May 17, 2013

Reading last night here of my play: Jake, Jeff, Jack, Trinity, Derek, MM and me. Tiny Sean was here for a time.  When was the last time there was a baby in this house?  It was a sensational social event, though artistically I’m stymied. The play is long and wrong and I don’t know exactly what to do about it. I think I wrote it to prove a point, and that’s never a bountiful idea. I think I wrote it because someone wrote something on the same theme and I wanted to prove I could do it better, which I did, but not better enough. Await the Muse.

Dream before waking: I was at an academic conference, where we sat around a huge table and discussed the esoteric readings which had been selected for us. Roland Barthes was our sacred cow moderator, though I don’t know if the dream figure resembled Barthes in any way. I hadn’t done the readings, so was spending my energy thinking of ways to bullshit if I were called on.