Leo 13° (August 4)
We took the one o’clock ferry from the dock in Boston and settled in. I decided I would do something I never do which was to have a hot dog and some beer on the boat. It is the end of holiday officially after all and when I get back on the Cape I will also get back on my diet…with a few days transition to drink the lovely wine I’ve brought with me. Still, the amount of work and requisite focus I need to do it is going to require a forgoing of all such earthy delights as one allows during off times. We got to the bus easily although my bags are so heavy and the driver was terrible; in fact, he seemed to want to be a bit reckless such that the passengers flung about. And (this makes no sense) there are of course no seat belts on that wonky local bus. We got home in one piece in any case and S. went to town to pick up some sushi. Neither one of us want to cook. I got most of my unpacking accomplished. I know I’ve wrenched my back and I also know that, now that I can get sick, I will get sick, having nursed a bad cold the whole time I was away. I’m also aware that I’m about to get very down (depressed); the truth is I hate being here. Even though it’s so-called paradise and there is supposedly every reason in the world to love being in so idyllic a setting, the truth is that this is still this country which is frought with hate and rage and I feel sick when I am here. At this point in my life I need to make some real effort toward exit strategy, which is going to entail figuring out a way to be autonomous with my work. I don’t care if one definition of being insane is feeling everyone else is—everyone else is. With really no exceptions. We live in a venal country where the topic of money is frontloaded in every situation and robs us of life. Right now I’m tempted to Google: how to join a monastery and disappear and never be heard from again.
Years ago, when we first moved to Provincetown, a friend with three initials came to visit us. This sycophantic new musical friend whose initials are B. H. was already all over us but when he realized we had “cool” or “fame-ish” friends he was so sickeningly blatant in his attempts to stepping stone us to them. Well twelve years later, guess what? It worked. And it’s only one example of this. And who is to blame? The narcissist who needs this kind of blatant worship or the sycophant who will throw their whole self at people for their ironic own gain. I want to part of any of this equation. The first time B.H. met our friend he offered them cocaine. Our friend was so appalled and grossed out by the guy. Then a few years later B.H. offered our friend heroin and they took it. Thank god that didn’t turn into a drug problem and instead just an anecdote in a performance; but the fact remains that I am certainly not friends myself with B.H. for many reasons, including not just this on incident of drug pushing, nor am I really that close with my friend for whom I’ve lost a great deal of respect. We are always the conduit (read stepping stone) and we are always the ones who are so easily discarded; and I have struggled with the pain of this for a very long time. But I have to say it no longer has an emotional hold on me. I am following the signs and they keep leading me to a very definitive off-ramp.
I need to let go of the Brian situation too. I have tried for months and months to collaborate with him but it has been a total joke. I will find out too that the MassMoCA people have sent me a letter. They will be getting one in return. That S.K. character is one of the world’s worst I’ve ever encountered in all my many years producing shows. I definitely need to stick to the University circuit, I think, because that’s where the money is. I know that’s what I will need to do this coming year as well. I can hire a surrogate to intro the shows in Boston, maybe someone younger and cooler than myself at this point anyway. Why not hire an assistant artistic director, someone (anyone) who can be my proxy. I need to start thinking about myself and my needs. I am always putting others first and it hasn’t much contributed to my own well-being. People (artists especially) have come to take advantage of the fact. Once upon a time people were so grateful for the opportunity to perform in Provincetown and thought it amazing how much we offered them. Now that same offer is seemed like the least one can do by a new generation of artist-ingrates. Sorry but there it is. I am going to have to figure out a plan for more solo success here. I cannot rely on everything being a shared experience. I have completely cut myself off from my own singular path in an effort to frontload shared experience.
To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree pointof the Sabian Symbol will be one degree higher than the one listed for today. The Blague portrays the starting degree of for this day ( 0°, for instance), as I typically post in the morning, while the Sabian number corresponds to the end point (1°) of that same 0°-1° period. There are 360 degrees spread over 365 or 6 days per year—so they near but not exactly correlate.
Typos happen. I don’t have a proofreader. And I like to just write, post and go!
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