Holier than Thou

Where temptations leak out ...

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Drama in Drama
As it is always bound.
The closer it all gets to the date of show ... everything cames squeezing in. The boss is suddenly overcome with taking in every little details and having it now, even when some parts are waiting for others outside our control.
But I'm grasping at fourth wall straws. Just do my job .... just do it, as the modern Nike would say. Damned her capitalists consumerist Greek deific heart.

Ill Recovery
I worked the weekend at the office. Don't think I did much but its something I suppose. Actually still feeling like I'm recovering from my fever last weekend. So slow, but it makes sense considering I never took a real rest.
... and NOW some office colleagues are commenting on how sickly I'm beginning to look, as I'm recovering - oh the irony.

Job Placement
Maybe I should take a really stable - scheduled - job. Albeit, really not creative job line. There's a call for a video archivists. Its really boring, you have to love cataloging and details, be a stickler for order and live 9 - 5 every day looking at numbers and generated stacks of thousands per day.
You think?

The Play
I realized I don't have the motivation to play my current character in the play. There's something missing. Something core and inherent that isn't coming through. I hate coming in so late into the piece and not having time to explore and being told "What you're doing is already good, keep it up but occasionally you can do a little of this and that..."
What is that?!?
There's something missing, can't you feel it?
Tension, need, want, supergoal, intention - its ... not really there. I don't know why my character is there. Blah.
Need time to work this out even though time is running out.
Wait - a lot of unspoken subtext is getting glanced over. And I believe a lot. There's more physical writ thats not been wrung out or explored. There is more than the written word - can't they see it! There more I dedicate myself to read and memorize it, the more I realize that there's so much we're not getting. Even superficially, we're not getting it. We've imposed out own simplicity on it. i know its not a heavy-handed play to begin with, but at its core it represents more than it shows.
Is it wrong to want the others to show it?

---
Prose

God's wits
were left behind.
At the world's end.
Then we will get
the funny.

White Whine, Red Rum

---

Ill Fated
I despise getting ill before the weekend begins.
It just seems that by the time Monday rolls around, and you've just begun recovering, its still not wroth the effort explaining to your employer's why you need the day off to recover. The only day on Sunday I truly get a rest after a 6 day work week, and I have a pulsating fever, accompanied by migraine attacks.

Work Ethic
And I feel I should return to work when I know there's something that they may need for the last minute. My personal take on this, if I can't even do a halfway decent job, I should at least try.
But who does this these days. I think few do and I certainly don't fault them.
VERY FEW companies offer such great incentive for long term employment anymore, well at least in the industries I'm involved in. Which isn't really saying much - coz there really shouldn't be that many reasons why the advertising / theatre / design industries CAN'T encourage long term employment and foster company loyalty and incentives.
Because turnover is so great. I find that hard to believe when my country claims to have so abundant overqualified graduates who have no jobs ...
We push ourselves to be economically aware and away from out third world status but out corporate - or everywhere in general, can't function on the basic changes required to cope with the changes of being 2nd or 1st world status. So we accumulate the problems of third'isms with the onset problems of moving into second world'isms.
not sure if I'm making sense here.

Independance
Maybe its the chinese in me ... which reminds me, I havent had much chinese in me lately.
I digress.
I want to own something of my own. Be my own boss of something,
I mentioned some time ago, trying to look into my own Tee-shirt design business. I've looked at some business models and start-ups - and without much backing or a wide safety net, it still requires me to dedicate full time for it. I can't afford that, at least not now.
This theatre show thing ... I don't know. Perhaps put on shows, but thats not really owning anything though it still does mean something. A lot.

---

Prose

Incidentally, the cat walked across the black path ahead of me.
Does it work that way?
Was it telling me to turn back? Or was the crossed-eyed superstitious signal of the universe, telling me it was ok? The black luck had fallen from the feline wrapping the future path.
I could be thinking too much.
I try not to, or I fear I'll turn back for fear, cowardice, shame or familiarity.
I'll ask too many questions I can't answer.
They'll understand, maybe they won't.
I need to do this.
I'm kind of pretty, I can get by. I do ... did ok in school.
I'll meet someone, its a big world and he's out there. I'll have to wait a bit but I know he's out there. He'll take care of me and my baby, and maybe if I don't have a job by then ... I might even go back and finish school.
I hope I'm going the right way.
Oh, maybe its him. In that car slowing down, offering me a ride. He has a nice smile.
Oh dear, the cat caught something in its teeth. A street rat of some sort.
I should get out of the cold anyways.
Its getting late and there's no time to live like now.

---

Punch Daddy June Bug

---

Stapled
Wonderful little mechanical steel bridges that bind my ideas immortalized in a chemical beauty of pulp white and black aqueous matter.
Simply wonderful, the simplicity.

Which is why I'm wondering if my posts titles and images have anything to do with my posts sometimes. A presentable semblance of meaning is all thats required and of that, I'm not sure either.

Weaning
Suffice to say, this will be a short post.

---
Prose

Indistinct smatter
Whats the matter
with me, should you
make the time I should
no.
Tell us of I
Definite will
and proclamation
deathbed made.
yes.
Celebrate the matter
with me, the will
Definite time
for proclamation
Should make.
Deathbed indistinct.
Celebrate.
---

Paprika on Ice

---

"who's prepared to pay the price, for a trip to paradise ... love for sale."
_Vivian Green, Love for Sale

Music
Been listening to random playlists on the weblink at work. All streaming so I couldnt even save them if I could. Not that I have anything to carry around to listen to them in the first place.
Stuff like Akos: Minden Most Kezdodik, Learna & Moor, and some remixes by ... goodness, I dont even know the language much less whether its from Europe or South America.
Of course a good mix of Broadway like Spring Awakening and Wicked, and old school Ella and the good stuff.

Intoxicated
First time at the Zouk collection of clubs last night. Happy B'day and going to be an SIA Flight Attendant, Kristin!
Looks like the motif for the entire building was a giant took, or many or a marshmellow collection. All the same, it looked like walking into a long mouth into a amusement park. It even had ticket buying booths the same way.
All in all, for ladies night - it was really a night of men. men of all types, sorts, races, mixed, body types, preferences, looks, styles ...
Holy Crap!
I would so abuse my "Turn them Gay and attracted to Me" power if I had it. Meat-fest. It I didn't know it was a straight club (I think?), it would have been paradiso for washing eyes. True, that you trade in the general 'gay superficial critical eye' for the 'straight machismo jerk facade", but face it - I was there for a friend and it was all nice side dishes. Fun but I couldn't care more.
Apparently there was this really "hiao" girl who kept trying to sell me her vodka shots (yea, right). She couldn't even make a dent in my attention span even if she spilled wet vodka over her white, and very tacky top.
Oer, I wonder if the blonde streaks in my hair glowed from the darn black lights here and there.

But my point here is, I was slightly intoxicated and went to see a guy. Yes, so much for taking it slow. Crap.
Now I know why drunkards should never have their cellphones with them.
But I (hope) apologized and tried to explain that I'm normally not this ... aggressive and I'd like to take things slowly as as they are. Nothing serious. I don't want him getting an inaccurate picture of my intentions.

Charity
I did my little bit after a mad rush to reach the Seksan house, to help out Pat & Priya. Cloudbreak's Fallen Leaves turned out pretty well even with my little sub-acting. He he. I enjoyed playing my little part in it. One day, I've got to actually get a gay role.
Its perplexing, that I see many gay roles going to straight actors.
Sigh.

Work
... is work. You try to dodge bullets when you can, and grit your teeth and care it when you extract the ones that got you.

& Play
... if I have it too early, my producer will not be having to (uh) produce it.
The middle of the year is good for her and a group of people that could help me. Its a good time for people to come watch, because not too many things happen at the middle of the year. Except my workload.
... end of the year seems tough, because too many things are happening for everyone and sponsors aren't likely to say they sponsor something for the end of the year one year away from now. Or rather likely to back out just as quickly. But its less of a rush.
I just want a small play.
But its shaping out to sound a whole lot bigger.
... if I stay to June, and I work around it - I know I'll need someone I trust and with the same ideas I have about the project to take over when I cannot. Most things point to June being a good time except for my work. This requires .... more thinking.
December is out.
I don't see how I can put up something to new, so quickly.

---
Prose

Let them see me pretend.
Through glass stained corneas.
Pretend to be real in mockery
Of puppetry lives,
reflected in glass sheltered domes.

Embrace the living spirit
Superficial, superfluous spirit in you.
Know the true self built of glass
Wobbling in winds,
of change the words the public say.

No true depth ca counter
the seeping shallow skin.
But admit the signs that hang
bristling and prickly
And leave the world, a happy man.
---

Wrathful Sky, Memory Erth

---

Company and Misery
Where does the day take us to now?
As far as I'm concerned, with the heaps and heaps of work and the sympathetic workload and stress everyone seems to be gladly disseminating at the office ... my old barely-strung together headphones from home is strengthening my grasp on reality.
That and online radio.
Random strings of music lists.
Straight into my head through the ear canals.
Boom Shakalaka Shing!

Enamour
To the lyrics and music of "Wicked".
Never seen it and I doubt it'll ever get in this country, but ... its hi time for me to buy Music CD's again. I certainly hope my car can play CD's one day. I love my morning radio - but ... it tests my patience sometimes.

A guy
Double jointed, double entendre's were served with much earnest in the last few days.
But I have to be honest to him. I may have been forward in my approach but like previous experience has shown, I need to clarify where I stand before assumptions begin to take hold. I can't afford it, I would like to work with him professionally one day and clarity needs to be presented now rather than later.
And I will stick to my promise to myself, the few I intend to see all the way through. I can't bear any serious personal relationships right now. I have other things to tend to. Being a better person. Seeing my plans through. Priorities - I remember you well.
I need to be better to myself, even with my own promises.
So to guy, I certainly hope I can eloquate myself clearly enough to make you understand.

---
Prose

Colours that burn

... from the wheels that turn.
Cloudy wheels with spindles so sharp they pierce the sky and stars fall through.

... from the annals of the grave.
Stillborn souls mustering a seance to the living.

... from the eye in the great sky.
Delivering a sermon to the forest weeds who feed on the echoes of the lost.

Stanza to stanza, breach wall skin-paper tight.
I fight.
The bloody screen that bleaches the steam of the dusk.
I must.
Torpedo crooning love lullabies to cities before birth.
I sight.

The colours that burn fast, are the ones that stay forever.

---

ps: Crap, I wrote that in under a minute, forcing the words to spill out.
well, i went back to spell check it too, but the time there don't count.

Giants in the Sky

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Overtime
The time for feeling overwhelmed by an industry I am unfamiliar with, should be over. I can do something. Something even halfway decent.
If its one thing I give this 'vision' thing, then its the fact that it allows me to approach giants. The giants of the industry, who at eye level - aren't quite so intimidating and absolutely less foreboding than imagined before.
I can do this, with the help of sincere friends and professionals.

Intention
Who knew all my trivial knowledge could come in useful one day?
I just need to find the perseverance to keep this up. Writers, artists, actors, students, publishers, producers, directors, sponsors, workshops, spaces ... just everything else I need to know more and more about to set about my plans.

Divination
I don't know how it'll turn out.
I feel like a million pins of light are striking at me and peeling away every cell. Its a feeling thats mutual with a lot of guys around me I suppose. And some of them are ever attractive because of that.
But it'll be casual for now, until the stars align themselves for once, just for me. I'll even go along with a close approximate. We never know, it could be right now, its just that light doesn't seem to travel fast enough and what we see in our night sky constellations is anywhere as old as 60 years late to centuries old.

Trust
... and I'm learning how to trust more. Surprising. The more I intend to take control of something in my life, I seem to be forcing myself to realize that I need to trust more instead. In others, in events that surround me, in the muses, in fate, in opportunity, in conviction and in friends.
I hope its lasts, because it feels very worth it.

Growing up
Perhaps if I wait long enough, want long enough, work long enough - I 'll be a giant. A small one, but a giant nonetheless. Then I can take off these painful working shoes and step afresh in the fresh green pinetree grass and bubbling azure blue waters of the Pacific. And I can lean my back against the sturdy Andes and watch the stars, watching the giants of the Universe at play ... waiting to join them.

---
Prose

Her father bade me well.
I called him 'Uncle' as if I was familiar with him.
I'd like to. My secret wish, my shadowed desire. I'd like to know him as no relative should. I don't think the laws of the world can bind this passion of mine. The fantasy of which I am his to do with. I want to be held, chided and handled by this person.
I am her best friend for the reasons I hide well enough away. I drew to her like a crab stepping sideways to their goal. I would sit after school, during the carpool looking at the back of his head as she rambled on about the meddlesome boy in her class today. I knew no boy would live up the the standards I held for this man. Her father.
I'd imagine my out of the gates of the school canteen, my uniform falling away as I approached him. These thoughts keep me distracted throughout the day waiting for the time to go home.
I should say something but I don't know if I want the fantasy to end. Maybe he'll hate me, maybe he'll want me. I won't take the risk.
So I am her friend.
Until I'm old enough, old enough in the words of the law, out of the yoke of a teenaged label, I will go to him. Then maybe my strength will make me desirable to him. His strength drawn to me.
Just five more years.

Pieces of Frail

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Dancing on the shores of plenty
I would like to go to the club again. Lose myself in good trance stylized music, and in the motions of the hypnotic melody.
It helps induce this state of cool self-hypnosis. Like looking through a hollow bright green cucumber.

Touche
I would like to get another massage sometime soon, and preferably with more massage technique and less personal caressing. Not that I mind, you know; but I don't want the actual massage to be skimped on either. To elaborate more, would be writing gay erotica, so I'll leave it at that.

Sating Sattie
I'm feeling languid this Saturday.
Just absolutely languid.
There's work to be done, but its taking a swim in the molasses.

Reconnect
I'll spend some time with a friend. I think he's having a tough time now and he's taking it in his stride but he could always use more visible support. Real support, not lip-service or culture-induced words of sympathy.

ps: This is my 69th post - tee hee

---
Prose

Have you ever followed the shape of an "L"?
You have, you know.
We all have. We see some sort of journey ahead all the time, some as far as grand-children, others as far as the mall down the street only. But there's that bend which we cannot see past. We cannot strafe the edge because we fall down the path too fast to prepare to turn on the the flat plane of the "L".
So we begin to blame the other letters. We find fault with the 'vowels' and say the other 'consonant's don't care or understand. Punctuations limit us and proper grammar is proper propaganda.
Words are propaganda, for our side. They can be filtered, lies or gut-wrenchingly true. You decide, what words to speak, even Freudian words.
And it all falls back to "L".
So I dismiss thee, by professing an entire sentence absent of your presence, this one, this parting sentence. For now, in this instant - you do not exist.

Fridge to notes by way of magnets

---

Reminder
There's moss beneath all out idle thoughts. We draw too much comfort from it sometimes. Even when we're spontaneous, there's a personal comfort there.
I'm going to help a good friend celebrate being let go of his job. And in turn, resolve to just ... stick by mine until they find the balls to fire me. Or I find myself getting comfortable there.
Whoever blows up first.

Ylang Ylang
I like that word for some reason. The smell, ... not so great.
The subject name is greater than the object function.

Writing
There's a play, a story maybe. Its in my head somewhere, so I'm trying to find out how long it'll take for it to reach my eyes, ears, mouth and my fingers. I'm waiting for its voice to be heard, whether be it soft or loud. I certainly can't rush it, but I can goad it into existence.
Time is of the essence here.

Showtime
Its interesting. I may have already sought a line-up for a producer, publicist, stage manager that I may want and outline plan/proposal for my play next year. Its set for June, but it may be cutting close to other events - especially work. So I'll be flexible - Late April showers to June Bloom.

But there still questions. Can I afford to make it a annual thing? Or is it a one-shot? Is it too static for its future? Should it be a collection of many short shorts or a simple 2 - 3 piece play piece, that aptly gives the playwright stories to unfold?

20.7.2007
Oh yes - it is.
A strange numerical coincidence on the Junos Calender.

---
Prose


He measured it six more times to make it right. It had to be perfect. It must be precise, or it would reflect badly on him, on his work. On the guys at work. There was so much pressure to perform the correct technique, find the right approach and place just the right amount of attention to it.
He realized he held his breath in and steadied a slow breath out. "Need only 2 more like this", he thought to himself. The shine of a well worked blade touched the unbroken cheek softly.
Gently, he whispered to himself.
now the guys at work will have something to mull over. They'll marvel over the work and think, how great the puzzle will be when it is finally revealed. How pleased they would be to know they were following so well, and how well he taught them.
He pushed, and she bled.

Oh what death you lie and die

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Survival

The horrors of getting to work in a new environment - even if you're still doing the same job.
Gettting used to the 'system' or the way it works.
Sigh.
Every place has their own way of working. Its this horrifying placement of seeing if you can bring anything new and useful to the table or adapting what you need to the way they've always worked things.

Shit.

Very very hard.
While I can maintain a stance as to how and why they need to operate the way they do, with less than necessary staff, multiple job tasks and cutting corners and costs (like proof-readers+sample sheet from printers), it majorly sucks to only slowly understand the nuances of how they work AFTER a costly blunder is made. And when it rains ... it pours.
What I hate is being ...
what is that word - told things that begin with "... in my x numbers of years of experience, it hasn't been done and a lot of companies these days don't even do them". Well then, its OBVIOUS I've had different experiences then ISN"T IT!
And my experiences should count for something, even if I've ONLY done this for 5 years.

Double dung.

Its so easy to just go Fuck it all! You haven't even given me my damned confirmation letter and I'll be damned if you think you can hang it over my head!
But I've to give the benefit of the doubt.
And I've got to try and stretch this out as long as I can.
There are benefits here otherwise and it would do me well to reap them regardless of conflicts in ethics, style and structure.

Triple Feces.

Though I do somewhat understand that the previous designer left for the reason there' was too much pressure, I also think he had NO IDEA things can also get this bad.


Crap.


Perseverence
Its testing - and never easy. Gotta stick it through, if i can maintain this pay for a whole year, I'll be a happy camper and I'll have a better asking price when I move to my next job. Yes, ... oh yes. I believe I've mentioned things before. This isn't the career track for me.
Its good opportunity to build up a decent base pay to work from for my next job and for some glory name-mongering. Working for a non-proft as well as a Dato'.
That should buy me some nice shiny credits.
I just got to stick it out now ...

I need to find a vice and FAST!
Smoke, drink, drugs .... something!!!

Forgive the dark dark dark dark poetry.

---
Prose

Poising little angry snake
In the grass of golden hair.
Sneaky fangs of spite and malice
Watching prey, so unaware.

Coiling liquid sneaky snake
Flaring tongue and lips.
Snare my soul and stop my heart
Bury where my body sleeps.

Slipping scales of coloured lies
So quiet as a whisper.
Unseen bile, deceiving smile
No conscience breeds, unfetter.

Gaping maw, two inches wide
To swallow whole, the child.
Stinking phrase of sinking praise
Holding court before the trial.

Venomous string of honeyed words
Luxuriant song of comfort.
Lulled into the waiting trap
Dirge of death in concert.

Unblinking amber eyes so still
Mesmerized beyond the ages.
Caught up in the sins of time
No difference the visages.

Speck of drought in rainy fields
Snatched the youth of innocence.
Cradled by the weeping willows
Dust and shine till brilliance.

Mother fed the eating mouth
Father took its hand.
Led to stray descending south
Messages of hope, a sham.

The child in darkness sitting cold
In the hollow of the throat.
Awaiting sentence, judge and jury
Breathless save the weeping note.

Seductive scales of glittered lies
So smooth the skin of choice.
No clarion call, announce at all
The deed, dark, red and moist.

Sleeping swarthy sated snake
Hoarding every truth.
Rest upon my sullen tomb
On the bed of wrinkled youth.

Sleeping fat bemusing snake
In the depth of graves.
Remind the child beneath you
The horror that you gave.

---

Noblisse Assassin

---

Because terror has no true name
Ok, so I had my first rehearsal yesterday.
After a long day at work which lasted up to 7.45 pm to which I rushed to 8 pm rehearsals. Which ended early because I didn’t think going to outside grounds to do an exercise/game was going to help me accomplish anything for the play. I returned to work instead and finished up stuff up to about 11 pm.

I’m graciously tired today, but I’m feeling halfway decent even though rehearsal was weird when I didn’t get any direction, much less commentary, or … could be my imagination but hardly a glance. Even if I did ok, or there wasn't much to work with, still ... it would be better to say something about it than allow presumptions and assume it was ok, when it helps to be informed instead that it was ok.
But no matter, I’ll just do what I can regardless of what happens in rehearsals, which in itself could be a bad thing, but we do what we can, right?

Movement is life
Monday night was … amazing.
I rushed over to The Central Market Annexe performance space and gallery to attend a 2 and a half hour introduction to BioMechanics by Chris Jacobs. It was nothing short of startlingly eye-opening and I very much agreed in line with the basis of the entire technique, approach and practice to biomechanics. I had naturally inclined to its premises when I started off last year in “The Shape of Things”. .wow … who knew!

Its definitely something to watch out for and learn more about. A pity, coz I thought some people should have attended this course as well to expand their repertoire in training and directing others. The more forearmed you are with knowledge, the better you are at pursuing your passion with fervor and rigour. I need to share this with the rest of the cast.
It was tiring, testing, and all around difficult but worth every cent I spend on the workshop. Of course, now I have to custom make some of the 'scales' for the body because I'm bow-legged. I actually heard the words "oh ... thats a first ...", when I showed them I was bow-legged.
*hehe*

And … Derek was kinda hot. Pang was cute too … wonder where Pang's hot little ex-flatmate does ... (sigh) – I’m already starting to break my tenet for the rest of the year …
(shrugs)

Liquidity
So much work …. So little time to memorise my lines for the lead … I’m gonna kill myself I know it. And I just Started Back my RPG long-term campaign.
Yes, I’m gonna die by my own hand.
And also yes, I'm pretty sure much of what I write here can condemn me ... them's the breaks then.

---
Prose

Oft I tell myself,
There are mistakes to forgive. Sleeping on the beds I made for others.

For a second time in a long breath of life,
hidden behind a cloudy mirrored screen – I murmur to the whispers.

The flies buzz a lazy litany around the tired halting bars.
Save sunlight and air, they duty well enough.

My blood is the flavour of the month
Leaking faucet lips of scarlet.

Oft I tell myself,
There are some mistakes which break you.
And others, to forgive.

Scourge of the boys of Thin-o-pia

----

Ill-wishing
I guess I've thought of it but it never really sank in until multiple sources (unsolicited) have mentioned it.
My Aunt (any family member, really) - hasn't seen me for a few months now, and commented on how slim / thin I've gotten. Now this is truly usual for the Chinese chit chat where children are often too thin for their own good.
Its just not prosperous.
But this coincides with other commentary from several people, friends actually. I'm losing too much weight. And here I go thinking that I've goten slightly more weight or at least my metabolism has slowed down and gained weight. - well, oops.
Something probably in here that begins with 'Unheal' - and ends with 'Thy'.
Is there something I'm overdoing at work?
Is work ethic killing more than my soul?

The Touch
Its my perception but not too far from the truth, that I've been treated like some sort of twinky asian boy porn actor recently. Crap.
I'm starting to look like those twinky slim thin boys on the tops of those Japanese young men. This is NOT what I intend to ever look like or be treated like. At least never thought of it that way, and so NOT the liking it at all. Skin and bones, I say
Well, throw in the sleepless, overworked, black-eyed induced look and there you have it.
This sucks.
Trying those workout-with-whatever-you-have-at-home on a limited time, which is pretty much between getting home really late and slamming into my bed, only seems to have slimmed me down more. Trimmer, slimmer, and maybe lean. Yea, thats not helping.
I'm not ripped by any means, I'll be the first one to tell you, but if I were - I think I'd be MORE put off by myself.
... but ranting long enough about this also makes me reconsider.

Turnabout is fairplay
Maybe I should just milk this.Well figuratively for now.
Just embrace that fact, that this is one aspect of male beauty and move on. That I may be suffering from self-inflicted or delusional body myopia which inflicts most men (particularly in western cultures) - where big and muscular is never enough until you're bigger and more muscular. Size .... definition ... gym rat .... gym bunny ...
And I've read about this, I've done my research, am I being an informed idiot about this by rationalizing like an ignorant intellectual?
Do I care?

Play & Tell
Time constraints, actualy physical effort and juggling too many things at once.
Not only is it my busy period for my day job here - I've been roped in (let's just say with a strong WINK, suggested into by my boss) to help in the Director-in-TRAINing's play.
The one we've settled into a working relationship because there's too many things about her personally right now, that I don't and can't give a fuck about before losing all respect for her, as a friend and professional. I'd like there to not be a this unspoken conflict though I may have spoken more about it than necessary.
Whatever the case, with her current behaviour and working routine, its a source of frustration for me which i've learn to LET GO!
... until now. I'm reeled back in. Friendly boss and all that. Reitirate.
Friendly boss who thinks the direcotr-in-training is doing a pretty decent halfway job so far. Reality: the people she's working with ARE doing the decent job, she's doing the pretty and halfway there part.

Reeled in
I digress. Work + Play : Overstressed.
its even the lead role ... bah - for something a role I probably wouldn't have auditioned for , tho I like the play, enough to want to direct it myself.
Which BOILS down to the fact.
I've having trouble finding a producer.
So I have to tell myself, if I can't find one by the end of September: my WORLD AIDS DAY CHARITY 2007 might have to go bust.
Fortunately, its enough time to actually being to find people to help my out in my June project next year for GAY PRIDE MONTH short short plays Visitation 2008.
It actually hurts, chest palpations and all, to say that.
but its true - if I can't find one, December is ... well, we'll see.

Strange but true
In the midst of all the new plays in a few weeks and working piling up. I've yet to receive my confirmation letter.

---
Prose

Jigsaw

It wasn't irrational to believe that it bore more than its weight in the crisp brown envelope that the postman dropped today. I can even believe the red and black striped marks zigzagging the postage and address all over the paper form, that was telling me something.
Someone's heart was in there.
Mine.
From someone who posted it to me, where I lost it almost a decade ago.
Its been returned to me, piece at a time and although I know somewhere in my mind what I won't say because it might be true, it will never be fully returned. Never to be a whole heart. But I wouldn't want it that way.
I want a piece of it to be left behind there. That will make him continue sending the pieces back. That is what he'll remember.

Its a techno-trance-pop CD this time.
Because he liked the music, because he loved the band, I feel surrogate and full. In my hands are the words he will never say. Between every line, is the head-shaking beat thump of his head in the earphones that he wants to share with me. Each pitch is the raising of his hand as he waves hi to me in the crowded club many years ago. Flashing blue and purple and red and yellow and pink.
Its seems to be fate that the CD was named 'Blue', the colours of the back of the CD was a myriad of gloss-refractive rainbow hues on a silver plate.
I can imagine him browsing the store to get me an exact copy. His enthusiasm as he found it, his thrill at knowing I will get it in four to six weeks.

I cried when I listened to it. It lies tucked neatly with the others gifts he's shared with me in the later years using the secret cupid postman. Lying beside the pieces of my heart are the aged and lightening envelopes they arrived in, folded and placed orderly. In the mess of my room, my desk and my mind, this is always be clear. A speck of order in my living chaos.
Secret laughter stirs in those pieces. Bells I can only hear and feel conflicted when I want to share them with others. Music that should be mine only.

Maybe he'll hear my silent words everytime I'm feeling downand outdated. Maybe the secret cupid postman will bear them on his wings of addresses and postmarked dated stamps. Maybe I'll hear the words in his voice one peculiarly fine day.
As the rest of my life passes away into obscurity and drudgery, I will wait for these envelopes. In the mean time, I look softly at the shadowed cases, wrappers, CD's, all neatly tucked in my hollowed heart shaped chest and wait for the pieces to lay in - to be whole and so very far apart again.

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ps: I'll be posting just the prose and poetry at GreaterDispel.Blogspot.Com Its just really gonna function as a archive for my written creative work. Since my good friend likes reading it at the end of each of my posts.
pps: still in discussion whether I still owe them for the misprint :(

Words over words.

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Into the air
I need to breathe.
Morning sinus's don't help, really.
I need the space - to open up the screaming heightening, frightening voices.

I will rant now - believe you me. Its not my whole state of mind, just a part reallt - but the drowning part.

Spun around
I've spoken my piece to my friend and director in training at work. In regards to a few issues and things, and mostly, just personal forays into the professional which I will try from now on to be more separate about them.
... of the bad:
I will wait for her to speak to me, to apologize with some remorse, regret or understanding. I've said my piece. Its just bad that her first open conflict at her first job is with her friend, but isn't that always the case.
... of the good:
I realize how much of a tyrant I'm NOT when I direct. Surprising, no? I took over one of her rehearsals as a favor (and the cause of some dissent between us), and found out how much I'm enjoying it. I love watching them explore and come to be. I love watching them bring words to life. And I think they just might do it for many others. I believe in them.
And I heard two nicest things out of it - from the productions gasping commentary "Is there anything you don't do?" and "You've got the flair for direction?". I thank you for those words. It means the world to me and as much as I'd like to say I had some part, I really think that it really is more than just my part. Its everybody involved - and I guess thats the allure too. To be of something bigger than who I am, even in the smallest plays. With everyone else.

Debt
In the midst of this drama.
Due to time constraints, rushing deadlines and all that for the largest production here this year, Tunku.
There was an error in printing ... twice.
And I was sent a private reprimanding email and a continuance of discussion in resolving the incursion of a debt through the error of RM 3,200.
Yea ... it sucks when my livelihood comes from my paycheck unlike some amatuers in the theatre industry.
Shit.
This under-manned non profit theatre house - and I pay for this.
I stare at 8 hours at the screen everyday taking care of everything, and I pay for typo's in the text. We have no copywriter to make sure its ok, we have no other designer on production to run through things. Although, I fully accept responsibility on my part, my end and my participation, I do so because there is no other. No other ...
And its irony ... the mispell was "Charity".
I left a "t" out.

Undermanned, - and personally I think they over ordered. Their big musical production last year has hordes in the hundreds (thousands?) of CD's, programme books, postcards, etc ... sigh. Oversight, anyone?

Distraction and Refocus
The day ended well yesterday.
I met my friends Vince and he's a good friend I'm working with to make this World AIDS day charity event.
It was good to work on his short short musical play piece.
Good, I tell ya.
Did I forget to mention he's an Author now :D His firsts published work - a series of horror short stories compiled into a collection of teen horror "The Uninvited" YEA!

By the way: I'll be separating my creative prose work, art?, poetry in another blogspace.
Its easier I figure than cluttering this up.

Greater Dispel

I'll link it up on the side.
Even at the end of the post if I added one more after blogging up.

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postscript: I really want to say how much I loved watching the cast of "System of Professor Tuko" at my one stint at rehearsals. And the Stage manager was awfully helpful too :D (( hugs ))