hubba hubba

Christmas time heartbreak. Holly and tears, garlands and euphemisms, mulled wine and pining sighs. Amidst all of our own stories, annual and perennial, we acquire the comfort and extra attention that a dramatic narrative brings.

The real tragedy is finding no one to tell our special stories too. What is a friend but an archivist? And so I build a real technological attachment with a blogging site. Remember, a technological attachment is a human attachment.

For me, I drive alone and find small joys in the plump brown birds that linger in a bush by the theatre back-door. My mother, had she been with me, could have told me what kind they were.

notes on my persephone preference

Tree Leaf Talk: A Heideggerian Anthropology

by James F. Weiner

p.xi

Holzwege:

a path cut in order to prevent the spread of fires

a path leading into the woods used mainly by woodcutters

colloquially-- to be on the wrong track, to be mistaken

"We seem to encounter another of Freud's primal words with antithetical meanings"

P.L. limits to knowledge...

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"The Renaissance Cyborg"

by Jonathan Sawday

"The modern human relationship with machines, from its emergence in the earlier part of the sixteenth century down to the present, has always been tinged with a measure of unease. 'They' have always been nearer kin to 'us' whan we have cared to admit; and in that lies thier fascinationtion, as well as their potential horror" p.191

identity threatened, no "essence" of human-ness

Buddhist philosophy

(1)no essences, (2) no "goal" for enlightenment (not promethius), no particular peices/human scale=illusion, "helpful fiction"

I can see how (1) and (2) are contrary to PL and western philosophy, what about (3)?

(2) for me, favors persephone model

Oh What Spring Time Days You Once Beheld

Last night, in an inverted snowy dream, the Minneapolis Metrodome heaved inwards into itself. The roof, under the weight, collapsed further still until outside met inside. It bent until it caved, it caved until it broke. Snow poured in and coated the astroturf. The citizens of Minneapolis must wake to visions of a lamentable and languid whale, which the ring of the stadium bravely guards.

And on the streets, people in cars tentatively pass: optimistic for new structures, reverential of the old, and still content with Christmas approaching.

Things I Want My Play to Include

loving friends

fake snow

secrets

a terrible rift

a cyborg

the jefferson memorial

facebook status/twitter-like interludes

doubts about everything (abortion, god, social activism, science, progress, love, reality, communication, gender, animal rights)

good jokes

a death

a chekhov character like masha

Do not talk to me when I cry every time I hear your voice. Wait, and talk to me when I will not cry because I will not hear your voice.

just a suggestion

Facebook, there needs to be an ability to like someone else's like. We can go back and forth forever, or for at least some number of years: liking a like, liking the like to a like, liking the like to a like to a like... until we need no words, only the performative word of Like. We will walk around in these caves made of our liking; the original object of liking is lost and suspected by many to have never existed in the first place. And that's ok because we are all very liking of each other.