bluecastle | for now... three down, one to go...

So unless I type like a hellucat... I will probably not get this posted today (too much time reading about my flist's interesting lives... me I just sit inna corner punching buttons).

So opening night went ok. Perfectionist me prompts me to fess up that the clock chime cue was four seconds late that first performance. Which sounds like nothing... but four seconds for an actor waiting on stage for the cue that prompts their next line... eternity. But no sub-etheric resonators were damaged by this small flux in time... so no lasting worries. (And I nailed the fuck out of that cue second show today).

Pretty good houses -- for this particular group. They do small shows, and we do it in a small room -- we're at somewhere around 50 seats max with this particular set up. So 44 for opening night, and then 22 for the matinee and 19 for tonight's performance are OK numbers. And I think we've already sold 35 for tomorrow. So yay. (petty me likes that the better the show sells, the more of a honorarium I usually get. far thinking me is glad for the co-artistic directors that run this outfit!)

Ah. The set. I have pictures. Well... I'll post A picture and you can fill in your own thousand words. The flash from my camera makes it look a lot starker than it really is. Dig out some bastard amber gelz and put them in your 3-D glasses and look again for correct levels of moody awesomeness. I picked this one -- which is taken from my little seat in the corner -- mostly as it actually includes one lighting fixture you can identify as "theatrical." And that's the annoying fixture that keeps whining all the time. Stupid lights.

Oh, what the hell... I like my staging of Emily's desk... so here 'tis...

So the theater thing has pretty much eaten my weekend so far, and it will kill tomorrow what with another matinee. Then we get to pack it all up and take the week off. I will be so glad to get my life back when this is over. I have writing to be doing, and lots of teevee I should be looking at.

But as long as we can keep annoying the audiences with a certain amount of participation, it continues to be a hoot. You should see them when we hand them recipe cards and pencils and make them write down the longest fruitcake recipe known to mankind. (It calls for 19 eggs and bakes for 7 hours... ) They freak out. But we give them samples. Well, of something close. And it's cake baked by a guy who just got home from the hospital LAST WEEK after open heart surgery.

Theater with love and cake. Does it get any better?

And I'll close with another stanza from the "bits of emily's poetry that didn't make the final cut" department:

Perhaps the "Kingdom of Heaven's" changed --
I hope the "Children" there
Won't be "old fashioned" when I come
And laugh at me -- and stare