I have all these things I'm thinking about, and once again, no computer. Jan is back in the shop -- this time with a suspect motherboard -- and the iMac is likewise down with a blown power supply. The only working computer is the Rocket Scientist's work laptop, and using it extensively is not a feasible option. Maybe I should go down to the public library.
Oh, joy.
I am spending my time reading. (I adore Stephen Sondheim, just saying.) I am learning a little about writing lyrics for the musical theater. a fair amount about Broadway history, at least for a certain swath of time and from a given viewpoint, and quite a bit about writing in general (by osmosis). Sondheim can be completely detached, and does not believe in sacred cows. Even Oscar Hammerstein, who was both an artistic mentor and a surrogate father for him, comes in a fair amount of criticism. (And praise as well: Sondheim saves his real ire for Noel Coward and Lorenz Hart.) Nor does he hesitate to explain what is wrong either with his own lyrics or with the productions he was associated with in general. It is refreshingly acerbic and honest. I can hardly wait for Volume II: this volume left off in 1981, before Sunday in the Park with George, Into the Woods, or Assassins.
I have been contemplating a couple of relatively recent Supreme Court decisions, but I don't have the computer time to construct a polished post on them. (I refine my thoughts at the keyboard before publishing them.)
Finally, if there are more than the usual numbers of typos in this post, it is because I just got new contacts, and am trying to write this without resorting to reading glasses. Damn, I hate growing older.
I'll see you later, when I can.
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