So yesterday was rehearsal #2.

We blocked Act I, or at least we blocked my two pages and then I split, I heard that the rest of Act I was blocked after that. Not my business, not my problem, and also I don't care. This is my mantra that I keep repeating so that when I hear about terrible, show-ruining things that are going on, I don't start screaming. All I can control is my nine lines and my two pages.

The pool table is set up so that I'm sideways to the audience, as I wanted to be, and I'm rolling over after the last guy gets off me, as I wanted to do. I need to pause after he gets off, because I don't know for sure that it's finished, but That Man didn't get it. He felt the need to explain to me that the difference between a gang bang and a gang rape is that the woman is not a willing participant. I looked at him as though he was the stupidest man alive and stopped arguing. I'm going to do what I want to do anyway.

He really seems to think that I would need to be held down. Held down! Has he never had his teeth drilled? Or gotten a tattoo? One disassociates then for heaven's sake, does he really think that during a gang rape the woman is present and aware the whole time? By the fourth guy, she's gone, man, waiting for it to be over. And the only way she can tell that it's over is because someone new doesn't climb on, not because she's been counting.

What a dweeb.

We have a couple of new cast members. The two actors that impressed me the least at the readthrough are gone and the replacements are much better, the best usher I had for Orpheus and a guy that I haven't seen since Rimers back in '98.

Frank, the Rimers guy, is playing the retarded guy, and one of the things that really annoyed me at the readthrough was that the original actor was playing him like a college professor. "Is That Man ever going to mention to him that he's supposed to be retarded?" So when Frank came in and said that he had accepted the role the night before and didn't know a thing about it, I said, "Well, you're raping me and you're retarded!" "Yes, retarded!" Cynthia chimed in. "Retarded, retarded, retarded!" we chorused together. Because we couldn't count on That Man to tell him.

Frank is also much better-looking than the original guy, big and handsome, I far prefer have him between my legs at the top of the show. In fact, when he was standing there confusedly, I wrapped my legs around his waist and yanked him down. "Here, this is where you belong, here! And you're retarded!"

I free-blocked and it worked out pretty well. My only problem is that one of the actors has got it into his head that his character doesn't like me. This is not even remotely supported in the text, and doesn't help me at all when I have to yell at him to get away from me and he's as far away as he can be! The other new guy kindly lunged at me on his line and gave me something to react against.

After rehearsal, I went into the office to do my FedExing and finish off the mail. I brought in my laptop and watched The Muppet Movie and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre from Netflix.

I haven't seen The Muppet Movie for so long, boy do I love it. And the end makes me weep every time. It's just so hopeful. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre I actually had never seen, gorehound that I am. It was really good, though not actually all that violent, and terribly funny at times. I watched it twice, with and without commentary. I love commentaries from really low-budget films, like Evil Dead and Truly, Madly, Deeply, since they have so many stories of how incredibly hard it was to film.

After work, I went to Kelly's 30th birthday party at BBs. It was really weird to be there without Omar, my other half at places like this. I hung out with Moira instead, who is having some director problems herself. She's playing Big Shirley in Bubbling, the role I've always wanted to play, and her director told her that her character is "...even bigger than you!"

I told her that she should have said, "Bigger even than me? How does she get through doors? Is she one of those bed people who have to be removed from their houses by a crane?" and told my story about That Man asking whether the pool table would crumble into dust under my tremendous weight.

Not five minutes ago, the strangest thing happened.

Sometimes, as I'm walking around my apartment, I do a mental checklist of the cats, and I thought, "Baldrick's on the fridge, Elvis is on the chair. Where's Milo? I haven't seen him in a long time."

Of course, the reason that I haven't seen him in a long time is because he died almost two years ago. But just for that moment, it was as though he was just out of sight, out in the basement or curled up in the clean clothes, and all I had to do was find him.

But he's buried in the back yard, so that won't happen. Maybe he is in my head because I'm worried about Elvis. He does seem to be doing better on the medicine that the doctor gave him, the antibiotics and the bronchial stuff and the vitamins--I think he's breathing with a little less hard labour. I don't want Milo to have come to take him home, I'm not ready to let him go yet.

Today's horoscope:
Intelligence goes beyond collecting the data that you read in the papers. Learn more about your neighbors. You move with ease through a social situation when you understand everyone's story.

One year ago today:
Eventually, though, they were quiet long enough for me to go back to sleep, so they didn't find out that I had nothing in my holster.

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Last Updated Thurs 23 January 23:18:09 2003