So yesterday was my Last Rehearsal in Brooklyn, thank goodness. I mean, it's not that I'm not glad that we have been able to do these 9a rehearsals, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to do the show, but I am really pleased to see the light at the end of that tunnel.

It was a good rehearsal, except that Maggie and I had a fight, and she pisses me off when we fight because neither of us can imagine that we ARE NOT RIGHT, so we never stop until she says in a really irritated voice, "Look, I don't want to fight about it!" and then we both pout.

And of course, I realized later that she was probably right. We argued about whether they were too fast or too slow since they ended up being off, and when it comes right down to it, I cannot possibly work out if, when you are much later in the music than you should be, it means that you are doing it faster or slower.

I said faster, she said slower. It's probably slower--it's a dyslexic thing, I cannot figure out directional things like that to save my life (and yes, it's directional, trust me), it's like trying to read Russian, I absolutely have not got the capability to work it out and I really shouldn't have arguments when I know perfectly well that I'm probably entirely wrong.

Anyway, besides the fight, the rehearsal was fine, the show will be good, and I'll get more sleep.

Went to work, remembered to fill out and turn in my time sheet, then went to the show.

I had reservations, so I knew that it wouldn't be another cancelled show, but it having happened once, we all kind of felt that being in costume wasn't actually a guarantee that the show would in fact occur, and when it did, it was slightly surprising.

We had 14 people, which isn't bad, though they were kind of quiet. Frankly, Tony alone was a better audience. I didn't get my laugh when I fell, but I got my laugh when I squeaked, and a big laugh when I grabbed my tits.

I was all proud of my tit-grabbing laugh, and Mark said, "Of course that got a laugh! When a woman grabs her breasts, it's either funny if she's clothed, or erotic if she's not!" I think if my top was off it would still be funny, but that's as may be. At least I have a guaranteed laugh, which my fall is definitely not.

When I went home, I was listening to my shuffle, and Spaulding Gray's It's a Slippery Slope came on.

Now, I actually bought that cd several years ago, but never got around to listening to it, and when I was ripping cds for the glorious shuffle (Jesus, if I don't get an ipod, my heart will break), I first grabbed my pile of cds that I need to listen to, and I'm so glad that I did, because there's some great stuff on those Robert Klein comedy albums and Beth Orton's Central Reservation and Touring Troubadours and Rare on Air, Vol. 1 and David Wilcox's The Nightshift Watchman, and also It's a Slippery Slope.

It doesn't matter that it's a shuffle, because it's only one track. As it should be, because it's one long story and you really can't take bits out, so I actually set up a five hour long shuffle specifically so that this 75 minute piece could pop (as well as some half hour radio shows from Too Hot For Radio), and it did.

And it about broke my heart. It's almost impossible to listen to, post-Spaulding's suicide, because he talks almost constantly about death and his thoughts about death and his mother's suicide and his fantasies about suicide and about his playing a character who killed himself in a movie, and it was really difficult to listen to.

But that's not even the most painful part. The real painful part is talking about his relationship with his son and realizing that he could never leave him and wanting to be skiing with him when he was 70. Which, of course, cannot happen, since he killed himself when he was ***. It's like being stuck with knife after knife, listening to it.

That said, I'm certainly going to listen to it again, because it's a wonderful monologue, and even really funny at times, because if I could laugh out loud at bits listening to it now, how funny must it have been at the time.

It just is so desperately sad to realize that, after knowing for his entire life exactly how badly his mother's suicide affected him, he still did it to his own children. And I know that he fell down the hole and couldn't get out and couldn't see any other logical course than the one he took, but that doesn't change the fact that nobody who has ever killed themselves thinking, "They'll be better off without me," has ever been right.

The song I have been singing all day (and God only knows why):

"Have a Holly Jolly Christmas" from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer

Have a holly jolly Christmas
It's the best time of the year
I don't know if there'll be snow
But have a cup of cheer
Have a holly jolly Christmas
And in case you didn't hear
O, by golly, have a holly jolly Christmas this year

Today's horoscope:
Whatever you're feeling, you'll be feeling it right down to your toes, for better or worse. You certainly won't be bored, and no one who knows you will be, either. Just be careful not to go too far overboard.

One year ago today:
Last night, Mom and I were going out to this casting seminar. "Put on makeup!" she called from downstairs, so I got out my makeup bag. And in it was my camera. Hooray! I ran to the top of the stairs and called out, "Mom, I have my camera!" and she answered, "I have bad news. Cynthia called, your rent check bounced."

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Last Updated Sun 13 March 16:52:09 2005