh, Florence, La Roux, Justice and the Black Keys … again?”

“If not for the two weekend bullshit, there would be way better headliners.”

“I just don’t care about Coachella anymore.”

“Not worth the money.”

“Please stop posting statuses about the Coachella line up not being worth the money.”

“RADIOHEAD!”

For those of you who are already snubbing Coachella 2012, I have some news. The lineup is not actually that unexciting. Coachella is about the experience. You’re not over the lineup. You’re over the experience.

Here’s my argument. Most of us started going to Coachella towards the end of high school and beginning of college. By now, you may have gone for two years, three years, four years or more (2012 will be my fifth year, but I have an unfair advantage being from the desert).

After enough years, it’s just not as exciting anymore. The festival is devaluated in your mind because you already know what to expect.

It’s true: that issue is increased by the fact that there are many veteran Coachella acts set to play this April. But, personally, I am thrilled to get the chance to see many of these bands again. Seeing them one time does not mean they are going to be any less awesome. Deadheads can attest to this. Granted, they were also doing a lot of drugs … But Coachella security is still pretty lax, if you want to go that route.

And hey, if the line up or the double weekend are really deal-breakers for you, that’s fine. If you need a break from Coachella, take one. Goldenvoice won’t send hit-men to your door and make you order your wristbands at gunpoint.

If you’ve already bought tickets, you can always sell them to somebody else who is still stoked on the Coachella experience — and probably also make a little extra cash in the process (especially if you have first weekend tickets — they sold out in presale, but GA Festival Pass/Shuttle Pass combos will still be available for purchase starting this Friday). Save the money for Bonnaroo, or some other event out in the woods — I don’t know.

What I am saying is, buck up, kidaroo. There’s always next year.

maybe i will skip coachella this year.

there is always next year.

a mouse atop his make-shift cage
but before i fly off into fits of rage
i plead with him:
oh, hopscotch please
don’t make me get down on my knees
to coax you back into your home
instead of wherever you’re wont to roam.

…i’m fully awake now.
and i got him.

may i rest this night in ease
away from aching and disease.

(that’s moreso a wish for myself;
i think i’m coming down with the flu.)

“wait — what’s the deal with your roommates?”

oh!
they’re flirting in a big way. i’m just gonna go ahead and drink what i have here. it’s water from earlier. but the thing was –
okay. so.
i caught the mouse tonight. and i didn’t have to kill him. and now i think that i’m going to keep him as a pet. sara said that it was a good idea too. so we’re all in agreement. i don’t know what to do with sally. but i like the idea of slowly working towards our menagerie. that’s pretty much where we are headed anyway.

as of right now, we have:
1) a koi
2) a goldfish
3) 3 snails
4) 2 algae eaters
5) 2 barbs
6) a black widow
7) a mouse

i would like to include the plants, but thats kind of in a state of transition. although i can say that i did some weeding today; it looks great.

things are changing. i just got my RAM in the mail. (you have to write it like that, because that’s how the pros do it.) my computer update is coming soon. and the debt is slowly, but surely being alleviated.

did i mention that i have a terrible sore throat?
and that i went back to yoga yesterday?
i also destroyed the use of this jar by keeping a mouse in it.

my whole body is sore.
i’m just gonna go to bed.

“nick, i didn’t know that you were a playwright.”

thank you, panel — but i’m not.
i’m a student that attends st. john’s college. and in my search for truth and good times, i considered grad school and ended up attending the 3 day, national playwrighting convention (slash conference, because i’m not really sure of the difference) in fairfax va. you can read about it HERE and HeRE, put on by the dramatists’ guild.

you’re welcome.
and
you’re welcome.

and apparently, it wasn’t a conference or convention: it was a symposium. and despite my idea of symposiums — there was no boozing, or sex, or even a single toga. but there were plenty of older men looking to give advice to younger men. and, lucky for me, i was the youngest fucking person there.

which was awesome.

i can’t tell you the last time that i was in a group of people who were all older than me. and the same, hopeful, bright future kind of feeling that i got from hearing the durang, himself, say to me: “how old are you? you look so young.”

“23″ i told him (sort of second guessing it.) “but it’s feeling pretty old.”

“oh 23′s not old; 29 is old.”

and meeting marsha norman so many times that she actually started to identify me, but i have yet to actually ask her anything of what i wanted to ask her.

i learned some facts, though, about playwrighting, and life, and theatre, and theatre-going folk, and texas. apparently repression breeds theatre — which worried me for two reasons: (one) i don’t find myself particularly repressed. (or even troubled, really). (two) hmmmm. i don’t remember what i was going to say now. [there is this strange bologna smell outside that is distracting me.] i’m also rather sleep deprived and hungry. i know that Hollins is over 4-5 summers, but you still have to pay loans because: you’re not in school during the year. and that george mason is not really driving distance for an annapolis based student. i mean, i handled the four hour round trip of driving because it was only three days. but i would definitely have to move if i wanted to go there.

i can ALSO say that i haven’t been this inspired and hopeful in…
[calculating]
…i’m not sure.

but if it takes me that long to figure out: it can’t have been too recent. so i’m really glad to be where i am.

everything’s bubbling under the surface. i’m thinking of the marsh:”let it simmer boy-o”.

did i spend money that could have been put towards paying bills? yes. was it money that i had to spend in the first place? no. am i glad that i went? yes. was i inspired and directed in a really helpful way? yes. did i make insane kinds of contacts? yes. does sara feel good about our future? i think so, yes!  –[can i just dramatically aside for a second and give a shout of her being stupendous?]– am i weighing the pros and cons of an expensive 3 days of my life? yes. are those 3 days stacking up to priceless whirlwind of meeting a community that was so small that i felt like i was back in iceland? yes. do they make up and outweigh the monetary cost? quite. did rockstar call me for the first time in 7 months of not a single return call? yes.

can i just say a thing about the iceland reference?

“is that where you’re from?” he asks.
“no” i coyly reply, “but, thank you.”

[i grow shy.]

what i mean about the icelandic thing, is that in iceland, there are celebrities all around. and nobody really says anything. they’re listed in the phone book, and they go get coffee, and have families, and nobody goes fanatic about them. (except for me, maybe)

[golf kaart?]

but the point that i’m making is that in iceland, the kings/queens of the scene, have to eat. just like the students who do it in their spare time. and it was a small, intimate community.

they put their pants on, just like the rest of us: one leg at a time.

and going to this convention, not only did i feel like we were all wearing pants, but we were all wearing the same pants. and then i found out that they weren’t the same pants. but i did find out where to buy them, and how to make them myself.

my stomach hurts from not sleeping, my body is dragging. and sara is making breakfast, because it’s her first day.

i’ll reflec t more tomorrowwe; afte…r…i sleep.

AWAY!
wait.
i just realized that i haven’t even told you about the convention.
so all do that all of that when i get back.

AWAY!.@#$%Z46x57c68ov9boin

you see, i just got up to open the door because i’m trying to keep the air moving, but when i got up, i forgot what i was writing about and it reminds me that i wanted to talk about how how it’s getting recently. and i need to go to yoga again. i went yesterday, but importantly we’re having a party this weekend and i’m sure there’s gonna be some skinny dipping. or, in some cases, some fat dipping. and we don’t want that. because even when you are with somebody who loves your body, you still want to feel good about yourself. (or i guess that sometimes you don’t.)

to be honest, i don’t even know what a playwright does. i mean, do a lot of people try and get into this program at new school trying to be screenwriters? do people actually want to BE playwrights anymore? am i putting myself in some outdated profession — like a tv antennae repair man? but then i think about the other things that people go after being.

no, actually, let me back up and say that my biggest concern is the fact that i don’t want to be in debt forever. and i want a steady job that can help me do that. but i don’t know that writing is a steady job. and as sara pointed out yesterday: i don’t really even write that much. NOW, granted becoming a writer will open up other doors for me. and even further, i will have …um… completely lost my train of thought.

i don’t know.
my analyst keeps saying something about an audience. i don’t know what that means. there’s an audience here when i write (that’s you, the reader.) there’s a literal audience when i perform (sometimes more, sometimes less.) there was an audience when i taught that class. and i’m starting to think of audiences as the people that i wait on, and even more generally: have conversations with.

like grampa.
he is in in town and we went to dinner with him on monday at this french restaurant. the food was delicious, and we spent most of dinner talking about interesting things. tomorrow, i’m going to lunch with him. but nothing has been officialized just yet.

ANYWAY. the whole reason that i’ve been thinking about this future stuff is because; well, obviously, i need to do something after college. but i’m not sure that IS obvious. i don’t want to go back to serving after i graduate. i don’t want to take my colle….WAIT! perhaps, i will feel comfortable giving up serving once i have another guaranteed audience! HA!

(sometimes, i’m a genius.)

ok.
and the whole reason that i started writing this post in the first place, was to talk about the email that i got this morning. i’ve had all these thoughts of new york. and big momma’s house. and new school. and living there. and just when i start to get some clarity, i get this email:

 now, i don’t ever use my facebook. and if anybody asks, i deny that i have one. but i think i know what this means.

a fly woke me up.
i put on some shorts.
left at 8:36
got to the studio at 8:48.
phil told me to take class:
“don’t tell me that you have class…it’s summer.”
katie put me on the schedule.
mrs. robek’s asked me if i was a teacher.
i borrowed a mat.
and went to class.

i don’t normally believe in the universe trying to tell me things, but it’s cool. and i went with it. an earlier draft of this talked about how i didn’t really want to go to yoga, and that’s how i knew that it was the universe’s will and not my will that forced me into class this morning; but looking at the morning: it was me. i’ve gotta give the credit to myself to get me into class for the first time in some months. at least since february or something.

roommate didn’t stay here last night. and then i started thinking about that fly that was buzzing around the house this morning. and i started to realize that we haven’t had flies in the house before. and maybe roommate wasn’t here because he was turned into a fly. and here i was trying to kill him because he had woken me up. but really he was just trying to wake me up because he was late for work.

i talked to him.
so i guess he wasn’t turned into a fly.
but it was a text message, and i haven’t seen him
…so there’s still the possibility.

ANYWAY
i called big momma’s house. i don’t know if i told you that i’ve considered going back to big momma’s house. they have a playwrighting program, and it’s like a master’s, but it’s a fellowship. so i thought that it might be a good idea.

i called and talked to a kay tee. she explained the program to me. and basically: it’s not a good fit. it’s an unofficial doctorate of playwrighting. they offer an “Artist Diploma”. which is a fancy way of saying “we don’t really care about collegiate accreditation.”

ok, that’s a little dramatic. (pun intended).

kay tee explained that the program was a two day thing: tuesday meeting with the drama division to present. and wednesday talking it over with the heads of the program.

“and the rest of the week?” i wondered, in my head, so loud, that she stopped her sentence to answer:

“the rest of the week it is assumed that our playwrights are working on their plays.”

…oh.
so they’re already playwrights? and now they write plays?

i don’t know what i’m saying.
BUT i do know, or think, rather, that this program isn’t really for me. i mean, these people are assumed to already have their shit together. and had produced plays, at least, regionally.

but i am gonna still talk to the program’s liazon …liaison to figure it out a bit more.

hmph.
anyway, um — i paid the parking ticket.
…so that’s good.

i’m talking about being naked for something like taking out the recycling.

which i did tonight.
now, granted, it’s not the first thing that came to mind when living the life of the naturalist: but there is something about where i am in my life, or this house, or being with sara, that makes me feel alive and free. i have never felt this free.

i think that’s what i’m feeling: free.
it’s some sort of liberation and weightlessness and a sneakiness and a carefree-ness. i don’t know what else to call it other than free.

and it’s not like american freedom. and there are plenty of things that i’m weighted down about. but some part of me is okay. really okay.

and i like that.