March 13th Evening.

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For some reason which I don’t entirely understand today felt like the hardest day so far. The things that make my process hard are the things beyond the rehearsal room, not inside it. Where I live, the rehearsal hours, the loneliness, well, loneliness can occur anywhere, it’s in no way predicate on being here.

We rehearsed from 5.30. Before that, at 4, Karina, the producer, came to talk to me about the workshops I start tomorrow, and other stuff, and all of a sudden, speaking to her, I found myself babbling near incoherently in some kind of pre-adolescent Spanish. The words seemed to be running away, rather than coming towards me. Sitting outside the Parking with V, before rehearsal, enjoying the afternoon sun, I said that some days it felt like I was getting worse rather than better in the language.

The rehearsal was half on 2; half on 4. 2 was all fine. 4, which we hadn’t touched for a week, was ropey. We ran it once, then a second time, this time with V carrying a bag of secrets and F one of his own, in his pocket. He gave his away too soon at the end, and she didn’t use all of hers, so I cut the scene short. I think they were a bit taken aback, but once F had (literally) handed over his secret, the scene had died. It seemed more likely they’d learn from the scene being cut short that allowing it to run on.

It was far from the longest rehearsal, ending after 3 hours and pico. Which is again frustrating. It would have been good to take a break and return.

Anyway, I hope to sleep. Tomorrow I give a workshop on Lear, and then everyone drives to Omar’s, on the coast, where we rehearse for a bit, read scenes 1 to 3, eat meat, and doubtless I shall get drunk.

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