if destiny is a choice than what we choose is destiny
if choice involves knowing the shadow than shadow involves choice
if choice is limited to right and wrong than possibilities are limited choices
if possibility is a response to choices than what is chosen demands responsibility
if responsibility to all we have imagined and created is a choice than choose destiny

- See: Term

:: note :: ... a young man stood before me passionately living his destiny ... he told me it was his choice ... silently I felt life is all possibilities therefore if theater is our wish, than theater we get & I witnessed great theater ...

Full Screen Waldman on Theater

- See: Theater Image

:: note :: ... as sessions end with young circle of voices think on my spirit mentors ... did not see Constant Prince but did see the next works & more ... Max Waldman documented an important theater moment ... everytime I work thanks go to Grotowski's Actors Lab ...

- See: Memorium

:: note :: ... people influence you directly /indirectly /near /far /daily /once ... theresa & blake ... two artists entwined ... their passings l(ea)ive questions ... why we seek the where ... if bones have memory is the skeleton shape of memory a shadow cast within the flesh of living ...

Tibor

- See: Memorium

:: note :: ... a wonderful life ... a theater worker of note ... thanks for shining so brightly ...

- See: Video Poetry :: note :: ... an older video ... tech advances have made embedding & producing much simpler ... A rehearsal reading written & read by John Livingstone Clark composed by Ray Stephanson & Duane Dorgan. @The Temple Aug. 04

Ian McEwan's On Chesil Beach is a writing of precision and restraint. A period piece carefully recorded by a contemporary historian of the heart. Concentrated in purpose the story explicates the emotional territory of a particular yet universal moment: "They were young, educated, and both virgins on this, their wedding night, and they lived in a time when a conversation about sexual difficulties was plainly impossible." The pace is paradoxically pedestrian and relentless allowing the elegiac ending to leave traces of light regret and melancholy. Somehow the book disappoints. Lacking any verve or daring the final insight, though simple and true, renders unimaginative.

Tim Adams , Colm Tóibín reviews

- See: Novel

photos by Iryn

"Knots? I queried myself in the midst of the chaos. I brought the words softly to my lips ... all sorts of things were connected. Some connections led to confusion, he'd said. Because I lost track of what I wanted. So were all my ties meaningless?"(Murakami. Dance Dance Dance. 94)

- See: Image

:: note :: ... just friday the 13th ...