drama calls again.
walls and fences.

we've all got the   shakes.

1. Waking up to tremors.

2. The sun set. I had grown eyeweary at my monitor and wandered out of the apartment to stretch and see. I discovered that the middle school across the street was celebrating spring with an evening Open House for parents and students. Classroom exploration, outdoor locker examination, carnival kiosks, hot dogs, juice, and me standing 1-4 feet above the muti-cultured rest. On a stage, talented 7th grade drama students enacted classic lovers' scenes from As You Like It and Romeo and Juliet and Midsummer Night's Dream through a shoddy AV room sound system (so many sporadic crackling arts and thines, wouldsts and prithees) to a distracted and mostly unappreciative crowd. The young teens perfomed quite well, but with a wonderful gimmick: after each couple delivered lines faithful to the text, they re-performed the same scene, expertly translated (by some hidden enthusiastic drama teacher) into the language, cadence and customs of 20th century decades. Thus does Romeo woo Juliet with a burger by the jukebox; thus must Orlando impress valley-girl Rosalind with references to new wave records; and thus can Petrucio inform Katharina that she "must be trippin'."

3. I'm going to find a nice girl and pick her up and drive her around town in the sun until we arrive at Mel's Diner on Ventura, where I will buy her a chocolate milk shake or a vanilla coke.

4. Andrew's play opened last night in a small Hollywood theater, and between the stage performance and the after-party performance of drinking with friends old and new, I realized how much I miss acting before an audience. The shaking belly beforewards and the vibrating head after.

5. Nobody ever paid much attention to Horatio. It occurs to me that stability is often boring.

6. The resonances of a metal coil, springing forward. Thanks for your time. Bounce bounce.