so_fragile_its_individual_performers blueberries for you the lights go down and you step up to the microphone, looking out to the small crowd of people gathered to hear what dwells inside. you realize you have nothing to say that has not already been said a hundred times, but still they sit there waiting. why? maybe because the world is vulnerable, so fragile its individual performers carefully presenting original twists and turns to voices peviously heard. new meanings to old definitions. fresh accentuation to stale utterance. conversational rennaissance. theatrical dialogue. writing on a chalkboard with a crayon and letting the sun melt it in a novel way of erasure. sending handwritten letters on perfumed stationary with envelopes made from watercolor paintings. reading books to children, looking up occassionaly to see eyes fixed, gazes set to a world beyond this one, that they alone create. 011026 ... distorted tendencies The monologue I speak. Improvisations I make. Every single day. 011027 what's it to you? who go blather from