July 9, 2016

Morning overcast, darkling, damp with last night’s deluge.

Great joy at seeing Minos the mud turtle basking on a rock in yesterday’s sun. How he manages to remain invisible in the fairly limpid water I don’t know.

Visit to Reem’s Creek, a great hauling of soil and mulch. I realize I’m testing myself to see if I’m fully recovered, and I am.

Opening night last night was absolutely sold out and packed to the rafters. The sort of plays I usually do at HART do not attract that kind of throng. I felt myself expanding to meet the crowd–some would say it was the ham in me coming out. In any case, I was in decent voice and made no mistakes, and if I was hoping just not to be the weak spot, things came out very much better than that. People stopped me in the parking lot to tell me what a great voice I have. L said I was channeling James Earl Jones. In any case, happy.
   
Considered the difference between acting and performing. In Proof or The Weir I’m acting. In Jesus Christ Superstar I’m performing. Performing is easier, all in all, with greater immediate rewards (more people clapping, for instance). No wonder Broadway is beloved even by people who should know better.

Daihi the Irishman asks me “Where is Kerry again?”

So, the man of my dreams is forty years younger than I and married. Good one, Lord, though I must say, not quite your best.