Silver Creek

The water passes perpetual parade the stream remains changes slow as seasons the light changes faster theatrical dimming effects repeat with variations my feet are wet I am searching for a playwright, Guy J. Jackson, who wrote a wonderful play called "The Flight of the Butter Boy." He gave me the script in Santa Barbara seven or eight years ago, moved to Chicago, was seen on the street last year in San Francisco. Please contact me. what I am presently writing a long poem about my parents' lives "Holy Memory" my own life demands attention constant renovation today's crisis potential play production uncastable faltering my spring project too big too many actors carry elephant uphill die trying lower standards the Oregon motto find another simpler play but what's the point another work what I want to convey and to whom I want to do something that entertains me I am grappling with the reality of small-town living after ten years in Santa Barbara thirty years in New York before that I am surrounded by know-nothings the Northwest is proudly self-contained Durang's "Kierkegaard, Mahler, Joan Didion" beyond them wan handful playing seriously at poetry others less serious perhaps art community theatre most care only children church hunting jobs no disrespect I love my children too help tend our acres read "Mr. Sammler's Planet" grappling with the ultimate death declining fizzle unbearable news