Exercise:20 situps, 20 pushups, 100 relevees
Voice:Singin' ma fugue
Reading:Please read post.
Participation:n/a
Explanation(if above 89):'Twas a snow day.
Okay, so something odd is happening with memorizing. Very little of it is committing to long term memory. Today, I had memorized up to line 1600 or so, but when going over it again a mere 6 hours later, I can only remember up to around line...*takes out script and checks*
Shist.
830.
Okay, this is not good. I have half a play to memorize in less than a week, and it's going way too slowly. I was at line 765 2 weeks ago. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit.
Um, help? Somebody? Anyone? What the hell has happened to my ability to commit things to long-term memory?
Today, my name is David
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Yay, sleep!
Exercise:I fell asleep at 8.
Voice:I fell asleep at 8.
Reading:I fell asleep at 8.
Participation:100
Explanation(if above 89):I helped clean. And clean. And clean. Etc.
So, the filming yesterday was great. I didn't get the chance to journal last night, though, 'cuz I fell asleep at 8. Felt really great to get 14 hours of sleep though.
Today, my name is Gabe.
Voice:I fell asleep at 8.
Reading:I fell asleep at 8.
Participation:100
Explanation(if above 89):I helped clean. And clean. And clean. Etc.
So, the filming yesterday was great. I didn't get the chance to journal last night, though, 'cuz I fell asleep at 8. Felt really great to get 14 hours of sleep though.
Today, my name is Gabe.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Immobile Text: My new beginning
Exercise:I did not. I came home feeling ill, so I slept. I am feeling much better now.
Voice:Singing my Philo music one last time...
Reading:*wrist slap*
Participation:100
Explanation(if above 89):Well, I did screw up with communication, but all was well in the end. Moved flats. And the piano. And a table.
Well, It is high time I did the obligatory title post. You know the one, where I make a post that describes why I chose the new name.
Well, to start, let's remind ourselves of what I originally started blogging for. You, know, my original inspiration.
The original Clarius B.
Now. Immobile Text. This one is a bit more me-centered. And it has more of a goal.
I recently had another one of those epiphanies. Well, sort of a series of miniaturized ones. About writing. Anyone who knows me knows fairly well knows that I don't exactly like writing. I tend to do fine when all's said and done, but there's just something difficult about it. Taxing. I've tried dismissing it and saying, "What could be bad? It's a beautiful art form, and I like making beautiful things. Let's do this!"
Needless to say, this did not work.
However, recently, I've been writing more. Not words, but music. So I decided to compare the two. What makes writing music so fun and absorbing that isn't happening with words? I quickly pored over the two forms, and quickly noticed one thing.
At least to me, stories do not move. And music does.
Yes, I am aware of the whole chart for Aristotelian plot structure, or whatever that word is. Yes, I am aware that it has the whole roller coaster shape, and that you add your own twist and turns and such, but it just doesn't move.
When I think of a piece of music, let's say Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen so everyone can follow along, I feel motion. The opening close harmonies pulse marvelously. The piano bits on either end seem to do exactly what the song is describing: Looking up to the skies. There's an almost tangible platform for the main vocals to rest on and just sort of be there.
For me, bass notes exist where my ribs part. High notes, such as on a piano, are in my right shoulder. Sopranos are dead center of my scalp, tenors at my lower stomach. Close chords' beats cascade down my abdomen.
Of course, don't get me started on classical music. That is for another day.
But basically, writing words is completely still to me. Whatever movement people seem to encounter is lost on blinded eyes, deafened ears, numb fingers, the whole nine.
It is, to me, Immobile Text.
So, my goal for this new blog is to figure out how to deal with this. Either to learn how to enjoy stationary type, or to to somehow make it move in my mind. Or even better, my body. If you've read this far, thanks for listening. If you haven't thanks for visiting anyways. And we're off to a new start! Let's see how this goes.
And here, I will put whatever I feel like my name is for the day.
Today, I am Gabe.
Voice:Singing my Philo music one last time...
Reading:*wrist slap*
Participation:100
Explanation(if above 89):Well, I did screw up with communication, but all was well in the end. Moved flats. And the piano. And a table.
Well, It is high time I did the obligatory title post. You know the one, where I make a post that describes why I chose the new name.
Well, to start, let's remind ourselves of what I originally started blogging for. You, know, my original inspiration.
The original Clarius B.
Now. Immobile Text. This one is a bit more me-centered. And it has more of a goal.
I recently had another one of those epiphanies. Well, sort of a series of miniaturized ones. About writing. Anyone who knows me knows fairly well knows that I don't exactly like writing. I tend to do fine when all's said and done, but there's just something difficult about it. Taxing. I've tried dismissing it and saying, "What could be bad? It's a beautiful art form, and I like making beautiful things. Let's do this!"
Needless to say, this did not work.
However, recently, I've been writing more. Not words, but music. So I decided to compare the two. What makes writing music so fun and absorbing that isn't happening with words? I quickly pored over the two forms, and quickly noticed one thing.
At least to me, stories do not move. And music does.
Yes, I am aware of the whole chart for Aristotelian plot structure, or whatever that word is. Yes, I am aware that it has the whole roller coaster shape, and that you add your own twist and turns and such, but it just doesn't move.
When I think of a piece of music, let's say Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen so everyone can follow along, I feel motion. The opening close harmonies pulse marvelously. The piano bits on either end seem to do exactly what the song is describing: Looking up to the skies. There's an almost tangible platform for the main vocals to rest on and just sort of be there.
For me, bass notes exist where my ribs part. High notes, such as on a piano, are in my right shoulder. Sopranos are dead center of my scalp, tenors at my lower stomach. Close chords' beats cascade down my abdomen.
Of course, don't get me started on classical music. That is for another day.
But basically, writing words is completely still to me. Whatever movement people seem to encounter is lost on blinded eyes, deafened ears, numb fingers, the whole nine.
It is, to me, Immobile Text.
So, my goal for this new blog is to figure out how to deal with this. Either to learn how to enjoy stationary type, or to to somehow make it move in my mind. Or even better, my body. If you've read this far, thanks for listening. If you haven't thanks for visiting anyways. And we're off to a new start! Let's see how this goes.
And here, I will put whatever I feel like my name is for the day.
Today, I am Gabe.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
NYC
Exercise: Walked 'bout two miles.
Voice: I had a gig. So there.
Reading:Currently memorizing.
Participation:100
Explanation(if above 89):I taught Glenn IPA, and , ya know, got my first paying gig in the city. So there.
So, I had my gig in the city today. Pretty frickin' sweet. The location was pre-tty ritzy. On the 12th floor. Ryan Gould was there, with his beard. And the actual photographer was this chill Russian dude. They were very accommodating. I felt entirely comfortable. And Mr. Gould's gonna keep me updated on the production, and will send me copies of the photos. :D I is a happy Gabe. And, to top it all off, I got 40 bucks for it. So yeah. Great week so far.
Voice: I had a gig. So there.
Reading:Currently memorizing.
Participation:100
Explanation(if above 89):I taught Glenn IPA, and , ya know, got my first paying gig in the city. So there.
So, I had my gig in the city today. Pretty frickin' sweet. The location was pre-tty ritzy. On the 12th floor. Ryan Gould was there, with his beard. And the actual photographer was this chill Russian dude. They were very accommodating. I felt entirely comfortable. And Mr. Gould's gonna keep me updated on the production, and will send me copies of the photos. :D I is a happy Gabe. And, to top it all off, I got 40 bucks for it. So yeah. Great week so far.
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