"The actor is
A metaphysician in the dark."

-- Wallace Stevens, "On Modern Poetry"

--

Day Three at the Huron Playhouse. We've loaded in the theatre equipment, set up shops and offices, and just now, today, has the acting company arrived. I was on the welcoming crew at the elementary school which serves as our summer dorm, and I had the distinct pleasure of greeting (judging?) each newbie as they pulled into the parking lot, duffels and satchels and pillows piled in their trunks; I, who installed seventeen air-conditioners yesterday, who assembled freestanding walls and metal bedframes, shook the manicured hands of people who will become close friends or fervent enemies in the next two months. In other words, auditions start tomorrow.

The first few nights in Bowling Green and Huron involved alcohol, earning a few of us returnees the collective name "Team Drunk." Our hand sign is a double hang-loose gesture tipped twice toward the mouth. And a big smile.

Already, the lines are drawn. We judge from the corner as people show their fake colors and try to out-intimidate each other. God loves us best without our masks, said a friend. We think that's when people love us most, when we're so concealed we're no longer vulnerable. A sea of performers, and no one's aware of nothing.

I love this place.