Chance = Change

...and as corny as that may sound, it's a conclusion reached this morning, thinking about all the comments I got to my last blog entry...both online and on the phone..thanks for them all..Aleta, how good of you to be supportive and kind with the wonderful things you say....Chase, your enthusiasm for life and NYC will pay off in a big way as you move on to the things you are meant to do both in this City and elsewhere...stay open, stay excited, and creativity will guide you everywhere you want ...Richard...okay, okay, so "sensorilly"is not a word...but it should be one, right? Like i said: creative word-smithing.....and finally, dearest Drew: i stay strong and forge ahead...and as I do, I will have to experience the world around me as i experience it. I am not a New Yorker..and I am not a Virginian either...i am, we are...the world, and we are, we have to be, there for each other wherever we are. (whatever that means) So what am I to do when I see the 4th or the 10th (!) homeless person begging for money and food on the subway? What I am to feel when the woman, so obviously deranged, comes barefoot (it's 23 degrees outside the subway station, and barely warmer inside ) to the subway car and dances in front of me? I used to struggle with these questions before I went to Virginia....and the powerlessness I felt enraged me..and now, though my Buddhist practise helps me see it all in a different light, assists me in many ways, I have not yet been able to stop the feelings of sadness and horror that come up in me as a result of what I see. And it does feel like an assault on me...i do take it personally. It hurts to see it, hurts to feel it. And yes, my first desire at the moment is to go hide under covers. To retreat. The other end of the action spectrum is to give every one of the struggling people all the available cash I have at the moment....this is not a feeling unique to me...I am reasonably sure most New Yorkers feel such things every single day..it's part of what makes city travel so energy- draining.. it seems, I have not yet been able to go to that place I mostly lived in before Virginia: the place of simply ignoring what was going on around me. Putting up that "glass bubble" (first described to me years ago by dear old pal Tovah Feldshuh as her defense against the city) ...i hear a noise, I turn my head toward it...involuntarily...too much (some would call) wasted action...in that way, I am "victimized" by the City, dear Drew..at it's affect...i remember when the noise was hardly in my consciousness...even going Upstate last week, I heard the Taconic Parkway near the house more than i ever had before....and so, i wonder: is the point to become de-sensitized to it? TO IGNORE? Because after all, what can we do? Or is there something else to do? Is closing off the point? Or is reaching center the best way to go and then act from that center? And then the action will be true? Believe me, I do not know the answer here...and, whether it is comfortable or not, i am conscious and therefore forced to look at the question....

...about what hurts...Ernest Hemingway said...it's the perspective of the sufferer that determines whether the thing being exerienced is a vehicle for eternal suffering or for total transformation...my darling Paul has been reading things over the phone to me connected to the Buddhism he is studying and the place I currently am in my life...My brother Richard suggests I write articles for magazines...theatre magazines...god knows I have the stories and tales to tell, with concommitant lessons learned to put a spin on each one...the world is full of fools, none sillier than I am...the day is bright...and final, for the Gates in Central Park...I shall meet Rick R. and Amanda A. from Barter in a short while to take a walk through them for the last time...Eliza V. may join us..Rick and Amanda are in town to audition girls for SINGIN IN THE RAIN...tomorrow...Peter and I will dine with them tonight...i can hardly wait, I miss them both so much. SO MUCH TO PROCESS, sensorilly (is that a word, Richard?) in a city as big as this one...I am still at the stage of return that leaves me open and vulnerable to each noise, each jostle, every concrete step...i end each day exhausted by even the smallest excursion into Mid and Down parts of town....because I am so tender, so "mountain-ized", the amount of sheer stuff that comes at me with each subway ride is immediately entered into the open book of my self and soon my psychic pages are full to the margins...it is too much for me right now...has been for several days now...and this is me, not even on a full schedule yet...with only a couple of things needing attention. Am I no longer a New Yorker? Have I surrendered willingly my soul to the mountains of SW Virginia? Are things looking different to me now because there are things I am meant to do other than run the New York race? Is life meant to be a race? No. I am sure: no. As previously quoted: a successful life is not measured in how quickly you live it. I know this deeply. I am struggling. But as Paul tells me again and again to do: I shall strive to be gentle with myself. I yearn for a peek of the Blowing Rock in North Carolina..today. Right now. Instead I shall stroll the city wonder that is The Gates, and sip a Starbucks along the way. The sun shines. I love you. I do so love you all.

Elevators as shrines..to what? Shrines to the letting go of control, shrines to the surrender of self to electricity and gravity...elevators are shrines to the art of flying straight up! I can probably count on the fingers of one hand the number of times i went onto an elevator while i lived in Abingdon, Virginia. In fact, as I sit here at my desk, I can only think of one time down South when an elevator decided my fate , and that was when we stayed at the Meadowview Conference Center in Kingsport , while performing for the Chamber of Commerce Dinner there. Oh yeah: the Hospital too. So, here I am, back in the "city vertical", New York City, where elevators are the numerous equivalent of cars in Los Angeles, and where the traffic going up and down is as thick, if not thicker, than the traffic on the ground, and I realized something: elevators are enclosed pods of solitude and quiet, shaping our time and space for a brief period, and , despite all our button pushing, still going places that we do not intend them to, thanks to the democracy of elevator ettiquette: first pushed, first served.We are forced to face our selves in the elevator's square footage. We do not look at others, when there are others on board, but rather look above our heads at the lit numbers, like some writing on a magical tablet. But most importantly, THE ELEVATOR WILL GO WHERE IT GOES AND THERE IS OFTEN ABSOLUTELY NOTHING WE CAN DO ABOUT IT. It holds our lives in its cagey hands. It takes us where it will. And if we are smart (or as desperate as I felt the other day) we will use the time to meditate on the nature of time and motion. We will be grateful for the breather that our own particular elevator provides in that moment. Elevators as containers for the souls of seekers: praise to Buddha! We come, we breathe, we rise! We audition.

On a day like this one, I almost do not miss living in the mountains of SW Virginia..(I said "almost")..because it is mild, sunny, clear, cool, and utterly beautiful..the sort of day that casts even this ungainly City in a girlish, sly-come-hither Springtime light! And since I have much to do in the Mid-town today, I am glad I have a lovely day in which to do it all. I shall take more busses than subways today! Voice - over audition at Howie Schwartz's, at 420 Lexington, an address i have not been to in years...he has been in the voice-over casting business for decades and it is good to know he is still there...then on to several more hours of rehearsal for BERGIN PINES, the one-woman piece I am directing Eliza V. in for the March 7th Monday Night Reading Series at CAP...the work on that has been very satisfying, as we scope out how to work together in such a limited number of hours on a difficult, complex play. We have divided it into 4 "chunks"...4 dramatic beats...though one could divide it easily into 3 times that amount.....but for now: 4....each around 8 pages long....and that includes the very dramatic reading of stage directions, which I feel is necessary in order to set the mood and tone of the Bergin Pines surroundings...Peter Y. will read those, which will give him an opportunity to scope the piece out in order to write music for it at a later date. Anyway: rehearsal for that later today...then back down to the little Lower East Side theater called the Connelly, where CAP 21's 3rd year kids are doing GRAND HOTEL...with dear Board Member Pearl Berman, we have taken the leads in setting up a Lobby Store (we made $120.00 last night!!!!never before done!) selling GRAND HOTEL t-shirts and signed posters....a lot of fun, really...and since Saturday is Parents Day at NYU, we should sell out everything by the end of that evening! Little victories...right? Dear Brian (thanks for the comment yesterday) I thought about you guys so much last night...you and Lori smiling, behind the Barter Gift Shop counter...me hanging out with you...i miss you too! And Chase: i love being part of your thoughts via the blog...keep me in the loop please..and bro Richard: let's talk about magazine writing! And continue the suicide analysis....a topic of complexity and provocation..even if we can, should we? Isn't all death suicide ,really? As Mr. S says: "Every day a little death"...talk to me friends!

...IT BECOMES A PLEASURE!!...and so did Oscar Wilde have his delicious "Gwendolyn" opine, in the incomparable ....EARNEST..but I find the words come to mind as I sit down again to blog my thoughts out onto the blank screen ...several people over the past few days have commented with some surprise that they are amazed at how much I write and how often...and of course the thing that amazes me is how many people have found and are reading my online thoughts...it makes me feel so much less lonely to realize that people yearn to connect in this way...that the magical qualities of the Internet extend to the simple understanding that people are looking for each other....what is it we are seeking? Ourselves, in the other. Ever since my Momma gave me my first blank book (what was I ? 13?), and I realized that its pages would listen to me as no person could, I have understood that to write is to be less lonely. Less alone with the things that go bump in the night. The "what-next?" of it all. The "oh-yeah-me-too!" of it ...In any event, the result of that early realization is hundreds of hand-written journal volumes, stuffed in to the drawers of the piece of furniture I had made for them...and though this new online exploration seems to take all my writing energy in a day, I have many empty paper pages waiting to be filled...friends know to give me journals for gifts, because I will inevitably fill them. Who will buy? More to the point: who will edit? After I am gone. Lots of theater history in them...American theater history...lots of lightbulbs going off in the head of a 20th Century "girl becoming woman"...BUT this blog thing, this immediate "Hello right back at ya...I am reading you loud and clear" thing is particularly gratifying...and I again thank all who comment...I even thank those who don't , and who simply read...I saw that Hunter Thompson lately shot himself to death...why do these hip, brilliant, observant, thrilling men (so many come to mind) end their own lives? Surely, somewhere along the line, they see the good of it all, the spirit we are meant to nurture, not destroy...it bewilders me. Even to the end, we are meant to experience and seek to understand it. Giving up is the only "sin". Or as they say "You gotta be in it to win it.."...and , yes, life IS a lottery! More soon.

...once more onto this dizzying City, accompanied by inches of snow...i always imagine i hear the City breathe a sigh of relief whenever it is forced, by Mother Nature, to bend to her stormy wishes: a good and hearty snowstorm forces us all to sit and sip a mental cup of hot chocolate ...we gather, in some ancient tribal way, beneath the blanket of common weather conditions...today, it helps that it is also Presidents' Day...though perhaps not so many people as expected will make the trek out to Ikea for the Presidents' Day Sale...i say: YAY for snow! Indeed. I spent some hours Upstate this past weekend with my dear Paul and Steve, at the house Paul is currently readying for sale. He has chosen gorgeous, luscious, enlivening deep pastels to paint the bedroom walls with, and there is an inviting freshness to the entire upstairs..Paul does extraordinary work, when he puts on his "Painter-Construction-Plasterer-Remodeller" hat, and it looks better than any work anywhere because he takes such care with each task. The house will sell in a snap, as soon as he is satisfied enough with it to put it on the market, and though we shall all miss it, I am thoroughly convinced that even more exciting adventures lie ahead for us all as a "family"....intense talks about the future took place over the delicious veggie dinner that Steven cooked for us...the future looms in inviting ways for us all, I can just feel it. I drove home yesterday (Sunday), in traffic that reminded me that there are certain times NOT to become part of NYC traffic...Lesson relearned, thank you. But, I did make it home in plenty of time to snuggle down with my three sweeties (Peter, Sally, Cyrano) well before the snows began to fall. We have decided to postpone painting the rooms here for a while, so Peter and I can focus on career matters first. We are still in the throes of unpacking, organizing and figuring out where the heck to put things! The sub rosa theme of this: throw more stuff away, give more stuff to people who really need it!!! We have toooooooo much!!!!

Surprisingly, my last blog entry had 3 comments posted in response, and I was so touched by each one. First, it was a genuine surprise to realize that my blog is being read by more than just myself ,my darling brother Richard and dearest Peter, my husband. Secondly, thank you Gloria, for your kind comments about Barter and how you miss Peter and me being there. Words cannot convey the affection and admiration I have for Barter Theatre, Rick Rose, Amanda Aldridge, and all the Staff and Tech Staff and actors there. They are in my heart every single day I am away from them. An extraordinary group of human beings, working diligently to contribute to the world around them. Diverse, lively, demanding, perfectionist, crotchety ( and I mean that in the most wonderful way), unique, deeply human, generous people, with a serious committment to the theatre and all the arts that represent it. So, Gloria, thank you for keeping us in your heart there. Ann B.J.....well,,,,we shared London, so of course we will continue to share life the same way we did those fierce walks on the streets of the UK...remember the Forced March that cold and windy night? And the cemetery walk for ghosties? I value you so deeply. And the best part about sharing the "miasma" I was in , is that love came pouring out toward me to help soothe the pains....how wonderful. And of course, today I feel so good...I worked last night for several hours with my friend and amazing actress Eliza Ventura on a new play we are presenting a reading of on March 7th for the CAP 21 Monday Night Reading Series: BERGIN PINES, by Tony DiMurro...powerful, raw and affecting, the story of a woman coming to grips with a family secret and the the crime she committed as a result of it...we had such a good time working together...just the two of us holed up in a room at the CAP 21 Studios, doing what we love to do most: explicating a script and giving life to it. Eliza is going to be amazingly strong and good in this piece, the sort of kamakazi acting i associate with truly large spirits who have given their creative energies to the art form I love best...she is terrific and will be terrifyingly moving as she takes us on this journey. I feel privileged to be "directing", though in this case, it's more like a guided tour we are taking each other on...Ann: sort of like that Edinburgh graveyard at night...a less-than-surefooted trek through dark and scary places...though the technique and stamina Eliza is exhibiting, even in these early stages of this particular work, is extremely sure and trustworthy...she is allowing the terrified Linda, the character in the piece, to stumble and fall all she needs to, and that takes great trust in one's own acting "chops"...we had fun.And of course, as ever, work cures all my ills, in more ways than I can ever describe. Especially the sort of work I am most fond of doing: serious work on new plays. Also, as Board Member of CAP 21, I am helping decorate the Lobby for the 3rd Year production of GRAND HOTEL coming up next week, as well as selling t-shirts in the Lobby to help raise some extra money...we'll see how that goes..a new sort of sales effort for this company...We saw Ed Dixon in UNDER THE BRIDGE the other evening...Ed, an old and valued friend , was lovely in it,sang like a deep-throated angel, and was so funny and sad at the same time...audiences adored him. And Kathy Lee Gifford's lyrics and book did not deserve the roasting the various reviews gave...it was a good, game effort. And we are very glad we saw it. Ed and I hugged for what seemed like hours...we've not seen each other in several years and seeing him made me feel like I was truly home again. Between Ed and dear Drew Eshelman (my two Broadway "Thernardiers"), I feel warm and, as I said, HOME. Bye for now. Love.

I seem to be having enormous difficulty doing it well lately: communication. I need to sit still, listen, observe what is going on around me, be quieter than I even think I can be...I need to listen better. Because i am...well...odd...i feel so at odds with the people around me...even the people I love the most...at least the people in my life are committed to solving problems...Peter , my darling hisband, is a truly terrifc man for that reason alone (though, God knows, he's terrific for many other reasons as well)..he is strong, I am strong,all the people i love are strong...so, the Universe is definitely trying to tell me something by allowing me to feel this wretched discomfort in my commerce with just about everyone who crosses my path lately. Whew! I could chalk it up to play I'm directing a reading of (BERGIN PINES, by Tony DiMurro, very good, very intense, very much about anger), I could also attribute it to the wretched head cold I am currently plagued by, or maybe a combination of both...the cold is making me feel very awful a lot...but also, I cannot underestimate the effect the move from the Barter is having on me. I am essentially asking myself to undergo a "communication transplant"...that is: three years (and more) in one place, working with a certain group of artists with whom I've developed a certain creative shorthand, having gotten used to a particular group of artists' neuroses in combination with my own, now I have thrown myself back into another mix entirely, and there are new things to remember and learn...new voices to hear with my old ears ...ears that have listened a certain way for several years now and need to exercise themselves into a rediscovered flexibility...funny how we hang on to old ways of listening...old ways of judging...BUT then comes this question: what is it that I am looking for ? True listening is a good thing to strive for in myself...true listening...but what is it I want to hear? This is what my struggle seems to be. I am willing to listen, but WHAT DO I WISH FOR? What if what I am hearing is not it? True listening does not automatically result in agreement with what is being said. Sometimes I think that when i truly listen, I hear more clearly what is underneath being said, and I want to say :this is what you are saying and this is what I am hearing...can we discuss the discrepancy? This seems to be the only way for me to proceed lately. Living in the discomfort of the discepency. I honestly believe that all people want the free-est, fullest self-expressioon possible..i also believe that people live in fear of full self-expression...we say, rather, that thing which will keep us safest, most entrenched in what we know to be our positions of power. So instead of saying "A", we say "B' while we think we are saying "A"...full self-expression would result in both "A" and "B" being said in a balanced and conscious way...total full communication.

Even those hurting in love, because one day, sooner than you think possible, you will be feeling love again, and the pains of the current upsets will seem as bad dreams...several of our friends in Abingdon are going through some major romantic upsets currently,and not a day goes by that Peter and I do not think of them all with love. Human beings are wild and wooly creatures, full of the best and worst of what is inherent in being alive....to revel in that glaring imperfection is, at times, impossible, but there are other times when the imbalances remind us of the glory of life...sort of like reviews in a public newspaper: if you read them, and if you believe the good ones, you must also believe the bad ones....but if you are really able to rise above it all ( impossible, I know, when it's you body John Simon is savaging with his barbed poison tongue) IF you are able to see beyond the "now" you will see none of it finally matters, and that pain is only our invitation to love more deeply....Jesus! that sounds so damned sanctimonious...please forgive....no one has wanted to kill someone else for causing pain more than I have...I am a veritable demon when i feel like avenging hurts done me...but if there is one thing my relationship with Paul has taught me, it's that love is possible after deep hurt, and that the sort of love that comes from forgiveness is a love unimagined until you experience that deep hurt...of course it helps that I have the glorious Peter to help re-learn the art of loving...and he is a fine teacher. But the people we care for in Abingdon are deeply gifted, creative, caring people, with all the genius for living they need, and I can only pray this innate genius will help guide them through the current valleys of despair in which they find themselves. In matters of love, truly what does not kill you will make you strong, and hopefully more loving, more grateful, more open to the loves that lie ahead. Love is the only powerful force (besides hatred and war) that affects the lives of those all around it...it is also true that those we love are sent into our lives to teach us what we need to learn to become stronger, better selves...our lovers are our gurus, as someone once wrote in some book I read years ago...and so we find ourselves, if we love, constantly in the position of student, of having to be open to learn more thatn we ever thought we needed to learn. And some of us (myself most of all) hate to become aware that we do not know it all! Ah!

"What can I do for you?"....trying to learn Spanish one phrase a day, day by day, from the calendar I bought in London...En que puedo ayudarle? What can I do for you?...need to learn that language...want to...always have, ever since highschool, when the surface was scratched in a class or two...so...en que puedo ayudarle? THE NEW YORK TIMES is one of the major joys or having returned home...we have subscribed for daily delivery to our front door, as so many people in our building do, and so for several days now we have been enjoying that civilized amenity..and we have the time to actually read it, which of course we rarely did in dear Abingdon, where our Barter schedules precluded such a thing. And getting a daily TIMES was not so easy, though we did enjoy getting the Sunday TIMES at Main Street Book Store, weekly.Catching up this morning on a few days' worth of reading...read the fabulous coverage of Arthur Miller's life, in tribute to his death a few days ago. Remembered when his path crossed with mine, when, as a young New York actress, I was asked to do the initial readings of UP FROM PARADISE, a musicalization of his play Creation of the World and Other Business...the Adam/Eve story, with Austin Pendleton as Adam and little old me as Eve...Stanley Silverman wrote the terrific music...we did a long series of backers' auditions in the gorgeous Fifth Avenue apartment of Chuck Hollerith and his lovely socialite wife...i remember several years later, that lovely woman died and Chuck married Hope Lange...funny the things we remember...anyway, Arthur Miller was dear to me then, and he and his wife Inge Morath, the photographer, gave me a fabulous autographed book of their trip to China...i wonder where thatbook is now. and i hope i cna find it...I am swimming in the literary joys of being home again. The sheer material and literary joys of neing a New Yorker once again. The Christo event yesterday and the volume of NEW YORK TIMES pages to read today...enough to make a wonderful weekend. Today i go to a Womens Division Meeting for SGI and we will do some serious chanting for a while, which always makes me feel strong and good, and then Peter and I will spend some more time on visualizing how to paint this superb apartment the colors we want to paint it. Bit by bit, the boxes are being cleared away, and though are still too many piles of stuff to organize and clean up, at least we see our "enemy" more clearly. The more we clear up, the more I realize what a large apartment this is, and how large the rooms are. A great place to live in New York City. And, as I keep pointing out to friends down South: the Guest Room will soon be ready for use, with its own private bathroom,etc, so COME see us! There is a wonderful blue to paint it first though, and a serious blonde wood futon to buy for it. Cable TV is already hooked up in that room, however, and there is even a TV to go with it! God knows, we have plenty of TV's! In fact, we have plenty of everything! So...today is a sparklingly gorgeous day , a blessing of a day. I've been on line with Gil Braswell from the Barter, having a long chat or two...exchanging emails with Ann Johnson, whose cheerful face I miss...maybe i will drive down to Abingdon in March. Maybe see the few chows that are up and the few that may be in rehearsal. Maybe.

...the biggest public art project the New York City has ever seen...I was awake at 7:00am today, wrapping up to stay warm as I trudged to the 106th Street entrance to Central Park (today i discovered ,carved in stone ,the name of that entrance: Stranger's Gate...reminded me of the Traitor's Gate entrance to The Tower of London, though the Central Park entrance is far more benign in its history, I bet)...anyway, determined to witness this unique art event, I was there at the top of the Great Hill at 106th Street in Central Park, to see how the art would literally unfold...and I am glad I was there...Christo and his wife Jeanne-Claude raised 20 million dollars , spent 20 years of work doing so, and after finally getting permission from NYC to even install the thing at all...they financed this project through the sale of related art works, like drawings or lithographs of the project..all the proceeds from "The Gates" souvenirs sales will go to the Central park Conservancy and Nurture New York's Nature..and here is a basic decription of what "The Gates" is and what I , partially , saw: Stretching along 23 miles of Central Park footpaths,the project consists of more than 7,500 pleated, saffron -colored panels billowing from vinyl "gates" or frames. When I first got there, the numerous frames I was able to see, maybe about 100 or so of them, set at approximately 12' intervals, were all "empty" in the sense that none of the flags had been released yet, but were contained at the top of each frame , packaged, ready to be undone...which is what happened at about 8:30 am, when teams of 6-8 people, (some of whom requested to be part of this project as long ago as 3 or 4 years, when they were first able to apply on-line to assist)...well, these teams came along, to the cheers of the growing crowd (when I first got there , there were only maybe 10 people and their doggies)..anyway, these teams, at a synchronized time communicated by walkie-talkies, pulled a strip of saffron colored plastic by reaching up with a long hook-like thing ,hooking into a round metal thing at one end, and pulling it across the rolled flag, creating a "zzzzzzzzzip" sound as it came undone, immediately after which these elegant, pleated, saffron silky panels fell gracefully down to about halfway the height of the frames....well above the heads of even the tallest person who would walk under them...one by one, flag by flag, the gates burst into color. All the same, uniform saffron....and one by one, the flags were released into their destined flowing life. The crowd of people, a lot taking photos of the event, some home movies, some talking on cell phones to others who were not there (I called Frank and Eliza Ventura out at their Hamptons house to include them in the event, since it was Frank who first reminded me to pay attention to it when we got home from London...the crowd followed the clumps of flag-releasing volunteers....a very communcal, shared event. Terrific. Provocative and warming, it was so joyful.So glad to be home. So very glad to be able to be part of such a thing, and not just read about it.

...as I look out the two large windows in our office, next to both our desks (Peter"s idea to turn our large living room into our office/sitting room for student and colleagues is working out so well)...anyway, as I look out, I see the familiar wall of windows of the building across 104th Street from us...an amazing view into other peoples' lives, if we chose to view it, but there is a city etiquette that prevents us all from taking advantage of such close proximity, and so, except for the rare glance telling me something about the late-night tv watching habits of a few people, i know nothing about what really goes on behind those windows. For one thing, if i ever took a good look, they could see me looking, and for another, there is this unspoken law: there is really nothing there, so we all ignore what is...in any event, makes for an interesting contrast to our Abingdon life, and makes also for an interesting canvas to wake up to each morning. Our wall of windows. We rehearse tonight for a reading of THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST we agreed to do on Monday the 14th for the Barbara Wolff Reading Series at CAP 21...should be fun, especially as Peter is "Jack" this time, not "Algernon", the role he did at Barter two years ago...also, a slightly differently cut version of the script...as long as people enjoy it.... That reading series has become very popular, as it now includes both new works and classics in its line-up....Studio One at 18 West 18th has become a prolific room, and much art is created in it. Two nights ago we saw the 2nd year kids do the most delightful presentation of Cy Coleman and Frank Loesser music...a really good night of theatre, even though they are so young...so much talent in their discovery mode of such brilliant writers makes for exciting results for an audience. it was terrific. Really terrific. Anyway, what I really want to write about is HIS DARK MATERIALS at the National Theatre in London, because it was truly one of the highlights of our trip and i don't think I wrote about it enough yet, if at all. HIS DARK MATERIALS, taken from the trilogy of books by Philip Pulman, really written for kids, they say, but voraciously read by adults the world over, and translated for the stage by the National Theatre, Nick Hytner and those astonishing actors. We were told we would never get tix, it's such a pop hit, but we persevered and were able to see both parts on successive nights...it was so much fun. So huge. SO gorgeously produced, using the famous "drum revolve" in the Olivier Theatre for the first time in a long time...breathtaking, really, and finally, by the end of the two night saga I was weeping. And even in two nights worth of 3-hour action each night, they still had to, of course ,cut major story lines and characters...(Peter gave me the trilogy before we went to London, so I had read them all before we even left the US, and so we were deterimined to see this thing).The National Theatre, over on the remarkably refurbished South Bank, is one large monolithic new building,which at first is pretty daunting, as it is very huge and blocky and grey and granite and modern and sort of off-putting and dark, even inside, especially inside. But soon, when you experience the daily goings-on, the way it serves as eating place, meeting place for all the thousands who go to see theatre there, you begin to feel its purpose and the entire thing warms up and becomes extremely comfortable and welcoming. It dares you to engage with it, and then when you do , it rewards with many riches, many experiences you can only have there. And for all it enormous-ness, it never really feels crowded, even though it really is filled with thousands of people seeing 4 different plays at a time. Brilliant. And of course one of the most wonderful book stores in the world. Too bad the American dollar is is such poor shape against the pound. We'd have bought three times as much as we did buy. Our trip to London would have been worth it if the only things we saw were the 2 nights of HIS DARK MATERIALS.

...is growing and growing, and it is a pleasure to realize the art of writing is alive and well and living in the Blog World, and that friends I never knew could write are actually gorgeous writers with so much to say. Today 4 You Tomorrow 4 Me, a blog by dear Brian Tibbs, my pet from the Barter Theatre Box Office, so so comforting to read, because it makes me feel closer to a place I miss...My dear brother Richard has started a Blog: Batty Thomas, ( the name, like my brother, is such an enigma, but a fabulous one), and I LOVE reading it! Obviously, it's all about communication, and this is simply another brilliant way to accomplish that, so come on now, blogging in the streets!!!!!! As I sit here typing, the sounds of NYC surround me: carpentry work in the co-op above ours, that friendly tip-tip-tap of hammers to let us know we are certainly not in Virginia anymore...the most we got out of our place in Abingdon were soft mooings from cows, and the occasional loud birdcall! But like all else here, it sounds like music to me! I had that voice-radio audition yesterday for JEAPORDY radio, and it was way downtown on Greene Street in the middle of the delectable SoHo area...i have not laid eyes on that neighborhood in far too long, so it was pure pleasure to return there. Then, I decided to WALk all the way from Greene Streete to my next meeting on 18th Street, a really long schlepp! i stopped in so many fabuoous design stores and checked out the new fashions that do not even know how far ahead of the actual world they really are, and i walked and i stopped and i walked and walked, and stopped in a cunning Village (as in Greenwhich( tea shop and enjoyed a pot of tea, and then walked some more...re-discovering it all..this City is in terrific shape...I passed by Rick and Amanda's fave Italian restaurant in the Village: The Olive Tree...we must go there with them next time they are in town...I realized that London has nothing over this amazing City: we are filled with all the things that make life on this plane of existence uterr fun to live. The meeting about the GRAND HOTEL t-shirts was so productive, and the evening of 2nd Year Students singing songs of a certain composer was absolutely terrific! I had forgotten how talented NYU theater kids are and what good training they get from year one at CAP 21....also, the level of musicianship from keyboard to singers is stunning. After the event, we had dinner at AMERICA with Frank and Eliza, another reason we are glad to be home! More later about last night's event...worth talking about.

The day is like a diamond...blue and clear and crisp and shiny...a pleasure to look out our (dirty) windows and see the City we belong to...taking the dogs out at 7:00 remains, so far, a pleasure, mainly because of this mild winter that seems to be upon us here in the Big Apple... Peter and I sit at our desks, in the new office space he has envisioned and that is almost a reality here in our still box-infested livng room, and we go about our various personal businesses with the shiny city right outside...i think , once we clear all box debris and stacks and piles of things out of the way, we will have a unique and useful space in which to work...the painting we want to do will help to redefine the areas, and once again, the vision Peter has had will become a working reality: he is very good with spatial things...has a far better eye for organizing space than i ever have had...the leather furniture we purchased in Abingdon, so deeply comfortable, makes for a nice seating area right next to our office space, and the enormous roll-top desk Peter bought me is my own private Idaho...my own little kingdom...so large, we could use it for an extra room if we needed to!!! A very short guest could sleep in the desk and roll the top down for privacy!!!
I have embarked on a t-shirt project for CAP 21's production of GRAND HOTEL, with another Board ember Pearl Berman, a lady with whom I sense I will create a nice strong friendship...i like her style. More on that later. Today, I have a voice-radio audition and then a meeting about the t-shirt project with Pearl, Yonka, Michael Robertson from CAP and Beau Bernarda, from CAP also...then at 7:00, a new composers' workshop at CAP 21...more on that later too....
it feels so good to be home today!! Even with the boxes left to unpack!!!

...so, our adorable pups have been, ever since coming home from staying with Uncles Paul and Steve's house, getting up at about 6:30 a.m. and it has actually been my pleasure to take them out for their first walk of the day at that hour...the good thing there are so few other people and dogs out at that hour that Cyrano is less likely to engage in doggie warfare, and I feel less of an obstacle as I coax Sally to behave like a normal dag and WALK!!! So, up I am at that hour, and yesterday when I apptempted to then make coffee, I did one those things where i put the coffee right into the seeping area without putting the filter back into it, so of course, it totally got stuffed up and overflowed and this time it ruined the $18.00 coffee pot that has been fatihfully serving us for several years...so i got all weepy and experienced it as the last straw and dear Peter went right out in search of if not a new coffee pot then at least cups of coffee to calm me down..what a doll he is...well, no place was open that early, so though he did bring home some groceries, he came home coffeepot-less..But armed with the idea of simply brewing one cup at a time with the filter from the pot (which by that time I had thrown away in disgust along with two other coffee pots that also did not work but that for some reason I had been holding onto while we were in Abingdon...i am the stupidest pack rat ever...) So, last night, after the CAP 21 Executive Committee Meeting, I went to Bed, Bath and Beyond and splurged and bought a $20.00 coffee pot!!! And the coffee from it is delicious this sparkling morning, and we continue our unpacking of multitudinous boxes....we have a wonderful home here, and if we can ever get rid of the brown boxes, and finally get around to organizing room by room, as well as painting them all, we shall have the home of our dreams, comfortable and fun. The potential is definitely here. Today, unlike the last few days, neither of us has a thing that we are obligated to do outside the home, so we should be able to get a lot done. WE ARE HOME!!!! YAY!