Bloomsday

It may take a few days to get this unstudied somewhat-Irish accent out of my mouth. It comes about through a broad flattening of the back of the sides of the tongue, syllables melodic.

I had the joy and honor to read Wednesday night in a theatrical adaptation/abridgement of Joyce's Ulysses, at Kansas City's annual Bloomsday celebration, marking the date on which, in 1904, the novel takes place (and it is a huge novel to cover one single day: 700+ pages in any given edition). It was only loosely staged, as the language is the focus of the performance, and we needed to play to the microphones as much as possible. The room was packed, easily over a hundred people. Maybe 150... I've never been good at estimating a crowd.

There wasn't actually a rehearsal, though most of us met once for a read-through. The wording can be tricky, and the director did have some bare-bones blocking and character notes. But why rehearse when there's no memorization and little staging? And all those things I might have worried about not covering in a rehearsal, such as finding an action or relating to other characters... thank you, improv! I felt like an intern or a stowaway alongside actors I've seen give amazing performances, and some I had only known by name and reputation. Still, trust and fun came easily.

And I had four costume changes. Four! I rock the quick change! Okay, it wasn't full costuming, just pieces switched out. Still: prim old-money matron to bawdyhouse whooore in the space of twenty seconds (I timed it at home). And I had the queen of all hats, which I'd like to steal from the director. Sylvia, if you're ever missing the velvet top hat with exaggerated angles, feathers, and a mesh brim... I swear I have not seen it.

I have a goal for next Bloomsday: read the original, in its stream-of-consciousness entirety. I've read sections before, and I've read some of Joyce's shorter work - I like the music in his prose - but I've never walked the day with Bloom and Dedalus. 'Tis time I do.