The day slipped away. I couldn't sleep last night, and found myself braving the cold at seven am for some yummy
McDonalds breakfast food. Call was at one pm for actors, and I cut it close as usual, with a
stolen kiss from Wayne on my way out. He had already seen two of our shows, so I assumed he'd find a way to amuse himself while I was gone...possibly by reading through my private
journals again...and assured him I'd be back by five. He went to the show again, which is at once
sweet and a little creepy. Quoth my professor, "
He yo' groupie!" The show went smoothly for a Sunday
matinee/
blue hair special. We usually have to struggle to get the audience active on Sundays...it seems they all eat after
church, then slip into a drowsy state in the theater. Today's crowd was no exception, and
their laughter was subdued, but Mr. Coke's compliment after the show made the entire
festival worthwhile.
Mr. Coke is an elderly gentleman in our community who has long been a patron of the arts. He isn't wealthy, but he does give generously when he can, and he never misses a show. He asked the theatre professor to snag me on my way out, and he said "I recall seeing you in Dancing at Lughnassa and Ballyhoo, young man, and wanted to commend you. You're better than many actors plying their trade in New York."
I gushed. What other response is there in the face of such flattery? It made my week. Unfortunately, the demands of sleep deprivation led us into an after-dinner nap that stretched until midnight. There's a strange feeling of lost opportunities and waste associated with sleeping away the better part of an evening. Here we are, wide awake in the witching hours with nothing to do except each other.