The Black Dahlia*

“So, I went to look at the theatre,” Seb says when he calls last night.  “Thinking about maybe getting involved in some amateur stuff whilst I’m here.”

“Excellent idea,” I say.  Seb used to be an actor and it could be good for him to do a bit of it in a low-stress way.

“The thing is,” he says.  “It would be a bit naughty – Buddhism doesn’t approve of theatre, and acting and pretending to be someone else and…well, particularly musicals.  Straight theatre is more acceptable and…”

“Give it a go,” I say.  “It could be fun to get back to it or…”

“And I’d feel more comfortable about meeting people by engaging in an activity,” Seb says.  “It just feels weird – approaching these teenagers for a chat and…”

“Yeah, good plan,” I say.

But when I put the phone down, my heart is suddenly gripped by fear.  He’ll audition for a play and of course they’ll want him – he’s a wonderful actor.  And then he’ll be playing ‘Benedick’ or ‘Algernon’ or ‘Eliot’, and there will be a beautiful blonde eighteen year old playing ‘Beatrice’ or ‘Cecily’ or ‘Amanda’.  And she’ll throw herself at this gorgeous, sophisticated older chap. And he’ll try to resist, but their attraction to each other will be too strong and…

No.  Must stop this.  Must add something new to my own life.  Have done several degrees and about a hundred evening classes but, even so, need a New Excitement of my own.  Seb is away and he’s going to be meeting lots of people and having varied experiences.  Will have to add something into own schedule.

It’s difficult at the moment with my constantly shifting schedule of medical procedures, scans and doctors’ appointments.  But need to add fresh challenges to my own life.

The attached dahlia is in the parental garden.

Happy Saturday everyone!
*1987.  By James Ellroy.  Neo-noir crime novel, inspired by the true story of the murder of Elizabeth Short.

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