August 23, 2008

Disturbing dream before waking. My lover had died, and I went through all my files looking for remembrances of him, and each time I opened a file, the memories withing would run in the air like a film.

Forty two years ago tonight I became a poet.

Kevin suggests that he may want to do some cutting in Anna Livia. This is a no-win proposition for a playwright. If you resist it, you’re "difficult" and "married to" your own words. It doesn’t matter whether the suggestions are good; you are meant to take them or you’re not being "collaborative." Editors are worse, though, so perhaps I should count myself lucky on this occasion. Kevin made no specific citations, and I suggested that they wait until sometime after the first read-through to make decisions about the text, as difficult passages have a way of becoming easier, even favorites, after you’re given them three or four go’s. He wants to shorten the play in order to do it without intermission. I point out that one way of solving the length problem (it is by no means a long play, not much over 90 minutes at a reasonable pace) is to restore the intermission, which is deliberately written in, and allows for a time break of a century. He wants to make room for the music he’s writing for the piece. I love original music in my plays, so I didn’t make the next obvious suggestion: less music. What I finally say is, "Do anything you want so long as I don’t notice it opening night." This is quite a liberal allowance, as my memory of my own work is by no means perfect.

Finished the last and biggest painting for my show. Two travelers from Charlotte happened by as I was finishing, and they thought it was weird and glorious. Weird and glorious are exactly what I’m going for.

I pray for deluge if there’s the smallest cloud in the sky before performances of AYLI People think I’m thinking of my garden. Never to be rained out is a cruelty I am not ready for from the universe.