Apr. 9th, 2004

Man, I take one afternoon off to write a proposal and writhe around on the ground in pain for a while, and I'm at skip=60. Jeeminy.

Proposal to direct Macbeth next year is in, with two days to spare, so now they all have the weekend in which to reaffirm my belief that I cannot write proposals. Please everyone cross your fingers for me?

I don't really enjoy directing, much of the time, but I really really want to direct Macbeth because I love the poor ugly duckling and I want to dress it up and make it think it's a beautiful Hamlet of a play. I'm like Rex Harrison in My Fair Lady, only it's a gory play about Scottish nobility instead of a gorgeous young flower girl. And I cannot sing.

I did not say any of this in my proposal, however. I blithered about artistic challenges, ritualised performance, Brook, Marowitz, and Strindberg instead. (talk about an unholy trinity.)

I'm drugged up and still in quite a bit of pain, so I won't be on chat because I'd be useless, but expect a photo update in a bit, before I go to bed and practice my moaning a la Billy Crystal in When Harry Met Sally.

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