Wednesday.
I woke up very early this morning, before the sun - which, even here in Maine, is pretty early. There was a rime of snow on the cars of Doctor's Row - I couldn't see any falling, it might have been blowoff from earlier in the day, hard to tell.
Too tired, too wired.
The keyboard was calling to me. I had stayed up late, missing my usual after-work call to C., in order to finish sketching my latest milonga.
"Milonga", for the uninitiated (or the unimpressed) is a tango term that refers to both an actual social dance event (we have one scheduled for Valentine's Day) and a dance form.
The dance form is characterized by a fast paso doble rhythm - think the words "San Francisco, San Francisco" said really fast and you'll have the basic idea.
They tend to be fast and making them work structurally and technically for the players is an interesting challenge. I like them, but they are something of a chore. This is why I set myself the task of bashing one out.
I'm trying to force myself to leave the dock and swim fast in deep waters. Something like the trick of a "speedthrough" that actors will use to check how well lines are ingrained into their heads. You run the play as fast as possible. (This is different from a "Marx Brothers Runthrough" otherwise called an "Italian Runthrough" where a play - especially Shakespeare - is done as if the entire cast consisted of Chico Marx - quite a sight, especially for the Scottish Play).
I think if there are any bad habits in my writing this will bring them out. Patterns and lazinesses (I just made that word up).
So, I guess I should finish my coffee and breakfast - I'm at Mousse, which I've often used for Wednesday musings, and get my ass back to work.
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