Tuesday Tuneup 40

Q. Where would you like to be?

A. In a place that’s not so foggy.

Q. But isn’t the sun shining brightly outside?

A. That’s outside.  I’m foggy on the inside.

Q. What can you do to lift the fog?

A. Probably focus on first things first.

Q. And what comes first?

A. Coffee.   Slurping up the third cup, as we speak.

Q.Image result for foggy clipart Three cups?  And still in a fog?

A. Yes.

Q. Then if coffee is of no avail, what comes next?

A. Exercise.  Brisk walking, or jogging, through the brisk, bright morning.

Q. Will exercise lift the fog?

A. Probably not.  It’ll probably just put me back to sleep.

Q. Then what else can you do?

A. I don’t know.  I thought playing the piano would work.  But I just played for a half an hour, and the whole time, I was in a fog.  

Q. Why is everything leaving you in a fog?

A. Because none of these things are progressive.  They’re all stagnant.  They’re all things that I can do every day if I want to.  They never lead anywhere.  

Q. So they never lead you out of the morning fog?

A. No, they don’t.

Q. Then whatever does?  Or can?

Related imageA. Well, recently, it was the Vocal Score that I just completed — the vocal score to Act One of Eden in Babylon, my new musical about homelessness.   Whenever I was working on it, I felt I was progressing.  I felt the fog lifting.  It even seemed to lift for some of the people around me.  Everybody perked up.  There were smiles of approval everywhere I went, mirroring my own smile of self-satisfaction.  Towards the end, I was anything but foggy.  In fact, I was jazzed — filled to the brim with sunshine.   People were astonished at the rate at which I was proceeding, and yet, to me, it seemed nothing at all.

Q. So the completion of the score left you in a fog?

A. Exactly.  Today is the fourth day since its completion.  And all of life has been a blur.

Q. Don’t you still have Act Two to score?

A. I do.

Q. And won’t that lift the fog?

A. Eventually.

Q. Then what’s keeping you?

A. That’s a good question.  

The Questioner is silent.  

Please donate to Eden in Babylon.
A little bit goes a long, long way.

 

The Siddhartha Monologue

You know, it sort of seems weird that I’m writing about writing, while writing.  I would think it would all be one giant act of procrastination, were it not for the fact that writing about my writing helps my writing while I write.

After I wrote what I wrote last night, I noticed a remission in the resentment against the irreverent rogue in question.  Thankful that he had become irrelevant, I turned out the light and lay in bed.

Sleep, however, eluded me.  My mind seemed almost automatically to dart over to Scene Three, right where I’d left off – at the beginning of the daunting Siddhartha Monologue.   After about an hour of tossing and turning, I said, “forget it!”  Got up, started cranking it out.

I don’t know what to say but that it was one of those rare experiences when everything seemed to come together almost supernaturally.  I wrote the last word, put a period at the end of it, and looked at the clock.

It was four in the morning exactly.  I had finished The Siddhartha Monologue.  Going back to bed, I rolled over, and in no time at all, I was snoring like a man.