Would That I Might

It can't go back It is not an option, is not  what can be even if it is changed, if things are done to try making it the way it used to be, that will not work. That is not reality.

I went and saw the premiere of a new play at FAU's Theatre Lab, The Impossible Task of Today by Jeff Bower.  It was one of the best productions I have seen there, with incredible performances.  The play itself was very good, and while the subject is serious, their is enough humor to keep it from sinking into complete darkness.  It's a very new piece, with tonight being the world premiere, so I am sure it will still evolve a bit, and I don't think anyone would be upset at my acknowledging that there is clearly room for it to develop a bit more, but even in its current form, it was quite definitely worth seeing.  If you are in the Boca area, I am sure that they still have tickets for some of the performances.  It is currently only scheduled to be there until the 15th, so if you are in the area and interested, you probably don't want to wait on it.

I am working back to it not jumping all the way but building back up. I have done it before. I know that, it takes away so much of the doubt.  Now it is only getting myself back to it. I can take time and build to that. It is fine, I think. I really do think so.

Things are terrifying at the moment.  The economic policies of our current government are not reasonable, and the ultimate outcome of following this path is clearly an international economic collapse that will probably do a great deal to undermine the future of the United States as global power.  The only hope we have is that the administration is forced to reverse course, and that seems utterly improbable at the moment.  I hope that I am wrong and something changes, but it seems pretty bleak right now.  My only response to this has been to start writing more poems than I had been, which is probably as useless as anything else I could do, but at least it feels a bit productive, maybe.

I almost forgot Almost.  I didn't forget, in  the end.  I  remembered in time and so it is fine, nothing went wrong, nothing is missing. It was too easy, though, for me to slip, to forget. I thought I was better at this, was more together, more in control of my- self, was aware. Maybe I am and that is why I did remember, before it was actually too late.

I took yesterday off from writing poetry and my blog to work on a personal essay that I had been attempting to write, in some sense, for years. The final shape of it is occasioned around the publication of Blaze without Burning , but the underlying content is about my difficulties with handwriting and the fears I have around that.  I've often felt judged by others based on the poor quality of my penmanship, and so the prospect of signing and inscribing books is a bit daunting, and I felt motivated to explore those feelings on the page.  I don't often write personal essays, to be honest, and I am not certain that I have the knack, as it were, but this is something I've tried to write about before and it felt very much like now was the right moment to attempt tackling it again.