Jesus Wept. I Was Just Clearing My Throat.

Oh okay I cried. It was a surprise and not an unpleasant one. I went with Richard, Gayle, etc. to CalShakes production of King Lear, and there in the storm scene and again at the end when he brings out the body of Cordelia, howling with mad sorrow, darn it there from the corner of my right eye they trickled, completely unexpected.

I have read the play, I have more or less seen it more than once, though long ago when I was young and invincible, and my memory plays tricks about who did what. But I do know the play, and I *know* where Shakespeare's tricks are and still my sangfroid, the coldness that comes from the distances of age and too much thinking and too little knowing -- all punctured, as a child might turn a balloon into a feeble hiss.

Out came the tears and just because an actor got the words down and raised his voice.

I wasn't even that impressed by the acting. That thing too much, I thought, and that chance missed, I'm thinking. And then -- sploosh -- who let the dogs out?