Something About October

I've been a busy bug these days, too busy living the life to blog (or for that matter, tweet) much about it. Though I see no special reason why October should be my "busy season", I can't help but note that last year my blog output dwindled inexplicably in the month of October, just as it has this year. Maybe it's the weather messing with me, maybe the red tide, or maybe it's just my biorhythms.

Then, too, consider that this hillbilly loves to eat. And last October, I was in Jacksonville, a city about which there are many things I adore, but its restaurants just aren't among them. For this reason, I couldn't wait to get the hell out of Dodge and my enthusiasm was therefore diminished somewhat. This October, I've been in Gulfport, another city whose decent dinner houses I can count on one hand. And yes, I'm chompin' at the bit to get outta here and move on to the next installment of "Jeffy Goes to Florida". If it weren't for my beloved Starbucks (the only coffee joint I know of around here that opens at 5am) I don't think I could survive.

Meanwhile, I've been working on - as usual - more projects than I can possibly keep up with. I'd rather throw a thousand dull darts to hit the carnival balloon than three sharp ones. Some people put all their hope, faith and effort into just one sharp dart. I don't like those odds.

Among those projects: paintings. Lots of 'em. Where these works are bound, I'm not certain. There have been some vague talks with some vague people about mounting my first art exhibition since moving to Interzone, but we'll see. These days I'd rather hang a painting in a bank or a hotel lobby (or better yet, your living room, dear reader) than a gallery or museum.

I'm also planning to extend my twitter broadcasts to a second channel, a separate account that delves deeper into my art, music, photography, fiber creations, what have you. For those who would much rather see art than see what I smoked for lunch or drank for dinner, now's your chance. More about that in weeks to come.

The theatre angle, on the other hand, isn't going so swimmingly. May I take this space to apologize for every time I (hyperbolically, I promise) spoke of Louisville theatre people as being a bunch of commitment-phobic lackadaisical flakes?

I'm telling you, from what I have assessed so far, Florida's theatre scene is so pronouncedly tepid it makes Louisville seem like paradise. I held auditions for a stage production of a short play adapted from my pirate novel The Seventeenth Island , and I wasn't thrilled with the results. The actors conducted themselves admirably in their thespian skills, to be sure, but despite everyone wanting to be an actor, few were willing to commit their time to it for the necessary seven weeks. Makes me long for Louisville, where at least some actors willfully and gratefully dedicated their entire lives to the cause completely, utterly and unquestioningly. (In many ways in that respect, theatre production is a lot like BDSM, or a multi-level marketing program.)

I haven't given up on the pirate play, mind you. All in time. I may stage The Bartender as a play first, since it has far fewer characters and requires far fewer actors to deal with. And I haven't given up on the four almost-finished pulp fiction novels I've been rolling around in the sand with for the past year. Or this blog either.

Let's roll.