Last Sunday I botched my first production meeting. Scheduled for 11 AM at CPT, I wrote it down as 1 PM. Alas. Beth and Ali were able to work out the most important elements in my absence, but still. Oops. This is not how I want to start.
My stage manager, my graphic designer, my director, want some kind of clean copy of the script. Kelly was generous enough to give me a deadline of MARCH 9. Seriously? You are too kind. That's a scant month before opening. Who knows, maybe, perhaps, I will complete it this weekend. Maybe fireworks will spring from my tits.
It has been unseasonably mild the past few days. It feels like Spring. I cover the moments I recorded ten years ago. I remember so much, but I had forgotten even more. March 3 is a significant entry. A horrifying entry. The true beginning of the end, in spite of the fact that ... nothing happens. But uncertainty is not merely present, it is concrete.
As for this moment in time, ten years ago, things are still all right. They are just all right. And we sing.
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