It’s Monday but it’s my Sunday. The apartment’s much warmer since I got those window sock sacks to put in the cracks. They look like mutant couch worms suspended in the air. Drinking a little coffee at one in the afternoon. The sun is on its way down.
Yesterday was jam packed with adventure. My head was is still full of allergies brought on by all the vampires of late. I’m not sure how bloodsuckers and victims are helping our collective unconscious but I guess they are. I think it would be fun as all get out to be in a vampire movie but I’ve had my fill with seeing them. It’s kind of like Shakespeare. Sometimes the project is put on for the people doing the show rather for the people coming to see it. You can walk away thinking, “I’m glad you enjoyed doing that, I wish I did too.” And in either case there will be enthusiasts who like it no matter what.
I keep having dreams where cartoon wolves in helicopters shoot 1940s gangster machine guns at the Palin family. Not Trig or the little girl who licked his head. I wonder who will be ghost writing her $7 million book.
Went yesterday to see a college friend, Mari Minges, in Twelfth Night. It was a cool steampunk production with video work. They doubled the Feste, Ship Captain and Antonio. I’ve never seen that before. It’s one of my top 5 favorite plays with The Cherry Orchard, Red Noses, Good Woman of Setzuan and Awake and Sing. It’s good to see a different take on a production and hear things new. Sometimes a little insignificant word or moment will suddenly ring out.
Went afterwards to my friend Angela’s birthday party. By that time they had reached Bogota on 5th Avenue in Brooklyn. Great atmosphere and Latin food. And Angela keeps aging backwards. Nice!
Then went for the first time to Union Hall, my new favorite bar in the neighborhood. They have 2 big Bocce Ball lanes and fireplaces. It’s so large yet warm. Heck, they even have a performance space. Maryvel Bergen and Andy Firda had their “don’t ask us when the date is” engagement party there. The mighty Alex Roe proved the axiom “One Manhattan is not enough but eight is too many” to be true. He stood and walked out better than I did on two Six Point ales. At one point, I was having awkward conversation and saw bar nuts out of the corner of my eye. I popped them in my mouth and bit down hard to no avail. Turns out they were olive pits. So to save the situation, I announced loudly to everyone that’s what I did.
After getting home to hq, we watched 120 Minutes until the wee hours of the morning. It’s weird seeing certain videos to songs I only heard back when they came out. How young all those once old-looking people now seem. Johnny Rotten was still in his 20s when he was in Public Image Ltd. Huh?