Stale coffee, heavy books, beautiful music, ghoulish looks.

Courtisans, dwarves, gun-fights, telekenetic powers, mechanical girls, evil laughter, spilled libations, and one very stressed bartender.

That was just Tuesday afternoon.


I no longer believe in sunlight: I don’t believe that anyone else on the cast does either. We have seemingly left the black-box theater in the Cohn building only for coffee, beer, or dinner for the better part of a week. I am told that Halifax is beautiful – when I have a day off I hope to find out for myself.


I have scarce had a waking moment where someone else’s part has not played in my mind or sounded in my ears for the last seven days. But, what we have done is impressive: the Tales of Hoffmann sung, blocked, and re-worked inside of eight days. I have never done so much work in such a compressed period of time. Already it feels tight, and we haven’t even run it more than twice: our paying public is in for a treat, I think. I feel blessed to have such excellent colleagues.


There is a quote board on the wall: I will check it before I leave town to discover what I have to dissavow having said. God I love this show.


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