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It's not often I find myself possessed of the need to write something specific. I often have the urge to write, mind you, or have an idea bouncing around, but most of the time I can shunt that aside to a point in time when I can indulge it. But sometimes, my brain gets a little insistent. Such was the case with the following, where the opening sentence was threatening to pound its way out of my forehead from the inside if I didn't put it down. And once I sat down with it, I discovered there were all sorts of other sentences lined up and just as insistent.
Mind you, I make absolutely no pretense of literary merit here. But since my brain insisted this needed to be written, and ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) stotangirl
suggested it might make a nice little Valentine for folks, I am sharing.
In Which
1: In which we begin It’s possibly pedantic to begin with one (plus potentially alliterative, apparently), but if that’s the only reason you have not to, it’s only contrary to do otherwise. So, one happens to be where things begin, though it crops up more than once. One was the number of the apartment, the number of human occupants (Aaron), the number of avian occupants (his parrot, Bastian), and also—though clearly it strains credibility to have so very many ones cluttered together—the number of words that Aaron had taught Bastian in the year since he got him. “Shit!” Honestly, it wasn’t that Bastian was stupid. In point of fact, Bastian was quite bright (and we really need to stop alliterating, so we’ll be done with that now, shall we?). He learned rather quickly, after all, how to open his cage door with some contorting and simultaneous beak / claw work. He learned where Aaron kept the food. Then he learned where Aaron moved the food to once Aaron caught Bastian in said food. He even managed to figure out how to turn on the faucet when he was thirsty, though Aaron had yet to see him do it, so he wasn’t quite sure how that one worked. “Shit!” “Now, that’s plenty, don’t you think?” It was for all these reasons that Aaron knew Bastian wasn’t failing to learn new words, but that he was simply happy with the one he had. Quite happy. In fact, nearly every time the bird piped it up, he sounded like he was celebrating. He probably was. Though whether he was celebrating some secret bird-happiness or merely the look of consternation on Aaron’s face was anyone’s guess. ( In which the story continues... )Tags: fiction, writing
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The first review: High times at Venice Theatre's Stage II with Reefer Madness by Kay Kipling. Normally, I post reviews without commenting, but honestly I really can't be silent on this one. I don't see how Kipling could have watched our production through to the end and then forgot about David Walker's performance as Ralph. I understand wanting to perhaps avoid "spoilers," since a lot of Ralph's exploits are of the shocking variety and probably best enjoyed without warning. But, seriously, to not even mention his name? Really? I have to call a massive foul on that one. My best guess is that she left at intermission, since Ralph has very little stage time until the madness of the title gets into full swing in Act II. But whether she slipped out at intermission or simply slipped on the sidewalk on her way out, I can't let this one go without claiming a big foul, not on the play, but on the critic. Tags: commentary, theatre
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July 2009 |
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 |
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slide back 
Kim Kollar
Eve Caballero
Lauren Kelly
