Edison's Wisdom

The floor sits empty by 5 am. Well, almost empty. Here and there a solitary figure slumps over a desk. Some are typing, one or two are packing up, but the vast majority of them have fallen asleep. As the sun starts to filter through the south wall, these last stragglers rise and shuffle out to class. Or to a resting place a bit more comfortable than their wooden cubicle.

Around 7 or 8 the flow reverses and those who had passed a night in bed take up their posts. Coffee and muffins mingle with readings and problem sets as the carts begin to roll. Slowly a days worth of words finds its way back to the shelves. By noon both the shelves and the tables stand full. And equilibrium sets in.

Those who stumbled out early this morning return after dinner, groggy and clutching their fourth espresso of the day. They search for their usual haunts and fall into now-familiar chairs. The floor begins to buzz. The sound leaks out gradually. It first reaches the rows of wooden cells in each corner, then crawls into the stairwell. By 10 pm the whole building is filled with an inescapable hum. People battle for seats and tables and even spots on the carpet, as long as they're near an outlet. The printers spit out page after page without ceasing.


By midnight the last of the night's visitors trickle in. They search in vain for an empty place before descending to the bowels of the building. A lucky one grabs the last desk, hidden in the far corner under the flickering light no one had bothered to fix yet. As she put down her bag and began unpacking the evening, now morning's work, she noticed speck of neon green just out of view. She looked up. And she alone smiled.

So...Lazy

A number takes the place of a moment

All that is left is to acknowledge

Only objects that stand alone

Powerless, you are carried onward by the current

Grief and sorrow mingle indiscriminately

Anguish

Heavy, weighed down by memories,

She lies, curled up with her blanket and book

A solitary figure

A man steps forward,

Knee deep in forgiveness,

And out into the sun 

Sometimes, when I want to write something but am far too lazy, I collect some lines from old pieces and stitch them together. 

Weekend Plans

Never wear heels. Ever. Whoever thought brick was a good idea, historic she'd heard it called, needed a good smack. The thousands of cracks sat like baited traps, waiting for anyone foolish enough to try stilettos instead of flats. She cursed the man, it had to have been a man, who made that amazingly stupid decision so many years ago. Carefully picking her way through the minefield she at last came to the house. She didn't have the address, but the flashes in the window and the music leaking onto the street were clearer than any sign. The steps were cement, thank God, and about as even as anything on this aging street. The door swung open and she leaned into the doorway, bathed in light and sound.

Without having to ask, he knew what the answer would be. He stood there, frozen, before her door, wanting to knock. His hand hung motionless in mid-air as if held by some force-field. Then he realized how ridiculous he looked and he stepped back, letting his hand fall limp by his side. She'd never say yes anyway, yeah, it's not worth asking. Having convinced himself of this, he returned to his room. Despondent, and looking forward to another weekend doomed to Stargate Atlantis, he gathered his laundry that lay strewn about the floor. He grabbed the hamper and headed to the elevator. Might as well do something productive. When the doors swung open he stepped in. The doors closed. And then opened again. She hopped in, breathless, and looked at him. She dress, her hair, her heels all said she was going out. They exchanged weak smiles and stared at the doors.

She sat behind the counter, watching the clock hands slowly march towards midnight. She hated the graveyard shift, especially tonight. Earlier she had watched waves of faces with plastic cups and fruit juice file by. She knew they'd be back tomorrow for Advil and water. But for the moment she envied them. As the little hand crossed ten her phone lit up. And now the texts begin. Where are you? Wanna go out? I know this great party tonight. Can I borrow that one black dress? This was the worst part. Every week she let them know she couldn't go out tonight, that they should have fun, but please don't text her. And every week, after drink three or four most of them forgot.

Wanderland

There are moments when everything you put on paper grates your soul. And you know it’s absolute crap. Something inside you impels you to string letters and thoughts together and then that same thing graciously informs you that you can’t keep any of it. And you go back and forth and crumple used-up pages, tossing them on the floor. Except you’re writing on a computer now so you don’t even get the satisfaction of doing that. You hit delete and stare again at that mocking blankness.

You try again, hiding this time behind the safe, anonymous pronouns. No identity. No latent associations. Just him and her. It, them, us, we, they. You wish you could be brave and put your story down. Shout from atop a stage that this is me. But you can’t, won’t. You are buried deep within the verse. You build up walls around yourself. They shatter and fall, but the rubble burying you serves just as well. No light gets in and you remain.

Writing is hard work. Life is harder. Don’t worry. The punch still tastes just as good.

Maybe I Should Try Coffee...?

A million people stare at you
As you stand naked, bathed in light, surrounded by darkness
Move, they shout, dance, sing, laugh, cry
Live

Well not actually a million...
More like twenty
And you're not actually naked
Although the boxers are feeling awfully small just now
And they aren't shouting. Or even talking.
The silence seems somehow worse though.

They want you to create mist
Not with a fog machine or even a paintbrush
But with yourself.
How do you do that?! What does that mean?
But you try anyway.

Your world narrows to the three walls,
Stained with the writing of years past
They bear messages barely worth reading
The view is stunning: whitewashed wall
And aged carpet, never cleaned.
You ask why you're sitting here, now?
No answer appears.

Germany in 30 Seconds

Leader: Kaiser William II

Politics: Germany only became a country in 1871, when the German Empire was proclaimed. Previous to unification it was a collection of small principalities and cities, dominated by the Kingdom of Prussia and the Austrian Empire, lead by the Hapsburg family. Prussia, under Otto von Bismark fought a series wars between 1864 and 1871 to unify Germany under Prussian control. From 1871 until the establishment of the Wiemar Republic at the end of WWI Germany will be dominated by military powers and the aristocratic landowners.

A new sense of German nationalism is also growing during this time. It is grounded in several ideas. The first is that this German Empire is the continuation of the Holy Roman Empire, a loose federation of central European states during the Middle Ages. Thus it is the Second Reich (Empire). German nationalism is also strongly anti-Semitic. It is also rooted in a long-standing distaste for the French.

Religion: Northern Germany is dominated by Lutherans, while the south is predominantly Catholic. There is small Jewish population concentrated in the major cities. This is the period of “Victorian Christianity” with a focus on proper appearance and etiquette, but lacking the deep religious convictions of earlier times. All kinds of sexuality, but especially homosexuality, are often violently repressed.  It is at this time that the philosopher Frederich Nietzsche declares, “God is dead.” If you can think of the worst time to be a teenager exploring their sexuality, it’s this period.

* An exercise in dramaturgy: the art of cramming an entire unit of AP Euro knowledge into a one-page summary so actors can better understand the context of the show without having to do hours of research on their own. Bonus points if you can figure out what musical this selection is for.

It's Show Time

There is something wonderful about seeing information from your classes come into play in your life. The fact that school is applicable to life still blows my mind a lot of the time. I am currently enrolled in a Stage Management class and part of today's discussion revolved around how to run auditions. Which is a bit uncanny, considering that there are three shows currently holding auditions on campus. Coincidence? Who knows. One of the most important things we discussed was that auditions should run smoothly. Actually everything should run smoothly, but auditions are particularly important because they are the moment you introduce your show to the world and can set the tone for the entire process. As I sit here, in the basement, waiting with actors to be called, I am enjoying watching smoothness in action. The stage manager for this show has an impeccably well-designed system that just flows effortlessly. (Well, not effortlessly, but it's well-oiled as anything.) It's definitely a plus for education.

And of course, a theater joke for a theater post:

When there is a really sneaky set or costume change, the audience is like:

Transitions

Lines that divide also combine
Step between imposing iron pillars; escape
From a world apart to a
Tribe of sky and steel
A world surrounded by walls
We walk between both, unthinking