May 19, 2013

Theater last night at NC Stage, This. Acting and directing were stellar (there it’s hardly ever anything else), but the play was disappointing: well written, funny in places, well observed in minutiae but faked in the large issues, aimless, static (in the sense that no character in it really went anywhere) ultimately both dishonest and manipulative. I have no idea what the process of play selection is, but I find it baffling. Likely there’s a principle being served that I don’t understand. As opposed to my universal respect for the casts, I really respected one play done there this season, and I like to think of myself as a relatively eclectic and accepting audience. Drinks at the Vault before, drinks at Avenue M after. Too many drinks. I hope the Pentecostal fires burn away my hangover.

In a related issue, attacked Awake! Awake! Deborah!, removing 11 of the 59 pages, and eliminating one whole character. Each time I found something superfluous, I remembered the reason I put it in, and in most cases it was to make a point, to score a point. That’s a violation of one’s pact with the Muse, but somehow, in this play, I felt entitled to do everything wrong. It didn’t work. Better now. Much. If it’s still a debacle, it won’t be such a protracted one.

Dream last night: there was an athletic event where a woman would run a kind of sprint, and then a man would measure off the space she ran with a sock turned in to an art object. He would turn the decorated sock lengthwise end over end until the course was measured. The woman had already won the race when this was done, but somehow the results weren't final until the sock came into play. I was one of the men measuring my runner's race off with a sock, which I had decorated, maybe as decoupage, with headlines from old newspapers.

Phlebitis run-down still (at a reduced level) somewhat in play. The end-of-night is screaming with birdcalls, Kevin the Frog the deep bass under them.