Sweetboi

 

August 6, 2023

Blew a line at matinee. Got it back, but it left a hole big enough for people to notice. Left the theater after our show at 7 PM, which is when the house is meant to open for the evening performance, and there was still one playlet to go. I asked someone on the selection committee why they chose so many plays, and she said the wisdom was “They’ll go faster as they go on.” Still, twelve plays at a throw. . .  none of them (except maybe ours) actually ten minutes long. Attendance has been good, though. My Frankenstein is in the B series and appears for rehearsal. I think of him as a grand physical specimen, and try not to stare.

Church. Stewardship Meeting. Sweetboi made a kill in my garden, sat on the grass calmly pulling it apart, ignoring the screeching of the upset songbirds. He flew into a tree and watched the door where I stood. Did he remember me? I threw sausage into the yard, but I didn’t see him take it. Sausage is probably beneath him. In full bloom he is almost unendurably beautiful.