Sunday, June 12, 2005

An excerpt from a letter to a friend...

This has been an incredibly exhausting year for me, for all of us. Between the festivals, and competitions, and performances, and school, and work, and a mad cap social life (you know me ), I'm afraid it's coming back to me and just before the most stressful time, Fringe. I'm hoping the month-long normalacy of 9-5 during June will help prepare me. [Since this was written, I've been approached to start with the Fringe three weeks earlier so the month-long normalaxy is pretty much shot]

Other than physically, I'm no more emotionally exhausted than usual. However, when one is prone to tragic flights of idealism and romance, emotional exhaustion is normal, I suppose. I've been feeling a lot of changes since the New Year, almost like a mental and emotional puberty, trying to diversifymyself, the forms of which is (naturally) art and expression. I've taken to unwittingly directing music videos in my mind whenever I hear a song in a language I understand. Often they concern montages of our friends, many of the images hypothetical as the 'video' is a thesis on our four years together. Another popular one is that salon at my living wake [more on that next time], although I've sat with the idea long enough that it doesn't seem morbid to me anymore. I have my MRI in a month and a half and that's probably contributing to it as well.

I feel like I'm fighting a lot with my own creativity right now, often in very egoist terms, such as imaging detail for detail my own recital as I attend someone else's. Further, there is one matter that I don't quite have the courage to express, and that is a song cycle I've written over the past couple years. There are twelve in total, and the genre is extremely hard to define because I feel that it should extend beyond simply a boy and his piano. I've toyed around with percussion, thanks to B, but I hear the guitars and the bass and yet have no clue where to begin incorporating them. The order is troubling as well as it deals with a vast number of themes, not the least of which are failure, disillusionment, madness, and redemption. At it's peak, I see it presented dramatically with short monologues between the pieces, offered not as explanation, but rather narrative. I have written seven sonnets that I would like to incorporate, one of which was composed in the vein of Greco-Roman myth, the sun and moon acting as two halfs of the whole and so forth.

Essentially, I'm just overwhelmed. I'm happy to say that it is mostly from positive sources, though they can be a bit dampering.

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