Procrastination and Dead Theatre

Productivity is at an all time low. Well that's not completely true. I have been "studying" all day and I managed to highlight two chapters of my living theatre text book. Most of what I learned I already knew or just reinforced which I guess is what I'm supposed to do but honestly, when I took this midterm I got like 95 or something and barely studied. Which is either a compliment to my very enthusiastic prof or just proof she needs to make the content deeper. Probably a combination of both. Upon reflection I highlighted things not even covered in the exam but things I took to personal heart like the fact that "Living Theatre" is a terrible name for a book about subject matter that is put into dead words and best learned by actually witnessing a work of performance art. A book is not living, it's just words about a moment in time we can't capture because it happened so long ago. Note to Wilson and Goldfard, your title is lying and should be revised to something like "This is what we think but we really don't know cause everyone in this book is worm food and didn't have a cam corder." I hate speculating about something I wish I could see in the moment. So as I tried to imagine what kind of rules and aestetic movements the first actors who followed Stanislavski put into practice I ended up highlighting points about Sweeney Todd orignially being a play that ended in Sweeney shooting Mrs Lovett before throwing her into flames. And I also made notes about Brecht and Wagner (Wagner was an anti semite who believed in German supremacy and Hitler adored him but we don't tell high school kids that part about "classic opera" do we?) This really has nothing to do with the exam. Burlesque didn't mean the same thing it does today for instance. It was about farce and sketch comedy. Go figure. A famous black actor named Ira Aldridge played at Convent Garden in the 1800s and was loved across Europe. The first paid female playwright was actually a spy for Britain, a bisexual in 17th centruy England, and wrote about a prostitute who pulled a gun on her two-timing lover. Alas the prostitute doesn't pull the trigger because the play would never have been commissioned with this ending but the playwrights point comes across nicely. Aphra Behn you were ahead of your time.

All the while today I managed to read 3 years worth of my favourite blog in archives and listen to my new music on repeat. OH and I caught another episode of Wife Swap on daytime satellite shite. Beautiful stuff, pop culture at its finest. Productive? In a way, sure. Am I scared about this exam? Not really, no. Should I be? If I was a normal student then, yes.
This past weekend I had an accomplishment of my own. I finished off a bottle of blackberry merlot within 2 hours and lived to tell the tale. Kudos to my liver. I'll make a rock star of you yet.
My body hates me. I've been feeding myself steak for 2 days straight because we have scarcely anything else to eat. The left overs are ridiculous. Normally I stick to a strict diet of veggie pizza, sushi, veggie taco salad and apples. Anymore red meat and I'm likely to moo. Good god I hope my mom brings home some spinach pizza soon. I'd grocery shop myself but I havn't the funds. I only work these days to pay off cell phone bills and internet orders. I;ve gotten good at making the grunge look work. What people don't know is that the jeans with holes and old band t shirts are the staple because they have to be. You're all being fooled.

Speaking of work tomorrow, I teach cooking class and a mother is sitting in on my older class. This little boy keeps using words like gay and retard out of context and I can't have it anymore. For two weeks I've pulled him aside, expained why he's being disruptive, sat him out and even gone through the social consequences of using such words. Nothing works. Normally I'd lead a dramatic exploration of social issues where we put ourselves in the shoes of the oppressed but its an hour class and I havn't the time. It's what I'm trained to do. But damn it's harder than it looks. Just how do you begin to explain to a nine year old that gay is not a synonym for stupid? It's tough. It's a can of worms. I can't just say we don't say that BECAUSE. Ignorance reinforces ignorance. So next best thing, mom comes in and observes. I hate to scare someone into submission but I'm at a loss.

Random: Morissey is alive? And making music? Wtf. It sounds the same as it did in the eighties. Sad, sad, silver fox I love you. Which reminds me that my directing prof (who is a dashing Russian/British silver fox), gave the entire class As and left the country.... HA Take that university of Windsor. Thats what you get for not informing the poor old guy of his responsibilities as a prof. We didn't have a final paper and our final performance was a work in progress where we read from script. Mind you it was the only script we had alllll semester. "Sveetheart," he said, "Don't meeeess your target, you could act, you just need to find your inner vitch" I think he meant bitch. Oh Daniel, if you only knew... Farewell my friend.

Summer plans: 1. Find a house for next year. My house is too small for me. The guilt of coming and going and making a mess for everyone is ridiculous. I'd hate me too if I were them. 2. Go to Stratford. Maybe enlighten myself with a show but mostly drink beer and bask in a small underground alternative scene 3. Go to Toronto, maybe pride, wear something outrageous, feel at home, and stay. 4. Do something with potential artistic energy. Not sure what. I'd settle for selling jewllery on my lawn.

Dead theatre calls. So does my bed. What to do... I think you know.
Much love.