Title: Daemon’s Theatre
Warnings: Mad-crazy theatre superstitions.
Notes: Ars(e) Poetica #17. May/June 1998. 14-17 are numbered but not dated. By the content and numbers, I can place them approximately, but I make no claims to the accuracy of the dates. Calling it June 2, for my sanity.
Another true story, sadly… You couldn’t flush the toilet backstage without it being heard in the house, and the stage managers kept bitching people for not flushing the toilet (not flushing during a show is policy), so we got locked out of the bathrooms for the entire run of the show, and had to use the audience restrooms in the hall. *shakes fist angrily*
Also, I don’t know if it’s as prevalent as it once was, but the theatres I was familiar with were horrendously superstitious places. You couldn’t say "Macbeth" backstage for any reason; instead one said "MacScottishPlay" so as not to piss off the daemons in the lofts, who were the beasts that controlled the success or failure of a show.
I miss those days, at those times…
This opening night my theatre’s brought to shame
Traditions get forsaken, left and right
The program has a typo in my name
But we open! so I’m higher than a kite
Our ‘Managers don’t know the bathroom rules
So now we’ve got to use the one outside
I’m working with unsuperstitious fools
And angering the spirits means your hide
I will not be blamed for accidents
Caused by malevolent forgotten dreams
Our phantom and her ready complement
Close in to best enjoy the hapless screams
So, here, we open; circle, make a wish
That our phantom doth look elsewhere for her dish