New York Saturday

June 8, 2013

Morning clear after a solid day of rain. The rain was so heavy Friday that I mostly sat in the hotel until it was show time. I began writing a new play. Fortified myself at Houndstooth, headed for the theater. What can be said about an opening night that was excellent beyond hope? There were a few bobbled lines, but all else came clear and whole, the actors at their best, the set no longer an issue, everything that the script could be laid out righteously. Whatever happened in times past, whatever lies in store for times to come, in those two hours I was content. The house was packed, and whatever comment was made about the script was favorable to the point of wonderment. My pocket was stuffed full of envelopes; I haven’t looked at them yet. Party and reception afterward, where the casts of both productions mingled, and I got to tell the eager kids how much I liked them. I should not have come back to the hotel alone, but, as I say, for those two hours all was better than I could have wished it. I am striving not to let the words “What now?” cross the bar of my thoughts.