I am so goddamn sleepy. SLEEEEPEEEE!!!! I want to be in bed! I want to be asleep! I do not want to be awake!

Well, that didn't work. I swear, tonight I'm going to bed at 11p, I'm not fucking around until 1.30a.

And why am I so sleepy?

Because I got up at 7.45a yesterday and at 8a today, both after hitting snooze since 7a, so that means really I'd been up since 7a, and both nights I went to bed at 2a. This is because I am a big bunch of stupid, I know, but I find it difficult to go to bed much earlier than 1a no matter when I have to get up. Usually I can stand it, but it's the two mornings in a row thing that is shattering me.

I wish we had a nap room at work. I've been saying this for years, but wouldn't it be great? A nap room with cots that you could sign out for an hour, though I'll bet if we did have one, Billing would hog all the cots like they do everything around here, but doesn't it sound great? Like the nurse's office at school, so if you felt a little sick or really tired, you could just go and lie down for your lunch hour. Heaven.

And why did I get up so ungodly early yesterday? Why, to meet Kate and Melissa at Circle in the Square to get rush tickets for Metamorphoses!

I did not know from Metamorphoses, Melissa was the one who wanted to see it and suggested this outing for the three of us. Actually, it was first mentioned in March, but it took us two months to find a Wednesday that was good enough for everyone, that Wednesday being yesterday.

So I staggered into the city and made it to Circle on time. Kate and Melissa were late, but they got there at about 9.15a after having abandoned their cab in the middle of a traffic jam and walked the rest of the way. The box office opened at 10a, but we were second in line, after a group of about five people. I think they got tickets for the evening show, though, because we snagged the front row centre three seats, which was pretty cool.

Then we had four hours to kill, so we decided to go downtown. "Let's grab a bus," I said, to blank stares from the two of them, "Bus? What is this thing you call 'bus'? A public conveyance that rolls along the top of the ground? What a novel invention!" "Have you never taken a bus in Philadelphia? Hell, I've taken the bus in Philadelphia plenty of times!"" "Of course we have never taken a bus in Philadelphia, nobody takes the bus in Philadelphia, they are just there for show!"

So I bullied them onto the bus, or I did after it finally arrived. It was sort of the wrong bus, but only because it terminated at 34th St. rather than going all the way down, but the one that goes all the way down was very very late, as we realized at every single stop when someone would stick their head in the door and start complaining about how long they had been waiting for the other bus. It was very amusing, especially when we got off the bus when it terminated, and then the right bus came along soon after, filled to the brim with the irate complainers from the earlier stops.

We went down to the Village and walked around, stopping in every pharmacy that we passed, ooh-ing and ah-ing over the sooooaaaap and the looootioooon and so on. And it wasn't just me, though I was certainly the ooh-iest. And I only bought a pair of piggy soaps in a little crate for my Mom for Christmas. Or maybe her birthday.

We passed Cones, the best ice cream joint in town, where I have gone twice with Tracing and Colleen, but it was closed. Perhaps it would be open by the time we had to go back uptown!

As we were crossing one side-street, bright-eyed Melissa saw a small sign half-way up the block that said "Bargain Books", so we hied our way over. Of course, bright-eyed Melissa didn't buy a goddamned thing and I spent $35, but everything was such a great buy! I got a $45 Annie Leibowitz for $9, and a couple of other photography books, and a new copy of A Little Princess, since my old copy was read to rags, and a very late birthday present for Bonnie. It was all worth it, but also it was fucking heavy, and I had to lug them around for hours and hours yet.

After that, we went to the Waverly for lunch, then headed back in the direction of Cones, like the ice-cream homing beacons that we are. It wasn't open yet, so we stood with our noses pressed against the door until it did. I got what I remember to be my usual, white chocolate and coconut. Unbelievably good.

So then we headed back up to the theatre and hung around in the lobby until the house opened. We spied a large school outing, probably thirty 12 or 13-year-olds, and made many disparaging comments about how they would make noise and be obnoxious and laugh in the wrong places and just ruin the show for everyone. We hoped we were wrong, but we doubted it.

But you know what? Those kids were as silent as the grave, so quiet that I complemented their teacher afterwards. I think it was a combination of the quality of the show and the fierceness of the teacher, but you would never have known that there were infants in attendance, they didn't even giggle at the sex!

I haven't been to Circle in so long, but my God, it will always be my home, no matter how long I stay away. My first four years in New York were spent there, I learned so much and grew up so much--like Scrooge, I say, "Know it? I could walk it blindfolded!" So I was very dull with the, "And here is where we had our combat classes, and through that door are the main classrooms, and all these pictures have been on the walls for the last twenty years," but Kate and Melissa kindly feigned interest until I ran out of anecdotes.

And so how was the show? Well, after it was over, when they brought up the lights, the three of us looked at each other, tears streaming down our faces, and chorused hoarsely, "I want to see it again! Right now! Make them come back and do the whole show again!!" Because it was perfect. And that is not rhetoric, it was, without any question whatsoever, the greatest show ever in the history of the universe.

I'm not certain if I can properly explain why it was so great, I mean the performers were wonderful and the concept was wonderful and the script was wonderful, but somehow all of these wonderful elements merged together to make an even more wonderful whole. The whole was truly greater than the sum of its parts.

The story is many stories, Greek myths retold by five actors and five actresses on a stage that was basically all water, an enormous pool just ankle deep at the upstage end, and knee-deep on the downstage end. There are towels on the seats of the first couple of rows, because the water gets splashed about with abandon. It worked wonderfully in Circle's three-quarter space, meaning that the audience surrounds the stage on three sides.

The show is hilarious and heartbreaking and sexy and wonderful. And one actor in one scene was so incredible that when it was over I was able to turn to Melissa and say, "That guy was amazing," pointing to the spot where he had sat to perform that scene. It's not as though it was the last scene and he had just been sitting there a minute ago, or that corner had not been used but that one time in the whole show, it was the fact that in ninety minutes of wonderful performances, one actor sitting in one spot was so extraordinary, that all I had to do was point to the spot and say, "That guy."

I bought the playscript in the lobby. When I got home at last last night, I read that scene, Eros and Psyche, out loud, weeping the entire time, it's so beautiful. In looking for this website, I came across many reviews, all but John Simon's being positive (I have defended him for years, but if he didn't like this show, he had his head up his ass), they mostly singled out the Orpheus and Euridice scene, and Phaeton and Apollo, and those scenes were great, but for me, the show was Eros and Psyche.

When I got home, I ran to Cynthia and Fran and insisted that they go with me to see it, they have to see it and I have to see it again, and we might go Saturday. I don't know if I can stand to wait that long. And I am busy as shit on Saturday, too, the idea of dragging my ass into the city at 9a and seeing a matinee when I have to bake a cake, and I have rehearsal, and I have another Alumni Coffeehouse (that's what the cake is for) is dreadful.

Except that for the opportunity to see Metamorphoses again, it is worth it.

"Why is he blind?"
"He's always pictured blind, but he really isn't."
"Because in love we are so ignorant and so compulsive?"
"There's that."
"What else?"
"He is blind to show how he takes away our ordinary vision, our mistaken vision, that depends on the appearance of things."

(from another angle, here is Melissa's entry.)

After the show, I walked Kate and Melissa to the Pennsylvania Station (appropriate, since they were, in fact, going to Pennsylvania!!), then had three hours to kill before my rehearsal, so I went to see Frailty.

I liked it very much, though it was pretty morally ambiguous in a way that didn't so much bother me, but that I noticed. I guess because the movie is about morality, the fact that morality doesn't win out, or maybe it does, is very noticeable. I guessed the twists ahead of time, but that didn't spoil my enjoyment, as the journey is as important as the destination.

I think Bill Paxton did a wonderful job, both directing and acting, and Matthew McConaughey was very different than he usually is seen. He tends to ride a little on his easy charm, which was not in evidence in this character, and he doesn't need it. Powers Boothe, also excellent, and not in nearly enough movies, but the movie wouldn't have worked without the kids and they really brought it. I'm shocked that that oldest boy isn't a Culkin, though, he absolutely has the face. Perhaps Daddy Culkin spread his seed a little, because the resemblance is remarkable.

After the movie was rehearsal #3, the first with a whole cast, since Brian who played the man I yearned for in Where the Snowflakes Bloom is now playing my son. I said, "That's quite a change, since I was in love with you in the last show," and he said, "Maybe not such a change, as this character you are playing is very peculiar!"

We ran it a few times, and he is going to be hilarious, since he is so matter-of-fact and straightforward, and then when he has to put on the dress, he acts exactly as matter-of-fact and straightforward, and it's really terribly funny.

The funniest thing of all, of course, was the scheduling, since it turns out that the dates are actually the 31st, 1st, 2nd rather than the 3-5 of June, and Brian is in Cancun right before we open, returning on the 31st! At 4p! For a 7p show! And he won't be there for tech, either, of course. Ayse, who plays his wife, is getting married right before we open and is unavailable for four days in there as well (at first she said two, but now, suddenly, it is four). Also, Brian is going to Boston this weekend.

I said, "Look, I'm the most important one, and I say that if we have at least one rehearsal in the space with all of us, and one more rehearsal in a space of the right size with all of us, we can do it." And since I am the star, as long as I am comfortable and think it can be done, we are not going to panic.

It is the star's job to set the tone of the set, even for a seven page play, and I take my responsibility seriously!

Lenten entries missed:

Colleen admitted that she is the daughter of Lucielle Ball and Montgomery Clift, was self-indulgent, celebrated her four year journalversery, mourned the loss of the Schwan man, decided to help save my soul, recommended that men wear raincoats, decided on a new domain name, and set her laptop on fire. And this one was after Lent, but I love this entry, her eldest went to Prom.

Today's horoscope:
Structures are changing around you and uncertainty is in the air. You can adapt as needed and remain highly effective.

One year ago today:
This will be a disaster of Biblical proportions. I have started to call it the Rain of Frogs.

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Last Updated Thurs 16 May 23:42:09 2002