Holy Saturday

March 22, 2008

Read what I think is the first Internet acknowledgment of GayFest ‘08 on some New York theater site. There was a photograph of the author of one of the plays, but it wasn’t me. I was feeling abandoned, when I realized they wouldn’t have a photograph of me. Would they? Part of the remarkable nature of this episode is my lack of any established New York connection, my status as a mystery and a surprise to all. This is playable, but, all in all, more of a detriment than an advantage, if only because of those times when they’re looking for a photo or a list of local credits and what they find lying about won’t be mine. I keep looking for ways this can fall apart, or be a disappointment, and perhaps that’s the right approach, so everything good will have on it a sheen of relief or discovery.

Holy Saturday. Tenebrae last night was moving, as I remembered it being long ago at the Church of the Saviour. Psalms you never hear at other times, and forget to go back and read for yourself. Less moving, perhaps, because of the bitterness I have not fully flushed from my system, which put a tiny mocker in my skull along with all the worshipers. Plus, I’ve spent far too much time at church this week, under artificial conditions (which is to say, not precisely when my soul needed to be at church) and resentment and rebelliousness add their flavors to the mix. I have felt very–and genuinely-- pious at times, and I hope some of those times are yet to come. One assumes that one’s organic piety and opportunities for church-going should correspond at least occasionally.

Behind in everything, I woke this morning with the will and desire to do ten things at once. It is a glorious feeling, if, ultimately, frustrating. If today could but double itself and Sunday not come for forty-eight hours, all would be well. Or if I could multiply myself and one of me be prowling the farmer’s market, one be at the easel at the riverside, one unpacking dishes, one assembling the manuscript for Frank’s opera contest, one sitting here typing.

Watched a Ryan Reynolds movie on DVD last night. It was called Nines, and was one of the most remarkable films I’ve ever seen. Odd how one had never heard of it. Was I inattentive, or did it fly beneath the radar?