Clik here to view.
The monsters in my mouth.
I’m no prude, but violence in any form shocks me. (I’m rather hoping that’s a universal statement). But, and here’s where we may differ, my response to it is to laugh. Maybe it’s a nervous habit, maybe...
View ArticleClik here to view.
The monk on a yellow motorcycle.
Again, with the dreams. I’m having such dreams, lately. A flood. Minus the ark. I think they’re so vehement and vivid because I’m knuckles-down and knee-deep in rehearsals for The Complete Works of...
View ArticleClik here to view.
And, for the record, I really like my shower curtain.
Last night. Oh, my, last night… Full house. Standing ovation. Sheer exhaustion. After party. Kudos. The usuals. Totally worth it…all the rehearsals, which in this case were rather tightly thrown...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Last night, my ankle had an out-of-body experience.
It’s a crying shame Shakespeare didn’t write a character who had an almost broken, badly sprained ankle. He didn’t, did he? I mean, I’m only peripherally familiar with the hunchback of Richard III. (I...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Rasputin and the Fateful Finger Day
I: Confession I don’t have many great qualities, I’d imagine (for instance, I find it increasingly difficult to even get a date, so I’m tempted to say that I must be lacking some crucial quality –...
View ArticleClik here to view.
The Art of the Dirty Word.
There are a few things in this world that I would wish on everyone: among those are good friends, Chinese take-out, and a Nana. Everyone should have a Nana. I’ll just get that out, right upfront. Ten...
View ArticleClik here to view.
That time I was in a Sartre play: part of a memoir, sort of.
I’m considering penning a memoir. I’m serious. I’m sure there’s a finer art to it than what I’m putting to paper. No, I know there is as evidenced by PaperGirlMemoir’s blog. I enjoy her blog, among...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Real love requires 2" heels, at least.
That Ken Ludwig. Man. He can’t write a play without causing serious damage to the ankles. (That’s what my feet are saying, anyway. Ah, well, there’s a price to be paid for anything, huh?) Price check...
View ArticleClik here to view.
The very idea of texting your mother…
God help us all if we get arthritis. You tell me if you get this: a student gets up to leave at the end of this morning’s class, and casually turns back to me and says, “Well teetle, I guess! Have a...
View ArticleWhen I grow up, I want to be a box of crayons.
I’d like to share with you the conversation I had with a man from Maintenance, on campus, this morning, hardly an hour and a half ago. Let me set the scene, for you: I’m teaching my Theatre...
View Article