HOLD ON TIGHT

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT And when we were children, staying at the archduke's, My cousin's, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, Marie, hold on tight. And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free. I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. ~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot Sunday, November 18, 2007 all of a sudden after reading carson, and the whole lot of renaissance plays ive been working on, and watching two renaissance performances in two days, looking at renaissance prints at the inkshop, i have this crazy idea of writing a verse-play. it's like i didn't have enough melodrama in my life, my breasts weren't big enough, i didn't watch enough chinese television serials, there was no space in my world for a sweaty world of outdoor theater, conjurers and pandars and crossdressing women, i needed a tragedy that would with lots of cleavage, symbolic gardens and clowns. posted by dawn # 2:56 PM Comments: Post a Comment << Home		[publishing] Publishers Weekly . Dystel & Goderich . New York Center for Independent Publishing . Association of American University Presses . Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators [people] clarisse . nurul . aunty zarina (ummi's bakery) . jeremy . pak . cyril . softblow . karen & kenny (booksactually) . eric . joel . [other loves] digitaljournalist . ballet dictionary . poetshouse . urbanwordnyc [me] dawn, singapore, new york city, ithaca. [yesterday] happiness differences Ultrasound in my own time Second winter just a thought shorter days dilemmas and thought experiments remembering shandong in the supermarket [archives] January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT

And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot

Sunday, November 18, 2007

all of a sudden

after reading carson, and the whole lot of renaissance plays ive been working on, and watching two renaissance performances in two days, looking at renaissance prints at the inkshop, i have this crazy idea of writing a verse-play.
it's like i didn't have enough melodrama in my life, my breasts weren't big enough, i didn't watch enough chinese television serials, there was no space in my world for a sweaty world of outdoor theater, conjurers and pandars and crossdressing women, i needed a tragedy that would with lots of cleavage, symbolic gardens and clowns.

posted by dawn # 2:56 PM

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