The swords are crossed on stage and I’m huddled in the corner, picking this out at speed. I should be running lines, but those last fucking four just WILL NOT STICK, and I’ve been chanting them nonstop for like an hour. It’s stupid. Also, I have to start out with my laughing hysterics scene today, from outta nowhere. Do you even know how hard it is to BE in laughing hysterics from out of nowhere and even more so when the Production Manager is in her seat over there, watching us for the first time? A lot “hard” is the answer. Also, I feel like a giant idiot when I do it, cuz I’m like half way through it before people can even understand what in the hell I’m talking about and can finally start laughing with me.
…People, few things in life are more awkward than scenes like that with a house full of eyes watching you, as you pray to all that is Holy, that it WILL be funny and work. Cuz if NOT…wow.
I am drinking hot passion fruit tea, which isn’t at all what I’m feeling, but is keeping me warm, so it’s doing a job.
…Why is it always cold in the theatre? Stuffed with humans and lights et al, and it’s still fucking freezing in here. That is, if it isn’t melting you with excessive heat. There is no happy medium.
***
Later: Cocked it up. Fuuuuuuck. Well, there was that. Brain is just not “having” it today. Monday’s being what they are, I don’t know why I even expected it. Sometimes it’s just best to pick up the script, say “fuck it” and just go with the book…don’t try to save it, there IS no saving it. And it’s okay. We have only just blocked it, and shit happens.
***
Later Even Still: I am off the stage for the duration. Plenty of time to lick my wounds through the next scene and entire act, finish this, run more lines and review entrances and exits. Act four will be my bitch. My bitch, I tell you!!!
…Running things out of order is like filming scenes out of continuity….’specially when it’s the weakest acts in lines and so new to my brain parts. Am looking forward to finishing our first runs, and getting back to the digging and working of French scenes. That’s the speed I need to be at right now…just one chunk at a time, and working it till I kill it, before moving onto the next. I feel no sense of accomplishment or gain any ground on early runs when everything is still a hodge-podge…however necessary they may be.
…Also, I owe “M” like four glasses of wine now, ‘tween all these past post-rehearsal days of pub tabs. And she’s making me go out and get “girl clothes” for the Opening, so that she can wear her “girl clothes,” and feel like she hasn’t over-dressed. And also, just to torture me. I already explained The BFF’s and my last expedition in this realm, but she not only refused to feel sorry for me, she said it doesn’t get me off the hook at all in any way, and that I have to do this thing, it is just the way of things. Because she “said” so.
…It’s kinda hard to fight that.
…Mostly cuz it isn’t a “cause,” to believe in or not. It’s just “fact.”
…That dame is sly. I’ll need to keep an eye on her.
Tired. Going to bed now.
…For reasons I will never understand, none of my scenes got picked to “work” tomorrow, so I’m no longer called. Prob’ly cuz the Director pities me. And she knows I’ll spend all that time working on lines and running them until my brain bleeds. Which is no doubt her entire intent. Director’s are crafty creatures. It’s like they know you will fit your own punishment far worse than anything they could dig up themselves.
…Well played, Madam. Well played.
~D