March 29, 2010

Auditions for my playwriting class’s one-acts were not only successful, but bewilderingly so, drawing from pockets of the community I never imagined was paying attention. We had 3 African-Americans, which is 3 more than I have ever had at an audition before. My students responded with courtesy and high spirits, and I was proud of everyone. The plays themselves are, judged as a whole, better than they had ever been. One would not have anticipated this by looking at the playwrights. I too favor the attractive, the exotic, and must learn, repeatedly, that they do not necessarily produce the most interesting work. Flamboyant spirits sometimes expend all their energy on flamboyance.

Despite protestations to the contrary, J disappears. I think of him, and turn away from the thoughts with defeat and sadness. You cannot make people want what they do not want.

Exhaustion like a second skin . . . .