![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
capri0mniMy head has been full of a jumble of thoughts for a while, now. But I haven't had the focus needed to let them out. The only problem is, with each day that passes, more thoughts come into my head, and I get even more jumbled and unfocused. So today will be my "F'list Spamming Day," so I can let the thoughts out, in ones, twos and threes (the only way they'll fit through the door), before MY HEAD A-SPLODE!
Some will be public, and some will be f'locked.
You have been warned.
First off, the Art Garden went well. It was short, this time around -- only ten pieces, including the opening meditation; in recent years, there has usually been 15 or so (so I guess I wasn't the only one who was stumped by the subject). For those keeping track, I was 7th in line, instead of the last.
There was a minor Murphy's Law glitch, though -- somehow, the editor deleted my piece by accident, and couldn't remember the title; she remembered that the color on the wall of the gym was the punchline, though, so she retitled it "Colors," and I just read the title as if it were the first line. This worked extremely well, and I may make that a permenant official change to the pome.
And "Colors" may end up being a future theme for the Art Garden. This is good. I think so.
Oh, and the theater is an old rennovated train depot. The railroad tracks still run right alongside, and express trains still rush by, blowing whistles, right on schedule. During last November's Art Garden (theme: "Flight") the Express interupted my piece on Father Christmas ("Polar Express," anyone?). On Saturday, it passed behind me, and blew its whistle just as we were leaving the theater (and we'd lingered inside for quite a while, chatting -- that shows how much shorter this one was). If it weren't for my seatbelt, I might have jumped out of my seat -- trains are !!LOUD!! when they are up close like that.
There! There's that thought out the door!
Some will be public, and some will be f'locked.
You have been warned.
First off, the Art Garden went well. It was short, this time around -- only ten pieces, including the opening meditation; in recent years, there has usually been 15 or so (so I guess I wasn't the only one who was stumped by the subject). For those keeping track, I was 7th in line, instead of the last.
There was a minor Murphy's Law glitch, though -- somehow, the editor deleted my piece by accident, and couldn't remember the title; she remembered that the color on the wall of the gym was the punchline, though, so she retitled it "Colors," and I just read the title as if it were the first line. This worked extremely well, and I may make that a permenant official change to the pome.
And "Colors" may end up being a future theme for the Art Garden. This is good. I think so.
Oh, and the theater is an old rennovated train depot. The railroad tracks still run right alongside, and express trains still rush by, blowing whistles, right on schedule. During last November's Art Garden (theme: "Flight") the Express interupted my piece on Father Christmas ("Polar Express," anyone?). On Saturday, it passed behind me, and blew its whistle just as we were leaving the theater (and we'd lingered inside for quite a while, chatting -- that shows how much shorter this one was). If it weren't for my seatbelt, I might have jumped out of my seat -- trains are !!LOUD!! when they are up close like that.
There! There's that thought out the door!
