The Hippitty Haps

What up, negroids?

WELL it's been a long fucking time since I've written anything, so here it beeeee-!

I'm about halfway through my summer stint with ISF, Othello opens in three days, and An Ideal Husband has been running for about a week and a half. I'm having a fantastic time--and I really feel like I'm learning something on this go-round. I've been keeping in shape, reading a whole bunch (Caucasian Chalk Circle, Everything is Illuminated, Naked, the rest of the Scott Pilgrim series), and scraping together a ton of new music.

Also looking at butts. I forget to mention that sometimes-wait no I don't.

Ahhh man. In addition, I grabbed a journal, an idea book, and a sketch book to keep my actual writing skills sharp. Sorry blogosphere-o-web-o-tubes.

In addition to all this I've made a serious effort to have a great time. I've mentioned that before, but its something that's easy to forget. I get wrapped up in the 'implications of things' easily and slipping out of that is often no small feat. Leave that shit on the page and the stage.

I do, however, want to touch on something I've mentioned before. Many many times. Really...more like every goddamn 4 minutes I bring up love and relationships. Now I'm surrounded by several examples of relationships that work and relationships that don't work. In my past experiences I've been of the mind that if it stops working for some ethereal subconscious reason--it wasn't meant to be. Now obviously that doesn't mean you throw in the towel at every red flag, but if there is a profound unhappiness or discontent--that's something I haven't figured out how to solve. Is it a thing you solve? Is the goal of a relationship just so you can kneel in the rubble of your destroyed apartment together, knowing you've conquered all of your own individual idiosyncrasies in order to remain together? You throw your bleeding arm over your partner's broken shoulders and smile at them with what teeth you have left. They kiss you on the cheek and you snuggle up to their ear and say, ever so sweetly, "Stop drinking so much coffee. It gives you bad breath."

I've seen this, and its goddamn terrifying.

Maybe I don't have the irrefutable faith that 'this is the one' yet. Maybe, for the right person, you're supposed to take a bazooka and blow holes in the walls of your home. Burn out in the driveway and send your car careening into a Del Taco, spraying C-Grade ground beef and mild sauce onto the street. Catch doves with your bare hands, twist off their feathers and fashion them into a rope ladder to save your princess. I have definitely felt this way. There's a dusty box of feathers in a closet somewhere, right next to the heart-shaped moon rock I collected MY GODDAMN SELF.

I'm used to the kind of attraction, the kind of love that drives you to insanity. I've gone to great lengths of psychological flagellation for the sake of girls that make me crazy. What's wrong with a normal relationship though? I've been reading a lot of Charles Mee plays about lurve...and there are a few particular moments that laud the idea of just having someone to say 'good morning' to when you wake up. Y'know. Just someone to ask what you want to eat for dinner. Someone to adjust your tie and touch you on the shoulder. Someone to share a movie with. Simple. Sweet. Dependable.

Which--I have to admit--I've had. I've been both hands before. I've been the shoulder to cry on and the crier but at the end of the day I'm not driven to great feats of superhuman excellence.

Jeez, I expect a lot. That could be why the girls that make my heart stop seem so few and far between. I don't just mean make my heart 'skip a beat'. I mean fully and completely stop. I mean I pull out the key and toss it in their pocket when they're not looking--I mean I breathe clouds of mist until I'm near them again--I mean if I can't be with them I begin to sink into the earth because the ground can't hold me up anymore.

Let me end with this...why don't they write a childrens' book in which the princess is actually in love with the dragon?

-Dak