Epistemysics

Some theatre each day keeps the doctor away…

The Flaws, The Flaws!

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To write, and make with ev’ry scratch a flaw…

(I wrote, on the left-hand page of my exercise book in which I’m writing my play (I only write the actual play on the right hand page, to leave the left open for notes and good lines and whatnot that I think of before they’re due to be put in the scene) “ev’ry scratch a flaw”, which I think I might get the poet in the play to say, except he certainly isn’t me, and that’s certainly something that I would think, and probably not something that he would think, because I doubt he has that kind of self-doubt…)

(Why am I bothering explain the line?  I just thought it was kinda cool.)

Not that I wrote any lines today.  But back to work on it tomorrow.  (Because, you know, I work on it regularly, with clockwork precision, I do…)

I was reading today that Keats set himself the task of writing Endymion, and grew quite disheartened as he was writing it, realising that it wasn’t as good as he hoped it would be, but he pushed through and finished it anyway.  It’s important to finish things, isn’t it?  I will finish this play, I will finish this play, I will plinish this flay.  (What?  I must be sick.  Get me Dr. Spooner!)  (Googling it, I find it was named after a reverend who suffered from constant switching of the syllables.  You learn something every now and then, don’t you?)

Finished Letter 122 in Clarissa.  Which is actually a lie, because I only finished Letter 121, but my edition has cut out Letter 122, so I’ll be reading 123 next.

Won a $1 free ticket on the scratchie today.  Huzzah!  I’d much prefer the cash, but I’ll take whatever I can get, of course.

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Written by epistemysics

December 26, 2012 at 1:14 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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