A little closer to 42.

In light of my recent-ish grouchiness about being funny, I want to share part of a note I got from a friend who came to the Imp last Friday night. She saw the student show I was in, and stayed for One and Spite.

I enjoyed the laughter and the insights. I realized that I have begun sleeping again and also laughing. I think maybe I am really healing at last.

I don't think I'll be so grouchy anymore.

I still need to work in a milieu in which I don't have to force things, in which I can act from my heart and let the funny happen on its own. That's been very easy for me at the Imp. When I play from a place of love and joy, even if my character's emotions are mad/sad/"afrad," it works and it feels good.

High art and tragedy are still things I love, of course. So I'm getting my fix by stage managing an opera. It's called The Rake's Progress, and it opens a week from Saturday at KU. Gorgeous mid-twentieth century dissonance and minor keys. A Faustian story with tinges of the Cult of Celebrity. If you've never been in the presence of a human voice sustaining a high C, it's amazing. I wonder sometimes if there aren't chords and intervals that are real physical, physiological triggers for our emotions. Maybe there's research on that - but I digress.

The opera also covers my need for precision - but I'm finding myself not nearly so stressed as I used to get when every detail wasn't perfect, or finished yet, or otherwise what we hoped it would be. There's not much room in opera for ad-libs, but I think improv has been teaching me to roll with the punches and trust that the show will turn out fine.