Posted by TC Newell on September 23, 2016
continued from http://anythingtheater.blogspot.com/2016/09/23sep16-panagiotios-project.html
Posted by TC Newell on September 23, 2016
I’m at a point with Anything Theater and Performers Theater that I need a break–to sit back and let what I have so far simply marinate. So from now until the end of September, I’m going to finish a short essay, come out with a good handful of videos, and come up with 100 collages piled up in the wood cart.
I’ll show you the “Christian” in me. I intend to entertain you GAY all the say. The only BLT I like is bacon, lettuce, and tomato. If you could steer clear of your blitches and your entourage, I could show you miraculous marvelous homoerotic art. That’s my claim and I’m sticking to it: WALL-OF-FRAMES Production Videos and Camp Sporaticus are for you.
If you could steer away from your blitches and your entourage, for even 10 minutes, then we could play fisti-boi eddie. It’s time for the 1-2 second montages, naughty’n’nice, down&dirty. Don’t listen to them when they proclaim this to be box-office poison. It’s time to establish my brands here.
I’m currently reading The Emotional Intelligence Quick Book, by Travis Bradberry and Jean Greaves. [weirdly spelled last names], 2005. I’m getting great quotes, like Discovery consists of seeing what everybody has seen and thinking what nobody has thought — Albert von Szent-Gyorgyi
I’m beginning to rediscover by exploring the fruits and benefits of 2013, three and a half years ago.
We must not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we began and know the place for the first time. –T. S. Eliot
Could you please give me some comments, criticisms, opinions? Is your B. O. at the library today sending me a message that I’m not allowed near your, even if I wanted to be? That doesn’t mean I can’t hear you. Your voices are more valuable to me than your smelly young bodies. I’ve walked by the other end of the spectrum as yuppies and preppy peeps sit outside on a sidewalk café, looking as if they feel they’re more superior than anybody who mostly feed themselves out of a microwave. Especially you men, always focused on the wrong things.
Start using your rational thinking by using the front of your brains. The chasm in the mind between the entry of our senses and reason is a problem because between the two rests the limbic system. . . .where emotions are experienced. [p. 11] Up to this point, that’s where I’m trapped in more emotion and the signals aren’t traveling to the front of my brain as quickly as I want. A lot of people talk through their azzes–I talked through my limbic system. Over the passed few years I’ve been feeling primary feelings and I haven’t moved them quickly forward to the front of my brain, like when I was in high school. I remember being in the front row of a lot of classes. I need to move back up to the front of the class.
Some of us struggle along a two-lane country road, while others have built a five-lane superhighway. A generous flow of traffic is the cornerstone of a high emotional intelligence. [p. 13]
I’ve been going through a lot of personal development over the last 15 months without even knowing it. Involved in self-contemplation since the beginning of 2011, almost 6 years now, the same age as my Anything Theater. And as a least some of you could know, anything goes on Anything Theater.
We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit. — Aristotle
October’s my favorite month and I honestly can’t remember when I decided that. I just know I love October’s cooler days, beautiful clouds, darker and crisper leaves and their aroma, and darker and crisper shadows from the sun. And this October, on this Voyage, 2016, I’m going to warm things up, even when it’s starting to turn cold.
In order for a new behavior to last, you have to practice it enough to make it permanent. You have to train your brain to adopt the behavior. . .it’s likely that your brain would adjust and new neural pathways would form to support the behavior. [pp. 85-86]
And so, every day now, I am a clean white canvas, and I have another clean white canvas of paper waiting in front of me as the scribe shall write. This is fascinating stuff! I never thought of things this way before, and how did this book find me? I was searching and discovering the concepts in this book, for the first time, after three and a half years. It was something I had written in my Daily Planner, 2013–a book called Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Coleman. Bob Proctor had mentioned it on one of his 6 Minutes to Success videos. Sorry to say, I’m not into Bob Proctor right now, yet he and I have had a nice history together.
You don’t drown by falling in the water; you drown by staying there. –Edwin Louis-Cole
Yes, there is discomfort in my recent self-awareness. Why, even the emotion involved with sex has traversed through my neural pathways in my brain, and I have adapted to the transformation from sexual energy to creative energy. One behavior replaces the other. So yes, I am aware that I write things that are discomforting to my readers. And I have no control over my readers’ discomfitures. They’re either going to leave Camp Sporaticus or they’re going to stay.
I now know the difference between being a hustler and having my azz hustled. I’ve been hustled enough, and that just ain’t happenin’ no more! By 30SEP16, this is what’s going to happen:
I’m stopping all entries for two weeks on Anything Theater. And I’m stopping all entries here in Camp Sporaticus. For two weeks. That means the material shall have time to marinate and fester for half a month. Meanwhile, I’ll be cooking up some fresh stuff on the PC at home. That ol’ monitor’s been cooking for me for 6 years and I bought it used. And I’m cooking and using this PC like I’m cooking over there on the stove that’s been cooking for me 9 years, and it certainly had been used before that.
It’s time for a surge of traffic flow, like through the limbic system to show off what I can do and have done. Anything Theater usually has 3 paragraph so you don’t have to scroll. Camp Sporaticus is like a video that you scroll and scroll down through. Two different styles. It’s time to get the message out! And that means I’m going to lean into that discomfort.
Posted by TC Newell on September 22, 2016
The last approach. . .Yo! Finexposure! After 15 months, I’ve decided to open the front gate to Camp Sporaticus again. There was a time 15 months ago, when I believed that this blog had an end date– 17JUN15. Thank goodness, I was wrong. I see Ben’s back and you know he’s reminding me of a totally different character. Ashanti’s not Night-Hawk the Villain anymore. He’s evolved to the Supra-Hero, MAJAH, the Worcester Whirlwind. He’s starring in my new video, [It’s Just The] Major&Me, 8:06 of pure Ashanti bliss. I guarantee you’ve never seen anything like this!
Today I’m making my last approach to find MAJAH here in Worcester. I know he’s here. I just can’t see him yet. MAJAH&Me — we’re both here in Worcester–YOU, I’m not ready to see. Yet I can feel your spirit, your ghost. And we’re really getting into the Fight-Dance! Ben Ashanti is the Worcester Whirlwind. There’s a sculpture of him in front of the Worcester Public Library. [My WordPress icon]
YOU&Me are walking up and down, back and forth, in and out of George Street today and everyday. So many sculptures of you I see. Everyone of these collages in this 53-card pick-up is like a cherry picked from a tree. And the scribe is writing tonight.
Let’s come down now from off our highs and just stick to coffee and a cigarette like me sticking to MAJAH. I know he’s ready to flex his creative muscles for me. I know you’re in Worcester. YOU, I’m not ready to see yet! Yet, I could feel your ghost, your spirit.
The MAJAH&Me are stirring up creative energy that some could call good, others could call evil. We’re still putting Daniel Boone’s “Sunday Morning” in the video, good and evil.
MAJAH reminds me of a Lad I knew in Columbus, OH who wasn’t anything great, yet he did give me some great character names and images, just like Ben Ashanti. That’s more than enough to offer.
So now, MAJAH&Me are planning this project, making it up as we go along, so a lot gets done. “Let’s not forget your incredible web cam shots,!” says Majah. He steps up to the plate.
“Every little project adds up. Like nickels and dimes. Could you hear the echo of the double entendre?” He steps up to the plate as he fiercely and fearlessly brings it to the table.
“Let’s see how far I can go as King of the Double Entendre before I come up with a Triple. Or a 4th and 5th Entendre.”
“It depends upon who’s reading this. I’m justifying the time we’ve spent. I’m proving it in BLACK&White,” I say. I show Majah all the journals and daily planners I’ve stored in a box.
“Why has it taken so long to block you out of my mind! I seem to be stuck on you. Welcome to my world.”
MAJAH wraps a huge fist around my shirt collar. “Let me come on in. We should be done by 5 p. m. I see myself as more than one character in my reflections in your House of Mirrors.” He steps up to the mirrors and sees himself reflected a thousand times.
“I’m wearing Carl Lewis track shorts, then retro-soccer gear, then into spandex again.”
Mr. Incognito steps into the House of Mirrors with Majah. “Your athletic physique is astounding to behold, and you’re the new Supra-Hero in town.” He unloosens his tie and takes off his suit jacket.
“Your performance in the Fight-Dance with me shows me that you’re discovering new conditions which provide the sensations of pleasure, and your physical being is exulted!”
“I feel compelled to be a part of the Fight-Dance,” says Majah. “I’m creating punches and kicks while feeling the grace of my creative source with every upper-cut and chisel-punch.” He steps up with a right upper-cut to Incognito’s jaw and smiles at himself in the mirror as he watches Incognito fall.
“You’re a Church-Lad,” says Mr. Incognito. He gives Majah one of his left jabs.
“I always seem to attract them. Your church is your holy place while my Theater is my chapel. Either way, our Creative Sources are smiling on us.”
MAJAH flips over after Incognito’s sock and rolls over on his back and kicks himself back up into a standing position. “You call your creative source God while you call yourself God,” says Majah. He steps up with a left upper-cut this time to get the other side of Incognito’s jaw and smiles at himself in the mirror as he watches Incognito fall.
“We all are Gods. We are both Dreamers. I’m a wilder dreamer than you are, I’ll bet, yet I make no pretense of my greatness as I develop the greatness in myself.” He pulls out a camera and takes a selfie of himself standing over the fallen Special Guest Villain.
“I look at your garb and your legs,” says Mr. Incognito, looking up at him while lying in a heap of garbage trash cans and lids.
“I’d say you practice what you preach.”
MAJAH turns to face Mr. Incognito and helps him on his feet. “And so do you,” he says. “You’re an Inventor, a Creator.” Majah knocks him down again with a roundhouse right and left.
Mr. Incognito crashes down on top of the metal garbage cans and lids, and there is this loud echo of a smashing sound. “And so are you.” As punch-drunk as he is, he can still look up into Majah’s penetrating eyes.
“It’s what you wanna do.”
Just then, Rema, my SupraStyle Fashion designer brings in a jock-strap he designed for MAJAH to wear on the Las Vegas/Sin City Tour coming very soon! “This is manual labor that we all love to do,” says Majah. He quickly changes into Rema’s new design and admires himself in all of the reflections in the House of Mirrors.
“And we both prove it by exchanging punches and opportunities and coming up with new skices and possibilities for different characters and circumstances.”
MAJAH&Me are walking up George Street in Worcester and making quite the Duo, quite the talk of the pave, calve muscles bulging and ripping through our tube socks, as we climb the 500-foot track rearing up like a steel mill’s smokestack. “I’ve got the physiological leg-up on you, Incognito,” says Majah.
“And as Special Guest Villain, you make me look phenomenal !” He gives Mr. Incognito an inner-thigh slap to the face and knocks him clear across George Street.
“My Chapel, my place of worship is the Theater,” I say as Mr. Incognito. “Even on Sundays, Church-Lad.” He runs toward Majah and knocks him down in the driveway of an old factory.
“Sundays are my most hedonistic days, don’t ya know? Come to join me, MAJAH?”
MAJAH comes up with a combination using all kinds of punches, like the Duck-Punch, the Chisel-Punch, and the Lasso-Punch before Incognito crumbles to the ground unconscious. “I’ll take a break from church for one Sunday.” He takes out his camera to get another selfie with Mr. Incognito sprawled out in the background. Majah smiles and there’s a twinkle in his penetrating eyes. “It’s ’bout time I knocked you out in the chapel, Theater-Man! My Chapel!”
Posted by TC Newell on September 20, 2016
At one point, I turn out to be your 9 to 5 only at the J-O-B.
J-O-B. Another running gag.
And outside the J-O-B, I don’t always know who I am. I’m too busy concentrating on where I am and who I am and keeping up appearances. I never let you know which Prince Nehemiah you were talking to. The Universe likes speed and so do you. The Universe abhors a vaccuum and so do you. The past two months you’ve have been cutting, cutting, cutting. Filling the void with fresh ink. Putting the pen to paper, applying that to Note-Pad, then copying and pasting to Gregory Gregarious. You’ll give us your Readers Theater script.
I am at your service. Boo! It is time for the denouement of you. And this is how I want to remember Boo. As my ROCK ‘EM SOCK ‘EM COW-BOI. I want to remember you from the first day I saw you, Boo. Right now, you are resisting me, and you are strong. You and I have a different image of you. And I love this Fight-Dance. I’ve had you in my sights all along. We both have each other pegged and we both believe you are coming back to magically and miraculously, assist.
I’m wearing thigh-high denims. Blue.
Black boots and white tubes, too.
I am your perpetual “new” Supra-Hero in town. Your Desk-Top Icon. Your book-cover. We both look good enough to be hanging out in the LegFetish Universe. Me and you.
I worship and adore you. I’m totally dedicated to you, Boo.
Totally. And I adore you. You and your intelligent flirtations.
Posted by TC Newell on June 17, 2015
The Visions evoke the Verses. I’ve had this habit of attracting myself to those wo admire me a lot less than I admire them. I keep running or stumbling into them, and haven’t been ablt to understand why and how and at this point, who cares? The more I persisted, the more they resisted. I can only hope, from either one or all four of them, I can say they came back and assisted. As far as I’m concerned, each one of them is the Supra-Hero, the Desk-Top Icon, the Fight-Dancer, and the Readers Theater Performer of the Future.
RETRO IS THE FUTURE AND THE FUTURE IS RETRO
At Gregory Gregarious Productions, you are only as good as your next project. And that’s why the Creative Energy Flow keeps going and growing. The Prince has supplied more than enough viable visions of the characters I am writing about.
Time to get the boot-laces tied up neatly, and to see that this is the end of a journey. Time to start blazing a couple new trails. I’m ready for some new journeys. Are you?
Indeed I dare. Indeed I do. Dreaming&Fantasizing is the name of my new class @ the University of Diversity. Rema has a new fashion line with striped, white calve-high tube socks are in again.
RETRO IS THE FUTURE AND THE FUTURE IS RETRO
Thank you, Cyrissa.
I’m a real come-and-goer. At the beginning, I followed you with my eyes. For you that was a surprise. I remember once when I looked at you, I knew my face was aglow, then you were in the know that I was diggin’ your supra-Hero thing.
Gregory Gregarious while writing his stories is showing us what he’s thinking as he writes. He’s even got me writing a little like him. I am the one who introduced him to Robert M. Pirsig. ZEN AND THE ART OF MOTORCYCLE MAINTENANCE. And he never had to tell me how much he appreciates that. He shows me. Malcolm Strachan, KINGDOM ROCK TIMES
Thank you, Malcolm, for being my champion.
Posted by TC Newell on June 14, 2015
I saw you on the street before wearing your referee jacket. And that’s why I flagged you down as you were walking out of the Library. Could be I simply liked the jacket.
I had to see you. I gotta enough of your visions on Qik-Kam and I’m gonna plaster your face all over the place. I’m gonna woo you to Worcester, you Rock ‘Em/Sock ‘Em Cow-Boi.
You have to FEEL me, Gregory!
We’re kindred spirits too. BOO!
He’s mine and I’m ready to fight him and make him look good. I’m getting into the act, but let me show you, not tell you.
See you want to act this out. Perform this. The writing isn’t inert. Gregory Gregarious and company are creating a new photo-journalism. Malcolm Strachan. Kingdom Rock Times.
If I can split wood for forty minutes without stopping, I can write forty minutes without stopping. For once I agree with the Hovering Heron and I believe strongly along with her that soon everybody is loving Majah again.
I’m beating up all the Hovering Herons and Positive Energy Zappers out there.
I believe that MAJAH&ME are kindred-spirits because we both shatter the paradigms of unlucky 13. MAJAH&ME love lucky 13.
In the House-Boat Studio, I always want Cabin 13.
But that’s a room full of brooms and hasn’t been used in a long time. And Lucky 13 for you it is. For the longest time I liked Computer #13 at the Public Library. I’ve written most of my best work there. At Lucky 13.
At the bicycle race track I always insist on Cabin 13.
But that’s the First Aid room for injured bicyclists.
For a long time I’ve written some unusual stuff, the likes of which you’ve never read before.
I guarantee writing to be performed.
Writing off the beaten path. It’s not for everybody.
Only for the chosen few who desire to know the worlds we knew.
Posted by TC Newell on June 13, 2015
Eight has always been my favorite number, Prince.
Well there ya go!
Yet I have always been intrigued with the number seven.
I think #7 would catch your eye as well.
Gregory Gregarious would not ask anything of anybody he wouldn’t do himself. So he smokes some Innathilkoknee, along with the Prince and they transform into Mr. Incognito and Dr. Crop. Gregarious looks at #7 and is fascinated with this Lad, who reminds him of a character he’s writing about. This is a pivotal month for Gregarious. He is writing about characters who are based on statues & sculptures. This is a month where there are no accidents. So it’s time to take the House-Boat Studio afloat on the Sea of Creativity. Gregory Gregarious has all the Lads&Gals he needs. For a time being, auditions are over and the cast of characters are at sea. During breakfast, Gregarious realizes that he’s not had sugar in his coffee for years.
I’ve never seen you put anything but cream or milk in your coffee, Incognito.
Yet one look at number seven, I see a mocha and creamy smooth marvel who passes the multifaceted exam to play ZAAMM!: The Qik-Kam Lad on the Lam. Sugar in my coffee is cool!
Posted by TC Newell on June 11, 2015
I think twenty-thirteen was a great year, and I believe twenty-fourteen is going to be greater. Here in Ascencia, they are either going to find my work incredible or despicable; yet, at least they are paying attention to me. They are listening to me, whereas in Sporaticus, they never listened or paid attention. So it was time to leave. In Sporaticus, whenever I finished a book, it was good as I could get it; and, except for a special few, Sporaticus would not even open the book. They were just never ready for me. I guess I could say that my books were too cerebral for them, while they all wanted action and explosions and noise and more gadgets to play with. They could not even read a chapter or two, which is all I ever asked them to do. They just humored me. The gifts I lent them collected dust in their closets and on their bookshelves and coffee tables.
Here in Ascencia, they say I can write and that I can put together a video. They do not feel obligated to make any meaning out of them. They are willing to listen to the sound of my words. Here, they do not hesitate to let me know they are paying attention and listening to me. At least Henrietta Heron lets everybody know that she is keeping an eye and ear on me__good or bad or indifferent. What I write, I swear to God, is as good as I get it when I am finished. And the folks here let me know what they think about my work__good or bad or indifferent.
In Sporaticus, everything lies in silence. In Ascencia, everybody listens and responds to the sounds of everyone else. Here, they are paying attention, so I make sure I go to my “Bible” to make sure I get the spelling right. If I cannot say what I want to say in two hundred pages or less, then I may as well not say anything at all. In Ascencia, they are willing to listen and to hear anything I have to say. In Sporaticus, they just were not ready for me. They could have cared less that everything lies in silence. Except for a chosen few, when I told Sporaticus, “Get everything you can out of every word I write,” Sporaticus would not get anything. They must have mistook me for an egomaniac. In Ascencia, they get anything they can out of everything I write. They seem to have a passionate curiosity, a sense of adventure towards my sense of accomplishment. And that is a miracle.
Posted by TC Newell on June 9, 2015
At Gregory Gregarious Productions, there is not room and there is no time for moaners and groaners. If you are moping and moaning around my studio, you will go. I have not had to send anyone home often; but, when I do, I can rest assured that he will be a different person when he comes back the next day. If I send you home for the day, you had better come back the next day with a different outlook, a different point-of-view, or I will send you home again. And you will not be coming back. I want to work with people who are upbeat and positive like me; in fact, I want to work with people who are like me, or they will be dismissed. Some have already been fired. If you are not willing to enter my studio to achieve a sense of accomplishment, then you are wasting your time and mine. And I can tell when you are yearning and driving for that sense of accomplishment. I can also tell when you are tanking.
Let me tell you about the kid I ended up nicknaming Yeah-But and ended up firing. He had a rebuttal for every word of encouragement I offered him. He would say, “Yeah, but. . .” after everything I said to him. I sent him home twice before I had to fire him. I did not want Yeah-But around me or the others who co-create with me in the studio. Another guy I had to terminate was a guy who came into the studio for weeks bitching about his girlfriend. I, along with everybody else, got so tired of hearing about his girlfriend, I finally had to tell him to bring her into the studio so we could all hear her side of the story. That shut him up for a while. He was such a pompous ass with collegeitis. When he spoke to others on my staff, he talked down to them, using big words that nobody cared to use. Once in a while, I would catch somebody running to my “Bible” to find out what the hell “Collegeitis” was talking about.
After this went on for a few more weeks, people stopped running to the Dictionary and stopped listening to him trying to overcompensate for whatever insecurities he had. Everybody was spending less time on the work and more time theorizing about exactly what the kid was trying to overcome. He had such delusions of grandeur. Whenever he was seen approaching the studio, some would shout, “Beware of the DOG!” And then we would all brace ourselves in order to endure more of his obnoxious, arrogant verbiage.
When he spoke to us, he was not talking to us. He was pontificating. We all learned to keep our mouths shut, let him pontificate, and then we would all watch or listen as he made a damned fool of himself. One trick I learned was to close my eyes and listen to him and imagine he was the mayor of Munchkinland in the Wizard of OZ. Everybody could hear his phony intonations in his pontifications and they were begging me to send him home. Which I did. And, to the delight of all of us, he never came back.
Posted by TC Newell on June 7, 2015