Honestly, I’m not trying to be coy. I do plan on giving a full report about the meeting. My mind is still too boggled. And then there’s this:
The drama camp I run each summer starts in a week. In addition to director, I am also playwright.
So I guess it’s time to start writing that play ….
(All right! It’s true! I’m a flagrant procrastinator and now I’m done for because writing schlock takes time! Time I don’t have!! Oh, I’ve an idea that I don’t like, but now I’m committed to it, like some drugstore shopper on Christmas eve, frantic for that perfect gift, forced to buy a nose hair clipper for grandma.)
So while the souls of Sophocles, Shakespeare, and Williams squall in protest, I calmly smush in my ear plugs, down some Junior Caramels,* and await the muse.
Lateness is so rude, don’t you agree?
(*Like Milk Duds, but edible and chewy and good, so good.)
So I guess it’s time to start writing that play ….
Now there’s a line I’m glad (and a little surprised) I’ve never uttered!
But what I really want to do is *DIRECT*.
I didn’t know you were back.
Might not the “full report” be the basis for the play.
“Names have been changed to protect the demon-possessed.”
Possible title – Joey and Dem Demon Duds…
8)
JG — Now there’s an idea. Day 2 of camp is the grueling audtion process, which usually involves many tears.
So how to choose who plays “me” in this “Li’l Exorcist” scenario? The kid who growls the best? The one who can levitate the bed? Spew pea soup the best? Those would be some interesting auditions.
I get a wee bit tired of the kids who stand up and barely whisper: “Um …. I’m going to sing, um, ‘Happy Birthday.’ Oh …. um ….. who should I sing it to?”
“Sing it to Moe,” is what I ALWAYS say.
“Who?” they always say.
“Moe.” I always, always repeat and then take some small delight in watching that moment of confusion cross their faces when they eke out, “Happy Birthday, dear M–ooo–ooe.”
(Hey, they’re told — over and over — that if they want to sing that particular song, they need to pick a name IN ADVANCE and put it in there.)
The great thing, about your idea, JG, besides its utter devilish sickness ;-), is that all those kids whose mothers sign them up just for the babysitting but who — God bless ’em — clearly have NO discernible talent or desire can be cast as:
THE HERD OF PIGS!!!!
All right. I’ve gotta stop thinking about this. JG, stop it. 😉
As Mammy says to Rhett Butler when he gives her that shocking red petticoat:
“Mr. Rhett, YOU IS BAD.”
It’s probably best to end that idea stream unless you want next year’s camp cancelled due to lack of attendance. 😉