My script and contract for Hamlet are supposed to arrive today or tomorrow, which means I’ll soon be memorizing lines. The idea is to be off-book by first read on December 15 in Sanford. I’ve also been informed by one of my print clients that things are about to get “crazy,” which means I’ll soon be laying out out many pages.
So I’m a pirate who don’t do anything right now, keeping my powder dry, my sail furled. Of course, I’d be gravitating toward inactivity even if I weren’t on the brink of a busy spate, but in that case I’d be calling myself a leisure pig. Not a pirate, but a pig. Pig, pirate, whatever. Contextual hair-splitting. Soon I’ll be very busy. Right now, I’m not.
Spent an extremely nice day visiting with my friend Peter in Tryon this weekend. I sleep well in his basement bedroom, which I think has something to do with the room being set into the side of a hill, essentially underground. Sleeping in the cold embrace of the Earth Mother, I suppose. Physically cold, spiritually soothing.
My plan to attend a performance of The Mikado yesterday at Converse College fell through owing entirely to my own intertia. (More pig behavior.) I just didn’t feel like going. Read instead. It’s just as well, too, since I hear the production was abysmal, which is surprising when you consider that Converse is known for the quality of its music department. Maybe it should be known for the quality of its marketing department, instead.