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Teed getting hitched. Photo by Tom Hall.  #ORBS Well, duh. What we’ll be reading tonight. 
Happy New Year, y’all! Enjoying the holiday lights in Dean Park. On the Caloosahatchee.

तीन.  Pronounced tin, the Sanskrit word for three, which in the Devanagari form is ३.  A 3 with a tail. That’s the title of the play I have just drafted, and I’m pretty happy with it (though I’ll likely add a song or two as I revise the play).  Yes, this is what I have been working on, the play of the three woman in the cangues I wrote in a previous post.

But, as expected, it’s morphed into something that’s quite old, and it may be close to a set of masques (I’ve a scene with an elaborate dress, for one), with songs and dance.  But it’s also not the least bit courtly or elegant, and I think I’ve lifted some of the rudimentary tactics of ancient Greek theatre, no doubt translations by Anne Carson still floating about in my head.  These women are flat, even a little reductive.  It also takes a cue or two from Oregon poet Shaindel Beers, a touching on war and refuges, but that’s all in the background and submerged. It’s mostly a set of three voices, each caught in her own necessary self-absorption, each wholly seeking some reconnection.  The circuitry is a bit off, though, because these women, like most of us, are sad, lonely wrecks.

I’ve also written it with Shangri-La Springs in mind, where Ghostbird Theatre staged “No. 27” by Barry Cavin last spring.  We’ll see what ultimately becomes of it.



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