27 May
You can't see me, but this is me livid.
Of course, if you could see me, you still might not realize how angry I am--just a little white around the mouth and a slightly piercing look in my eyes, but trust me, I don't get much madder than I am at this writing.
So, Monday night I worked on my lines, and when I woke up early yesterday morning to work on them some more, I realized that they had clicked in. That happens sometimes--you're rocky on your lines, then you sleep and suddenly they're right there. It would have been nice if it had happened Sunday night, but what the fuck.
I took lunch yesterday afternoon, something I never do, and sat outside and ran them again. I had about five trouble spots, non-sequiturs that I wasn't managing to come up with, so I hi-lighted them, and worked over those bits, so by the time we started rehearsal, I felt pretty solid.
Kirsten has come in to save the show, since Bill has gone into the hospital, and we were going through it and she was giving us character notes and trying to ground us in reality and...
Let me take this opportunity to say that my fellow actor is the biggest fucking pain in the ass imaginable. She is such a fucking prima donna, such a delicate mother-fucking flower, that she is about to drive me out of my ever-lovin' mind.
And she felt the need to discuss all of these notes that Kirsten was giving. Now, you don't doooo that, not in a show that opens in three days that someone is trying to save, you don't! You take the note, you go "Okay" or "I was trying to do that, I guess it wasn't reading" or even "Can you elaborate? When exactly should I do that?", but you do not fucking argue.
Anyway, we did the whole play, and I was, if not letter-perfect, pretty fucking close, including on the four page monologue. There was only one screwup that could be laid entirely at my door (that I know of--it's certainly possible that there were one or two more of which I was unaware, but no more than that), though there were several other errors that were not, let me make perfectly clear, my fault, not that I'm pointing any fingers.
Anyway, we finished, and we were in about a million times better place than we were on Monday night, and I was feeling really good, and Kirsten asks us to decide whether we think we can open on Friday or if we would rather cancel the first weekend.
I immediately said "Yes, we can do it" but I was outvoted by the other members of my cast, who pussied out big-time.
Now admittedly, we would not have two people for any more rehearsals, because they are also involved with the other show in the evening (now the only show in the evening), which means that we would, in fact, have to open without ever having had a single rehearsal with every person onstage, and we have never once worked with all of the goddamn props or costumes, but for Chrissakes, I've been in shows that were in equally bad shape before opening, and nobody canceled them!
And afterwards, my fellow actress (the one who said "I couldn't sleep last night after being told how dreadful we were!" to which I replied "But it was the God's honest truth!") had the temerity to burst into tears and say "Thank you Kirsten, we were like baby birds without a mother!"
I practically threw up.
And that's why I'm so fucking angry.
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Last Updated Wed 27 May 08:57:09 1998