I am tired.
Makes me tired.
I mean, it's a good tired. I'm working, I'm focused, and I'm moving forward. That said, there are days when I feel really, really drug out.
Days like today.
I'm looking forward to the evening, and rehearsal, with a mixture of excitement and dread. Dread only because, man, doing this role kicks my ass. Excitement because, man, doing this role kicks my ass. On a pure technical level, it's huge. Four acts, large monologues to end the show, aging form 36 to 76, it's a lot to do.
We haven't run the whole show, yet. I'm sorta chomping at the bit to get there. Just to know. To know how far it's gonna run me down. I'm also dying to have our make-up team come in, and see what 76-year-old Milt Shanks is gonna look like.
I do think I've gotten myself off book...
**KNOCKING ON WOOD TO SAVE MY LIFE**
It's not perfect, but it's in good enough shape I think I can go without my script. I already did for Act 2 on Monday. Can't stop working on it, of course, but I made it. Tonight's our scheduled off book day, and I've gone through the play a couple of times a day for the last two. I think we're in good shape.
I did want to work on some music last night. I have been away from it for a while now. Just too busy, and my weekends are just...gone. Between rehearsal, laundry, groceries, etc...GONE. I try to pick up the Les Paul every day and do a few runs and licks, but I want to start moving forward on the CD again.