Wednesday, April 01, 2009
April 1st
AN APPLE A DAY opens on Monday.
Last Monday we got through the to the end of the play and I knew the whole script worked.
The relief was amazing... and thinking about it today I realise that I been through the whole usual gamut... from extreme anxiety to relief, to amazed and prideful excitement, and absurd and unrealistic expectations and then back down today to anxiety again...
Yesterday they were in Glasgow, and rehearsing in some new tiny useless space in the morning, apparently, and then in Oran Mor for the first time in the afternoon.. and in that moment of disorientation, from what i can gather, and with a few strangers around to watch, what had seemed funny before now did not make any kind of contact at all.
So there was a fear about them I probably picked up on... and the 'SHE' character I did not recognise any more... and I just got cold chills seeing the whole play run right through for the first time and seeing, it's my life, it's my life that's being played out there... not literally, it never is, but in every other way.. and the thought of the exposure I subject myself too, over and over again, gave me the shivers again.
As it does every time.
Which must be one reason why I'm keeping up my private diary but not this public one at all.
Because I'm putting myself on such intimate display and so I need my private space.
(But again, in another space, the cold eyed professional one, I can see how good the work they are doing is and then I stop being professional and cold and get all excited and the whole cycle begins all over again...)
Because in the end, in so many ways, this is what I live for...
AN APPLE A DAY opens on Monday.
Last Monday we got through the to the end of the play and I knew the whole script worked.
The relief was amazing... and thinking about it today I realise that I been through the whole usual gamut... from extreme anxiety to relief, to amazed and prideful excitement, and absurd and unrealistic expectations and then back down today to anxiety again...
Yesterday they were in Glasgow, and rehearsing in some new tiny useless space in the morning, apparently, and then in Oran Mor for the first time in the afternoon.. and in that moment of disorientation, from what i can gather, and with a few strangers around to watch, what had seemed funny before now did not make any kind of contact at all.
So there was a fear about them I probably picked up on... and the 'SHE' character I did not recognise any more... and I just got cold chills seeing the whole play run right through for the first time and seeing, it's my life, it's my life that's being played out there... not literally, it never is, but in every other way.. and the thought of the exposure I subject myself too, over and over again, gave me the shivers again.
As it does every time.
Which must be one reason why I'm keeping up my private diary but not this public one at all.
Because I'm putting myself on such intimate display and so I need my private space.
(But again, in another space, the cold eyed professional one, I can see how good the work they are doing is and then I stop being professional and cold and get all excited and the whole cycle begins all over again...)
Because in the end, in so many ways, this is what I live for...
Labels: rehearsals
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