The Neighborhood's got its own sorority...!

Greetings, 

It was quite a day today. Woke up and spoke to AF whose in Madrid right now working at the US Embassy and protecting our image abroad. He seems to be doing well, albeit he seems to have some decent free time on his hands, enough at least to call his friends back in the states. We discussed many things, mostly exciting prospects for the year to come at WashU as seniors and the like. We both have huge goals for the year and I am looking forward to seeing him see them through. 

Finally had breakfast for the first time in a while today. Cinnamon Toast Crunch is the ish, for real. Watched the idiot box a bit. Then called the Red Cross to see if the Young Adults in our area could help with the crazy flooding relief going on in Lincoln or St. Charles. After the woman said that she would have them call me, they never did... and that was a bit disappointing as I was really hoping to make some headway on this project today. It appears PR may have done some good work on that end as we now have a contact at St. Charles who is going to let us know what they will need in the near future. Worked out, yes, I said it, I worked out. And felt like a baller. Did some meditation to hopefully sooth my nerves as I have been feeling rather anxious these last few months. Anxious, nervous, impatient, overwhelmed are all adequate adjectives to describe my last few months -- from the projects that I am looking to take on, the coming academic year, my RA position, my relationship, my parents, my living situation... it's all very... consuming and has been sort of been a lot to handle very recently. So hopefully through some meditation (and writing), I can calm my mind, take everything with equilibrium and push forward as I need to. One thing at a time, as always.

Met up with N and we put the preliminary finishing touches on the latest Neighborhood Watch song, called The Yeah Song, which is pretty much da bomb. Check it out, or don't, but you really should. Our next song is tentatively called Filthy, Nasty, which is a throwback song and a homage to West Coast gangsta rap. Check the site for updates, it should be up within the next week and a half.

Had my second day of work today and felt much more comfortable with my environment. The Green Light Festival is very cool and I am aiming to at least submit my play to it next year because it would be exactly what I would I need to get some sort of work as a writer in theatre. One of my bosses, John, told me that the director I am working with is really enjoying working with me and that it may be possible for me to come on board in November when they workshop the winner of the whole thing. I told him I would most definitely be interested, but it all depended on the schedule of my life come next year. But hey, that's some good news. (Also, the play I am ADing for is not that great and it makes me think, hey, I can do this...)

The rest of the night was pretty unmentionable when I got home. Put it this way: it's hard being home when you are used to college life, it's hard being the last kid in the family, and it's tricky trying to keep your cool in general. I need to meditate more in life. I am beginning to think I am becoming my father, which, for now is probably not a good thing.

Tonight I am going to try and finish Act Two of "Teddy". Hopefully. And tomorrow, well is just another day.

It's midnight on the bay.

Steps off the a scraped March sky and sinks

Up into the blind Atlantic morning One small

Red dog jumping across the beach miles below

Like a freed shadow.

- Autobiography of Red ("Wings XII") by Anne Carson 

Today was a bright day, unthreatening weather, which feels like a rarity this summer in the midwest. I was almost expecting there to be some sort of heavy downpour of rain, but none to be found. The boys and I met up for a lunch at Red Robin, the hot spot for the protein depleted child within me and afterwards we took to some frisbee golfing, which contrary to what I might expect was actually rather good. Very good in fact. Though I found myself much less coordinated that I would think, it was actually a lot of fun. I look forward to more "frolfing" as C puts it, though I don't think I can wrap my mouth around those words to say them with any sort of dignity. 

I am inching my way closer to London and my trip to the Globe which is proving to be what will be the highlight of my summer. I have a few monologues in my back pocket just in case Henry or Jane L or Anna decide to throw me on the spot, which will probably not happen. What I think I am most pumped about is rehearsing and speaking on that stage, a stage I think is incredibly holy, an almost sacred place of worship. How many great Shakespearian actors would have poured their hearts out on that stage, I don't know. But there is much history to be found on that stage, the underlings biting at your toes, the London mob staring you down with a cynical eye, even the playwright himself hiding behind a pillar, praying to god that the play is received better than you have been rehearsing it. 

I have been reading a lot of poetry recently. Aside from making Poetry Magazine  and The New Yorker top bookmark items, I have been trekking through the high grasses of James Wright's midwestern pastorals, reading Anne Carson's epic poetry about Geryon in Autobiography of Red, even a little of Calvin and Hobbes for poetic flexibility. They say one can only write when one can read. Hence, I am doing both. Both reading poetry and writing it. I am also currently in the midst of wrapping up a play tentatively called "Teddy", a play I need to finish and send out to good readers before I leave for London. Writing "Teddy" has been difficult in that I have no idea if the premise is even interesting. I assume it is, because it is to me. But I do not know if the characters are believable, their actions justifiable, their wants recognizable. Writing for the stage is a COMPLETELY different animal than writing for the screen. One must be quite thorough about the usage of on stage time, the allotment of time for changes, the necessity for long scenes or short ones, the impossibility of translating the very subtle, the almost unseen, as being part of a major theme or idea. I am trying to write in an interesting style, a sort of Wes Anderson-esque tone, but it's certainly not colorful or dark enough, and the none of the characters or precocious. Okay, except maybe one. 

Itching to get out of St. Louis, to London, and then back to school where I have things I need to do and get accomplished. Whereas out here in Ballwin, it's a completely different animal. Time slows down the further you get from the center of all things. But the closer you are to the accretion disk, the faster you spin until you get sucked into the craziness of the cosmos.

I leave you with a poem, and it's perhaps one of the most beautiful, heart breaking poems I have read in some time. It's one James Wright's most famous poems - A Blessing. 

J

ust off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,

Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.

And the eyes of those two Indian ponies

Darken with kindness.

They have come gladly out of the willows

To welcome my friend and me.

We step over the barbed wire into the pasture

Where they have been grazing all day, alone.

They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness

That we have come.

They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.

There is no loneliness like theirs.

At home once more,

They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.

I would like to the hold the slenderer one in my arms,

For she has walked over to me

And nuzzled my left hand.

She is black and white,

Her mane falls wild on her forehead,

And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear

That is delicate las the skin over a girl's wrist.

Suddenly I realize

That if I stepped out of my body I would break

Into blossom.

good night.