![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Aug. 17th, 2019 01:55 pmAfter the DCM book fair this morning I've recovered from a condition of having enough shelf space. A small shopping bag filled: the next Patrick O'Brian I was missing, a couple of unread Bujolds, and so on; the most unexpected thing was Raphael Carter's The Fortunate Fall. Returns diminish with the years, as I have more of the things which always turn up, but a great big warehouse full of books that could be anything is still a good place to be. Even though it is also an experience of shuffling slowly through overcrowded aisles, with only approximate consensus as to which way the crowd is moving. I was not quite in too tired a condition to enjoy this, and getting up at seven thirty to get to the fair before it opened has not turned out to be a day-destroying decision, even though I seem not to have managed to get two consecutive nights of eight hours' sleep in a week and a half and am feeling it; I got to the fair and had time to acquire vital coffee on the way to being only slightly late for a full-cast rehearsal of Agamemnon.
I think I haven't mentioned being in Agamemnon on here before; all the time I've been at university I've been meaning to do something with the Ancient Theatre Society or a Summer Shakespeare, and have always contrived to miss or forget about auditions or else be too busy. This being my last year, I'm pleased to be involved with one. We have a very good Klytemnestra and a harrowingly good Cassandra, and me as Agamemnon; as usual, my starting position is 'Really quite good at voice acting, crap at everything else'. My drama teacher in high school told me that while onstage I only had one walk, and though I didn't know what he meant at the time I've come to see that this was and basically remains true. There is a gulf I have barely begun to bridge between thinking, 'Agamemnon, heavy, kingly, weary and still suffering from wounds', and ceasing to look like Jack, moderately light, not at all kingly, and only weary in a small way. I keep doing a thing and then thinking, 'Drat, that's one of my mannerisms.' But, today made great improvements, not so much at the rehearsal as on the way home through the rain thinking about the logical flow of my monologue and why it wasn't working better. 'Oh, this is why I'm saying it.' It's amazing how often I can say a monologue, thinking I understand it sufficiently, and be wrong -- in layers, too, I may well do this again in another week.
(Performance nights: fourth, fifth, and sixth of October).
And now my books are home, one minor casualty to the pouring rain being pressed back into shape on my desk; cast potluck tonight, and a warming curry on the stove for it. And it's mid-semester break.
I think I haven't mentioned being in Agamemnon on here before; all the time I've been at university I've been meaning to do something with the Ancient Theatre Society or a Summer Shakespeare, and have always contrived to miss or forget about auditions or else be too busy. This being my last year, I'm pleased to be involved with one. We have a very good Klytemnestra and a harrowingly good Cassandra, and me as Agamemnon; as usual, my starting position is 'Really quite good at voice acting, crap at everything else'. My drama teacher in high school told me that while onstage I only had one walk, and though I didn't know what he meant at the time I've come to see that this was and basically remains true. There is a gulf I have barely begun to bridge between thinking, 'Agamemnon, heavy, kingly, weary and still suffering from wounds', and ceasing to look like Jack, moderately light, not at all kingly, and only weary in a small way. I keep doing a thing and then thinking, 'Drat, that's one of my mannerisms.' But, today made great improvements, not so much at the rehearsal as on the way home through the rain thinking about the logical flow of my monologue and why it wasn't working better. 'Oh, this is why I'm saying it.' It's amazing how often I can say a monologue, thinking I understand it sufficiently, and be wrong -- in layers, too, I may well do this again in another week.
(Performance nights: fourth, fifth, and sixth of October).
And now my books are home, one minor casualty to the pouring rain being pressed back into shape on my desk; cast potluck tonight, and a warming curry on the stove for it. And it's mid-semester break.
