From (gasp!) Thoreau:

Out of all the places to find a good quotation, I found one in Thoreau.

"The writer must to some extent inspire himself. Most of his sentences may at first lie dead in his essay, but when all are arranged, some life and color will be reflected on them from the mature and successful lines; they will appear to pulsate with fresh life, and he will be enabled to eke out their slumbering sense, and make them worthy of their neighborhood. In his first essay on a given theme, he produces scarcely more than a frame and groundwork for his sentiment and poetry. Each clear thought that he attains to draws in its train many divided thoughts or perceptions. The writer has much to do even to create a theme for himself. Most that is first written on any subject is a mere groping after it, mere rubblestone and foundation. It is only when many obersvations of different periods have been brought together that he begins to grasp his subject and can make one pertinent and just observation."

AND THEN CHECK OUT THIS PRINCIPLE:

"Find out as soon as possible what are the best things in your composition, and then shape the rest to fit them."

an edition.

It has come to my attention that there is a typographical error in the previous blog post, specfically in the second sentence. Please feel free to change "oppurtunity" to "oppurtonity" when you are tattooing my blog post onto your chest.

Auditions.

So I auditioned for the next Torrey play, which was a lot of fun. I had the oppurtunity to read for four different characters, which I tried my best to read excellently, even if I absolutely did not want the part. It may come as some surprise, but I am seldom met with pressing ethical dilemmas. Broader axiological dilemmas, yes, all the time, but seldom do I face ethical dilemmas. It may also come as some surprise that the clause "it may come as some surprise" is used by me only when I mean to ironically presume that the claims to follow will not come as some surprise. Anyway, this situation with the audition was a serious dilemma for me. I will start a new paragraph to present it to you.

When I audition for plays, I sometimes have roles I specifically want to get, and more often simply have a list of roles I specifically want to avoid. So went this audition. I didn't have a set role laid out for myself, but I did want to dodge getting a certain few roles. Now, in the past, I have been conniving enough to purposely lower my performance to mediocre standards when reading for certain roles. An instance that comes to mind was in an audition for a highschool musical. I knew for certain (and was later proved right) that two given girls would win the leading romantic female role (the high school musicals in which I performed always had two casts). I also had a hunch I was getting the male romantic lead. So, when I had to perform a scene with each of them, I did my best to exhibit 'chemistry' with one and not with the other. Now, whether or not my machinations were the principle factor, I got the leading lady I wanted. Incidentally, my intentions were not romantic--I simply thought the one an excellent actor and the other a less-than-excellent actor. Anyway, this tactic presented itself to me at the recent Torrey auditions. Do I botch certain roles to better secure the ones I want? I was tempted.

But then something came over me. I couldn't stand getting up there and doing anything but my absolute best for these disparate roles. I felt that I must employ all my powers in performing as excellently as I could each time I was called on stage. So, I tried to do just that, more or less, and had a great amount of fun doing it. I do honestly think there is a good chance I will be given one of the roles I meant to avoid, but I am confident that whatever role I get in the play I will have a fun time.

It's not as if any of the roles are terrific anyway, I mean it's The Tempest for crying out loud.

bibliodilemma.

In my life, I want to read a lot of funny books or read a lot of philosophy books.
This, I think, is an exclusive 'or'.

Yesterday a day of excellent entertainment.

Last night I watched two good old movies with my mom.
I bet you didn't know my mom was a movie actor, but she is. There are at least two good old movies in which she is featured, which, as I have said, I happened to have watched last night. And speaking of last night, in addition to watching these movies, my mom and I watched together two good old black-n-white movies. We thought that individually the movies weren't quite up to snuff, so we thought if we watched them long enough, we could somehow smoosh them together. This practice is known as "watching together" two of something. While my mother and I were doing this, we also managed to enjoy each others company and watch two good old movies in a row. Now I know what you're thinking: how can Jonathan and his mother enjoy each other's company during a row!? Well, the Wright's have a very particular way of arguing with each other that actually is conducive, not exclusive with, enjoying one another's company. Moving on, my mom and I watched two good old movies last night, and, of course, after all these various goings-ons, the movies would be good and old, now wouldn't they?

The movies were:
Holiday starring Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn.
and
You Can't Take It With You with Jimmy Stewart.

Honestly, I might have preferred going on a holiday with Hepburn (either one will do, as long as they are in their pre-wrinkle stages) and would prefer watching You Can't Take It With Jimmy Stewart with You. But, of course, we must each and all take everything in stride.

Both of these movies communicated a spirit to me the likes of which I very much cherish. They are both, in their own ways, encomia to Life (with a captial 'L' no less--or is it 'no Less'?)

A couple thoughts are richocheting their ways back and forth my synapses. (I do not know what a synapse is, but I know that by using it here I will evoke generally brain-related thoughts and images back and forth my reader's synapses.) The previous claim (the one not in parentheses) will of course upset some, because "Thoughts" (quote-capital 'T'-end quote), these upset parties will contend [but really, who would want to go to an upset party? (look, all my jokes can't be good)], "are non-physical entities. And" these upset parties will blather on [copy-paste pathetic parenthetical party pun (God shun my adventitious alliteration and my asinine assonance)] "here within the claim in question, you, Jonathan Charles Wright, treat them quite physically." Well, let (Let?) me tell you that that should be the least of your concerns; there is a much wider spectrum of things I happen to treat quite physically, including, but not limited to, baby seals and Brianna Safe {As a rule, I only treat quite physically those things that happen to have the initials B.S. or B.S.A. [B.S.A. of course stands for 'body surface area'--though who's body surface area I've been treating physically (or physically treating, as the case may be) is none of your business and I'd prefer you to keep your nose out of it. (cough-jennyswingrover-cough)]}

Take that! Just try to read that paragraph!

But now, back to those thoughts which have been all the while so coarsely harrassing my synapses. The first thought is not an innovative one. It is simply: they don't make comedies like these anymore. I am not sure what the special quality these movies have is, but I think it has something to do with being earnest and being overtly moral, even overtly philosophical. My other thought is that I am better, or can become better, for having watched these movies--I am left with a sense that I must somehow live up to these films. It is a good post-movie feeling to have.

excerpta:

Here follows an excerpt from a letter to Groucho Marx from Arthur Sheekman, Groucho's favorite screenwriter:

"I am inclined to agree with the philosopher who said that whether you stay single or get married, you're making a mistake."

Here follows an excerpt from a letter from Groucho Marx to Fred Allen,:

"It's kind of nice to be married again, except that I can't stop making passes at strange girls. Of course this will eventually wear off, I imagine about the time I get divorced again."