cough hack ...
j
On my own, with all of my falls.
10 years ago
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Cough cough
cough hack ...
j
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Send In The Clowns
I know. We haven't talked in awhile.
My fault. It's been far too easy to sink up to my eyes into the warm dark mire of unthinking, Time goes by - days, weeks - so quickly and quietly that they escape notice. Only minutes drag on forever. Why is that, do you suppose? (Rhetorical question).
I finished writing a play I started five years ago. That was good. Oddly enough, (considering my laid-back approach to writing it), thirty seconds after typing "The play has ended," I emailed it to a producer friend of mine. She almost immediately emailed me back, saying she would read it right away. I'm sure there's some significance to all of this, but it escapes me. (Hey, I just write this stuff. What happens to it after that I try to stay away from - as much as I can - so long as the checks come in.) Anyway, if something good comes of it, I'll let you know and we'll go out and have a drink together. Sound good?
I'm on the board of a local theatre, and we decided to have a yard sale. People who have NEVER come to see a play have called and written, concerned that we were closing. When I tell them we are simply selling things we couldn't give away, they are disappointed. In case you are interested, we still have a few boxes of something totally indescribable. I can make you a real deal ...
Two weeks ago I applied at a theatre to direct WHITE CHRISTMAS the musical. I like this group, have worked for them several times. They leave me alone, and are less than 20 miles from where I live. Nice. Yesterday they phoned me, and, instead of WHITE CHRISTMAS, I was offered OF MICE AND MEN. I accepted. Close enough.
I have two more job interviews pending. One is for a play in the spring of 2012, and the other is for a theatre I've yet to work for. (They like me. I gave them a low price on a bunch of old flats and platforms last used in the War of the Roses.)
So there you are. I know there are a few more tidbits of information to throw at you that are every bit as uninteresting as all this is, but I'll save that for another minute or two.
And how has your day been going? You've been pretty quiet out there lately.
j
My fault. It's been far too easy to sink up to my eyes into the warm dark mire of unthinking, Time goes by - days, weeks - so quickly and quietly that they escape notice. Only minutes drag on forever. Why is that, do you suppose? (Rhetorical question).
I finished writing a play I started five years ago. That was good. Oddly enough, (considering my laid-back approach to writing it), thirty seconds after typing "The play has ended," I emailed it to a producer friend of mine. She almost immediately emailed me back, saying she would read it right away. I'm sure there's some significance to all of this, but it escapes me. (Hey, I just write this stuff. What happens to it after that I try to stay away from - as much as I can - so long as the checks come in.) Anyway, if something good comes of it, I'll let you know and we'll go out and have a drink together. Sound good?
I have two more job interviews pending. One is for a play in the spring of 2012, and the other is for a theatre I've yet to work for. (They like me. I gave them a low price on a bunch of old flats and platforms last used in the War of the Roses.)
So there you are. I know there are a few more tidbits of information to throw at you that are every bit as uninteresting as all this is, but I'll save that for another minute or two.
And how has your day been going? You've been pretty quiet out there lately.
j
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