Letters from Boston #7January 17th 2008 |
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From Julieanne Pogue
Boston Marriage, January 17, 2008
The winged monkeys will convene tonight at 7pm to do a complete run through of Scene one, non-stop, no book, etc.
“Yo-OH-oh! YO-oh!”, we chant as we drag our tired-assed bodies into the rehearsal hall. It seems as if I have been working on this FOREVER.
Poor Charles’s birthday is tomorrow and this is the FIRST TIME I’ve been unable to get it together for some little celebration in his honor, even if it WERE to be just dog, cat and me. He says he doesn’t even want to THINK about birthdays anymore, but how can this be? We are actors. We are children. Don’t we NEED the costumes and the lights and…THE CAKE?
My wretched bronchial infection is on its third round of anti-biotics and I have few reserves left. I’m fine for Scene One, O.K. for Scene Two, and WRETCHED for Scene Three, which we just finished working last night. But I’m glad to be able to use a prop or two and time sequences, without the stop and go and stop and go and stop and go, ad infinitum that has been our trudging custom for the past weeks. I know that I will be happy, soon. That I will be glad that Jack has been so thorough and yeoman-like in his approach. That the sun’ll come up, tomorrow….(me and those SONGS!!!).
Is anybody there? Does anybody care? Does anybody see what Jack sees?
I now remember why I chose to run away from the stage for those years. It’s @#$%^%## HARD!! And I am old, I am old, I shall wear the cuffs of my trousers rolled. (“Lovesong of J.Alfred Prufrock” – to which I refer more and more often in these days of Stress and Pie.*)
*come see the show to figure out THAT reference!
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