So, school. The play continues apace, and goes up in a week and a half. Rehearsals continue most nights in four-hours blocks, and are incredibly draining but exciting at the same time. We've moved from Antigone to Philoctetes in Greek Tragedy, and have spent quite a bit of time discussing the concept that, theoreticaly, Philoctetes could have killed Odysseues at any time with his magic bow, because if it always hits its target, then he could have loosed in any wild direction and the winds would have picked up the arrow and managed to carry it to Odysseus' body. There's been a lot of talk in Cultural Diversity on the U.S. Stage about Uncle Tom and his effects on African-American theater, and I have a paper due on the topic tomorrow.

There's a saying here at Marlboro: "No power, no water, 32,000 a year." Three nights ago the power went out for at least six hours, and the day after high-speed winds came through and started tearing the roofs apart. Julie and Simon and I were sitting about our room observing this occurrence, and Simon noted, "At least we still have power and water." "For now," I countered, and immediately after I had spoken, the power switched off. God's got a lovely sense of irony.