The Lost Hour

It's 1am for the first time tonight; in another hour it will be 1am again, and so this is the Lost Hour, the hour that will rewind and be lived again. I'm kinda tired but not sleepy; I've got a glass of wine and leisure time but not the energy or determination to do anything productive. I saw a good play tonight, though. It was called Love Person (those of you in Seattle, see it! It's at Live Girls in Ballard and it runs through Nov. 22nd and it's good) and it was this great interweaving of a story about a deaf woman and her girlfriend, and the deaf woman's sister who falls in love with a man who emails with the deaf woman at night, thinking it's her sister. He's a Sanscrit translator and the girlfriend is a poetry professor and the sister is a drunk, and the play is told in three languages: English, American Sign Language and Sanscrit. It was a touching story and a really well-constructed play and it's the best thing I've seen at Live Girls Theatre (except possibly the last thing Joy directed there, Patty Red Pants.) The acting was great and watching deaf people sign is totally transporting, totally dramatic, totally engaged. I wanted to learn ASL and use it to make poetry. The deaf girl doesn't like poetry because to her, words get in the way of real meaning...much was said about ASL and how signing is direct and beautiful, like poetry itself.

A nice line about how the best way of explaining love was sex, which came off less cynically than it might sound. It got me thinking about sex and deaf people, how signing is such a physical language and that in that context, sex is really the ultimate intimate communication. How sensual it is to be deaf. I sat next to my friend the director, Joy, who'll be working with us on the next Nebunele show, and watched her interact with her deaf co-director; Joy doesn't sign, so they write their thoughts down to show to each other. When we were in the lobby, though, there was an interpreter there, and it was the first time I had ever interacted with someone and used an interpreter. I watched the interpreter sign my "nice to meet you" to Dawn, the co-director, and that was trippy and cool and awkward but in a way I wanted to do more of. I realize I have no deaf friends, or blind friends, or paraplegic friends, or any differently-abled friends at all, unless you count my colorblind boyfriend (I don't.) But anyway. Dawn was SO animated, so engaged, and so charming, that I really wanted to be able to talk to her properly. I think having a language that includes facial expressions as grammar is beautiful.

In the car on the way home, Claytie asked me whether, if I had a child who was deaf, I would have them have an operation to allow them to hear. Apparently this is a bit of a controversy in the deaf community--the option could destroy deaf culture, which is lively and completely separate, a radical sub-culture buried in the world of the hearing. Before seeing this show, I would have said Of course I would give my child such an operation! I don't think my answer has changed, but there is more hesitation in me now. The deaf girl in the show had a certain pity for hearing people...

Not often I go to a play that changes my perspective on the world in an immediately measurable way. Kudos, Aditi Brennan Kapil. Good night...

Contemplating earplugs,
Alissa