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My Invisible Summer:
Aug. 7th, 2006 12:15 pmI still can't believe it's over.
15 weeks of Collective Works.
15 weeks of the Invisible College.
15 weeks of heated meetings in smoke soaked bars, factory loft rooftops, spartan dance studios, cabbagetown cafes, front porches that resemble junkyard galleries, abandoned downtown office spaces, off hour nightclubs, after hour theaters, fenced in backyards and across the world wide web.
15 weeks of dog earred pages of Burroughs, Crowley, Bukowski, Regardie, Wilson, Weishaupt, Jim Jones and Baudelaire. 15 weeks of sex magick rituals, secret histories, apocalyptic visions, doomsday poetry, schizophrenic manifestos, Lovecraftian invocations, initiation ceremonies, absurd Zen-nigans, psychedelic physics, headlines from a parallel universe, suicide notes from God and love letters to the Goddess - all copied, pasted, emailed, downloaded, quoted, dissected with yellow highlighters and dolled up to go dancing across the ballroom of our proposals.
15 weeks of bad drama, directorial coup d'tats, passive aggresive politics, rehearsals on the verge of fistfights, sullen drunkeness, sexual tension, mood swing dancing and the virute of volume! 15 weeks of bitching, gossiping, arguing, bruised ego tripping, heart breaking, friendship testing, until we're finally cursing each others name under our breath or across the net, only to have it all end in hugging, laughing, dancing, sharing, helping, healing, listening and yes, finally, maybe ... learning to work together all over again.
15 weeks of rolling up the sleeves of my imagination and getting to work. 15 weeks of guiding, plotting, dialouging, editing, reediting, rehearsing, adapting, improvising, yelling, whispering, speaking, memorizing and even performing. 15 weeks of outlines that turn into lines that shift into scripts that play into the shows that never seem to rest but roll one into the other no end in sight.
15 weeks of facing my fears, swallowing my pride, living without love, and going against the very habits of my mind to take this one chance of being the man I always wanted to be: 15 weeks of finally being a writer!
Thanks from the heart to those of you who came out and supported us!
15 weeks of Collective Works.
15 weeks of the Invisible College.
15 weeks of heated meetings in smoke soaked bars, factory loft rooftops, spartan dance studios, cabbagetown cafes, front porches that resemble junkyard galleries, abandoned downtown office spaces, off hour nightclubs, after hour theaters, fenced in backyards and across the world wide web.
15 weeks of dog earred pages of Burroughs, Crowley, Bukowski, Regardie, Wilson, Weishaupt, Jim Jones and Baudelaire. 15 weeks of sex magick rituals, secret histories, apocalyptic visions, doomsday poetry, schizophrenic manifestos, Lovecraftian invocations, initiation ceremonies, absurd Zen-nigans, psychedelic physics, headlines from a parallel universe, suicide notes from God and love letters to the Goddess - all copied, pasted, emailed, downloaded, quoted, dissected with yellow highlighters and dolled up to go dancing across the ballroom of our proposals.
15 weeks of bad drama, directorial coup d'tats, passive aggresive politics, rehearsals on the verge of fistfights, sullen drunkeness, sexual tension, mood swing dancing and the virute of volume! 15 weeks of bitching, gossiping, arguing, bruised ego tripping, heart breaking, friendship testing, until we're finally cursing each others name under our breath or across the net, only to have it all end in hugging, laughing, dancing, sharing, helping, healing, listening and yes, finally, maybe ... learning to work together all over again.
15 weeks of rolling up the sleeves of my imagination and getting to work. 15 weeks of guiding, plotting, dialouging, editing, reediting, rehearsing, adapting, improvising, yelling, whispering, speaking, memorizing and even performing. 15 weeks of outlines that turn into lines that shift into scripts that play into the shows that never seem to rest but roll one into the other no end in sight.
15 weeks of facing my fears, swallowing my pride, living without love, and going against the very habits of my mind to take this one chance of being the man I always wanted to be: 15 weeks of finally being a writer!
Thanks from the heart to those of you who came out and supported us!