I just got home, and I'm still feeling a little ker-fluffled.
My heart's all a-twitter, and everything--the sky, the trees, the pavement--has a glittery sheen.
I've just returned from watching the opera singers at SMU, and I probably shouldn't even be writing because I'm all discombobulated still. One of the performances was "Mobile Home," my collaboration with composer Charlie McCarron. It was magic--the entire hour.
I don't have pictures of the performance--not a one.
I didn't use my iPhone to record the performance, but that's okay, too. I think I would have wrecked the unadulterated joy of watching the spectacle.
But the performances were videotaped by professionals who know about those things, and "pictures were taken"--I'll get my hand on those and post them here soon.
I suppose I just want to record this moment. How do I describe it? Translate it? To hear my story, my words, my characters who once lived only on my head, there on the stage...sung so perfectly by Kristen and Arielle. It's breathtaking. It made me cry.
Thank you, Hank Hammet, for giving breathe to our creation. Amazing.
