(no subject)

Finally saw Megan's play last night, and it so got all the important things right. While the venue is a detriment to the actors in a lot of ways, it combined with the staging, physicality and sexuality of the piece makes it the whole thing spot on in terms of honouring Shakespeare as popular entertainment, all with very very few adjustments to the actual text, and really, with a minimum of modernization. I mean obviously, it's filled with modern elements, but not as its stylistic vision but because that's the easiest way for the audience to get it, and what's amazing is that you almost never, ever notice it (which is a nice break from Oh Look We'll Set Richard III/A Midsummer Night's Dream/Julius Ceasar in the Nazi/Victorian/Modern Era And That's All The Work We Have To Do Fuck Swords Here's A Gun school of things). It made me miss NIDA, because it would have been an eight hour conversation about the thing.

Also, best use of Time After Time I've heard in a while. Oddly dear to me.

And Lord, I want to use that space for something. I have no idea what, because there's a bad disconnect between what I want to do with that space visually and what a bar audience can really deal with and be attentive to, but oh oh oh oh. Little stage with brocade curtains, and a little gold frame. Eeeeeee.

Meanwhile, my date last night was sabatogued by a migraine, and I have to go pop into my office for about thirty seconds. The bruise on my hip remains massive, and I'm really hoping the shooting for Fur is as far off as I think, because if I get called with this thing, that's gonna suck.

(no subject)

It is the most beatiful day ever outside, the type that reminds you that sometimes New York can be paradise too. I walked from 26th and Broadway home and have to go out and do errands again soon. I look great, despite not having slept enough and still being a bit under the weather -- if I could do my listick like this every day I would rule the world, but better than that people do doubletakes at me, like I'm supposed to be a celebrity or something, as opposed to this tired struggling chick wandering about making up new words to random Pulp songs she only remembers the tunes of. All our random flowering trees are in bloom, and while thinking about how the whole Farmer's Market scene in Union Square reminded me of Sydney I realized they don't have these trees, and it made me think that for my strange weighted map of the world how goddamn far New York City is from everything else too. All a very bittersweet beautiful sad Ricky Fitts sort of a day that reminds me of all my strange talismanic places and all their lovely benches. I may go sit in the park with the new Steve Erickson book and La Boheme on the discman soon. New York's not a bad place to live in exile, at least, when it's not winter. Oh man, the relief I feel right now....