Getting Word

Words have been coming in all over the place lately. Just got word a dubbing project on which I worked is now on Netflix. I'd say yay, but, depending on taste, you may fault me for it. Just got word my manager has been shopping some scripts. Yay, although no bites yet. And, I just got word I tested positive for COVID 19. Did someone say "yay"?

A particularly frustrating part about the last word is I'm missing a performance tonight. I'm sure it's a bigger deal for me than the audience, maybe even the understudy, but I hate missing a show. Or a rehearsal, for that matter. That magic, undeserved, irrational hold performance lords over us doesn't ease the injustice of missing work. Of course, I'm also not so selfish as to put others at risk simply for my agrandizement. So, there's that. I'll just keep sucking back the vitamin c water and wish the lad's (and lassies) well until I can coax a negative result from one of these here home tests. Yeehaw!

All things considered, it could be worse. I actually feel almost no symptoms. And less each passing hour. The important thing for me, and humanity, is to be ready to go for the world premier of Trouble the Water. Okay, maybe not humanity. But it is a world premier.

Working on a new play is a wholly unique experience. I've done it before, but this is the first time I honestly feel others will follow us. So we better do it right. We're on our umpteenth version of the script and changes keep coming. It's like live t.v. Performance is the only guarantee the script won't change. Until the next show. I love it. It's exciting, energizing to be part of the evolution of something bigger than oneself. And the story of Robert Smalls needs to be bigger than all of ourselves. You ever feel too full of yourself, read his life. It'll put you right back in perspective. Once a slave, stole a Confederate ship, became a captain in the Northern Navy, freed a bunch of people, started schools for former slaves and was the first black representative in the U.S. House. Trying to cram that life into two hours takes some squeezing. I hope you'll join us in Topanga Canyon and see how we did.

I talked with my daughter, on the phone, of course and said I was pretty sure I'd caught the virus. She "nyah"'ed and said, "Hey, we made it two and a half years. High five us." Oh, yeah, she caught it a couple months ago. Here we are in the Southland, soaking up the sun and watching the new cases climb the bell curve, and feeling fortunate we didn't catch it sooner. That's the way to look at life. Everything's half full, baby. And we're living the California dream.

Stay safe, hydrated, faithful and kind. God loves you even if you ignore Him.