James Joyce ain't got nuthin on this chick

More blabbings.

Free Cell is an absolute requirement to the writing process on any given computer. I just spent two or three minutes searching through my C drive and programs and accessories before finally going to search in order to find my complimentary copy of brain-numbing electronic joy. Regardless, when I can't think of the next sentence (like right now!), Free Cell is always there.

I think it's about time to turn over Cherish the Ladies to something else. Gaelic Storm, perhaps - or Celtic Mistique? Gladiator worked for a while, but I can't quite figure out what mood I need at the moment. The White Hind isn't quite the convivial family it is in Niamh in the beginning of this piece. (Over on Quilling for those looking.) A tad darker. Brenna isn't as just as she is elsewhere. Interesting to see that Branaugh's apparently letting people slip the Gate (border). Huh - I have no CLUE what world Agnes is from. Vaguely Germanic/Netherlandish/Something-With-Hard-Sounds-And-No-Nonsense-People. Had no clue that Agnes was very dark in coloring. Neat. Rather Bruderhoffy in my mind, at the moment. I can't believe that I mistook James's name for Tom - silly Emily!

But I am stuck. Je suis stuq. Ich bin schtuck. Yo esta stucco. Tee hee hee.

Eleven twenty and only seven pages! It just...I'm not looking at this properly. I think it'll all come together re: what the wind blew in. And how the love of Awel Lhiannan is not constant, although the love of Agnes Baker's daughter is.... Yeah. Something like. Man, Music for Medina is so much better than this is turning out. But I must remember all those scenes THROWN AWAY for MfM. It's simply been a while since I've sat down to seriously write - or rather, since I've run up against road blocks and struggled to overcome them in my writing.

Paul Reubens is in Blow which is not as weird a Johnny Depp film as I had anticipated. Won't watch it again - doesn't really have anything in it worth contemplating. Although I had forgotten that Paul Reubens is Pee-Wee Herman. I like the actor Paul Reubens, but I'm still rather sickened when I think of Pee-Wee. Then I think of Flight of the Navigator....

James Joyce James Joyce.

Sad, isn't it, when one'd rather read Virginia Woolf than James Joyce? Rather Satresque No Exit option, however. Niamh is not as hideous as I had led myself to believe. Confession is an awesome thing. Talking with Kristen is a delight. I'm glad that James Bobsboy is a man of dignity. MwoaF needs to be revised AGAIN for dubbing. I think I may cut the double Julies from it. Need to buy that HD.

Joyce.

Ooooh! Thomas Howard read a really AWESOME Gerard Manley Hopkins poem about beauty the other night. There were some bits that I wanted to craft into a performance. Maybe I'll assign that and the Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock to my drama students a little later in the year. I wonder if I could swing an Arts Night this year? I think I might be able to. Will I be too worn out? I divide my life into play seasons. Others note their place with bookmarkers. I wonder where the missing Brigadoon tape is.

Joy....

Sorry I'm so rambly! *frolicking through the fields of my imagination*

Mood: Next line, next line....
Music: Faire Celts maybe? Cherish the Ladies just stopped. Maybe To Drive the Cold Winter Away?
Thought: There is no contract when renting a movie from Blockbuster that requires the viewer to listen to the commentary track. This is most liberating.