no peace until the weekend

I should not be posting right now.
I am exhausted and pissed off and the mind is going in so many directions that I have to carry a notepad constantly just in case I lose something important.

But last night I had a sleep over with my daughter. She was restless as I stroked her hair and sang softly to her; I observed the progression of her body surrendering to sleep, the twitching and changes in her breathing until she successfully passed over into dreamland. Her chubby hand was clinging on to my arm, mouth open with "bah-bah" resting on her bottom lip. I held her close, trying to remember what it felt like to be held by someone, taking in her scent and her beautiful form.
The windchime outside my window was banging against itself. Fearing it would wake my girl, I was tempted to shush it--or just tape the damn thing together for the night. My thoughts went back to work and the steep grade up ahead--that is next week and opening night. I have so far yet to go.

There is a line in the show that reads 'no peace unto the wicked'. I was making the picket signs in my room and held this particular sign up to my class. One student squinted from his seat and said, "no peace until the weekend?"
I laughed and said, "Actually, no peace until May 7."

Hope you can see what I have spent the last four months of my life doing.
And then maybe Decemberists on the 17th.

"touch me with your love"

I left the theatre tonight after 10pm. My musical director's last words were, "Well, thank God we don't have social lives. They would just get in the way."
I agreed, but as I extinguished the house to black, I ruminated on the idea. Maybe this was what I was supposed to be doing right now. I left the apartment this morning at 6:15 a.m.

Between building sets and full rehearsal tonight I sat with a student we and talked about our 'dream reality'. He spoke of being prom king, escorted by his beautiful male friend; an IU student from South Bend.
"You look beautiful, by the way," he said to me.
"Well thanks. Unfortunately the right person never seems to notice," I am never good at accepting such compliments.

'Wouldn't it be fantastic if he came to a show and actually walked up to me, wildflowers in tow and said, 'Congratulations. Your show was amazing. You are amazing,'" I said-- stooped over-- gluing the palm tree silouette to its white background.

He looked at me funny--I must have been acting out the scene like some cheesy scene from The Love Boat and he said,
"Why wouldn't he? What man in his right mind wouldn't say that to you."

"I don't know Anton. I don't know."

TOUCH ME WITH YOUR LOVE -Beth Orton

I dreamed of you last night
You had a different face
Or maybe just a hair color
You're older and wiser
Yet more like a child
I was amazed to find you still there in the back of my mind
This dream was short
This dream was happy
This dream was short
This dream was happy

Perch your lover on a slow burner
If you wanna keep your loving woman
Perch your lover on a slow simmer
If it helps keep the love from growing dimmer
Now hold on hold out
You're still thrown against a wall
Never looking to be picked up or left alone to fall

Can you touch me with your love?
Would I feel it if I trust enough?
Could it almost be a lust for life?
Would I feel it if I don't know if I sighed?

You could put it on a cold burner...
Deception never kept you any warmer
Truth is cooking on a slow simmer
The light's still strong even when it's dimmer
Yeah hold on hold out
You got thrown against a wall
Never wanted to be picked up or left alone to fall

Can you touch me with your love?

'night.

the challenge is you

"AND WILT THOU WEEP WHEN I AM LOW?"


And wilt thou weep when I am low?
Sweet lady! speak those words again:
Yet if they grieve thee, say not so --
I would not give that bosom pain.

My heart is sad, my hopes are gone,
My blood runs coldly through my breast;
And when I perish, thou alone
Wilt sigh above my place of rest.

And yet, methinks, a gleam of peace
Doth through my cloud of anguish shine:
And for a while my sorrows cease,
To know thy heart hath felt for mine.

Oh lady! blessd be that tear --
It falls for one who cannot weep;
Such precious drops are doubly dear
To those whose eyes no tear may steep.

Sweet lady! once my heart was warm
With every feeling soft as thine;
But Beauty's self hath ceased to charm
A wretch created to repine.

Yet wilt thou weep when I am low?
Sweet lady! speak those words again:
Yet if they grieve thee, say not so ---
I would not give that bosom pain.


***
Have you ever rolled down a hill with a 2-year old child, laughing all the way, only to get to the bottom to hear her say, "again"
Ever made someone laugh by swatting (and missing) a fly?
Can you dance around like a fool to "walking on sunshine" with someone and still be their hero?
Do you have someone who wants you to read books to them?

I have a daughter who turned 2 today
and she loves me more than anyone
and it feels terrific to finally connect with someone.


Finally) saw Hotel Rwanda
Ate Mexican at the old Princess Theatre but was haunted by icky feelings and memories of inadequacy.

April is, indeed, the hardest month.
Happy Birthday, my little miracle.