Spinning and spinning

At PT on Friday I was riding a stationary bike. Yesterday I had a migraine and still pushed through my home routine at 6 am, with a lot of sweat and heavy breathing.

Last night was opening at the new Hanna. Today I slept in, god dammit.

I have had the opportunity to go over the first ten pages and incorporate changes suggested through last Monday's read. Everything needs to be more brief, showing not telling, etc. Act it out. it's a play. There are several passages about literature in the play (and one about a certain animated cartoon movie) and I am struggling to tell them in interesting and non-copyright infringement-oriented ways.

hit me baby one more time

Went in yesterday for PT, and we started using machines. I was in there for an hour last Friday, almost two yesterday. Melissa added to my reps and now my home workout has gone from 60 to 90 minutes, I need to get up at 5.30 just to get it all in.

But you know, they're a good 90 minutes. I listen to Capital Radio and enjoy an hour and a half of pop music and active solitude. It's almost like running.

Well, no, but it has elements in common with running. Which is not the same thing.

Meanwhile, something about this ordeal has resulted in a full-on re-emergence of my meralgia. I think it was the way I need to lie while my left knee was still actively in pain. But that awful, screaming feeling in my right thigh returns whenever I lie down, unless I crush it by resting on my right side, which is difficult to do all night. So I was up several times last night.

Hope I can stay awake for PR tonight. Veronica is such a bitch.

P.U.

First night with the CPH Playwright's Unit. We will meet biweekly through the spring, bringing ten pages to the table more or less every other Monday, with a few special readings stuck in there for good measure. That's good work!

Due to a recent shift, there have been three new additions to the eight member unit (nine, if you include Seth, which you most definitely should) and we were pressed to be the first to offer. I skittishly offered to go first of the first.

The first ten pages of ATYD, the beginning, which is the part I am most concerned about. I had offered up the middle ten (roughly) at the Dark Room a couple months ago, because I felt more confident about those. This is set-up. It's hard to start.

E.C. read the lines (E.S. the stage directions) and he did all right, he's not me, you know. M.O. said it was a bit heavy, he wanted more cheek, and I got that. Only I think I will be bringing the cheek, if you know what I mean.

I love hearing the bits I didn't even get when I was writing them. I didn't even intend them, but I'll take them. D.M. thought I used the term refugee camp twice when describing Fort Wadsworth. Not true, but I somehow had made her think that, so I think I was getting the image across. Things like that.

The Forster bit is too long, I knew that. I don't think character will help.

S.G. says it works so far, the idea that these thoughts are going through the mind of a marathon runner as he runs. That's good. Ali, how do we make sure it looks like that?

Solitude

Phys Therp has kicked my ass. Fact is, I walk without a limp and was able to play my part in the big ceremony last night without anyone being able to tell I'd even had knee surgery 11 days earlier.

However, bending my knee is still limited. I can hardly comprehend ever being "normal" - it feels like there is a piece of foam rubber tucked under my knee cap. But I have been a good boy and done the hour's worth of exercises the past two days. I see the pro again on Tuesday.

I have two hours to myself (which I am squandering on blogs) in which to work on the script. Unfortunately, I went to the Phoenix on Coventry first, which is peaceful - and packed on Sunday afternoons. I am now at the Phoenix on Lee which is chatty with loud music and has servers WHO NEVER SHUT UP.

Sorry. Just had to get that off my chest. But seriously. They never shut up.

Incorporation

This morning the boy got up early, shortly after I did, and I put him to work. We needed to sweep up my office after I took up the ancient rug to create a clean flat space to do my daily therapy workout.

Not only was he extremely eager and helpful in the sweeping department, we had a nice conversation and he stuck with me while I did almost half of my workout before asking to please do something else. His life is composed of those activities I need to do that I can get him to do with me before I give up and put him front of the set because I am not done yet.

Mr. S. is going to be a little stiff-legged at the big gala tonight, but cut him a break he's 444 years-old.

Meanwhile, I need to revisit the script to this solo performance I am supposedly presenting in January. The first gathering of the new playwrights' unit is on Monday and I hope to provide ten pages that aren't warmed over.

I'm sorry, where am I?

We can rebuild him

First date of physical therapy. Not the most difficult thing I have ever done. But I am so queasy about undoing the work my surgeon did, any little pull makes me a little sick.

These aren't the pains, which come from the bruised areas, but the part just below the patella where it feels like something is duct-taped together in there, and I am stretching it apart.

It took an hour, and I was surprisingly weak by the end (why the surprise?) but I feel really good now, and much more confident that I am mending properly. Something about professional supervision does that to me. I guess I would make an excellent camp guard, my college roommate always said so.

Thoughts before sleep

"Vicodin makes me a better director because it curbs my ADD tendencies I don't fidget, scratch or ... pick. But I am focused and attentive and I have ideas and I say things and I don't care what anyone thinks about them."