February 18, 2008

It is one hour into Monday morning, delivered here by eating and drinking too much before bed. I will write till the wakefulness goes away. The cats look at me wondering how the schedule could be so far amiss.

Edward the King closed its Asheville run this afternoon. I’d say it is the most successful showing of my work in this town, and is so to a degree which creates a whole new classification. I’ve started over. The playwright I was before is gone, and I am new. Steve Lloyd of HART could not stop saying that the script was "perfect. . . flawless. . . ." More people could have come, but all who came are, I think, convinced that we are doing a worthwhile thing. F appeared, cold but polite, and almost woundingly beautiful. As I sat at the back for the first few minutes, wondering if he were laughing, if he were enjoying it, not attending to the fact that everyone else clearly was, it dawned on me that, though he is envious, infantile, and not overwhelmingly bright, I hoped, and continue to hope, for his approbation because he is so beautiful. Now, there’s a window into your own soul! Do I really prefer the approval of the beautiful over the approval of the wise? I think not, generally, but sometimes, and clearly in this case. Seeing that complexity plain eased it, and I could laugh at myself, and lap up the joy gushing forth from every seat but his.

. . . a beautiful woman whose name I forget on Jfrap’s arm. . . bewildered folk music afficionados wondering what to make of a set and chairs in their dancing place. . . . Stephanie running the house with granite efficiency. . . people I did not know taking tickets and manning the door and helping all to be well. I had to leave early for Cantaria rehearsal, missing the last act and the last accolade, and the feeling of that was bereavement, like the last day of summer camp when you’ve made so many friends you will never see again. Except I will see them, for a while, anyway. The after-production emotions were all grand and irrational, and I enjoyed every minute of them. I miss Edward. I look forward to New York, and seeing him again. When I’m there I’ll miss the cast I’ve grown to love. I’ll stop myself from saying, "that’s not the way we did it in Asheville."

Everyone worked so hard. Everything came out so well. Let me remember this blessing for at least a day or two.