i'm sitting here at our desk, having just eaten a rather large plate of leftover chinese food. on public radio, some lady with a crazy voice is singing some operatic high notes that, according to the host, once induced a pretty big riot. i can't remember the name of the composer, but to witness a riot caused by a highly controversial classical music piece must've been memorable.

"were you there the night the orchestra performed the infamous forty-third violin concerto in a minor?"

"but of course! why, my jaunty new velvet hat was knocked right off my head and trampled by the throngs!"

i guess it would be like being at the dylan concert in which he went electric. i just find it difficult to imagine that riots at the turn of the century would entail much more than angry fist-shaking and/or boos*.

music does strange things to people, though. it's hard to predict exactly what they'll do.

*fyi.

my dream is to live far, far away from any city; to live where there is nothing but green, nothing but garden or farm that i cultivate myself. a place where i am surrounded by living, growing things that follow a bigger schedule. i'd like to wake early and make a strong cup of coffee and walk outside with an apron full of feed, scattering it to the chickens or other smallish animals while the sun rises slowly behind me. there may or may not be a barn, there is definitely a screened-in porch in which to while away the afternoon hours.

i will snap string beans, i will stew tomatoes, i will tend to things.

so there's this writing thing that one must do when they become a neo-futurist. one must write plays. short ones. to perform. for an audience. it's funny because i feel that i've always been writing plays in my head, but now these thoughts must be transferred to paper (or google documents, as it were), things suddenly get a little trickier. i tend to start-stop a lot, beginning an idea and then squashing it instead of allowing it to meander its way into interestingness. i would like these ideas to free-flow a bit more, a bit faster and with a bit more gusto. maybe the process is just different.

as an actor with a script, you have a map in right in front of you. as an improviser, you embrace the unknown knowingly. as a dancer, you've finely tuned your body to do as it should. alas, i've never truly thought of myself as a writer, but now, i think i must*.

*also, i just wrote "alas," so that's gotta count for something**.

**but then i wrote "gotta." i'm pretty sure i lost some cred with that one***.

***i know i'm not supposed to start a sentence with the word "but."