Thursday. Audience = 20.
This is one those liveblogging things where I’m typing backstage, while Tiresias applies her Amy Winehouse eye makeup, and on stage Oedipus and Jocasta discuss the stories that will soon intertwine to reveal their terrible fate. Not exactly liveblogging, because this won’t hit the web until later, but kinda.
My first two scenes were hot: both in the sweltering-under-the-lights hot and pretty-damn-good hot. Of course, I’ve jinxed myself by saying that, but we’ll see. The energy is up, but I am involved with stuff as usual, so I need to concentrate. It has become my duty later on to mop up after Jocasta, because she enters covered in blood, so I mop up after her to prevent the dressing room and the cast getting smeared. I feel like Norman Bates: “Mother?! Blood! Blood!!”