Think That I Finally Feel Liberated; Feel Like I’m Somebody New

for the past couple of weeks (maybe even a month and a half or so) i have been considering the playwrighting program at big momma’s house. which i just told you in my last post. but the reason that i’m bringing it up again is because ii started looking into the new new school. and their program seems so much more what i need (besides the fact that it’s 3 years long. eugh. i should probably figure out what that would mean in my life. but i don’t think i’m gonna do that right now. i’m just gonna keep writing.) ANYWAY,,, no i’m not really sure if i can keep writing.

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 am i putting myself in some outdated profession — like a tv antennae repair man?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.

and i’m gonna stop writing now, so i can go look into the new school.

I’ve Been Outta School fo’ Like TEN SEMESTERS

this morning i was encouraged, by the universe, to go to yoga:

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 used to parlor my tricks, i hope that you like this

i don’t know how many things you have done naked. i mean, besides changing my clothes, showering, and the less than handful of times that i’ve been skinny dipping; i’ve always kept my clothes on. well, there’s sex — but, that, again, doesn’t count.

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.

what are you on about, mate?

yeh — so, sara and i were laying in bead the other night with a faint double bass pounding us to sleep. apparently, roomie can’t fall asleep without listening to music. at least, that’s what he told sara over the phone.

(double bass drum)
sara: are you serious?
me: what?
sara: he’s REALLY going to play this every night?

i don’t really mind it. it’s kinda like living in the same building as some bar in the village or something. it makes me feel like we live above a bar; except the music is coming from above us. so i guess that we could live in a basement apartment BELOW a bar. and apparently, the bar has a metal night, a techno/ dubstep night, and a pop rock night.

…upstairs will now be known as the BAR.

it’s funny to me because i feel like i know less and less about this kid with every new piece of information. for example, three nights ago, the BAR could have been playing dillinger escape plan, and gay for johnny depp. last night it was quatum’s dubstep classics, and tonight has been oasis, coldplay, and literally, right now: hands down, by dashboard. and not even the official CD release with the full band. it was the weepy acoustic cut.

did i mention that the first three days that he was here went like this: party with 4 computer programmers, their respective spouses, and one super pretentious d-bag grad student from brooklyn. the next day: yard work from sun up to sun down. third day: his job at the church and hour and change from here, followed by pressure washing the entire walking area, and dinner at a chinese buffet.

did i also mention that i feel fat and haven’t been to yoga in 3 lifetimes?

i, at least, started doing workstudy again.

now “i will follow you into the dark”.
did i ALSO ALSO mention that he gets up everyday at 4:30am? i mean, at this point, it’s not really a big thing that his music is on because i know that he’s sleeping.
…wow: elton john’s “your song”…
but, at first, i was a little concerned:
me: doesn’t he get up for work in, like, 3 hours?
sara: i think so.
me: that can’t be good.

that’s the other thing — i haven’t seen him since the weekend. we literally have opposite schedules.

i have used literally more than i care to in any writing that is less than 500 words, so i’m going to read, literally, and then sleep.

what’s yours or mine, when everything’s shinin’?

tonight, sara and i hosted a party for a strange cast of characters. we’ve got roomie moving in this weekend. (i guess now he’s officially moved in and begins living here this weekend.) but it was a romp. i kinda feeel indifferent to the whole thing; but overall, i think it went well. i guess, also, that these people will be visiting more often. (perhaps not — the virginia couple probably won’t visit as much, and hopefully, brook lynn won’t come around too often.) brook lynn reminds me offf sara’s sister. roomie is super drunk.

i don’t really feel much of anything. i mean, i’m not drunk. and i had a moderate amount of fun. and i got to meet some interesting people. and of course, hang out with eddie.

the guys are talking shop.
the girls are washing each other’s feet.
and i’m writing.

i’m okay with being a writer.
and when i say that i’m not really feeling mmuch of anything, i mean that i’m not drunk. i definitely have feelings. about this new roomie sitch. i have to go to work tomorrow. and that’s gay. and i don’t have a problem with using gay as a derogatory term. and picture girl took pictures. there is something about those pictures, i mean, the way taht that camera takes pictures is so…exactly, how ever the fuck they take pictures. i’m not really even in to explaining it.

i’m just writing.
and to be honest, this is pretty much exatvly where i am. and i’m totally cool with it. props to me, for being heeerrrrrrrrrrrre.

Why iTunes Has YET to Fail Me.

i had this fucking song stuck in my head. and i knew that it was probably by tv on the radio. and i had only the melody of ooooh ooooh ooooh oooooh oooooh oooh ooooh oooh ooooh.

you can’t very well type that into the search bar on bing. so i had to listen to a bunch of different videos on youtube. trying to figure out what the hell the song was called. and i spent a good deal of energy resisting the temptation to follow links to other videos. and stay focused on the mission.

i decided to try itunes.
and found it within 13 seconds.
seriously.

(and now that i’ve listened to it, i’m not even that impressed.) youtube had my interest at heart: to keep the song a haunting mystery. itunes gratified my wish…and look where it got me.

here’s the song.

What Now, Indeed.

this is my first post since… i don’t know when. but, hi.

i wanted to let you know that i’m alive.
i’m feeling alive, and i’m coming back. real soon.
so stay tuned.

but for now, please enjoy:

william
willy
will
bill
billy
billiam
…it’s the obvious next step.