look! a pen! ::bats pen::

Nov 04, 2006 10:53

I am spending all day day in the theatre. There's a rental loading in their set and rehearsing. I was here at 7:45 in the sweet bleeding morning. I have brought with me anything that might enterain me: my laptop, for writing; Angela Carter's Burning Your Boats, for reading; Neil's Sandman #2, for reading; and a cup of vanilla yougurt, for eating. The yougurt is mostly gone.

The people renting the theatre are stone blind idiots. It's my job to make sure they don't hurt the space, or god forbid themselves. The producer/lead/scenic "designer" is a gigantic, gregarious man who will not, for the love of christ, shut the hell up. Seriously. He is talking to himself. I can hear him. Thankfully, my super awesome tech guy is here with their lighting designer, who is not an idiot, so exchanging beleaguered looks and significant eye rolls are at least an amusing way to pass a couple of seconds.

I am fuck all bored, y'all.

Reading Angela Carter and Neil Gaiman concurrently is perhaps not the wisest of plans. It's like someone stuck electrodes in my language centers and is juicing my vocabulary into spitting fits. I won't mention the imagery.

so bored

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