Bite your tongue, all you get is a mouth full of blood

From now on, the title of my post will solely depend on the exact song lyric I hear at that moment. Think it might be interesting to see if anything ironic comes up-- or is spot on with the day's events.

It's funny... a lot of my childhood memories can be tied to music. You know "I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)" by Meatloaf? That song just came on and I swear I'm brought back to my Dad's old Stationwagon, sitting in the backseat in my coolots and Minnie Mouse shirt, dirty-knee-ed and rosy-cheeked, chewing the Bazooka Joe bubblegum (grape) he bought be at the Patterson Deli. It's crazy how music does that to you.

Today's class was most delightful. I don't think I performed the breathing/tension excersize to the best of my ability because I get real dizzy after taking numerous deep breaths. I guess I just need to space them out better. I would really like to keep doing it though- that final moment lying on the floor is so excellent.

The time exercises were interesting as well; some more difficult than others. I enjoy picturing these time periods, imagining what I would want to be like in the '50s or in the Paleolithic era (yes I had to look that up).

Culture creation is no easy task. I enjoyed what we were doing, but I wish I continued to build upon my spritely newlywed character* instead of giving in and blurting out a silly name for someone who is the "gatekeeper." It was a little Ghostbusters. However, the "yes, and..." instinct took over and it was fun as hell.

*Because that was a better challenge and might have helped me with acting. You know, the class we're taking.

Have I told you how much I actually hate Dave Matthews? LOATHE. I gave him a shot for a while. I thought, hey, he's got a huge following. He must be doing something right. No. His old man voice accompanied by stringy brassy instruments just came on and now I want to puke. "I drink too MUUUuuuuch... a'TOO MUCHHHH"

I digress. I thought the last activity was cut short! I wanted to continue acting like different nationalities/ehtnicities, pouring drinks and socializing with my cronies.

Cronies. In my last post, I wrote about an old crotchety couple who sat behind me during the performance at Touchstone. Before the show started, this geezer's wife is in the middle of a conversation. I catch this little treat that protrudes from her mouth:

"...some play with "crony" in the title. That's an old witch, right? I think that's what it was about, too."

Now, forgive me. I respect my elders just as my momma taught me. But. CRONE. That is a CRONE. A CRONE is what you meant.

Ok. blog. blog blog blog.

In other news, the following of Mr. Tumnus is going so-so. I hesitate to write too much about him/her. I can tell you I think it will be difficult to avoid imitation. There's a fine line between impersonations and acting. I want to start thinking and feeling like Tum-Tums; of course that may never happen, and even if it did, it would take some time. We'll see, dear reader.

-Katie

P.S. Listen to Metric. They are superb. This post is a cornucopia of music. ha. Cornucopia.