Profess

"Your best
suggests
another kind of guest."

-- OK Go, "You're So Damn Hot"

--

Did some laundry in the empty afternoon. Washed a rug in the washer and that worked fine, but tried to dry it in the dryer and it came out damp. Twice. It's slung across two folding chairs in the kitchen.

Finally have chairs in the apartment now. That may sound basic, and it is. I have had a lounge chair, an armchair, and a Z-chair, but no everyday, I-just-need-t0-rest-my-ass chairs. Family brought them, I'm using them. Two in the kitchen, as I said, holding up the wet rug, and one at the makeshift desk in my bedroom. The desk is a folding table beside a ledge/shelf. Real classy. Real classic.

The family also left a towering bookshelf, which is stocked with the remainders. A brass-trimmed mirror leans against the wall beside my closet. My fridge is full for the first time with leftovers galore.

--

At a point right now when I believe I may not be completely happy until I am teaching theatre and literature courses at a college. All the rest is prologue.

In the same spirit I had convinced myself to march up to my boss next Monday and ask to direct a touring show next year. Also to ask to write a show. It makes me swell to think that I am qualified to do both, and then it makes me shrink to wonder why I haven't done either in a year. I guess we all have dues to pay and bills in between.

--

Blood Meridian is very good. The diction alone would kill you.

--

Tomorrow is the trip to New York. Niagara Falls within walking distance from the hotel--sort of the theatre's subtle thank-you to the two of us who have stuck with it for the last nine months. Five shows left. Friday afternoon is a scheduled release, a pop and sizzle and a bubbling over. I have an old bottle of champagne, still in its tissue wrapping, waiting for the occasion.

The tour has been tough. "Acting is hard," goes the joke, because it is true and false and neither all at the same time. I guess acting hasn't been the tough thing. It's been the tour, the climbing in and out of the same van, the careful hefting of the sound system speakers through gymnasium doors propped open with tipped traffic cones, the wrapping of condoms around mic packs, the sweating through Spandex, the seeing of children as they peek around the edge of the set and the magic is changed, the draining days and fast-food stops and gas stations like waiting rooms with overpriced candy instead of banal magazines, the rolling of eyes behind concerned glances of understanding reckoning unbelievable reconnaissance, the timing of a bunny hop and the freeze frame of a turtle walk, the canned answers in Q&A with repetitive gestures and my own voice sounding strained and boring. Acting is the least part; acting is hard to find.

And it all changes in four days, five shows. The next weekend brings with it mystery and excitement, and its name is office work. How bout that.