last night as i was falling asleep i thought to myself that i needed to strip my prose down to something more bare. once i got a comment on one of my papers that my style was perversely clear and it occured to me then that it was my use of very specific verbal curlicues that got me that comment. it wasn't a bad comment in fact it is one for the press kit but sometimes i wonder if the curlicues aren't an affectation.
the play last night made me want to write a play. it was two hours long, and it amazes me that one person can think of enough dialog and action to fill up that much time. i can barely think of possible motivations for extremely vague characters, much less put them in situations and have them do things. i wonder if it is possible to write a play with no characters.
the piano man is at it this morning. ok it is not morning any more but the piano man is at it. i live in a building set back behind two other buildings which are right on the street. they form a little alley that runs from our front door to the sidewalk. every time someone in one of these buildings makes a noise it bounces around in the alley and becomes amplified and there is this one guy who plays the piano and sings in a strangely toneless way. sometimes he improvises on beatles songs and sometimes he improvises on the star wars theme.
at first i found it really amusing but now after three years of the same tunes it is really annoying. i have to grade thirty finals today and somehow i have to do this with him pounding on the piano in the background.