9.3.02 – the House of Usher

boston is mushy. my script and paperwork is soft and damp, bread doesn’t go stale but oreos go soft, my hair curls up in frizzy little ringlets and beverages sweat profusely. the building we’re rehearsing in (the seriously low rent district) is literally crumbling around us. chunks of plaster dissolve and fall off the walls at regular intervals. “did all this come off the wall today?” i asked, while sweeping up a pile of plaster dust. “didn’t you know?” said adam, “we’re rehearsing in the House of Usher.” “oh. that explains the prevading gloom out there.” it’s been so cloudy that it never really gets bright out during the day, and when it’s not actually raining, the sky continues to mist freely, so that everything glistens darkly and night seems to fall early in the afternoon.