Six Days Till The Reading of Talking God
I can't read The Talking God to myself again. It's starting to look frail and hollow. I can't worry about the actors as my faith in them will make them better. Joel told me he was going to have his script typed so I handed him a copy of Redemption so he can see what they are supposed to look like. I am aiding the competition. I don't have the heart to tell him I have a finished Gay wedding play. Someone in London is reading the script. I am thinking that London might be the place to turn to, my ego being great.
Glen and Patricia want me to move to Seattle. It is possible. I am so bored with Montclair and New York is too expensive. But what about the theater? Can I do anything anywhere at age 60? Still, the kids want to take care of me. But am I West Coast? Can I ever be a Moonbeam? Am I Jersey to the bone? This is the longest week of my life.