March 25, 2014

Light dusting of snow (wetting of snow is more accurate), a veil still falling. I left the masonic Temple at midnight last night. I expected to be pissed off, but I wasn’t. I enjoy the people I’m with, and the experience has been beneficial to me. I worry about getting enough rest, but like most worries that’s largely groundless. Here I am composing before morning, and no one wakes me, so I must have slept enough. Many of the sets (thanks to the mysterious Masonic backdrops) are quite lovely. The main characters are attractive, and –barring the occasional gap in lines– will be a pleasure to watch. Last night began the tech people’s laying down the individual, iron-clad and cherished rules– don't touch that, don’t stand there, don’t even think of doing this or that in your costumes–which are the marks of amateurism. I’m glad that I wasn’t actually there to hear them.  Arriving late from my class threw me off, and I don’t think I ever quite recovered. I slobbed around half in costume the rest of the night. My big opening act went unrehearsed (by me).

Dreamed of Man and Superman last night. I dreamed there was another act. Jack and Anne were married and they had a glowering, apparently retarded son that I–Ramsden–was hired to tutor. I did tutor the boy, whom I rather liked. He didn’t live in the house, but in a pit on stage with a wire roof over it. In the second scene of the act I returned and the boy had turned into a vicious dog. There were many lines about how to deal with a vicious dog, but I have forgotten them.