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amulOh, gods, have you seen the moon tonight? Hanging low in the clear sky over the city? I reached for my camera and it wasn't there.
I pulled out Once on this Island again. First time in a long while, since the last time I posted about it. First time I heard it, crouched low inbetween two piles of luggage heading towards some SCA event, spooning refried beans into my mouth with nacho chips. Greg Tapalow would stop the cassette between every song and explain to me the next scene. Finally I had to let out with a you know, the play is kind of self-descriptive. I mean, it wouldn't be a musical unless it was, huh?
The moon hangs low over the city, and the endless wall of skyscrapers in the distance call to me with possibilities. There's a text message on my phone and I don't know if I'm over analyzing or ignoring implications. There's an email in my inbox that hints I'm not as Damaged as I think myself. There's photos in a portfolio that whisper, maybe you're pretty good at this.
Gods, it's so good to be in an art-oriented class again. It makes me want to hunt down the twins and sing my little song to them. I headed over to movie night atOddly Unnamed Apartment Pirate's Cove, and pulled out a giant pile of photos to show people. It is so hard for me to point at a thing and say, "I made this and I think it is good." There is such a joy to working on things in analog (can you call it analog? Or is that only for sound?) that surpasses anything I've done on the computer, I can't explain it.
I pulled out Once on this Island again. First time in a long while, since the last time I posted about it. First time I heard it, crouched low inbetween two piles of luggage heading towards some SCA event, spooning refried beans into my mouth with nacho chips. Greg Tapalow would stop the cassette between every song and explain to me the next scene. Finally I had to let out with a you know, the play is kind of self-descriptive. I mean, it wouldn't be a musical unless it was, huh?
The moon hangs low over the city, and the endless wall of skyscrapers in the distance call to me with possibilities. There's a text message on my phone and I don't know if I'm over analyzing or ignoring implications. There's an email in my inbox that hints I'm not as Damaged as I think myself. There's photos in a portfolio that whisper, maybe you're pretty good at this.
Gods, it's so good to be in an art-oriented class again. It makes me want to hunt down the twins and sing my little song to them. I headed over to movie night at
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Date: 23 Jun 2005 13:49 (UTC)COme to visit us in Pittsburgh, you know where we live . . . that is, unless you mean another set of twins in Chicago that you sing to.
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Date: 23 Jun 2005 14:19 (UTC)Pssst... It's called the Pirate's Cove...
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Date: 23 Jun 2005 17:13 (UTC)no subject
Date: 23 Jun 2005 15:05 (UTC)