Where is the Real Exit?
You may ask, and yes: for a number of years now I’ve been hiding it in my basement. I tell people that the bathroom is broken. I put up caution tape. We found it in the woods near Charleston, West Virginia — I’m not sure how near, but in West Virginia, and definitely in the woods (it’s a small state, actually) — and we brought it back, two summers ago, with plans to share it. But, for...
Glaciers like giant slugs, Slow moving, Roll southerly, by night, Refreezing the mastodons and —shipping them t’silent meat lockers —far below the earth’s surface. Just to be safe. (c) 2008
Here on Corporate Mars, things are going real fine. We take turns with the calligraphy – “a trowel and an hour” and all that. It’s on all the posters. There are many posters to remind us of the point. You can get your hands chopped off if you try to chip your name into the surface of Mars. In the grooves that we’re plowing out. The posters say that this affects the way the sun glints off the...
Ham Fisted Theatrics →
DC Pierson is a friend to many, hero to most, aphrodisiac to far too few. He is that rare sort of positive humor - a wit that stands among us, our feet in the mud, laughing about something on the horizon. He’s a good and funny man and deserves your attention. And, more importantly, you deserve him. Cuz you’re great. This is what he wrote January 2nd: And I think that’s what...
Twelfth Night Opens
Like a sloppy hooker with plenty of gumption we did our job and got the damn thing up. Twelfth Night is active. Sir Toby rides again. We had a good response last night, including some very humbling praise from an old friend and company member. It was especially satisfying because - due to contracts and the like - we only rehearsed for two weeks before the holidays, then teched this week for...