July 11, 2013

Angels’ trumpets and crepe myrtles in immodest bloom.

The reading of Awake! Awake Deborah! last night was brilliantly achieved by its cast– the cast, in fact, was transcendent--- though fraught with the difficulties the venue would suggest. The air conditioning was off, and the room was an intolerable sweat-box. An open door was rendered impossible by the noise from the street. Two of the actors were reading from electronic notebooks, and they overheated and they lost their places. The play is noble to the ear, but has too complicated a path to travel dramatically. I don’t know if I can do anything about that. Every chair was taken, and there were standees, but still, of course, I counted the absences. All in all, I had a good time, and we repaired en masse to Pack Tavern afterward, where I first tasted French fried pickles.

Have given myself plenty of time to get to the airport.