I've been sleeping so late lately, which means that I have these long, elaborate dreams.

Last night's included Mike Farrell being madly in love with my mother (they do know each other slightly in real life, but I haven't noticed Mike being transported with lust around Mom), and Sarah Jessica Parker wanting to leave Matthew Broderick for me.

Which is quite unnecessary, trust me, because if I were fucking Sarah Jessica Parker I really would have to insist that Matthew Broderick was involved in some fashion.

Yesterday was opening night of the new show that we are doing at the big theatre at the Houseman, the theatre where Puppetry of the Penis was playing for ages.

I was surprised that we were in the big house, especially for a one-man show, but then I found out that the show upstairs is so loud that they aren't renting out the smallest theatre. I seem to recall that Zannah Don't was just as fucking loud and nobody was caring so much about how distracting it was, but maybe they have had complaints.

Anyway, one-man show or no, the audience last night was huge! Forty-six people, which is amazing for one guy to pull out. I said that he must have an enormous family, but he said that that wasn't even his family, they were coming on the weekend. This guy not only knows everybody, but he can make them show up and shell out $15.

I should make some decent money this week, hooray!

The other night I was flipping around the channels, something that I frankly never ever do, and caught part of The Weavers: Wasn't That a Time, and was thrilled to find that they were rerunning it last night.

Are you a folk music fan? Are you a Weavers fan? Trust me, after watching this documentary, you will be. I saw it on TV when I was living in Brooklyn, probably around 1992 or so, just by happening to come across it while flipping the dials, and the experience was like how people describe being born again.

I had always liked folk music, many of the current performers that I enjoy work in the folk tradition or are influenced by it, but I really didn't know much about the traditional lefty folk of the pre-Dylan era. I knew who Woody Guthrie was, of course, and Pete Seeger, but I never knew that Pete was ever in a group.

I saw this hour and a half documentary/concert film about the Weavers, Lee Hayes, Ronnie Gilbert, Fred Hellerman and by the time it was over, I was a rabid Weavers fan. It sprung fully grown from my forehead, like Athena. Right around that time, their 4 cd box set was released, and I bought it immediately. Even now, that box set would be one of my desert island discs, an album (or four albums) that I could never live without.

They influenced every major folk act that followed them, they were blacklisted, they tried to change the world by singing loud enough. And I am making it sound pedantic and preachy, but it's not, it's hilarious and moving and full of great music.

If you come across it on your local PBS station be sure to see it.

Today's horoscope:
You're in the mood to chat with friends -- or anyone else who happens to cross your path smiling. Keep an eye open for someone unusual who'll subtly inspire you along the next leg of your life's journey.

One year ago today:
It occurs to me that just because somebody goes to ground and doesn't want to talk it doesn't mean that you have to accommodate them. If you want to ignore me, go ahead, but I'm damn well going to give you something to ignore.

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Last Updated Thurs 22 April 15:06:09 2004