Unsolicited Advice

I apologize for the lack of intelligent content here lately. It is summer. Summer is hot. Heat does not agree with me. I have become an indolent puddle, mainly made of an emulsion of apathy and discomfort. On the rare occasion that I scrape together the wherewithal to move, I am surprised to be reminded that I still have bones. Many of which I can see in the mirror now, because the one thing I am doing is making repeated trips to the dance studio. It's free, they like me there, and someday I may accidentally make some progress. Otherwise, I tend to do things like lie here listening to four solid hours of Dateline Mystery on YouTube, because I can't be bothered to turn my head far enough to the right to actually  watch  it. As far as I can tell, this is another one of those weird symptoms I can't do anything about. It is fatigue unrelated to sleepiness. More sleep and more food do not alleviate it. Nor does double Bronkaid, for that matter, which is a dose of ephedrine th...

By the time you guys read this, I'm probably going to be in a tech rehearsal. Not even mine. As trying as it is to sit through your own tech, it's even more tedious to sit through someone else's. The experience from within a technical rehearsal is similar to the old aphorism about war ("months of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror") in that you just sort of exist in limbo waiting for someone who outranks you to shout for places, but someone else's tech is likely to be many hours of watching people repeat the least interesting parts of the show until they stop screwing it up, interspersed with a lot of staring at tumblr on your phone. Why am I doing this, you ask? To be frank, I have an ulterior motive. A couple, actually. One is that this is the ballroom instructor's show. He's co-producer, featured performer, and artist liaison for the theater, largely because he's bats and I think he might hate sleep. I'm hanging around specifi...