Mindful of Brainlessness

I promised Gabe that I would write in a journal everyday for the sake of catharsis. It’s been her experience, she explains, that having some quiet time to reflect on life’s ebbs and flows increases visibility into one’s own life and direction; as a result this can make one happier and more complete a person.

I dropped in a picture just for the hell of it. I took it last night when Gabe was out working with her horse, Tori.

It was further suggested I write my musings in notebooks, pen upon paper, and three pages was likely the correct amount of writing to be done at one sitting. That may be right for some, but perhaps not right for others, namely myself.

Here we are then. Surrounded.

Several thoughts come immediately to mind; for example, the Loose Moose Theatre Improv Team known as The Battered Seal Pups jumps out as a poignant reminder of what free association is all about. Cats who were on their game. Theatre Sports off Aviation Blvd. in that dingy little theatre (actually quite big and full of reason) before “Who’s Line Is It Anyway” fame, with the carcinogenic popcorn and flat coke.

My dad used to take me there on Saturday nights for Theatre Sports to expand my horizons.

It wasn’t long before I was hooked; Keith Johnstone the mad genius, Dennis Cahill a savant, Bruce McCullough a genius of the genre, and I found myself selling cancer-causing popcorn to be able to touch and feel the brilliance first-hand of raw, unedited comedy directly from the minds of “those unfit to raise adults”.

To this day I carry the memories of The Battered Seal Pups in action. What an amazingly horrible, memorable, perfect name, for an amazingly, perfectly, rotten group of actors who lit the stage every time the took it.