Since a bunch of our cast members are in both shows, we aren’t even able to gather until ten-thirty at night, after the main stage rehearsal is over. I’ve already been in the theater for twelve hours, fetching gels and moving ladders and refocusing lights, and I’m not looking forward to another useless night of slogging through imaginary tar. But I’m a little heartened when I arrive and see that Clark is carrying a stack of stapled packets that look like scripts. Even having a couple of concrete scenes to read through would make me feel so much better about this production.But when we settle into our circle of chairs and I look down at the “script” Clark has handed me, I feel the bizarre urge to laugh and cry at the same time. SEÑOR HIDALGO'S CIRCUS OF WONDERSmy mind is a circus of wonderswonderful circus of the minddark matter in three rings, circling, circling(THE ENSEMBLE becomes a series of concentric circles, pulsing, nesting, pulling apart, linking and unlinking)rings like a ringmasterrings like a doorbell(DING, DING, DING, THE ENSEMBLE becomes a doorbell)rings on my fingers and bells on my toes(jingle bells, jingle bells)rings around my mindlike an iron band squeezing, squeezing, clamped around my brainuntil the pain the pain the painthe pain turns into ringsrings like saturnmy mind is a circus of planets spinning spinning spinning out of control (THE ENSEMBLE spins out of control spins spins spins EXPLODES)explosion of light, explosion of the mindthe furious light of a supernovamy mind is a supernovawonderful supernova circus(THE ENSEMBLE coalesces into a writhing mass of fury)I wonder wonder wonder wonder wonderwonder wonder wonder wonderwonder wonder wonderwonder(THE ENSEMBLE sings)Okay, seriously, what are we supposed to do with this?I glance up at our “playwright,”
