![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Circuses and Syntropy
Feb. 27th, 2009 08:39 amTrye Booth (nhrn) will pay RTT $100/week if he can come up with some kind of magic act. An, er, interesting development…
Another circus would actually have paid RTT $2000 a week to run a pony ride. I told him I’d help him – and drive the horse trailer! – but he dismissed it (wisely no doubt) as far too much responsibility for a 14 year old.
RTT and B will be gone in 12 days. Leaving me solo to close up the house. (I’ve already gotten rid of the bunk beds and four dining room chairs on Freecycle.) I am feeling rather frail psychologically so three weeks alone scares me – but on the plus side I should get another three chapters of the memoir written. B thinks I can get an agent on the basis of three chapters and an outline, but I think publishing is in tough straits at the moment and it would be better to offer potential pitchmen what you see is what you get.
In other news, last night I DREAMED…
I was an actress in some kind of future where theater audience was outfitted with neurological implants when they entered the theater. Stage performers wore them too. The play – implanted actors became some sort of key performer in audience members’ own lives – the alcoholic mother, the unfaithful husband, the pot-addled son – delivering Rachel Getting Married type quips and stingers. You didn’t see actors on a stage, you envisioned them in your mind. It was a new form of performance called syntropy.
Another circus would actually have paid RTT $2000 a week to run a pony ride. I told him I’d help him – and drive the horse trailer! – but he dismissed it (wisely no doubt) as far too much responsibility for a 14 year old.
RTT and B will be gone in 12 days. Leaving me solo to close up the house. (I’ve already gotten rid of the bunk beds and four dining room chairs on Freecycle.) I am feeling rather frail psychologically so three weeks alone scares me – but on the plus side I should get another three chapters of the memoir written. B thinks I can get an agent on the basis of three chapters and an outline, but I think publishing is in tough straits at the moment and it would be better to offer potential pitchmen what you see is what you get.
In other news, last night I DREAMED…
I was an actress in some kind of future where theater audience was outfitted with neurological implants when they entered the theater. Stage performers wore them too. The play – implanted actors became some sort of key performer in audience members’ own lives – the alcoholic mother, the unfaithful husband, the pot-addled son – delivering Rachel Getting Married type quips and stingers. You didn’t see actors on a stage, you envisioned them in your mind. It was a new form of performance called syntropy.
