Keep Your Distance

Reading:

• The Cold War by John Lewis Gaddis
• Arguments with England by Michael Blakemore
• My Name is Red by Orhan Pamuk
• The History of Astronomy: A Very Short Introduction by Michael Hoskins
• Break Blow Burn by Camille Paglia

Listening to:

• Dianne Reeves, "Good Night and Good Luck"
• Bettye Lavette, "I've Got My Own Hell to Raise"
  
• Kathleen Edwards, "Back to Me"
• Amadou and Mariam, "Dimanche a Bamanko"
• Steve Earle, "El Corazon"
• Dusty Springfield, "Dusty in Memphis"
  

* * *

I'm very scared right now. Some major shifts are finally happening on my Mom's side of my family, things that are years overdue, things that I've been waiting for. The other shoe is dropping, and some massive responsibilities are coming down my way. I've been wanting this, and I have no idea how to manage any of it.

I had a long conversation in my car with an old friend and former castmate, about the sense and meanings of discipline, as the notion applies to my art and my life. I sat there, behind my steering wheel, groping for words to articulate the nebulous synthesis of philosophy and meaning that I'm slowly working towards consummating in myself. No, I'm not sure what any of it means, but I do know it means everything and more to me. ("Was that our exit? Let's take the long way.")

Today was a long day that ended a long and difficult week.

I saw defunkt theatre's production of "Dr. Faustus Lights the Lights" tonight, and it moved and burned something in me, albeit much primed by the aforementioned. I walked home from the theatre with a wan and pierced frame, wounded by the final tableux, mortified at how hurtful it was to remember why I loved someone that no longer loves me. "Lights, Lights," everyone cries, at the end of that play-within-the-play.

I've begun a new journal. I am quietly pleased by the letters arriving in my post office box. I am in a bit of a mood.

paulmonster-conservator