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today in class, i confessed to an analogy i've found between acting and "real life" (though i ask, when does life get more real for me than through the life that acting brings...).

no men were currently in the little gathering of picnic-ers on the floor of the class space, so, when the topic moved to the experience of forcing an emotional response, i sheepishly {practically in a whisper} said: i feel like trying to force an emotional response is as frustrating and futile as forcing an orgasm. it's either going to happen, or it's not, and sitting there trying to force your body there just makes it less likely and less enjoyable.

there was a wave of agreement from my listeners and {of course} a few off color jokes as the idea was freely distributed among the classmates currently in the room.



on the flip side, the experience of really nailing something, achieving a fully successful response, even the uncomfortable ones of shuddering tears or violent shouts, is as heady and intoxicating as the best orgasm.

and it always takes me a while to come down again–which is why i'm perched in my studio, writing, a mellow mix serenading in the background, instead of doing the pre-sleep, pre-work week tasks.

these happen so infrequently, i have to savor them.

and, of course, i have to preserve them.



{one note: i wasn't able to come down from the restless high until 2am. i had to write. clean. putter. organize. etc.}

currently listening to: a mix called cloudie day mix, featuring radiohead, sigur ros, elliot smith, sufjan stevens, etc.