The Red Shoes

I'm packing. To head out of town. But I won't be going anywhere warmer. I'm headed to Columbus, Ohio, for the world premier of Claudel, the dance-poetry-theatre-music collaboration I've been obsessed with lately!

Here's an article about it in the Columbus Dispatch. Congrats to Columbus Dance Theatre for the lovely preview, and thanks to Bill Mayr for writing it. (There's a great photo at the link, too!)

So I am packing up to go, taking:

--80 copies of the book, Interior Sculpture (Dancing Girl Press, 2014) to sell in the lobby
--reading matter, including A House of Many Windows, by Donna Vorreyer, and The Girlhood Book of Prairie Myths, by Sandy Longhorn
--writing materials, including journal and dream journal (wacky dreams lately = possible poems)

Wait! What about jammies, toothbrush, and stuff to wear to the performances?! Mmm, yes, must pack those. Earrings. Shoes, don't forget shoes.

Will they be red high-tops?

More thanks, too! To Dulce Maria Menendez, who publishes Poets and Artists Magazine, for this interview, with 3 more Camille Claudel poems in it, including the one with evidence of her paranoia or psychotic break, whatever it was. But after 30 years in the asylum, Camille Claudel wasn't crazy anymore, and pretty much everybody knew it.

Which reminds me of New Zealand author Janet Frame, and Jane Campion's film trilogy, An Angel at My Table. Does it seem like I am procrastinating on the packing? Could be. But really I am doing all the laundry, and I am between loads, but ready to fold now, and, following that, to pack! Socks.