So, when do we discuss the material again, I asked her at the housewarming. Oops, she answered. Forgot to tell you: I’m meeting a Russian booking agent on Thursday. She’s interested in the show for a festival in St-Petersburg.
… you mean this Thursday?
That’s what she meant. OK. Ergo, boil down an overly-detailed document in French into an appealing synoptic sales pitch in English (Russian, I read and write but cannot speak beyond the basics, let alone understand for vast stretches). Before Thursday. Yup.
Also at the top of the brain pan this morning: after hearing my reading voice in someone else’s work in progress, I’m struck by the fact a reading voice needs as much careful grooming as any other instrument. The mikes stayed on between the readings. I heard three different tonal pitches in my voice, plus a huge wobble when I took the material too slowly. I also need to explore greater variations in the reading material to balance out the more somber with the lighter.
Plus write my own new stuff. Plus, earn my keep. Walk and groom the dog. Fold the laundry. Clean the floors. Find some rocks to tamp down the earth in my flower boxes (there’s a neighborhood cat that loves to shovel out the earth – in search of an elusive scent, somewhere. This is not good form for the flowers).
Anything else? The dream? The verbal joust with the ultra-right wingers at the market yesterday? No, this is fodder for story land.
The brinquedos, then. Yes, old tin boxes and toys bought at the flea market yesterday. Plus a needlework rendering of a saintly one, now gracing the living room wall next to my growing collection of fools of every stripe and configuration.
Yes. Oui. Da. Si. and so on.