1 June 2013
I love the summer. This is what the light looks like right now through the window. The sun won’t fully set until closer to 11. I think it’s miraculous. And it’s the one saving grace that redeems living here for the rest of the year. Andrew doesn’t like going to bed when it’s still light outside, and he says the sun wakes him up too early in the morning. I love it. I feel cocooned by sun from all sides.
Rehearsal was good today, but still exhausting. I had to pry myself out of bed this morning, and I fell asleep for 20 minutes during the lunch break today.
I just tried to explain something to Andrew, and I can’t even find the words. My brain is melting more than a bit, and the words are just going. Disappearing. One by one. One second, I feel like I have a grip on what I’m trying to explain; the next, it’s gone. By the end of rehearsal this evening, I was singing someone else’s lyrics that happen earlier in the show instead of my own. My brain is living in the past, shutting out, closing down. I almost have no control over what happens there at all.
Tomorrow, we’re putting the show in front of a live audience for the first time. I know its a test-run; it’s still a rehearsal, after all. There will be no expectations that it will be perfect or polished. It’s still raw, still prone to trip-ups and mistakes. But there’s something about that added energy, how the scene of it changes. Having a witness, bearing witness, being witnessed — it changes things. It gives them life, more life than they had before.
Melllllting, I’m melting. In a Dali sort of way, not heat-wise. Apart from the hot water bottle on my back right now, the air here still feels like early March. It won’t feel like summer here unless there is a freakish heat wave, but those are rare for us.
I can’t believe it’s June.
Enjoy your weekend for me. I don’t know why I’m still stumbling for words when my brain is running on empty. I need to sleep, recharge.