Cold spell

Tonight the attic feels about 40 degrees.  Outside, the stars are out, and it's below freezing.  Tomorrow it might snow.  I feel like that overheated car ride to sing in Gig Harbor was not so long ago, riding in the same car, coming home in the same clothes, from a different singing gig earlier this week, only 60 degrees and 4 months separate the two.  I'm writing this wearing a t-shirt, a sweatshirt, a sleeping bag and four three blankets, and I can still feel the chill.

Last night, I decided to kill time by walking to my acting class.  Passed a man with a telescope aimed at the sky.  A hand-written note on the side with something about the moon and Saturn, 8-10 pm.  I never did really figure out what that was all about, and at any rate it was only a little after 5 pm at the time, but I had to get close to read the note, and he said I could look through the telescope, so I did.  Up close, half the moon, enough to see a bunch of craters.  I once waited almost two hours, late in the evening, for 30 seconds to look at Mars.  I don't remember what I saw, only the waiting in line, and all the other people waiting, for so long, for such a short glimpse.  To see what else is out there, I guess.  And other nights, looking at comets, thinking they just looked like a larger version of a blurry star that I could see with my naked eyes.  The moon last night was more detailed.  It's burned in my mind.

Went to see "A Christmas Carol" at ACT, a friend got me a discounted ticket.  (Which I realized I had left at home as soon as I got on the bus.  I pulled the cord to stop, but the stop wasn't really close to home, and there was no way I could walk home, get the ticket, and get to the theatre on time, so I decided to stay on, and take my chances with seeing if they could look it up.)  I was late, but they did honor the ticket, and I did get in a little bit after it started, there were eight of us, at that point, sat most of us in the back, but still was able to see it.

So, Dickens wrote the story in the early 1840's to bring awareness of the plight of the downtrodden in London society (and it did bring awareness, it brought about change), and this adaptation was written 41 years ago (by Gregory Falls), but it could've been written last week.  It felt very relevant.  We repeat the same cycles over and over again...how can we forget the past, and what didn't work, so easily?

In class, working on "Thelma and Louise" again, different scene partner, different scene.  It's going somewhat better, possibly because I am understanding beat work better, and because I've spent more time going through the script.  I don't think of her as a vortex anymore.  They are equally responsible, at one point Louise says that she didn't have to shoot him, "We were walking away."  And because of that choice, she ended up losing the one thing she wanted (and was offered.)

My hand is killing me (the good one), maybe a cortisone shot would help; nothing else seems to work.  My foot is finally improving, finally found a pair of shoes that don't hurt, have barely been able to walk for the past couple of months.

Cheers.