(from an email)
Diane Cluck is so imaginative and self-disciplined. My head is spinning.

"We spend 3/4s of the time apologising for the 1/4 of the time we're thoughtless..."

Monte Carlo creates a clarity moment in the midst of SUFFOCATING VACATION,

people acting like they own their companions during the time they are renting them,

clarity shared by everyone through an expressive act of communication.

At one point in the song she describes what she sees in real time.

From Matt I learned,
You can not heal what you cannot feel.
& Marry to be free, find yourself to be enslaved.

Am I mistaken or are the first words out of Elvis Costello, "Welcome to my working week. I know it don't thrill you. I hope it don't kill you. Welcome to my working week. you better do it 'til you're through it, so you better get to it." (?) It is good advice. Thank you, EC.

I dreamt I jumped from a plane into the water, and I broke my fall by intentionally riding the wind.

(The jawdroppingly colorful surfer movie from 1958, Slippery When Wet, gave some meaning to the comment, I have cable, because it was on last night and during a break from the surfing, the guys dove!)

Anyway, I landed and, once I was walking around my arms kept floating up above my shoulders, 'cause I was lighter than air.

I also dreamt of a drought that became apparent at the upper end of a lake, an inlet, that was grassy instead of watery.
I viewed it from a screened in porch attached to a ranch resort cabana that I was crashing for the food. ("Do you want any food?" Reaching for a paper towel, I dropped the paper towel dispenser that was over the sink which was adjacent to the bed. I dropped the paper towel dispenser on the bed!)
The porch was ancient and unused since its view was of a depressing reminder of the vital stream that once flowed there.
I attempted to open a window which crashed off its hinges onto the ground.
What was a window doing in a screened in porch?
Up above us was the hole of a mountain lake. It once held the water that overflowed through the stream that led to the valley lake.

I also dreamt I was driving nine people, two of whom were in the trunk, those two nearly forgotten as we collected ourselves following my driving the car off a bridge onto the embankment. When we finally remembered to open the trunk they were disheveled and drenched in sweat. I was attempting to drive everyone home...

This has been an odd night of irritation. "I'm dying of hunger and I'm dressed in shorts," yelled a passerby into a cellphone. The woman at the 2nd Ave. liquor store was losing her head arguing into the phone and at the fellow running the store with her. "I don't give a fuck about spending time with you and your friends." Has everyone decided to quit smoking at the same time?

I went to a private cardiologist for a check-up, 'cause since age 13 I've had an arrhytmia named after Woff, Parkinson & White. That misshapen ekg beat permits a short circuit within the heart so that a rapid mini beat occurs. During these palpitations, the blood circulates minimally; I'm sure it's much easier for the heart to enter into this little selfish beat, it's just that the rest of the body doesn't get the blood. The heart contains within itself the blood as it (merrily?) beats 240 the minute.

This is an old odd story to me, and, amidst the lessons we are learning daily, consider the following.

After a prescription renewal mix-up on the part of the (inefficiently run?) office of Dr. Mayer Ballas, in Forest Hills, renewing one prescription and not the other, and as a result of it, Dr. Ballas refused to speak with me, rejected his doctor patient relationship and withdrew as my doctor when I attempted to make an appointment with him.

He has been my doctor for 25 years.

His behaviour has impressed me. I forgive him on both a professional and personal level.

So I saw another cardiologist. One of the medications really doesn't need to be renewed. It causes arrhytmia. It's called Quinaglute. I've stopped taking it.

Once again, my only ailments are mental.

The Park Fests are progressing well.

Progress... My creative work exists under the name, Cinema VII, simply because it is exists apart from me, contained within a preserved medium. I am the source, yet I see myself as not always the source. In fact, I want my work to exist apart from me so that I can move on. I love the technology that permits us to be regenerated. Is there something missing in the regeneration?

I preserve what I've done and move on. Forgetting what we learned we keep learning.

Merce Cunningham, 50 Years of Forward Motion...

What a stupid post from July 11th! Regarding one's financial decisions, if I sold then the money I would have received would be 7,500 more than now. Oh, Roberta just brought in an email regarding bottle deposit return on Budweiser. A thousand dollar investment would have returned a coupl'a'hunerd.

What else is new, please?

I spent so far this year over thirty thousand dollars and if I sell the stocks and funds I own I will have lost another thirty thousand or nearly half their value. Boy, I had no idea I had that much money!

Prepare to Meet Your Maker, the surrealist musical mystery play, had its 29th performance, its history documented elsewhere on the cinemavii.com site. We performed the fifth of its six performances at the WAH Center, last night.

The Twenty-Ninth Performance of Prepare to Meet Your Maker went well. I participated with Drew Blood; we had taken over for Josh and Jason who dropped out last week, and that is when the phallus in Orin’s display went missing. The whole point of the story is the missing phallus; I mean the Isis Osiris story incorporated into ours.

Audience members included Bruce Brown and Enid, his wife, and Marc Baron and Cinti and her friend Candida, and two Hasidic boys, well garbed, in time for sundown since we began at 8:30.

We’re in the longest days of the year, so sunset couldn’t have been much later here in New York, along the same latitudinal meridian as Barcelona.

Our next performance features me at the piano. Tonight Kenny and Brian performed beautifully, with amazing dynamic variation, with that $200 Yamaha Keyboard, the best around. Please, it’s a quite unreasonably good sounding keyboard. Yamaha electronics have a superior musicality, my prior experience being with the QY10 and the original DX7.

Tony Hightower continues to achieve new heights of drama and entertainment, along with his splendid singing voice, this time as Quasimodo with Meghan Elizabeth Burns. The miracle here is that for the past four performances the originator of the role, Lisa Dery, returned to the role with some perspective and great charm. They both do wonderful unique interpretations.

Lisa Sredniawski (Lisa Shred) took over as Mathilda for Linda Kobylinski (who was needed in Sharon's Putnam which had its run extended at a new theatre.) I was backstage throughout our performance and it was always a pleasure to see Lisa smiling and enjoying herself. Kimberly Mossel continues to keep the show running, and doing a wonderful job as she improves her presentation skills and adjusts to the echo-ey surroundings. Seeing a performance by Laurel Hoffman simply sells you on Laurel Hoffman. Drew Blood, well, I directed the torment of his restlessness upon myself and he was helpful and dynamically unique, as Tyr Throne, the director, could not be there this evening.

Petris came by this evening; he's the Finnish director with plans to do a play about a boy named Lionheart. We look forward to seeing more from him.

The WAH Center third floor is resonant, wet, I believe, is the term, and naturally so, so it sounds great. The cast has learned to adjust. Rene Moreno, the artist who is often there at the Center, ran lights and even held a beautiful umbrella over Laurel and Lisa as they performed the Pokida/Samama scene.