Ghosts & Bones Cereal

The cast is trying to kill me.

I'm not sure why, but they are definitely trying to kill me. After the show on Sunday, we went out, and stayed out. Large amounts of alchohol were involved. And cigarettes. Not to mention cow penis soup, but that may be a story for another day.

And now I'm sick. Of course I'm completely convinced that I have the swine flu. I'm slamming back OJ and bowls of garlic soup (a sure-fire cure, even for the piggie sniffles). And it's all the casts' fault. They are much too fun.

The day before the show, I spent a rather foolish amount of time making opening night gifts. I love opening night gifts. They bring out the six-year-old in me, which is never far from the surface in any case. There's a line in the play, "Now just ghosts left. Ghosts and bones," with all the ghosts echoing the "ghosts and bones" part. We decided that this sounds like a breakfast cereal, "Ghosts & Bones Cereal." The bones would be the crunchy bit, and the ghosts would be the marshmallows. (If you've never been involved in a rehearsal process, this gives you a good glimpse into the utter silliniess often involved. The more serious the subject, the sillier the jokes.) So, for opening night gifts, I made boxes of Ghosts & Cereal for everyone. I can't tell you how much pleasure that silly little craft project gave me. I hand-colored each box, and added red glitter to the skull and crossbones which (naturally) adorned each box top. I passed out the gifts on Sunday before the show, and the tickled laughter made every moment of working the glue stick completely worthwhile.

Anyone who works in theatre would probably agree that you have to be crazy to do it. The work is hard and the rewards, at least the material rewards, are small. And, more often than not, the end results of months of hard labor are savaged in a snarky, three-sentence review by a critic who'd really rather be watching "Lost." But.. But we do it anyway. And we love it. We love the long hour in stuffy theatres and filthy rehearsal rooms. We love the ridiculous shared jokes and the incredible moments of discovery. We love the struggle to create meaning and beauty that are ephemeral, not captured in film or oil paint, but only in the temporary movement of sinew and breath, and last only in shared memories. We love it.