So today's 20th Century Literature class began with a stage reading of "Ohio Impromptu," by Samuel Beckett. It's a very short play (all of nine pages, including stage directions, with large print and lots of leading), with two characters, only one of whom does any actual talking.

Five of us had volunteered to perform the thing in the previous class period. One of us ended up doing stage direction, working out how to juggle two parts and four actors, and telling the rest of us what to do. Which consisted of both roles changing actors at different points along the way. It worked out pretty well.

You don't need to fear that I'll be making a similar statement after my next Indian History class, though; trust me.

There were a few good readings, and no really awful ones, so it was pretty nice. I ended up being the penultimate reader. As it happens, our last reading had been on the day Shel Silverstein died, although I didn't find out about it until later on. I resolved at the time that I'd read something of his at our next reading.

So I did. Six poems, narrowed down from eleven or so with the help of my younger sister, about an hour before showtime: "Prayer of the Selfish Child," "They've Put a Brassiere on the Camel," "Early Bird," "The Battle," "Little Abigail and the Beautiful Pony," and "Where the Sidewalk Ends."

"Little Abigail" turned out to be the universal favorite, which made me very glad that I'd decided to read it. It was the last one I settled on, in fact; while I liked it a lot, it was also by far the longest of the bunch, and I wasn't sure the audience would stand for it. But my sister advised me to go for it, which was a good thing.

An advantage of reading stuff that's intended to be funny is that you get instant feedback. If people are laughing in the right places, the reading is going well; if not, you're in trouble, but at least you know where you stand. It's harder to gauge the reaction to serious poetry.

But, anyway, I was mostly reading comedic stuff, and it went well. :-)