November 1, 2017

Watched Tech last night. The problems with the show are pretty much all technical issues, which may be ironed out tonight (when I will not be present) and present perfection at first preview tomorrow night. The one thing that tightened tech will not cure is the sore throat and voicelessness of our lead soprano. May prayer avail. Lead actor fumbles, dependably, one word in each speech. You’d think that you wouldn’t hear it, wouldn’t let the fumble cast shade upon the whole passage, but you do. One of my worst theater memories was in Valdez, when the lead actress stumbled over one word in every speech in Night, Sleep, and the Dreams of Lovers. After a while, that’s all you heard. I thought the afternoon would never end. May prayer avail.  Endlessly impressed and grateful to see so many people working so hard to realize my vision– though, I hope, it is become their vision as well. M is sublime.

The interview by public radio–the print press release, anyway-- turned out to be something of a disaster, misrepresentation by misquote. I think it better to say nothing.  I missed the broadcast. Maybe that was well.

Dream in which I rented a house to T for a reduced rate, and discovered he had installed an amusement park on the property. When I awoke I was still confused as to whether I had a grievance or not. We can only speak until a woman of a certain kind– very thin and decades too young for him–walks into the café, at which time 100% of his attention rivets–un-apologetically–on her, like a dog’s upon a squirrel. He says, “How can I help it?”  By simply not doing it, I refrain from answering. We haven’t talked more than a minute in months. After a brief, accidental encounter at the High Five, he lunges over to the corner to chew on their unsalable screenplays with Wind. I am too old still to be so perplexed by human conduct.