March 12, 2008

Brilliant Wednesday, and I’m filling my day without classes with as much achievement as I can. Rose early and began Frank’s commission for a libretto about David and Jonathan, shutting out the 60's pop in the café, typing like a man possessed. There’s enough in the books of Samuel alone for a lifetime of dramatizing, some of it deeply strange, much of it suggestive in ways that are probably intentionally deflected in bible study classes. DJ’s doors are replaced, and the outer one painted emerald green in a way that I hoped would suggest Bilbo Baggins’ front door.

Between my expired computer and DJ’s doors, the money I thought would put me a little ahead is gone, and then some. Hand to mouth once again.

Stood in the twilight and watched a screech owl settle in the sweet gum, preen, bless, move on, a dim silhouette in the dying light.

The spate of commentary about Crown of Shadows may be over. I’m sorry that the balance of it seemed to concentrate on technical matters. On directing, too, which to me is a little more serious, and something about which something actually could have been done had . . . well, had it been a different world. My consolation is that, probably, all those who cared about the deficiencies of our tech had their say in the blogsphere, and everyone else, like me, thought the tech was just fine, or at least never nursed dissatisfaction massy enough to articulate. It is well. It could have been better. It could have been much worse. I should be more candid than this and say that the enterprise turned out about 1,000 times better than the worst of my expectation. The flood of energy upon me now tells me that I am ready for what comes next.

Linda reports that father went to get radiation treatment and was kept waiting three hours by a doctor who then turned on the attitude. Father reacted by walking out and refusing treatment. I would have too. But I can’t get out of my head the picture of some snotty, over-compensated Alpharetta oncologist tormenting a frightened old man. If I knew whom to strike, I would. I would drive all the way there, coldcock the sonofabitch, and drive all the way back smiling.