Back to School

Well, school has started again. Yesterday was our first Acting class of the quarter and Migratory Words started this morning. So I'm working on a scene from "The Birthday Party" between Meg and Stanley (played by David McCallum). I'm committed to memorize the scene and take my acting to a new level. The writing prompt for this week is "the full moon."

I immediately thought of the Tarot card "The Moon." What's coming up from the unconscious, in dreams or fantasies? What monsters lurk in the deep waters of the soul? What is it that you can't see clearly in the moonlight? Is it a mirage? Is it alive? What is it saying to me? Tonight the moon will begin to wane. But in dreams it is always full. When somebody gets this card, I usually tell them to trust their intuition.

What story or script could I write about this?

People say when there's a full moon, it's as bright as day. Not really.

Over the line?

Today I read "Following The Testosterone", one of my blogs, in my writing class. It's a senior class, so everybody is 55 or older. You would think at our age words like "tits", "orgasm" and "lust" just wouldn't be shocking anymore. But while most of the class was laughing hysterically, there were two people in the room who weren't. They weren't laughing at all. The look on their faces was pained. It was the look of someone trying not to look a certain way. There was just a hint of horrified in that look. Like they couldn't believe their ears. One thing was clear, the humor was lost on them.

After class, each of them approached me confidentially to say, in hushed tones, they liked the piece. It was very good even though I didn't laugh. Well that's one way to tell a comic they just flopped. One of them told me that she and her husband always reserved Tuesdays. It was my turn to be stupefied. I mean jeez, it smacks of time management. Not to worry, I'll get to that Tuesday. Meanwhile, I'm busy with other things.

Which reminded me of something I had long since forgotten. During my first marriage, I would wear a certain nighty when I was available for an amorous encounter. I hasten to point out that my first marriage didn't last. There was far too much formula and way too little spontaneity in it. Maybe the problem was that I only had one of those nighties.