February 26, 2013

Terrible storm of wind and rain. I was standing in the alley last night receiving a call that would make me late for rehearsal. The call was an estimate for fixing DJ’s roof. I said to myself “the blows have got to stop,” but myself knew that wasn’t true. There is no reason at all why the blows have to stop. You say they must because you need them to, but what you need is never part of the process. It is a truly terrible wind.

Rehearsal productive last night, and whole swaths of the play are ready for an audience. Whole swaths are not. Have no idea what the male chorus looks and sounds like, because I’m in it, and we receive no notes. One of the chorines said we can’t be heard, but I’m bellowing so that I’m hoarse at the end of it. Karen asked me to direct Trial by Jury next year. I looked at scenes on You Tube, indicating that I was, at least, taking it under consideration.

Expecting the sequestration to end my Istanbul adventure. No air traffic control. No TSA (the latter is a good thing, but the airlines won’t think so).

The Owen Hall parking lot becomes a theater of discussion for faculty, having parked and moving toward their offices. It is always well to know that one’s dissatisfactions are general and objective rather than morbid. The other day I met a colleague from another department, and we talked, as is invariable there in the rain at the edge of the pavement, about our sadness over things as they are. He remarked, “Wouldn’t it be nice if the administration was sometimes on our side, rather than trying to check and control us?” I responded, “Wouldn’t it be nice if the administration stopped interfering with the educational process?”  We wondered who, if not they, would mediate for us between the Truth and the GA. I said that I should apply to be a dean, and wouldn’t that be hell on wheels? We both had a good laugh and moved on.

My drama class is more eager than I expect them to be. It throws me back on my heels. I right myself and try to catch up.

Dear God, I’m weary when I get home at night.

Dear God, the wind--