February 25, 2013

My high school buddy R uses as his Facebook photo one of him in our high school days, when for several years I had an unspeakable and unspoken crush on him. He was manly and tall and graceful and beautiful, and he ruled my fantasies. I have, of course, seen him since, and I would not have known him without the name tag. Still, those photos—

Went with Vance with my truck to the erstwhile Candle Station to pick up a bicycle rickshaw for Mikado. It lives at the end of a long incline, twenty feet off the floor, no supports on either side, which is exactly the situation which panics me most. I dd, however, climb up, and backed down before the descending rickshaw in the most physical anxiety I’ve felt since my last roller coaster ride. Peer pressure is miraculous.  Our stage is crowded already, and how the rickshaw gets on and off and we singing and dancing around remains to be seen. Calamitous rehearsal last night. Barely finished (in four hours) the first act in what was supposed to have been a run-through of the whole show. The Mikado, who had been waiting all that time, was furious. I left while blame was still being shared.

Saw the last hour of the Oscars. Day-Lewis was funny, gracious, a little other-worldly. Mrs Obama looked like a movie star herself.  The host kept making this-is-going-on-forever jokes, which, because I had come in so late, seemed stupid to me.

Tumultuous morning dreams. Though I have forgotten the details, I know they had to do with trying to get something important done and being thwarted (comically) at every turn. Mickey was in them.