Apparently it is ‘Love Theatre’ day today.
I had no idea. I thought it was Wednesday.
Actually, if I’m honest. If I’d been asked seriously, say if it were a matter of life and death, I’d have been hard pushed to commit to it being Wednesday. I’m very unreliable on days of the week. I’m alright in the mornings, when I’m helping the children get ready for school. They all have various things on various days that must be prepared for, and I’m generally good at that.
It’s when they go, and now that I spend most of my days in a darkened room tapping away at a screen, that it all goes awry.
It could be any day, frankly. They’re all pretty much the same, and I realise I tell the difference between them largely by the texture of my feeling for them. I sometimes end up with a cluster of Tuesdays. Often I get my Saturdays muddled, particularly if it’s a frivolous sort of Friday. It’s very easy for me to lose track of days altogether.
Anyway. Love Theatre day it is.
Every day has millions of these things attached to them. It’s Hate Cucumber Friday next week, for example, followed swiftly by ‘Who Gives a Fuck? Saturday.’
Generally, through a heady mix of fuckwittery, apathy and lack of interest in what marketing companies have decided the geography of my week should look like, I ignore such days. Today though I feel like celebrating.
Go! I say to you. Go to a theatre and see something marvellous. Be adventurous, be bold, be gripped. Tear down the fourth wall and clamber over the scenery. Immerse yourself in narrative. Marvel at dialogue. Be moved to tears by the intensity of one person’s ability to pretend like never before.
Go! Get a numb arse. Sit in the dark and be dazzled when you come out of a matinee performance into the afternoon sun. Forget that you have a headache, and you need to pay the gas bill. Live in those moments, those wobbling, live, thrilling moments when other words, other voices, other lives beckon you to share something magical with them. It is something that will never be shared again, not in that way, not even when the same words are spoken. You are present at a moment of alchemy.
Go to the theatre. Go and laugh. Go and cry. Go and get angry. Go and be mesmerised. Go and be inspired. Go and learn about how the heart feels and the mind thinks. Go and learn about the transformation of words dancing across a page and the way they can be re-formed, re-shaped and show you an entirely new dance on a few, sloping wooden boards.
Go to the theatre. Take time off from your life.
Go to the theatre. Learn what the verb ‘to play.’ really means.
Go with my blessing.