I couldn’t post. I didn’t have the presence of mind. I just had too much going on in my head.
And some of it was good!
I sent the director the first 21 pages of rewrites and his notes were really, really positive, helpful, and often just really incredibly kind & encouraging. So on we go. I’m truly happy about where it’s all heading. Through some miracle now, those things I was having such a hard time staging in my head, are no longer an issue (that “miracle” of course came from the director telling me to stop trying to stage everything and just write). I’m a third of the way done with the rewrites, so I’m guessing that a couple of weeks, tops, and it will all be, essentially, done.
Today, I’m going to make the few changes he suggested, and then switch gears and write another segment for In the Shadow of Narcissa.
And tomorrow, I think Peitor and I will be back on track to work on our Abstract Absurdity script again! I think!
(Plus I have to get the website put together for that. I think I will leave WordPress and build that one somewhere else. Not sure yet. But that blog page for In the Shadow of Narcissa was so stupidly complicated and not user-friendly that I think I’ll try putting Abstract Absurdity Productions somewhere else. ) (And by “user-friendly” I mean that I don’t want to have to keep stopping everything I’m doing to go to another page and scroll through a bunch of stuff just to find out how to do what I’m trying to do. It should all be right in front of me and self-explanatory, you know? Otherwise, it’s not being very friendly. To this user, anyway.)
On another note…
My God, have you noticed how everyone is going back to vinyl now? It’s all over Instagram — all the vinyl options musicians offer now.
Of course, I used to love records. And I still have a really, really cool record player that the cats broke. And I know exactly what’s wrong with it but I need an electrician to actually open it up and fix it. So I can’t imagine that’s happening at any point in my current lifetime.
The only electrician I know who would make a house call for that is that really young (cute) guy who is the father of a tiny newborn baby girl and who calls me “gorgeous” and who really wants to sleep with me (but not get any sleep while doing that).
But he’s a good electrician, damn it! And he lives out here in the Hinterlands! And he’s affordable!
It sucks, right? I mean, I love that all these guys & gals in the Hinterlands still find me a viable option, but I can’t get my mind around how young they are. It would just feel too weird to me. I’m not sure I’m ready for the Harold & Maude thing. Much as I really, truly, honestly loved Ruth Gordon and found her whole life inspiring, and as much as I feel 12, I actually know how old I really am and I don’t want to sort of have to confront it yet.
And then the older guys around here — the HVAC guys, the roof & gutter guys, the painters, the plumbers, insulation installers — the aging hippies who are all tatted up with long grey hair and still have a ton of muscles? Man, they are all over Muskingum County, too. And that is nothing but trouble walking (or driving a pick-up truck). Because I have 700 plays and 16 novels and a couple of memoirs to write — by next week.
So, in short: the record player is broken. And it’s gonna stay that way.
But mostly, I think about all the records I owned in my lifetime — a couple thousand — and what a pain in the ass it was to move those damn things around. I still have about 100 records left, which is still several crates worth that can get heavy when you’re lugging them up & down stairs and in out & out of a moving van. Still, I had to downsize like crazy over time and my world turned into a sort of “Sophie’s Choice,” only with much beloved records, not children. What do I dispose of? What do I try to cling to and have travel with me from place to place to place? (To place, to place, to place…)
So, I made a vow to buy no more vinyl. And I see all these (mostly young) people buying up all this vinyl now and I know what’s coming down the road for them… Good luck with that, I often think to myself.
It’s always all about choices, isn’t it, gang?
(And, wow, all the many different colors of vinyl. I understand the lure of that, too. I would sometimes have, like, 5 different copies of the same Rolling Stones record because it came out in so many different shades of vinyl. I still have David Bowie reciting ‘Peter & the Wolf’ with some foreign Philharmonic Orchestra because it’s in this amazing shade of kelly-green vinyl and the RCA label is bright red. I haven’t listened to it in decades. Yet I can’t part with it, either.
Better just to not make choices that lead to difficult decisions later on, right?
Well, August is here. And there are way fewer birds singing in the morning now. It breaks my heart that the summer is winding down, already. There are lots fewer fireflies in the evenings now, too. It’s all about crickets. And even though there are probably still a couple of months’ worth of hot days still ahead, what I dearly love about the summer is already transitioning. I’m going to try to drag my feet and make August last a really long time. We’ll see how that goes.
All righty. I’m gonna get started here on the next installment of the memoir. Have a super fun Friday, wherever you are in the world!! (Assuming it’s even still Friday wherever you are in the world!)
I leave you with this: Part 1 of David Bowie reciting ‘Peter & the Wolf.’ (Alas, though, Youtube does not come in different shades of vinyl.) Thanks for visiting, gang!! I love you guys. See ya.