Today, I returned to the library all the Sam Shepard plays I had checked out, probably the last time I'll ever see those particular copies, ahead of the Santa Clarita branches of the County of Los Angeles library system transferring to city control and being managed by LSSI, to this valley a faceless corporation that runs other libraries throughout the nation.
I wish I had time for those, but I don't. My research for my three presidential books takes priority, as I need to get to the major books, such as Washington: A Life by Ron Chernow. Dad said in the car after the library that while the Valencia library is closed, he wouldn't mind taking me to the one in Castaic.
I don't know. To get to anywhere in Castaic, you take a small section of the freeway to get there and would it really be worth going that often, depending on Saturday traffic? Dad can drive the freeway as effortlessly as a tightrope walker makes it look. But even so, would it be worth that every Saturday? It's only a month, until the Santa Clarita branches are supposed to reopen in July under LSSI control, so maybe. I'll figure it out.
I figured that Sam Shepard's plays, for me, are best explored slowly, not in a rush like that stack had presented. I want to learn how Shepard operates within his plays, for my own benefit and inspiration as well. But I want to explore it like I did his prose, by re-reading lines, by learning about how he develops his characters. And I can't do that right now. Besides, I'm sure these plays are cheap enough online, and there's a chance a few of them could become part of my collection, just like Neil Simon's and Herb Gardner's plays are, just like The Glass Menagerie is. That would be a bonus. But for now, I'll crave them.