July 26, 2012

Hottest night of all nights, I think, and I slept badly.

Breakfast with M, agreeing to produce his play at NC Stage, having come to an understanding that to produce in this case involved the least “hands-on” component. “Backer,” I suppose is a more accurate term. His self-confidence was a little off-putting, but he was trying to win me, and judgment must come on stage, where any brag can be redeemed by virtuosity. During NC Stage’s preview of the coming season his video was very impressive. The principle of play selection there continues to baffle me– two of the selections seemed weak, and with the world to choose from, why?-- but there’s no doubt that whatever is done will be done superbly. And, again, all is redeemed by the moment. The event was boisterous and well attended. I got into the elevator with a woman who said, “I haven’t laughed so hard in ages.”  Exiting that parking deck is always a trial, and last night it was especially bad. When I finally got close enough to see why, I saw that the attendant was fighting the gate, which could not be persuaded to stay open long enough to let the cars exit as they paid. Finally, three vehicles in front of me, the frustrated man jerked the gate into open lock position, and started motioning everybody to exit without paying. I would have thought an unalloyed stroke of luck, except for the look on the attendant’s face, probably anticipating that his employers would prefer for the cars still to be lined up now rather than to have lost that revenue.

City workers were digging the Phil Mechanic parking lot out from under the various landslides which keep engulfing it. The lot was filled with giant earth-moving machines. I arrived as they were taking their break, and they were surprisingly eager to talk about the operation. It is, or is promising to be, quite a feat of engineering, for a whole hill, cut too sharply on two sides by streets, wants to tumble down toward the river, and leaking water mains have been abetting it all the while.

Am packed, excited, afflicted with my customary traveler’s diarrhea,  and, I think, pretty much ready to sail off across the ocean.

Waiting for Kevin to begin his dawn song.