09 February 2005

enough disclaimers and set-up. time for some honest-to-goodness fluff.

remember marshmallow fluff? remember a time when you were young enough to eat without guilt, but with deep love for processed sugar? well this post has nothing to do with that. but the title did.

jumping right in, introductionless, to my life.

[pertinent quote from this morning's subway reading: "To begin. But how to establish the exact moment in which a story begins? Everything has already begun before, the first line of the first page of every novel refers to something that has already happened outside the book. Or else the real story is the one that begins ten or a hundred pages further on, and everything that precedes it is only a prologue. The loves of individuals of the human race form a consistent plot, in which every attempt to isolate one piece of living that has a meaning separate from the rest - for example, the meeting of two people, which will become decisive for both - must bear in mind that each of the two brings with himself a texture of events, environments, other people, and that from the meeting, in turn, other stories will be derived which will break off from their common story." italo calvino, if on a winter's night a traveller, which is proving to be a lovely book about books. who knew calvino and i romanticize kitchens in exactly the same way.]

we've been interviewing people to be john's replacement. john, who is me + jed + james. john, whose leaving in two days kinda puts all my leaving-soon plans into disarray, but not too much, really. and these people interviewing are all rather... meh. it's all being done in a rush, as we had short notice, and it's not the most bountiful time of year for entry-level hiring. (working for a harvest metaphor that i can't quite arrange.) so we've been interviewing - or the agents have been interviewing, and i've been eavesdropping, and meeting the people who are deemed Not Awful. and sigh, i say, because even the Not Awfuls are kinda meh. and these interviewed kids were culled from what's probably now literally hundreds of resumes people sent in. diverse resumes, from people of all levels of retardation. (pardon the crudeness, but this is no time to be pc, not in an emergency of so many people being so goddamn dumb.) sigh and alas. i don't really care, though - i've kind of checked out. with john leaving, and me wanting to, i don't really care who they hire, as long as the person doesn't suck. so we'll see.
the point, many paragraphs lost now, is that at least two of the people who've come in to interview have mentioned their dream, their plan, their Ultimate Life Goal, of running a theatre. and when they say it, it sounds dumb. it sounds silly. it sounds like it's never gonna happen, and if it does, it's going to be sad - tiny overheated space in the attic of a church sad.

and here i am, with pretty much the same sort of dream. (if we don't write that tony-winning musical, which we will, so never mind.) and what says that their dreams are sad (other than my own judgemental black soul), and what says that mine aren't? is this me being mean, me being right, or me being delusional?

don't answer that.

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