Chapter II

Friends, artists, countyfolks, lend me your ears;

I come to house art, not to praise it;

The beauty that is created lives after them,

The good is oft interred with the foundation, 

So let it be with art...In its noble home.

Ahhh yes, ripping off William Shakespeare, I am a class act. Really though, if one is to rip something off, one might as well go for the gold.

 Reviving a beautiful, old home is precisely the kind of project I need.  I am faced with feelings of hope juxtaposed with fear; excitement juxtaposed with anxiety; vision juxtaposed with haze.  Mostly, I just want to begin the process.  

My theatre arts teacher always said to either jump in the pool with both feet, or stay on your towel.  I've never been afraid of water, I just hope we don't drown.  

We won't.  We can't.  It's too important.   

Chapter 1: Hurrah! Hurrah!

Dear brothers and sisters,
dear enemies and friends:

Why are we all so alone here?
All we need is a little more hope, a little more joy.
All we need is a little more light, a little less weight, a little more freedom.

So tangle - oh tangle us up in bright red ribbons!
Let's have a parade.
It's been so long since we had a parade, so let's have a parade!
Let's invite all our friends,
And all our friends' friends!
Let's promenade down the boulevards with terrific pride and light in our eyes;
Twelve feet tall and staggering--
Sick with joy with the angels there and light in our eyes.

Brothers and sisters, hope still waits in the wings like a bitter spinster;
Impatient, lonely and shivering, waiting to build her glorious fires.
It's because of our plans man; our beautiful ridiculous plans.
Let's launch them like careening jetplanes.
Let's crash all our planes in the river.
Let's build strange and radiant machines.