I received an email from someone today who said he could tell I loved writing my journal entries for my website. This was so nice to hear - that my joy of writing is expressed in the actual writing. It may sound odd, but I imagine there are a lot of people out there who love writing, but that enjoyment does not necessarily jump out at the reader. John Irving and Tom Wolfe are two writers who I think write in such a way that their enjoyment of the act of writing is impossible to miss. It is obvious they are really having fun.
Speaking of fun, I read in the Weekend section of the LA Times this week about an interactive and theatrical "Fairy Walk" that happens every Saturday near Beverly Hills. It sounded like so much fun, and I of course had the instant urge to call them up and volunteer my fairy services. I have never offered fairy services before, and I'm not even sure what they would be, but I do have two sets of wings, two tutus, a tiara, a wand and gobs of glitter, so at the very least I could dress the part and just twirl around. No doubt people might wish to hire me for a girl's birthday party or their "Midsummer Night's Dream" sex fantasy, so I suppose I'd better not make myself available to play the role of a fairy lest I start receiving strange invitations that are less than wholesome.
I think another reason I have fairies on the brain is because I had the priviledge of seeing Igor Stravinsky's "The Rite of Spring" performed by the LA Philharmonic Orchestra at Disney Hall last night. It is such an exciting and powerful piece of music, and it caused quite a scandal when it was first performed in 1913. (For those of you who are not familiar with the piece, it is in the animated film "Fantasia".) The program said that Stravinsky wanted the listener to hear a "sort of pagan cry" when the piece first opens, and it is easy to listen to the music, watch all of the musicians play, and imagine all kinds of wild movement, growth and energy. We went with two friends, and during dinner before the concert we were imagining what it would be like if we started some sort of interpretive dance during the performance in the middle of Disney Hall. Would they kick us out? Would they stop the show? Could we get banned from Disney Hall forever? We were in tears, laughing and imagining the chaos that could ensue. I think of these funny scenarios and wish I had the nerve to do something completely OUTRAGEOUS - capture it on film - and make a short film of it. Then I could send it to Sundance, blow everyone away, and segue my career from Swirly the artist to Swirly the wacky short filmmaker. Maybe it will happen someday, but in the meantime, I think I'll go put on my fairy wings and just wear them while I work. For now that will have to be wacky enough.