Saturday, March 5, 2011
Last Tango in Los Angeles: This and That.
Last Tango in Los Angeles: This and That.: "Just a few random thoughts this morning to get the old fingers loosened up and some oil in the gears of the mind. I spend an unhealthy amou..."
This and That.
Just a few random thoughts this morning to get the old fingers loosened up and some oil in the gears of the mind.
I spend an unhealthy amount of time day dreaming about winning the lottery, especially since I never actually play the lottery. Last night, before leaving for the show I heard on the news that the 'Mega' something was up to 66 million dollars after taxes. That is to say, one gets a check for 66 million dollars. Naturally, the first thing that came to mind was waiting patiently in the teller line at the bank, strolling up when it was my turn, handing over the 66 million dollar check and saying, "I'd like this in mostly twenties, please, with a few fives and ones. Oh, and some change for the laundry."
My second thought was about cars. I don't want to be ostentatious but at the same time I'd like a really good car. Two cars, in fact. After some research I've decided Ange and I would, of course, get two new cars. For her a 750i BMW 4-door. It's a cool car. And for me either a Toyota Scout or a Mercedes SUV, the boxy kind that costs approximately a gillion dollars.
Next, a new house. Here is where my wife and I vary in our thoughts. I want something high in the Hollywood Hills with a great view and a swimming pool. She wants something close to The Equestrian Center with a barn so we can have the horses in the backyard. I don't care about horses. I'd just as soon buy the horses their own house so we could live high in the Hollywood Hills with a great view and a swimming pool.
Interesting show last night. Another full house. It was a good show. One of our best, if I had to say. And yet, it was an abnormally quiet audience. In fact, we had to start the applause ourselves during the curtain call. If not, I suspect we'd still be standing on stage in total silence this morning. My old buddy, Joe Hulser, came to see it last night and was suitably impressed, I think. He called it 'a beast' of a play. It most certainly is. We started working on this thing in October, five months ago. I've been doing this play almost as long as I've been married. I still love the material and think it's some of the most original and powerful stuff I've ever seen or done, but it's time to move on. We have two more weeks of it following this weekend and, well, it's just time. All of the key players, myself included, have other projects waiting. Last night, after the show, Joe and I stood in the parking lot chatting a bit. He asked me what the general reaction to the piece has been. I said, "Either they're overwhelmed and sort of shocked by what they've just seen or they can't wait to put some physical distance between the theatre and themselves." Case in point: last night during the call I looked out and saw one man sitting in the front row, barely clapping, clearly bewildered by what he'd just seen. Immediately behind him was a young woman wildly enthusiastic, shaking her head in gleeful disbelief as she applauded vigourously. There you have it.
Joe, who I've known for some thirty years - in fact, he directed me in a Sam Shepard play in undergraduate school - is a very astute guy when it comes to theatre. He completely 'got' what an incredibly difficult piece it is. I'm not sure how much he actually 'enjoyed' it, but he certainly appreciated the work. That's about all one can ask for, I suppose.
I'm delighted to report I'm continuing, unhampered, with my strict diet. Health is the word of the day. I've completely eliminated all bread and potatoes. For people like me, diabetics, that is, all bread and potatoes are sugar. My body immediately turns it into sugar, I mean. Too bad. I really love bread and potatoes.
Another beautiful day in Southern California. Listening to Springsteen this morning as he gently implores someone, "If I should fall behind, wait for me." Yes.
See you tomorrow.
I spend an unhealthy amount of time day dreaming about winning the lottery, especially since I never actually play the lottery. Last night, before leaving for the show I heard on the news that the 'Mega' something was up to 66 million dollars after taxes. That is to say, one gets a check for 66 million dollars. Naturally, the first thing that came to mind was waiting patiently in the teller line at the bank, strolling up when it was my turn, handing over the 66 million dollar check and saying, "I'd like this in mostly twenties, please, with a few fives and ones. Oh, and some change for the laundry."
My second thought was about cars. I don't want to be ostentatious but at the same time I'd like a really good car. Two cars, in fact. After some research I've decided Ange and I would, of course, get two new cars. For her a 750i BMW 4-door. It's a cool car. And for me either a Toyota Scout or a Mercedes SUV, the boxy kind that costs approximately a gillion dollars.
Next, a new house. Here is where my wife and I vary in our thoughts. I want something high in the Hollywood Hills with a great view and a swimming pool. She wants something close to The Equestrian Center with a barn so we can have the horses in the backyard. I don't care about horses. I'd just as soon buy the horses their own house so we could live high in the Hollywood Hills with a great view and a swimming pool.
Interesting show last night. Another full house. It was a good show. One of our best, if I had to say. And yet, it was an abnormally quiet audience. In fact, we had to start the applause ourselves during the curtain call. If not, I suspect we'd still be standing on stage in total silence this morning. My old buddy, Joe Hulser, came to see it last night and was suitably impressed, I think. He called it 'a beast' of a play. It most certainly is. We started working on this thing in October, five months ago. I've been doing this play almost as long as I've been married. I still love the material and think it's some of the most original and powerful stuff I've ever seen or done, but it's time to move on. We have two more weeks of it following this weekend and, well, it's just time. All of the key players, myself included, have other projects waiting. Last night, after the show, Joe and I stood in the parking lot chatting a bit. He asked me what the general reaction to the piece has been. I said, "Either they're overwhelmed and sort of shocked by what they've just seen or they can't wait to put some physical distance between the theatre and themselves." Case in point: last night during the call I looked out and saw one man sitting in the front row, barely clapping, clearly bewildered by what he'd just seen. Immediately behind him was a young woman wildly enthusiastic, shaking her head in gleeful disbelief as she applauded vigourously. There you have it.
Joe, who I've known for some thirty years - in fact, he directed me in a Sam Shepard play in undergraduate school - is a very astute guy when it comes to theatre. He completely 'got' what an incredibly difficult piece it is. I'm not sure how much he actually 'enjoyed' it, but he certainly appreciated the work. That's about all one can ask for, I suppose.
I'm delighted to report I'm continuing, unhampered, with my strict diet. Health is the word of the day. I've completely eliminated all bread and potatoes. For people like me, diabetics, that is, all bread and potatoes are sugar. My body immediately turns it into sugar, I mean. Too bad. I really love bread and potatoes.
Another beautiful day in Southern California. Listening to Springsteen this morning as he gently implores someone, "If I should fall behind, wait for me." Yes.
See you tomorrow.
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