The soul has greater need of the ideal than the real for it is by the real that we exist, it is by the ideal that we live

Monday, January 31, 2011

I am as constant as the northern star

At least our weather people think they are.

For the last three days they've been shouting from the rooftops that we will be literally buried to our necks soon in a layer of ice followed by epic snow.


I got nothing.

The radar doesn't even indicate that this storm exists!  Argh!

I was just out looking at a house and talking with my stage manager about he fact that rehearsals were canceled when they closed the college today, and nothing, it's not slick, it's not very cold, it's...nothing.

I like the house, not sure about the neighborhood. Big lot, detached garage with a studio, nice remodeled house, fenced, on a corner, neighbors a respectable distance away, it's possible.  The boss at the college is making noise about how nice it is that I may buy a house.  Maybe he wants me to stay.  Fuck!

So here I am trapped in my house, nothing to do since I should be standing in front of a classroom right now preparing to teach and then attend rehearsal, and I'm subjected to the vagaries of network television all evening.

I am getting weary of Chicken Little.

And so it goes: