Yesterday was a really social day, which is fairly unusual for me.

First off, my friend Scott came to town and took me to dinner with his friend Michael (who said he'd visit this page today--we'll find out if that's true soon enough!) and then I saw Geldings over at Love Creek, a cartoony comedy about emasculation (no, really!) that was a just a scream.

Hilarity ensued.

I did the show last year playing Crazy Ma Gelding, but in this production she was played to the hilt by Sam Street, who was just smokin' and was about 50 times better than I was, and I was pretty good. He also played the offstage voice of the horse, Bucky, and I told Sam that the only thing I did better than him was whinny.

And Brian Johnson (I told him that his last name was why he was cast in a play about penises), and Geoffrey Dawe (it was worth the price off admission to hear him bellow out "I ain't got no PENIS!"), and Jed Dickson (best chest in NYC, if not the world) and Ronnie Hirt and a bunch of other people that nobody reading this have ever heard of, were just faboo, and I laughed so hard that I almost coughed up a lung.

Also, I saw both Crush Boy and The Engine, so that pretty much made the evening for me.

I had a web-page dream last night.

I was dreaming about reading my back entries, and I kept going "O! O! O!" in surprise and delight, and it started to get on my nerves that I was making this sound, but I couldn't seem to stop, and I woke up and realized that it was my nose making noises as I inhaled.

In her entry yesterday, Melody mentioned that her mother reads her site.

I can only imagine what it'd be like to have my mother online...I printed out my book for her for Christmas and I was able to black out anything that I didn't want her to see, which wasn't much, but I'm glad I was able to do so.

But I can't get her to get around to reading it! I keep asking her if she's started it, and she says stuff like "Well, I walked past it yesterday", so today I pulled out all the stops and told her that I was very hurt and everything that I wrote a book and she wasn't reading it, and she said "It's really so important? Okay, I'll read it."

We'll see...

I saw Carl Perkins on Conan the other night, and he sang Blue Suede Shoes, and he was terrific and all, but can you imagine singing the same song pretty much every day for forty years?

Sounds like hell on toast to me...

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Last Updated Wed 12 August 14:00:09 1998