Today is a beautiful August 17th, a Sunday, and I woke at 10 and went to the Mary Help of Christians Church where a somber mood prevailed over a loss of one of the parishiners. Father Joy said the mass. I arrived late enough to catch his Allelulia, as always perfectly pitched in G, leading into the gospel reading, about a woman whose demons Jesus removed at the request of her mother who appealed to him by saying, dogs appreciate scraps that fall from the masters dinner table. Mother and daughter were gentiles and their inclusion was apparently the theme, that all are god's children, and the chosen are the ones chosen to lead all toward salvation, and not just battle fiercely the heathen "other" without regard. I played Whatsoever You Do, Make of Our Hearts a Home, and Amazing Grace

My quest for objective awareness includes all religious explorations. My upbringing still activates me...

Tonight is my Cow City opening, and that piece confronts the awareness of all life forms, including spirits. ("You feel for them." "The true Aspergers makes me capable of designing these.") The universe is in a single room, on a mountain, in a greenhouse cellar, in a meatpacking plant (a humane one..), between a single couple -- I believe in the synergy of two. Of course there are pop elements of a murder mystery with the interchange between victor and victim, predator and prey. It's a sequel to a previous play entitled "(The Expanding and Contracting) O."

I share the apartment with three cats and I see how they reach a peace and balance, that includes both co-existing and attacking each other. They are just restless and active and curious and their universe is here. I'm happy that the apartment has many lovely areas.

The reason I've gone to blogland is the email I received from The WAH Center of the upcoming Milton Celebration through art and theatre, including my own "Paradise Found," which, a month and a half away, is Collaboratively Formulating. Paradise is a resort in Afghanastan. I haven't been there but I've heard it exists, as it existed for Kipling a hundred years ago, when today's hotspots were British Colonies.

Next up, in December, The Chekhov Festival of The Brooklyn Playwrights. I'm adapting the story, In the Ravine.

Then January 9th, the Bentley Kassal show!

Of course I look forward to singing the songs that arise from all the above in concerts at the SideWalk music venue.

And while I return to and learn from the (universe contained in the) familiar, I am ready for an exploration into realms hitherto unknown to me; hopefully to live through it. Cough...

Yes, I attended Oliver's celebration of his third Kidney, transplanted into him 30 years ago yesterday. Of course the Kidney's name is Stanley. He circled the martial arts room demonstrating the Chinese swordplay that signifies different breaths of the I Ching. He's in good shape. (The fellow in the bed next to him got the other kidney and died a year and a half later... )

Let's see how much longer I'll be coughing here. Otherwise I feel fine. Honestly, my eyesight is not too stable. Still the world is bright and beautiful.