New York 2

May 26, 2012


Much wandering, much walking, so there’s a considerable blister on my left foot. Worth it. Lincoln Center, where there was nothing for me to see. Columbus Circle, where there was plenty to see, and for free. The sun was radiant; the shade from Central Park like a painting, the breezes cool. Sat at my favorite table at the usual outdoor café and watched the people and the weaver finches and the joggers and the white clouds scudding across the blue. Arrived at the Museum of Modern Art, to renew old art acquaintance and eat an arugula salad that brought tears to the eyes.

Meeting this afternoon with Sidney about the play, and about the reading. We sucked down iced coffee and talked more about the theater than I have. . . well, maybe since our last conversation. The truth is, the life I live allows me practically no occasion to discuss the things which are closest to my heart. With whom do I discuss theater, or art, or writing, without the constant and almost immediate fear of overstaying my welcome? So Sidney’s flood of theater conversation swept me out to sea, a maybe too-rich banquet after a long fast. I wonder if I situated myself like this deliberately, so as not to dissipate my craft in too much chit-chat? It worked. It backfired. It went altogether too far. I am no longer able to talk about what I can do as well as anybody on earth. S has a theory of creative process that is quite useful. He says that some people are promoters, who love an idea and go with it hard, and then maybe get worn out before the finish line. There are the analyzers, who proceed by finding the least thing that can go wrong and then obsessing about that. They move forward by assuring themselves they have foreseen and foresolved every problem. Sidney confesses to be one of those, which explains our interchanges, during which he, sometimes, imagines problems where none yet exists. He didn’t get to the other classifications, but I must be in one of them, because I’m neither a promoter or an analyzer. I assume everything in a good idea is good and bulldoze forward until there’s an actual, or practical, problem, fixing those as they arise, not regarding those which do not arise, until they do.

I was epically wrong about the attitude of my producers toward my work. According to S, they have been promoting and working on our projects–including Edward-- the whole time. I didn’t know because they didn’t communicate, but S figures it was my business to ask as well as theirs to tell, and he is right. He laughed when I mentioned the two year option they had on Lincoln. “Two years is NOTHING. It takes five years and more to make anything happen around here.” There’s a year or so of unnecessary despair accounted for.