Ash Wednesday

From T.S. Eliot, my man on the scene:

Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man’s gift and that man’s scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the agèd eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign?

Because I do not hope to know
The infirm glory of the positive hour
Because I do not think
Because I know I shall not know
The one veritable transitory power
Because I cannot drink
There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is
nothing again

Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessèd face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice

And pray to God to have mercy upon us
And pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I too much discuss
Too much explain
Because I do not hope to turn again
Let these words answer
For what is done, not to be done again
May the judgment not be too heavy upon us

Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
But merely vans to beat the air
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than the will
Teach us to care and not to care Teach us to sit still.

Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death
Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.

Acting is hard

Only because of the persuasive charm and unrejectable kindness of Chris Morse, I find myself "acting" in a Superheroes this week. My presence isn't doing much for the show, but it certainly is a nice remedial course in acting is hard.

Tonight's lessons:

1. When I am directing, I often wonder why actors can't just sit still and disappear when they aren't acting. Answer: because they are human people. It's *boring* sitting there while other people do stuff.

2. When you are on the stage part of the stage, facing out, you have no idea what you look like. I had completely forgotten that.

I hope the detriment to this show will end up paying dividends for actors I work with in the future.

Also, 3. Props are fun.

米少一点， 跑多一点

Walking back from a field trip on Friday, Kim YongChel came up to me, earnest as a Mormon and asked, "Teacher? Do you know fat?"

He informed me that fat "makes pieces in your organs and affects your body shape." And all of this was going somewhere, too.

"So, I think you should give up snacks."

I can always count on my friends from Asian countries to point this kind of information out to me. Less rice, more running.

I asked Kim what would give my life meaning if I didn't have snacks, and he suggested friendship, which, what can you do with that? Since his plea is coinciding with Lent, I'm going to give it a go.

OK, Plays

Daniel Student asked me to ask some plays, ideally before the end of the week. That was about a month ago, and I have only read the first 20 pages of each of the plays, so I am a bad friend, bad colleague and not in any position to criticize, all at once.

But I just have to say. That plays need action. I just read four plays, and in two the first twenty pages were characters addressing the audience with paragraphs of exposition. Saying who they were; what their backgrounds were. What they wanted.

The "wright" part of "playwright" is not "write," as in, to put words on the page. It's "wright" like in "wheelwright." It means maker. Making a wheel is a skill, and if you don't have the skill, the thing won't carry people.

If build your play skillfully, your characters won't need to *tell* me who they are and what they want, because your story will tell me that.

I know that creating a script is very difficult work. I wish more were going on to help writers develop skill and virtuosity. I would love to see less play writing, and more playwrighting.

Yes, I do.

"Heartfelt ineptitude has its appeal and so does heartless skill, but what you want is passionate virtuosity."
— John Barth