Day 64
Timer on…
Well…6 days…less that a week…
I did the series…four minutes until midnight…I will finish writing into Day 65…it was a long day…dog walking, snow shoveling, meeting an hour away, another meeting another hour away, tech for SHAKESPEARE’S WILL, which is performing twice tomorrow. Grading. Fixing the repertory light plot. E-mails. Rehearsal. Talking to my love. Last dog walk. Long Day…long day…
One of the plays I’m directing is José Rivera’s MARISOL. On Monday, one of my students said he was very influenced by the writings of Gabriel García Márquez. In the same class that I read Toni Morrison’s PARADISE, I also read Márquez’ LOVE IN THE TIME OF CHOLERA. I have always thought that it has one of the most memorable beginnings to a novel: “It was inevitable: the scent of bitter almonds always reminded him of the fate of unrequited love. Dr. Juvenal Urbino noticed it as soon as he entered the still darkened house where he had hurried on an urgent call to attend a case that for him had lost all urgency many years before. The Antillean refugee Jeremiah de Saint-Amour, disabled war veteran, photographer of children, and his most sympathetic opponent in chess, had escaped the torments of memory with the aromatic fumes of gold cyanide.”
Years later I read Márquez’ other famous novel ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF SOLITUDE, which, I believe, has one of the most memorable endings to a novel: “Before reaching the final line, however, he had already understood that he would never leave that room, for it was foreseen that the city of mirrors (or mirages) would be wiped out by the wind and exiled from the memory of men at the precise moment when Aureliano Babilonia would finish deciphering the parchments, and that everything written on them was unrepeatable since time immemorial and forever more, because races condemned to one hundred years of solitude did not have a second opportunity on earth.”
Both of these quotes have to do with the need to remember love…requited or unrequited…be it with a smell of killing one’s self or by writing it all down so that it won’t be forgotten…I wish I was as good a writer as Morrison or Márquez, so I could write things down that I could remember forever about my Dad…but…in the meantime…I’m doing this…
Timer on…
Well…6 days…less that a week…
I did the series…four minutes until midnight…I will finish writing into Day 65…it was a long day…dog walking, snow shoveling, meeting an hour away, another meeting another hour away, tech for SHAKESPEARE’S WILL, which is performing twice tomorrow. Grading. Fixing the repertory light plot. E-mails. Rehearsal. Talking to my love. Last dog walk. Long Day…long day…
One of the plays I’m directing is José Rivera’s MARISOL. On Monday, one of my students said he was very influenced by the writings of Gabriel García Márquez. In the same class that I read Toni Morrison’s PARADISE, I also read Márquez’ LOVE IN THE TIME OF CHOLERA. I have always thought that it has one of the most memorable beginnings to a novel: “It was inevitable: the scent of bitter almonds always reminded him of the fate of unrequited love. Dr. Juvenal Urbino noticed it as soon as he entered the still darkened house where he had hurried on an urgent call to attend a case that for him had lost all urgency many years before. The Antillean refugee Jeremiah de Saint-Amour, disabled war veteran, photographer of children, and his most sympathetic opponent in chess, had escaped the torments of memory with the aromatic fumes of gold cyanide.”
Years later I read Márquez’ other famous novel ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF SOLITUDE, which, I believe, has one of the most memorable endings to a novel: “Before reaching the final line, however, he had already understood that he would never leave that room, for it was foreseen that the city of mirrors (or mirages) would be wiped out by the wind and exiled from the memory of men at the precise moment when Aureliano Babilonia would finish deciphering the parchments, and that everything written on them was unrepeatable since time immemorial and forever more, because races condemned to one hundred years of solitude did not have a second opportunity on earth.”
Both of these quotes have to do with the need to remember love…requited or unrequited…be it with a smell of killing one’s self or by writing it all down so that it won’t be forgotten…I wish I was as good a writer as Morrison or Márquez, so I could write things down that I could remember forever about my Dad…but…in the meantime…I’m doing this…
RSS Feed