Strange I have no category for pain. Two days after feeling so comfortable hanging for half an hour, I find myself shoved deep into the ropes not able to find any comfort. mmm pain. Tomorrow I shall hang on the other side, as my left side is worn out.
We made it into the theatre today, wigs and all. A run of Act II, and with wigs, lights and hurried sense of immanent importance, I decided to do the hanging topless again (it’s mostly easier to tie without clothes in the way), and so felt a little obvious surrounded by everyone in trackpants and singlets.
The set is huge. I’ve seen Act I and have no idea how the techies are going to turn around that monster in the pause. Rainforest *zap* big white box. Deeply envious Gala gets to climb all over it.
BUT!
I feel like not saying too much about it, especially as “Hi! I’ve read your blog!” is becoming quite common. Writing about my own work is different. It’s also a method to clarify what I’m doing, so is quite personal. Writing about someone else’s … I have an acute sense of not-stepping-on-toes and the uncomfortable feeling of clown feet.
I spent much of the remainder, once unroped and dosed on aspirin, lurking in the wings with camera. Part of me would love to put up all the photos now, but I’ll wait until we open.
