live blogging my desk cleaning

happy day of freedom. i figured i would devote part of this holiday to cleaning out my work desk so when my replacements start next week we don’t have to shift through any of my accumulated mess. I know, at work on the 4th of july. It shouldn’t take too long and then I’m off for BBQ and Fireworks fun.

I’ve been here about a half hour so far and am starting to find interesting things so thought i would live blog my discoveries and reactions to getting rid of the past 5 years.

I’ve got a box almost filled with stuff to go home with me – mugs, tea, cds I’ve left here over the years, etc.

I just found a notebook from my first year at the J. It had sketches I made during tech of Passing the Love of Women. If my scanner at home is working, i haven’t tried it in a while, I’ll upload them.

what does one do with leftover business cards? I have probably 300 or so left over. use them as note cards when I’m reading books for school next year? any other ideas? I’d hate to throw them all out.

ooh, 50 cents found in my drawer!

mean girls promotional sunscreen – i think that becomes a gift for delia

two kippot in my drawer: a white one that says The Bar Mitzvah of Sam Oliver June 5, 1999. a silver one that says Bar-Mitzvah of Brandon Ross Schindler April 21, 2001 LJC (I have no idea who these people are)

another old notebook this one filled with writing exercises i did at a conference a few years ago in phoenix. the writing’s not bad. It also has the page I took notes on after seeing Motti Lerner’s Murder of Isaac. that show really affected me.

essay on arthur miller – maybe i’ll keep that.

dramaturgy packet on disputation – i should make a copy

old 5X5 scripts. they are all saved to the computer- to the recycle bin they go

just found the notebook i used while adapting The Dybbuk. I should probably hold on to that.

It’s so weird looking through things you did and having the vague memories of doing the work but it all seems so distant.

dramaturgy materials from A Bad Friend. I enjoyed that show.

The script from the Elisheva Greenbaum Tribute I directed. Elisheva was an Israeli playwright and poet who died tragically young of cancer. We had a tribute to her in ’05. One of the actors in the tribute was Paula Gruskiewicz, then in remission from cancer, sadly also died too young less than a year later.  Watching Paula read the final poem was one of the most moving things I have ever seen (in a side note the Elliott Smith song Waltz #2 is playing on my ipod right now, a song that I find extremely moving especially when thinking of his tragic death ‘i’m never going to know you now, but i’m going to love you anyhow’) – wow, cleaning can be a downer. Here are two Elisheva Greenbaum poems:

Stranger Woman

Ever since I learned to tie my shoelaces,
I’ve been tailing the human race.
Once, I even got very close to it.
We played together. Hide and seek, tag,
bridge. All sorts of “couple” games.
We lived together in a rented apartment.
I have pictures from that time.
The trip to Jerusalem. Holding
sunset in our hands.
Those were the days.
A refrigerator was a place full of possibilities.
A child was something to give birth to.

But I had to step back
to be able to see it better.
Without realizing, I turned transparent
as a telegraph pole.
Sometimes, he passes by, the human race,
even quite close. Friday afternoons,
on the way back from the market.
Two different hands holding one basket,
tomatoes bursting with seeds.
Barely touching, sweating, there are words
I must look up in the dictionary
to understand.

Now he lives right downstairs,
the human race. Sultry murmurs
float up from the verandah.
A confusion of words. A baby crying.
I listen. I can even
smell an omelet.
And to think that once
the moon was an example
of a faraway place.

Your Voice Casts a Shadow

Your voice casts a shadow over the world
now I must wander under the sun,
crossing this summer
as a raft of water over a river of fire.

I let you go

Your howl comes from
far away hills, as rocks
break in your hands
then your silence
across a darkening ridge

I believe in Autumn.
Infected blood will renew itself
in your veins. An inner man
will walk out fo a broken mirror.

Perhaps we flew too fast.
Skies turned to ashes
as we passed.
Now, a bath of coal
imprisons a ring of sweat.

I let go.

So I can Know you
In the slowness of crumbling granite.
Fish for you
with a net made of light.

 I just found a sketch I did of Jules Feiffer during A BAD FRIEND rehearsals – it’s not that good (especially compared to his work) but it’s recognizable i think.

I have a lot more post-it notes than I thought.

Early draft of Shawn’s Playdoh Golem.  That was not so long ago, and was lots of fun. Someone else should produce that show.

OK. DEEP BREATH. it’s time to take down the collage that has developed over the years on the back wall. what to keep and what to trash?

One of the thank you notes i had up on the wall was from my first show at theater j – talley’s folley june 03. it’s now july 08. time.

The wall is clear. wow. empty. except for two items which I leave behind for Shirley – a Rabbi trading card someone gave me on an opening night and the ‘Is there a dramaturge in the house?’ new yorker cartoon from a couple of years ago – I have another copy at home.

Now it’s time for a cleaning break – all that’s left is piling up what goes to Becky and what to Shirely and what I need to finish in the next week. and then done. But first to the gym.

and I think that’s the end of this blogging experience. thanks for sharing it with me.


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