(no subject)

I hate this day. This gray, wet day, with it's severe weather warnings and tornado watches. It's too early in the season for a tornado. They can't come until my birthday.

Up til 5am twisting back and forth. Rehearsal this afternoon, two weeks until the real thing. This girl, with by far the most simple role in the play, she's hardly ever in class. Today I watched her cry silently out of the corner of my eye, as I showed her how to pull the curtain hand over hand so that it opens and closes smoothly. I've been home, falling asleep over and over again. Nothing is done.

I can hear the rain pounding down. Not awake, not asleep, too tired to sort anything out.

page 173, The Summer Tree

There are kinds of action, for good or ill, that lie so far outside the boundaries of normal behaviour that they force us, in acknowledging, that they have occurred, to restructure our own understanding of reality. We have to make room for them.