A Wish, A Prayer, A Malignancy

Going through an old notebook, I was reminded of a secret wish. I would love to have a copy of the text or any record of the performance of Memory Palace, the la fura dels baus performance for which William Gibson contributed text. I haven't applied my research skilz to doing as much as I can to find it, but now that I think of it, I'm only a tweet away from the actual text source. Really. It's too simple.

Anyway, I also found some extensive quotes from Bert O. States' The Pleasure of the Play - which I must have been pretty enamored of considering just how much of it I wrote into my notebook. But this particular quote seems relevant to what I'm experiencing as I attempt to complete the first draft or rather contemplate completing the first draft of the tree play.

Action is like music, there is no way to stop and have it. If you stop it and think of the play as a spatial construction with its parts in hypothetical repose, you discover that each part is made of littler parts that are made of still littler parts, right down to the syllables that compose the words.

As in Zeno's paradox of the flying arrow, there is no end of "places" the play has been, or will go, and since it is always equal to itself...you end back at the absurdity that you are treating something you know to be in motion as if it were at rest.

yeah. that's about right.

Oh and this well, this is one place where the play lives. Which is, of course, my current obsessive music selection.