show me now

Swank and I have the whole school to ourselves, after Sessoms and Stormy leave for the diner. He asks if the auditorium is free, and we head down there to run songs for Shetler tomorrow. A nice amount of alternating between "I Got Life" and "Show Me" (from Hair and My Fair Lady respectively) cools down the day, and I spend most of his singthrough time climbing through the costume rooms in the basement, hunting for a high-necked peach dress. It's musty, disgustingly disorganized, and makes me sneeze, but those cramped rooms remind me of the places that made me love theater to begin with. It is always the deep tunnels and high rafters that make me go all gooey for a particular venue - the dirty dressing rooms at Bearsville, for instance, or the peculiar balcony at Byrdcliffe. What is rickety, old, and collapsing is what I find most gorgeous. These new theaters with all their functioning equipment...eh.

I can almost smell the day I move into the off-Broadway house that needs a good gut-renovation. And you know? I'm gonna make sure they clean out as little as possible. It ain't a good space until that used feeling hangs in the air.