The epiphany is -- I don't just want to HAVE regular readers in every timezone around the world; I want to BE a regular reader of a blog in every timezone. Unfortunately, I am fairly language-limited. So either they need to write in one of the languages I know, or I need to be able to get it auto-translated.
Auto-translation is one of my favorite forms of inadvertent poetry. Here, for example, is the opening of Theatre du Soleil's letter on their website. If you search for "Theatre du Soleil" in google, then click the tiny "translate this page" at the end of the entry, this is what you see:
Even their name surprises me. I don't know a Theatre of the Sun. I know TayAhTruhDooSoLay, a spicy strogonoff of syllables and enticement, a light blue veil shimmering across Arianne and her theatre. It is a slight shock to realize that to her, it has always been Theatre of the Sun.
Paris, July 21, 2004
Hello
L?été C?est, and we wish it to you, like us, peaceful.
Our theatre rests.
Before finding itself with the re-entry, here are some news.
We take again the Last Caravanserai, with the Cartridge factory, November 5.
We will play Origines Friday and Destinies which we n?avons played that thirty times at the Cartridge factory and that you are too numerous not to have seen; saturdays and Sunday we will play of the integrals, the Cruel River and Origins and Destinies .[Beautiful, eh? "We will play of the integrals." Clear, oblique, mysterious. They go on with their news, then end with this.]Here is, good summer, good rest perhaps, and with very soon.
Theatre of the Sun
Looking at Majid's blog, I felt that same rush of hot-water/cold-water excitement as I do when I think of moving to Europe. Bring on the blogs. I've got Seattle, Amsterdam, New York. Only 21 timezones to go.
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