girl power inc.

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Silent Theatre Pitcher Show

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https://www.eventbrite.ca/e/silent-theatre-pitcher-show-tickets-116887703267

This is the first theatre performance, possibly, where you must turn your cell phone on! The rings and dings of incoming messages are not only welcome, but necessary! When you buy a ticket for my performance, at eventbrite.com, be sure to send me your cell number. Throughout my show you will receive a series of texts that will function in the same way as the captions of the silent movies of old.

Temporomandibular Joint is a mouthfull. People often say they have TMJ or TMD. In fact, what we suffer from is a disorder of the joint. These disorders are considered to be dental in nature and thus are not covered by MCP.

Treatments can run into thousands of dollars.

At the height of the pandemic a confluence of anxiety and stress resulted in my jaw going into a lockdown of its’ own.

This show is inspired by many midnight walks in the field of poop with our rescue beagle (Georgie Girl) gazing at the sky, and marvelling at this silent world.

If you choose to buy a ticket, don’t forget to send us your text info, so you can join in the fun.

Sincerely yours….

Me.

Dear Earth.

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love, life.

Dear Earth.

Today you have the stage. Your performance is forever. Yesterday I felt important until I remembered dinosaurs. People made Art before there were words. I will plant my journals to grow word flowers which will speak to bees who will pollinate us with hope.

A thousand years from now our work will live in a cloud that no one knows about, except for you, and when it rains you will receive us again.

Love from me, to all of us who are so lucky to dwell here and bear witness. What things we will dream of now, and knit up into whatever we wish because everything will be new.

Inspiration from the Guggenheim pad.

These images are from Italy, because I was there and I will be again.

Happy World Theatre Day.

Insomnia: A Love Story.

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Insomnia: A Love Story.

Here you are once again. Wrapped around me at 4 a.m. Humming in my ear.

Look out, you say. Look out.

Look out for what?

Listening for bells. (Image by Nicole Smith.)

There is a breath of angels in the sky. Now a puppy. Now a dragon. Now it’s now.

Oh. What should we think about? The bills? The shifting nature of nature?

No. Not tonight.

It’s not technically night. It’s 4 in the morning. It’s morning time.

Mourning time.

For what?

For the day we will use up without thinking. Aren’t I the nicest, to be here with you like this? This is when we live forever.

I hoped for sleep.

Sleep, you say. Sleep is not here. Sleep is unfaithful, hopping from bed to bed. Who needs sleep, coming around dimming the lights and pulling the curtains. Outside there is the light of a dying star that you can only see once. In here there are twenty books on the bedside table. There is a new play written on the bed sheets. There is the memory of cats. There is wind through the cracks in the window. I’m a grand piano.

You’re not.

I’m a litter of kittens.

You’re not.

I’m a really good book.

Oh.

I’m here.

Yes.