Sunday, January 16, 2011


It’s been a week since I posted here. A week spent writing like a fiend and making great advances in the progression of plot and character development. Let it be understood, however, that those moments of writerly endeavor are far from regular and seldom focal points of any given day. I write when I can, stealing moments and setting aside hours when I can address the urge in private. Living in a household of boisterous energy and having a very busy life to pursue, it’s not often easy, but I take what I can get. As I don’t have much to impart on the process of writing, at this point, I thought I would give a glimpse into the other side of a working writer’s life. To wit, what this writer does when he’s not writing.


Bake Bread

I love cooking and try to do it often. Unfortunately, because of my schedule and the hours I keep managing the local historic theatre/performance space, I don’t often have the kind of time I’d like to spend on this particular stress-relieving hobby. Enter the latest gadget in our kitchen: a bread machine, handed down by my partner Donny’s parents. Now I can create culinary delights (like this loaf laced with pesto, feta, sun-dried tomatoes and walnuts )at the same time that I’m writing! I love it. Does it satisfy ALL of my gastronomic needs? No, but it does offer some respite from that annoying rumble in the pleasure me center and allows me to substitute knead for need.


Connect With Touring Friends

Living where we do—at the “crossroads” where I-25 and I-10 intersect--we occasionally have musician friends drive through, while on tour. When that happens, and if they don’t have a pressing gig in some faraway city like Phoenix, Tucson, Albuquerque, El Paso or Austin, we always offer a place to stay and decompress. This time around, it was dark glam goddess Venus DeMars who took us up on our hospitality, spending two nights, a wonderful day hiking in the nearby Organ Mountains and an evening of fireside musical bliss that will long be remembered by the denizens of this culture-starved household.


Play With Fire!

Having the kind of schedules we all do, the yard tends to get a little neglected. Okay, it gets a LOT neglected. After the nourishing rains of the Fall months, hardy weeds begin to proliferate and, if they’re not tended to, quickly overtake every square inch of available land. Which means that at this time of the year, we have to call out the big guns and blast them back to the nether reaches of whatever hell to which weeds wither away. Our friend Mike came by with his heavy-duty torch and we set fire to the entire yard, burning, raking and generally taking back the yard. It was an all day adventure and satisfied some deep primal need to destroy that which is unwelcome. Beats all hell out of taking out aggressions on door-to-door, pamphlet-pushing zealots sporting blue hair and Laura Ashley prints, no?


Entertain the Masses

I’ve already mentioned my job at the Rio Grande Theatre. It’s a rare weekend that doesn’t entail some sort of attention to on-stage performance. This particular weekend we played host to a visiting dignitary from the outback of Australia: William Barton, the “world’s foremost authority on the Australian didjeridu.” It was a magical afternoon of storytelling and foreign sounds. Highly enjoyable and definitely inspirational for those of us who are always looking for the unusual to spark an idea or ten in the netherfolds of our creative consciousness.

Ah, but a new week looms on the misty horizon and with it the promise of stolen moments in which I can return to the task of illuminating the exploits of the fiercely ungovernable denizens of Otherwhen. With all senses stimulated and engaged, it should prove most rewarding. Or, at least, characteristically challenging.

No comments:

Post a Comment