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Tonight We Open a Show! July 24, 2008

Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Uncategorized.
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My time has been taken up these past couple of weeks with putting together a production of 4 of the 6 short plays from All in the Timing by David Ives (of which I’m directing “Sure Thing” and “The Philadelphia”), and the world premiere of Albany playwright Julie Demers’ Authors, in which I play one of the 3 leads.  So I’ve been busy, and tired.

And also a mite despondent about ye aulde money problemmes that I seem to enkhounter quite a bit these dayze. 

The other day I discovered I had inadvertently overdrawn my account.  I had pre-ordered a book from Amazon, and it just so happened to come in at a time when I was just barely on target to make all my obligations with <$3 to spare.  The book getting charged to my account put me in overdraw, which exacted $41.50 in fees, and plopz! My mood just went into the toilet. 

Money stuff goes way back in my family.  I actually think it must go all the way back to the days before the money concept came into existence.  It’s quite a powerful meme, and it’s certainly one that is more powerful than I am. 

Is it so powerful though, that my bright idea of walking up to a cop and pulling a toy gun on him “just as a (suicidal) joke” would seem justified?  There’s some ancient and historical barrier I come up against with munzelly-munzel-monze.  And it hauls out the despair demons and sends me right into depression.

The spirit of finance is a vampire.  A cunt cunting the cunted.  And I seem to be one of the cunted.  One of that vast horde that bleats and moos on our way to the slaughterhouse?  Am I being overdramatic, or just realistic?  Sometimes I feel like Cassandra.  My partner and I went to see/hear Les Troyens by Berlioz, conducted by James Levine at Tanglewood.  (At least Part I–I twisted my ankle on the way back to the car, and couldn’t see Part II, which was just as well with the show and all.)  In that show, Cassandra exhorts the women of Troy to commit suicide rather than become Greek sex slaves.  In the myth as I understand it, some of the women of Troy did that, but most of them ended up in bondage, including Cassandra, who foresaw her own demise at the hands of Agamemnon’s wife Clytemnestra and her paramour Aegisthus.  Whatever.  I am thinking in terms of the Berlioz Cassandra, and wondering whether or not there will be mass suicides at some point.

“Better to die standing than to live one’s life on one’s knees”–so goes an Indian saying.  At least I’ve only heard it attributed to the indigenous of America.  I want to surrender my knee-life.  It’s killing me.  This society is killing me.  Killing us all really, but so many of us are using addictions or external foci to keep us distracted from the awfulness surrounding us.  I try to find the things to be grateful for:  bees, flowers, dirt, books, magick, the gods, vegetables and fruits, abstinence, sobriety.  The fact that I do have the capacity to feel joy.  But that also means I have the capacity for deep sadness.  Deep pain. 

My mental state isn’t the greatest.  I’ve been getting 5 or so hours of sleep the past 4 nights, and I expect I probably shall get maybe 6 tonight, if I’m lucky.  I feel rather down, though not enough where I’m calling in sickly-sickle-sick to workles.  But I feel like I’m at that place where I’m ready to surrender.  The gift of desperation is descending into my life.  I know it’s a Godself thing, and it’s probably preparing me for something. 

I just hope it’s not life inside a debtor’s prison.  I fear that Cuntigroup and Wakcunthut and Hallicunton will probably be bringing them back because after all there’s no better way of going forward than going back to Dickensian-Victorian cuntery is there?

Guh!

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