*smooch* (ldy) wrote,

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Fate, show thy force! Ourselves we do not owe; what is decreed must be, and be this so!

We ran through the play yesterday and Monday. Dress rehearsals. Layers of velvet and satin and lace, oh, my.

Monday was a travesty. Dropped lines, missed entrances, crickets chirping in Act V, the works. I got a compliment on my performance, but I felt a bit shaky. I'm not comfortable unless I really KNOW what's going on, and feel confident that I can cover if someone else misses a line. I wasn't sure I could. And everybody hated my wig.

Yesterday felt really good to me (and I got another compliment for repeating a wrong line as it was said instead of as it was written), but the director(s) were still disappointed in the show as a whole. I ran the show wigless, but tried on another wig for kicks.

Instead of having another dress tonight, we cut some lines from Act V and ran through it quickly, working a couple parts several times (after the third time giving the cue line "get him to bed, and have his hurts looked to," I made it "take him to bed and lick his wounds already"). No dress, just shoes. Wait-- that didn't sound right. No costumes, just shoes. Wait, no. Normal clothes, costume shoes. Yes. Everybody hated the other wig and loved my hair, so it seems I will be performing this Elizabethan period piece wigless (with my short, SHORT hair). Director(s) seem to think that this will require no suspension of belief whatsoever on the audience's part. Oh, and at the end, I kiss an eighteen year-old babe-magnet for six hours. OK, it's really just three minutes. I feel like such a Dirty Old Ldy for even making note of it.

Came home to an email from Fearless Leader on the programme info. I was omitted, and someone else was listed twice. I really liked the other person's first bio:
Jack ****** (TN Feste/WYW Orsino) Originally a Longshoreman of the coast of Brazil, Jack found his way to Albany as the result of a freak earthquake. After wandering delirious from Smurf Village to Coffee shop, Jack finally found his true home performing with this company. A proud father, and an independent artist, Jack is studying Psycho physical improbabilities at the local community college while making his living as a Mosquito breeder.

I asked if I could be the first Jack because, y'know, I've always had a thing for mosquitos. I just received an email back:
Thanks. Corrected: subtract the extra Jack, added the most lovely Lady O. You're are perfection onstage. Thank you.

Gawsh. Not only an amazing compliment from someone who doesn't often give them freely, but a glaring typo from an English teacher, to boot. I feel so loved.

To sleep, perchance to dream; for tomorrow we shall die open.

In the meantime, I ask your forgiveness,
For activities here will be curtail'd.
If not on the morrow, then four day's hence
I shall return here; successful or fail'd.

Hugs to those who need 'em, those who want 'em,
and those who can ad-lib pentameter
(or the odd parenthetical aside)

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