Too Much

Back to the beginning. What were you doing when the lights went out? The onslaught of silence woke me, nothing everywhere, no computer, no refrigerator, no hum in the walls, utter silence. Even the wind has given up the ghost. Gabriel sings through the voice of a couple of tree frogs and some bugs. Not exactly Saint Mathew's Passion, but close. A Whip-O-Will ruins my concentration. Kim showed up, a few minutes early (projecting his timing from Tallahassee) and I'm not surprised that he's on time, I'd just gone out for a smoke expecting him right then. We share some great history, starting at Florida State, then, The Cape Playhouse, where we cut our teeth, working with a great crew, with great designers. We did the impossible as a matter of course, and played hard on the one day a week we had off, though we had to work that night. A relentless schedule that is only barely imaginable now. We were smoking pot and LSD was still legal, not yet illegal, I was tripping all the time, and we'd build these great sets, and do perfect shows. A perfect show is as rare as an albino, and the fact that we did three or four of these a week was pretty special, plus, we learned to visualize, and we learned to solve problems, we were in step with the universe, but we didn't know it. Kim and I talk half the night. He only drinks one night a year, the night he spends with me on his way to Montreal. I made a nice supper, tenderloin, roasted baby potatoes, slaw, bread, the sauce. He drove back in with me this morning (left his rental car at the museum) and we had a final chat, about his upcoming weekend. First work day with Mark and Charlotte, changing of offices, working toward our job descriptions. Then the mother of the bride and the caterer came in, to discuss Saturday's wedding reception. It's huge, over capacity, to be catered with ribs and sauce. Should be a pretty scene. An artist, Tammy, is bringing her show up from NC on Friday. I have a list the length of my arm, of things that need doing before Friday, at five o'clock in the afternoon. D and I had dropped everything, to get the back hall finished, and I am sorely behind. TR caught me at quitting time, and we went over to the pub for a beer, talked about the changing of the guard. This has been a rough period: the remodel, the alley, then add to that a complete re-shuffle of staff positions. Lord love a duck. I don't know what I finally figured out, that the rear end of the Jeep danced around because there wasn't enough weight in the back, so I stopped and bought the heaviest thing they had in bags, at Portsmouth Cement And Lime, Playsand, and put just four bags of it right at the back of the tailgate; what a difference. Though control isn't an issue for me, I see now why the rear end was swinging the way it was. I need four new extremely aggressive tires, and new shocks. I can make this work for a while. Clawing my way to the ridge. But at some point, I'm too old and feeble. Too old and feeble.