Something you might guess about the woods: If the internet goes down, there’s nothing you can do. There’s no Starbucks around the corner, no wi-fi to pirate from a neighbor. The feeling of isolation already prevalent in the woods increases dramatically. There’s no newspaper readily available. People have iphones and you trust if something epic happens, they’ll let you know- that’s the outside world outline. For the 6 days we haven’t had internet it has really felt like 1585. On one hand I feel majorly cut off from my friends, popular culture, news, the season finale of Glee, etc. On the other hand it’s helped me understand life in 1585. Mayhap (that’s what they said in 1585 instead of “maybe”) my director turned off the wireless on purpose.
The word “period” gets tossed around a lot here. Period clothes. Period food. This does not mean sweat pants, least favorite underwear, and chocolate. It means bodices, pantaloons, and turnips. Period speech is not “I need a tampon.” but rather “May Apollo’s rays shine brightly on thy pate and grant thee good favor ever and always.” If you’re lucky (and we get internet back in the woods sometime very soon) I will bombard you most profoundly, like frogs did upon Egypt (this is an example of illusions we are encouraged to make) with Elizabethan, “period” speech. For now I will use the minimal time I have on the internet here at Fajita Grill, the closest establishment with internet, where some one was kind enough to drive me catching up on emails, news, and looking at facebook photos of my best-friend-in-middle-school who got married this weekend. The things one misses when one is in Bumblefuck isolation!