Chapter the second: The Revolution will not be Anesthetized

Hippy Dipster - Post Nap

Well Sir Bloggeroony, here we are at date number 2 and I am already suffering from that paralyzing fear that I will run out of things to say.  Not that I am ever really in danger of running out of things to say even if there are times when I should stop talking altogether.  I think perhaps trudging through this cold stoic city of urban winter has slightly frozen my mind and face making everything I say sound like sofrhwurnbly.

But maybe not.

Maybe I am just hoping that conjuring images of a frozen metropolitan tundra would be a metaphorical way to segue into my new obsession of the week; Wakefulness.  I have of late been indulging my occasional flaky side (the one that likes yoga and tempeh…my friend Claire just called me a hippy dipster) by spending some time in contemplation of new agey/spiritually philosophical  theory (although If you think about them they are actually quite ancient age concepts but I digress) and the recurring theme is that of wakefulness as in our minds, souls etc.. in layman’s terms; Stop the zombie-itis.  I was thinking about wakefulness as I sat through a few pieces of theatre this week of varying styles and varying levels of “irritating me to death” and yet I barely moved.  I couldn’t even muster the wherewithal to mime the gesture of hanging myself.   It was as if the combination of boredom, winter and too many layers of clothes was lulling me into a semi-catatonic state and I thought am I the “dream audience” or am I dreaming I am in the audience?  And if so what did I eat last night that conjured this unfortunate vision?

Maybe I should only watch theatre in the winter purely for the sake of others.  The cold seems to act like Valium.  I now understand the theory about war and hot countries.

However, maybe I want to be hot and bothered (not in the pornographic sense).  Maybe I want to feel things while I am watching a show.  Maybe I want to sweat a little.  Maybe I want to something interesting to snap me out of the winter blues.  Maybe I want more jokes.  Maybe you should want that as well.

Maybe we should just throw on some warm coats and take a stroll in the tundra and try our hands at interesting conversation instead of sacrificing ourselves to some unworthy

Tent or Large Pillow - you be the judge

theatre.  Or maybe we should just stay in the beer tent and replace our blood with hot toddies.

Enough of that morose brain fart.  Here is a hilarious game I came up with.  Type a weird phrase into YouTube and see what pops up.  I tried “Theatre is Life”

Sock puppets make everything better.

Hugging you for that extra second too long


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