Innumerable Addresses to My Bed

It's flirting with one o'clock in the morning, and I am staring at a very bright computer screen with the words of John Berryman staring right back at me. Eleven Addresses to the Lord. This is the epitome (pronounced until I was sixteen as ep-i-tome) of poetic beauty.

Yet I'm struggling to keep my eyes open.

It's not that I'm bored by the words of the late Mr. Berryman. It's not even that I'm offended at the overt religiousity of the piece. It's all beautiful and elegant and graceful to behold - but there's something very savage about experiencing it on my dinged, overheated mac in the wee hours of the morning. This feel distinctly like the sort of thing I should be marveling over in some cloth-covered book on a particularly lazy Sunday afternoon. Technology and classic American literature are like cat and mouse. I have yet to decided which one's which.

Late-night-insight attempts aside, I saw something truly magical tonight. I was invited by my playwriting professor to sit in on a run-through of his company's western musical I've Never Been So Happy. Risking an awful joke, and even more of my dignity than this blog is already taking from me, I have to tell you, after this performance, I've never been so amazed.

I apologize.

Fervently.

The Rude Mechanicals are a well-known Austin theatre company. I've heard nothing but wonderful things about them since arriving in this vibrant theatre community, and tonight they lived up to every iota of praise. This musical is one of the most purely interesting things I've ever seen. Watching the specks of rehearsal I caught, followed by one of the most impressive "run-throughs" I've ever witnessed, this company has my ultimate ideas/dreams/goals/visions running through every inch of it. Go see this production. I'm serious. If you see no other play, movie, concert, or miscellaneous performance in the next two weeks, SEE I'VE NEVER BEEN SO HAPPY! You won't regret it. I promise you that.

Hope y'all are happy as a hipster in a hat shop!

- L