Oh...and when did the BLB's servers become so formal?
(e.g. "...and the [special] was quite to my liking," he said with hands clasped gently in that yin-yang shape.)

Psst, three times/three ways

Three things from Friday:

  1. A constant pit of smouldering nervousness in my heart. This will not be elaborated on in print. In the end, things were okay (yet sadly not okay.)
  2. Once the nervousness subsided, I felt that it was okay to proceed with my Friday plans. I went with A. to see Z. in “Psst,” a live rendition of JASON’s graphic novels at Franklin Art Works. It was, to quote my sister, “very original.” The mere idea of turning two-dimensional black and white art into three-dimensional performance art/movement is, in itself, an ingenious one. “Psst” made it work in a number of ways. In order to transport the audience to that shifting border between two dimensions and three, the work started with a single, masked character in front of three cloth-covered frames. As he began the development of his character, the cloth was being adorned (by invisible painters from behind) with black paint. This became the setting, and it created a silent dialogue between The Janitor’s actions and his resulting (or existing?) surroundings. They were frames on many levels. Another mind-bending moment occurred when two of the characters were in the park. The park was created with, again, the background of white, cloth-covered frames. (This time the painting had been done beforehand.) At the beginning of the scene, the frames were side-by-side; this construction convinced me, as an audience member, to believe that I was watching a two-dimensional world. And then the frames moved: they were separated and shifted to different parts of the stage, creating a depth that while logically expected was still powerful to watch. It was so powerful, that it might be more accurate to say that the audience experienced this dimension change rather than just watched it. Also noteworthy were the characters themselves. Their two dimensional quality (and thus, distance, in my opinion) was enhanced by their masks (large, papier-mâché, anthropomorphic faces). The audience was allowed no connection with the characters' eyes due to these masks. When The Janitor and The Secretary found themselves underground, they were met with maskless inhabitants of this new place. These maskless faces were so dramatically painted—and their facial expressions so grotesque—that the change in effect was almost too galvanic to bear quietly. “Psst” was transportive.
  3. And earlier, long lost (and twice) C. called. Yeah! I love when little reminders of the past bring such brightness to one’s day.


Yes, I'm wearing striped, multicolored knee-highs at work today.


At dance rehearsal last night, we had a really interesting conversation about relationships.

And then we pulled out the old chairs, the ones that have been painted black—and then taped together in their broken places—and then painted black again. We danced to John Lee Hooker.

Our choreographer wasn’t there—he had tech for his company shows—and I don’t know how this topic originally came up, but somehow there was a discussion of young girls and their boyfriends and their need for boyfriends and how to raise your children so they have their own sense of self worth.

At one point, E. told us about a conversation she had had with one of her students. She had said that “the guy you are going to marry isn’t just a guy that you find and make a decision about. He should be much more than that. He should be your best friend. Why else would you want to spend the rest of your life with him?”

It’s an obvious statement, yes, but it made me realize some things.

Site Meter