Such a day was yesterday, a day full of events and occurrences and happenings that I can barely bring myself to recount them!

Nothing is more daunting than writing an entry where all this stuff happens. Makes me want to watch TV and put it off for a few days! I know, I know, you're shocked...

The first thing was my first rehearsal for my new show! Have I mentioned my new show? Yep, there's a new show.

Le is doing an evening of his shows, new and old, and he is directing, which is nice. The first act is the older, sweeter shows, and the second act is the rougher, more gallows humour, more offensive shows. I'm in the second act. So's Cynthia and Kirsten! Go second act, go!

My show is called Rage, Inc.--a several scene play with four women and one man, and in my scene I'm a woman torturing her stroked-out old father with lentil soup. I think it's hilarious. And the guy playing my dad is a real cutie-pie, so that's a nice treat.

Le has nice, short rehearsals. This is what I look for in a rehearsal process, not taking up too much of my time.

Afterwards I was going into the city to meet up with Patrick and Lee and Mary Ellen.

They gave me two cell phone numbers, two I say, and yet, not an answer came from one of them. I left message after sad message to their uncaring voicemails, then trudged off to the office because they could reach me there. As soon as I got there, though, I called again, and this time they deigned to answered their phones. They muttered something about not being able to hear them ring in Times Square, but I think they were trying to ditch me!

They were currently trying to find the Empire State Building, standing right below it and being unable to locate it, so I told them to meet me at St. Pat's, and then, well, met them at St. Pat's!

They were all fainting with hunger, so I took them to Vynl, which is really only a couple of blocks, but the whining and the pissing and the moaning was just deafening! It was as though I was forcing them to walk over hot coals with needles sticking into their eyes or something, rather than a lovely stroll on a beautiful New York Saturday afternoon!

Admittedly, I took them a little way the long way, because first I was heading to the Brooklyn Diner, but I couldn't find it, so I changed my mind in mid-stride and took them to my favourite restaurant in all the land. We walked about a mile. Over hot coals with needles sticking in our eyes, don't forget.

At Vynl, all but Patrick had grilled cheese sandwiches, and then all including Patrick had lemon cake for dessert. I am such a leader of men. Actually, mostly women, since Patrick had the meatloaf sandwich.

Mary Ellen showed off her newest tattoo that I just fell in love with. I asked her if it would seem too stalker-ish if I got the same one, and she said that it wouldn't. She was backing slowly away from me when she said it, but I'm pretty certain that she meant it. On the other hand, when I started enthusing over her mechanical lipgloss pencil thingies, that's when she really started looking scared.

Soon, I will be stalking Mary Ellen happily, covered in her tattoos and wearing her lipgloss and cutting my hair just like her and blowing her boyfriend...no, that's Single White Female, sorry. Just the tat and the lipgloss, I promise.

After a bit, the intensely adorable Andrew joined us, alerted by Patrick to "look for Kymm's pink hair." I was afraid that I would be in the bathroom when he came and he would just leave, weeping, but fortunately, that crisis was averted.

We had a little time to kill before meeting the rest of the gang at the next restaurant (What did you do Saturday? Well, we ate, went straight to another restaurant!), to we walked some more, going to the park, and finding a playground for grownups!

No, really, there was this swing set with swings wide enough for adult asses, and high enough off the ground for adult legs, and on thick chains to hold up massive adult poundage, and we all started swinging like maniacs. It was great fun. I should go back on lunch hours, it's awfully near work and a great workout!

Then we went to the Filmcenter Cafe and met up with Byrne and Cindy (whom I've wanted to meet for simply ages, and whom I always get mixed up with Mary Ellen, because I started reading their journals at the same time) and Josh and Tracing and a woman named Amelia from TWA who was very nice even if she didn't have a journal. Some of us ate more, but having recently been unable to finish a piece of the best lemon cake on earth, I refrained, having only a soda that I just realized I left for Tracing to pay when I ran off to the show and never paid her back. Whoops!

On Friday night, right before we left, Ann said, "Boy, I hope we do as well for the playwright tomorrow!" and Omar stood up in a panic and shrieked, "WHAT!!!"

He had forgotten, and I had had a feeling that he had forgotten, but then Ann had to open her mouth and blow it and my racehorse shied so hard that I feared he had broken a leg! But, as I said to Kirsten later, better that he found out then than five minutes before the show the next night!

They all were pretty nervous, wanting Patrick to like the show. "You did tell him not to expect much, didn't you?" "Well, I have told him all of the funny rehearsal stories." "Good, then his expectations will be nice and low."

This was, of course, absolute horseshit. The show was glorious. They were brilliant and amazing and they did Patrick's show proud. I was practically levitating in the booth I was so happy.

And Patrick told me afterwards that Clerestory was better than it ever was when he did it, and that was what really did it for me, because that was the one that meant the most to me and that I worked the hardest on and it ended up just exactly how it was in my head--if I had acted it out myself it couldn't have been closer to my vision, and trust me, that never happens.

All in all, more than a satisfying Saturday. Though quite an ordeal to write about! I've about worn away my fingerprints.

Today's horoscope:
The intellect is more important than emotions in relationships today. Talk things over, but don't expect a soulful declaration.

One year ago today:
It's a hen party in the new Millennium.

* Yesterday / Index / This Month / Tomorrow *

E-Mail

Graphics by the graphically inclined Saundra!

This page was written by hand. My hand. Only pussies use HTML editors.
Last Updated Thurs 4 October 01:26:09 2001